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Danny King sat on the patio of his Cherry Gardens home with his two friends, Bradley ‘Brad’ Elliot and Lester ‘Lex’ Malcolm. He sipped his gin and tonic as he reflected on the past. He was one of the biggest players in the marijuana business until Gus McCreed moved in. The two men had confronted each other in a battle that had threatened to turn the streets of Kingston red.
King remembered Dickson Lunan. Lunan had teamed up with him against Mc Creed, but had pulled out his forces at the last minute leaving him exposed on several fronts. His retreating forces were easy targets for his enemy’s gunmen. A couple of days later he had found out where Lunan was holed up. He had gathered whatever forces he could find and attacked him. Mc Creed had come to his aid and his forces were beaten back. He didn’t know where that traitor was now. He had sworn to kill him wherever and whenever they met.
In the final battle, McCreed’s superior forces had defeated him once again. Several of his men were killed and he had to negotiate a truce with his archenemy. This had not gone down well with his remaining men; all of whom had seen several of their comrades killed in cold blood and wanted revenge.
However, although his children were abroad, King still felt that he had a family to protect. The truce effectively sent him into retirement and to make do with his merchant tailoring business as his only source of income. He had closed down his ten year old security firm five years ago. His surviving fighters had joined other syndicates or migrated. Brad Elliot and Lex Malcolm were small players, who felt increasingly threatened by McCreed’s growing dominance of the trade.
Lex Malcolm was tall and wiry and in his late forties. He had been in the laundry and dry-cleaning business for the past twenty-one years and was comfortably rich. However, his probings into the marijuana business had paid huge dividends and he wanted more. Gus McCreed, the obstacle had to be removed.
Brad Elliot was short and fat. He was in his early forties and his auto parts store was doing quite well. However, over the past few months he had been making plenty money out of marijuana, supplying Lex Malcolm, that was until Gus McCreed moved in. It was too much money for one man to stand in his way. Gus McCreed had to be eliminated.
Brad Elliot would buy the marijuana from growers in the rural areas. He would cure it and then Lex would get it shipped. He would then pay Brad after taking his commission. The warehouse with all their machines was burned to the ground one night and everything destroyed. When Brad contacted the growers they said they were now contracted to a new man. They refused to tell him the man’s name. He suspected that it was Mc Creed. Both he and Lex knew then that they needed help.
Both men knew that King had a sordid past. He was suspected of more than one murder, was hauled before the courts several times, but got away when witnesses failed to show up.
“King, I thought that you made a mistake in signing that peace treaty with McCreed. It’s that treaty, which allowed him to get so powerful,” Lex stated.
“You know what Lunan did to me. He left me exposed on several fronts. I lost several of my men because of him.”
“You should never have trusted Lunan,” Lex told him.
“I’m breaking the treaty now and declaring war on Mc Creed.”
Lex took out his gold cigarette case and lighter, helped himself and then passed them around.
“I feel that you gave up too easily. If you’re going to lead this syndicate, we want positive leadership.”
King was riled.
“I said that the peace treaty is off. You guys weren’t around during that war. I simply didn’t have enough fighters and ammunition to continue fighting.”
“Go easy, King,” Brad intervened. “Lex means that we have to fight this guy to the bitter end.”
“But that’s what we’re going to do. We haven’t even started planning yet and he wants results already.”
“Why don’t we get a man to bump him off?” Lex suggested.
“If you get rid of McCreed you’re only doing Fred Billings a big favor,” King opined. “Remember that he killed a man and shot and wounded another since returning from America.”
“You never even heard a thing about it after it happened, they just squashed it,” Brad stated.
“McCreed bought it out, you can bet that’s what happened. I hear that his daughter carries a gun too,” King put in.
“That family consists of pure gun toting people, but that can’t stop us if we’re serious and want to move against them,” Lex opined.
Brad ignored Lex’s impatience.
“Why don’t we try to infiltrate his organization?” he suggested. “We could get to Fred, feed him a line, let him know that we’re interested in seeing him take over from McCreed. The way I hear it is that he wants to take over, the earlier the better. That guy is certainly ambitious.”
“His ambitions might earn him an early grave,” King remarked.
“You know anybody close to him?” Brad asked.
“Rory Dillon knows him, and he and I are good friends. We could give him a message to give him,” King suggested.
“If I know Rory, he’ll want to know what kind of dealings we and Fred are in,” Brad stated.
“I will take care of Rory,” King told them.
“Jack is supposed to join us, he didn’t contact you, King?” Brad asked.
“He had to go to Ocho Rios, but he said he’ll be at our next meeting.”
They were talking about the dental technician, Jack Marriot. Jack had been a part of the Colombo drug trafficking network. He related to King what had happened to him.
He had run afoul of them and had been warned off. He knew that his life had only been spared because of the amount of money involved.
Jack usually bought marijuana and shipped it to the Colombo syndicate. He had his people on the ports, who usually handled the export for him. He had made a shipment, got the money to pay the growers, but had reported to them that the U.S.A authorities had seized the goods. The syndicate learned of this duplicity and he had to repay the money, a small matter of five thousand Jamaican dollars. He had found the money and made the payment. Looking around him in Jamaica, he realized that Gus Mc Creed was dominating the drug trade and he had tried to cut in.
It was the first time he was seeing the two men who confronted him that afternoon in the car park, Downtown, Kingston. He didn’t even have time to go for his gun before they slammed into him. They seemed to be running a contest to see who could hurt him the most. They had left him in a broken up, bloody heap that had required him to spend two months in hospital.
It was this beating that had made him contact King about reviving his syndicate. He was convinced that it was Mc Creed’s men who had beaten him up.
“I still feel that we should bump him off,” Lex reiterated.
“If Fred doesn’t agree to work with us, we’ll hire some men to get rid of both of them,” King assured them.
“I hear that they’re mixed up with the Wareika gang,” Brad remarked.
“He used some of those men to fight me. If we don’t use Fred and they’re really mixed up with that gang, then it’s no use breaking the peace treaty,” King explained.
“Okay, I’ll wait until you talk to Fred,” Lex conceded.
King looked at him questioningly.
“If you want to quit, you can go right ahead, Lex, but don’t bother counting on me to help you,” he stated, looking at Brad for support.
Brad nodded.
Lex shook his head.
“As I said, I’m willing to wait.”
It was one-thirty that morning when Lex and Brad left King’s home for their respective houses. By this time they had exhaustively discussed all of their plans to take over McCreed’s syndicate.
***
Gaskell Burke was drinking a cup of coffee as he read the morning papers. He was a tall, thin man with a deathly pallor and was in his late forties. He was wondering what was going on, the papers seemed to be full of violence. He still had clippings of the newspaper report about the murder of his brother, Danville, filed away. That was a year ago, he was sure it had been Mc Creed’s fighters as his brother had reported the threats on his life to him. The hit had taken place as he left his bar that Saturday night.
He had spent five years in the police force before deciding he wouldn’t reach the officer ranks any time soon. His brother had virtually funded his law studies and to lose him like that was hard for him to take.
He had sworn revenge. He had to make some contacts as before he died Danville had given him the names of some men, who wanted to join his syndicate. He had their phone numbers and would be putting through some calls to them. They were Ken Stone, Benn Sanderson and Wally Judge. These men plus himself would form the nucleus of a syndicate to avenge Danville, destroy Gus McCreed and control his section of the Jamaican drug market.
He remembered the other newspaper clipping. ‘Prominent lawyer, Gaskell Burke, barred from practice’. He wasn’t a gambling man; he dabbled in the stock market and didn’t have a large portfolio. However, Danville had told him about Mc Clelland & Sons Limited, one of the largest conglomerates on the island. Their results were about to be published; they looked so good, that it was likely that the price of the stock would double in a few days.
He had pumped more than thirty thousand dollars into it, the majority of it being the proceeds of a property sale on behalf of two overseas clients. But the company’s results weren’t all what was expected and the stock plunged and he found himself with a potential loss of over twenty thousand dollars. Then the clients called for their money, and when he couldn’t deliver, they had reported him. He had been disbarred, even though the stock eventually appreciated and he paid off the two clients and his own legal fees. His fall from grace meant that many doors were now closed to him but the few that were left enabled him to dabble in some real estate and other investments. This was nothing compared to his income when he used to practice, but his wife hadn’t complained, that was, until she gave him the shock of his life by filing for divorce.
***
At three o’clock on Thursday afternoon, Ardez received Gus McCreed’s relay from K. He was in his house at Wareika. The structure was made of concrete. They had actually captured it from an old man they saw living there. It consisted of two rooms and a porch. He had used his masonry skills to renovate the house, tiling both rooms among other things.
The old man had gone somewhere else to live, taking his goats with him. Ardez used one room for a living and dining room and for meetings with his lieutenants. He had a spacious bedroom. It contained a queen sized bed, a dresser and a built in closet to keep his family’s clothes. The kitchen was detached and had an earthen fireplace. A stand up shower was behind it. A pit toilet was further on. Piped water was available as the men had secretly connected pipes to a Water Authority main and led it up into the village. A powerful generator supplied whatever electricity they needed. A qualified technician had been paid to connect a telephone line to the Camp.
Ardez knew that the ‘Camp’ as the men described their hideout was well situated. It could only be reached by a trail, which was guarded at several points by fighters. All other paths would be difficult because of the thick bushes, trees and rocky hillsides. The entrance to the village was guarded by a machine-gun.
Two men with sub-machine-guns were in the trees overlooking the trail. Each gun was manned around the clock on eight-hour shifts. The two gun nests were also lookout points. A searchlight was mounted atop a tree overlooking the trail.
Ardez issued the password for each night. It was relayed by mouth around the camp and to the guards. He was commander of the camp. His second in command was Premba. The latter commanded a group of ten men whom he carried on raids with him. These included Duffus, Dally, Chaser and Bendoo. This was ‘A’ unit; a man called Grosset and another man named Pennant, commanded B and C units respectively, each with eight men under his command.
Ardez knew that Grosset had particularly distinguished himself in the defeat of the security forces during their two raids on Wareika. He had seriously wounded one man in the first and two in the second plus putting several to flight, including the famous Bull Mosely. It was this type of fighting that had earned the ex-convict his job as B unit’s commander. Pennant, who commanded C unit, had escaped from reform school with Premba. The two men had found themselves at Wareika after years of wild living, shootouts with the police and gang wars.
Dangler, who was manager of the Factory, while not being on the police most wanted list, or operational, was known as a bad man to tangle with. Ardez knew about his days as a political warlord.
The women at the camp, were mostly along with the men. Most had come willingly, though a few were either captured or lured there innocently. Many were former high school students. He was proud of the fact that his woman had come to live with him willingly.
He put the last of the stew beef and fried plantain in his mouth and washed it down with the last of the sour sop juice. He belched loudly, then took out his rag and wiped his face. Natalie, his woman and Barry, their nine months old son, were in the room sleeping. He had five other children with three different women. He used to support them before migrating to the States, but had lost track of them. He had planned to link up with them when he returned to Jamaica but his involvement with Wareika had put those plans on hold.
He lit a cigarette and took a bottle of stout out of the small refrigerator, while he thought about tomorrow. He had a meeting with his lieutenants at six o’clock. He drained the bottle of stout and drew hard on his cigarette. He opened the window and looked outside. He saw Grosset’s big frame approaching along with Pennant, Premba and Rattigan. As usual Grosset was smoking a huge cigar.
The men sat around a wooden table. Grosset had put out his big cigar. He put the rest in his pocket and leant back in the wooden chair and relaxed. He had been on the run from very early in life and couldn’t remember having found time to relax before coming to Wareika.
“I just got a message from the boss, K sent it. The police are going to be setting up roadblocks all over Kingston,” Ardez reported.
Rattigan cleared his throat.
“That shouldn’t trouble us, not this phase of the plan,” he opined.
“Let them look, they aren’t going to find anything,” Premba declared.
Grosset chuckled at this. Ardez surveyed the room.
“Tomorrow we launch the second phase of our operations. We’ll be visiting some people, who used to deal with Paolo Colombo’s father. We’re going to ask them if they’re ready to repay the money he lent them to start their businesses. He did a lot of other things for them, some of which they’ll never be able to repay. Some of them promised that they would help out with anything he wanted to be done out here just so that they didn’t have to repay him, or return the favor. We have some things on some of them that they don’t want the police to know about. We know that some of them are going to refuse, but we’ll deal with them.”
The men were listening intently. Ardez continued.
“Three teams of you’ll be going. One team is going to be here in Kingston, that’s Premba and Duffus. Grosset and Bendoo will be in Montego Bay, and Pennant and Pablo in Ocho Rios. We’re hand-delivering the letters to them, with Paolo Colombo’s signature. They’ll get an unlisted telephone number to call to say whether or not they’ll cooperate. I’ll be at the Factory waiting to give them instructions on what to do.”
“What happens if they don’t phone?” Pennant asked.
“We’re giving them twenty four hours to contact us. If they don’t call, we’re going to wipe them out.”
“Suppose they phone the police?” Grosset asked.
“Remember what I said, we have things on them, and they know it, so they aren’t going to any police.”
“Why don’t we just go to their homes or business places and fire some shots at them?” Pennant suggested.
“We want them to know that we’re serious. It’s for you to show them that we mean business and we’ll kill them if they think we’re joking. All of you’ll get a list of the people you’ll be visiting.”
“Dress good, so you look like businessmen. Make sure that your crew cut their hair and oil it too to look presentable. We don’t want any trouble with the police so drive carefully and don’t bother act suspiciously.”
“What about Dillinger and Butler?” Pennant asked.
“We would be taking a big risk in taking them along. They would be sure to be recognized. Their pictures are in the papers daily and the police are offering a reward of five thousand dollars for each of them dead or alive.”
“This new guy, Bendoo, I don’t like to go on any mission with anybody I don’t know anything about,” Grosset stated.
Ardez looked at Premba.
“He’s good, that’s a tough man, I’m telling you,” Premba replied.
“I hope so, I don’t want anybody with me, who can’t defend themselves.”
“From what Premba told me, he looks like somebody we can use,” Ardez said reassuringly.
“I have to go with what Premba said,” Grosset said, apparently satisfied.
“Grosset just mentioned trouble. What, if any of these people decide to create a scene? I mean it’s quite possible that they’ll have security guards at their business places,” Rattigan stated.
“I did some investigations and found out that none of them has anything around them that we can’t handle.”
Rattigan took out a cigarette and lit it. He realized that he was among some of the most dangerous men he had ever encountered. For a man from a first world country, the reverence to which he had become accustomed to in many third world countries was missing here and had been from the beginning. He was glad that these men had accepted him as one of their own and treated him as an equal. He took the cigarette from his lips as Ardez addressed them again.
“Rattigan will remain here, he’s in charge until I return.”
“What about you, Grosset, you look worried?”
“Everything’s cool, Ardez,” Grosset replied.
“That’s good, you know Montego Bay so you should be all right down there. Pennant, you should be okay in Ocho Rios and Premba in Kingston and Spanish Town. If you can’t gain entrance use your identity cards. They’ll show that you’re employed to the National Development Unit. When they read the letter they’ll know otherwise. If they try to do anything funny, discipline them.”
“What about weapons?” Grosset asked.
Ardez took the cigarette Pennant had just given him and drew hard on it. He let out a ring of smoke.
“Take them with you, but make sure you hide them.”
Thunder rolled in the sky signaling rain as outside had already darkened. Ardez stood up and stretched. He groaned sleepily.
“Well, that’s enough for now. I hope that all of you get plenty of sleep because you’re going to be very busy tomorrow.”
The men rose and slowly filed out. It was drizzling slightly and some of them would be only too happy to throw down in bed and sleep. Ardez made for the bedroom where his woman and son were already snoring.
***
At a minute past ten o’clock that night, Buster, the gardener at Mc Creed’s house, let in the Ford Laser containing Fred Billings. It had stopped raining now.
The two Doberman dogs came snarling around the car, but became pacified when its occupant got out of the car.
Fred made for the house. Mc Creed was in the living room watching television.
“Fred,” Mc Creed said, shaking his hand.
“Is everything all right?” Fred asked.
“Yes, the operation will be starting tomorrow.”
He went to the liquor cabinet and took down a bottle of bourbon. He went into the kitchen and returned with a tray of ice and made drinks for both of them.
Taking a sip of the drink, he asked.
“You arranged everything at the hotels, Fred?”
“Everything’s all right, both in Ocho Rios and Montego Bay.”
“I only hope that Ardez and Rattigan briefed them on what to do.”
“You’d better go to the office tomorrow. I’ll stay here to keep up to date with what’s going on.”
“If this works out, Gus, we’ll be making thousands of dollars.”
“You’re right, and any little guy, who tries to stop our progress we just have to move them out of the way.”
“I’m going to have a bath so I’ll see you in the morning, Gus.”
“I don’t think I’ll be waking up that early, but I’ll see you in the evening. Hope that you take care of everything at the office.”
“No problem,” Fred said as he disappeared up the stairs.
***
Later Fred sat in his room thinking. He knew that it would soon be time to move against Gus McCreed. Every time he thought about it, he had a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He owed his very existence to this man. But the organization was growing and it needed a young and dynamic person to run it. If Gus should go now Lorena could never manage on her own and would prefer running the hotel, to getting involved with the shadier side of the business. His plans were to keep her single just in case Gus died before he was ready to make his move. He regarded her as a sister and felt that she despised him because of his over-protectiveness. If she got married, it could spell trouble for his plans. He had seen Rory Dillon, who had given him Danny King’s message.
He had been abrupt with him because he knew that whatever organization, King formed would never be a match for McCreed. The man had backed down from McCreed once and there were no guarantees that he wouldn’t do so again.
His own plans to get rid of Mc Creed had to be foolproof and would leave him in the clear and in control of his empire. It would be a very hard thing to move against the only two persons, who had ever shown him any kindness, but his ambitions were not in playing the underdog to anyone.
One of his reasons for feeling this way about his foster relatives was what he felt they had done to him. Shermaine, Delta’s daughter and he were in Miami and hopelessly in love. The affair had actually started out here but had blossomed once they were abroad.
Delta was Charlene’s sister and Lorena’s aunt. She was against the affair and had in fact flown to Miami to put an end to it. He didn’t think Lorena had anything to do with it. Shermaine didn’t return home with him, making him suspicious that she wanted to end the affair. In fact she was now married to a Latin American man. He felt that they had done this to him because he was an outsider, but he would show them.
He remembered a man named Roy Bailey, who had confronted him in their Downtown, Kingston offices, claiming to be his father. That was a year before he went abroad to study. He had chased him away. He had done his own searches. His mother was Mavis Billings and she was from a village called Dudley, down in St. Catherine, near the border with Clarendon. He had checked the records and discovered that she had died when he was about ten. It appeared that she had no living relatives in the area so he just left it at that.