Josiah Bethune had been given a government house as an act of political patronage. He didn’t put all his energies into politics, however, as he did some farming. He planted a small amount of marijuana, which he dried and sold to a man, who bought the stuff wholesale and then he would go to the various rural towns and retail it. He didn’t know if this man made any money, but he was always on time with his payments.
With this money plus what he got from his other crops and being a casual laborer on several construction sites, he was able to turn his simple dwelling into a respectable four bedroom house complete with a kitchen, two bathrooms and a living and dining room.
He had never been satisfied. There was always this feeling of envy when he saw the fabulous mansions going up around him and the expensive cars being driven by men he knew to be of humble means. He knew that these men had achieved their wealth through marijuana cultivation. On his small plot of land there was not much he could do. He had to plant other crops for his household use. These crops he used to hide the marijuana plants. His efforts to rent or lease land were in vain as the prices being asked were very high. He had turned to poaching, but it was a dangerous business. He nearly lost his life when the owner of a field, which he was poaching along with two other men, had summoned help and a terrible fight took place. He had received several wounds all over his body, which had hospitalized him for over two months. He now walked with a limp as a result of those injuries.
Six months after he came out of hospital, Raiders, whom he knew for several years as a man who moved from country to town and got into all sorts of trouble, had contacted him. If his memory served him right, the man had never done time. A man in Kingston wanted some marijuana for exporting and wasn’t prepared to buy it. He wanted it poached but would pay good money. His mind had immediately hooked on Pinchie and Evert’s field. The two men worked alone so it should be easy pickings. He had studied their movements and knew that they normally were partying or playing board games most nights. He told Raiders this and they had recruited two youths, Richard and Martin. The two youths were unemployed and had gotten into all sorts of trouble. Martin had done six months for chain snatching while Richard had served a year for robbery.
They had actually started cutting the plants when Raiders said that there was a light in the hut. They had approached it without making any noise and there were the two men. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them, but Raiders insisted that they would find the cut plants and probably raise an alarm and so they had attacked them. He had received three hundred dollars and Richard and Martin one hundred and fifty dollars each. He was due to get another hundred dollars in three week’s time. Both youths were also due to receive another fifty dollars at that time.
Josiah sat in the bar and relaxed; he was drinking white rum and had bought some of his friend’s drinks already. He hadn’t seen Richard or Martin since they had received their money. He felt that they were sensible youths who wouldn’t let anybody know what had happened. At least Raiders had warned them that he knew where they lived so they should be careful with their mouths.
***
Premba parked the car by the roadside and he, Grosset, Lance with the surviving youth leading the way, made it down to Josiah’s house. This was the first house on the dirt track.
Premba knocked on the door. Josiah’s wife came to the door believing it to be her husband or her sons.
If it was her sons, she would send them to look for Juliet, who had told her that she was only going up to the dance to talk to some of her friends. She said that she would be back by ten o’clock, but now it was eleven and there was no sign of her. Her husband always came home late at nights, especially if he was drinking.
“Josiah,” she called out.
Grosset answered her in a fake voice.
The woman half-opened the door and looked out. It wasn’t Josiah! Desperately, she tried to close the door, but Grosset grabbed her hand and closed his left hand over her mouth. He then pushed her through the door as the other three men followed.
They went into the living room where the woman was made to sit in one of the couches along with the youth. Premba, Lance and Grosset stood over them with guns and machetes.
“Don’t make a sound woman, we’re looking for your husband, where is he?” Grosset asked.
“Josiah has gone drinking.”
“Has he been spending a lot of money lately?” Premba inquired of her.
He had to agree that this was a reasonable size house, but its interior didn’t indicate that the man had gotten a windfall lately; still it could be all going into his liquor, women or gambling.
“Are you policemen?”
Premba nodded and motioned to the youth.
“Tell her what you just told us about Josiah.”
The youth looked at Mrs. Bethune, but didn’t say anything.
“Hey, boy, tell her what you did. I told you that you’re already dead.”
Premba took out his gun and pointed it at the youth’s head.
“Hey, boy, start talking fast or else you’re going to die.”
The youth looked into Mrs. Bethune’s motherly face and remained silent.
“Richie, what has Josiah done to these men?”
Richie was close to tears.
“We helped him steal their weed.”
“It’s a lie you’re telling on Josiah, lies he’s telling on him.” Mrs. Bethune burst out crying.
“Mamma, listen, the only way you can save your husband is to pay us. Do you have any money?”
“No, sir, it’s my husband, who keeps all of the money.”
“Hey, Premba, it looks like we’re joking with these people,” Grosset complained.
“It seems as if this youth thinks we’re joking with him,” Lance said. He went up to Richie, pulled him out of the couch and put his knife at his throat.
“Mamma, just give us the money you have and let us leave,” Premba warned.
The woman got up and went into a room. Premba followed her. Presently he came out pushing her before him, a roll of bills in his hand. He counted the money, which amounted to three hundred dollars.
“Let’s move, guys, hey, boy.”
He turned to Richie and drew his gun.
“You should be dead.”
Richie saw Premba draw the gun and he leaped out of the couch and made a desperate jump at a board window, knocking it out as he went through. The men ran up to the window, firing shots through it. Premba and Lance went through it and dropped into the back of the yard. There was no sign of Richie. They ran to the edge of a gully behind the house.
“I think he jumped into this gully,” Premba pointed out.
They peered down into the gully, but couldn’t see anything. They could hear a thrashing sound in the gully and both men fired a volley of shots down there. Then the sound ceased.
“What was the boy trying to do, Premba?” Grosset asked, as he opened the back door and joined them.
“The little idiot was trying to escape. I think we got him.
Hey, come, let’s leave,” Premba told them.
“It seems as if the old lady has fainted,” Grosset told them.
“She fainted,” Premba expressed his surprised.
They returned inside to find Mrs. Bethune sprawled out on the floor.
“The heavy blasts of the gunshots seemed to have shocked her and she fell out of the couch,” Grosset remarked.
“Are you sure she didn’t get a heart attack?” Lance asked, looking at the unconscious middle aged woman.
“Come, guys, let’s move, we might see the old man on the road.”
The three men went out of the house and headed for their car. Chaser and Butler were sitting on top of Pennant’s car. When Premba’s group reached them, Chaser asked.
“What happened, we heard shots?”
“The youth was trying to escape by jumping through a window, but we shot him. I think he’s dead,” Premba reported.
They got into their cars and drove off slowly.
***
Josiah had now finished drinking. He paid his bill, but not before cursing off the barmaid and telling her that she had padded the bill. He staggered out of the bar, the barmaid watched him go.
As he staggered along the road feeling a bit tipsy, he saw a car coming towards him. Had he not been in such a stupor he would have pulled into the bushes but he staggered on.
The car stopped beside him.
“Hey, daddy, do you know where Mr. Bethune lives?” Premba asked.
“I don’t know anybody by that name.”
As he finished speaking, two men jumped out of the car, one with a gun and the other with a machete.
“Get into the car, grandfather. We know who you are, so don’t try to play any tricks on us,” Grosset told him.
Another car was coming along the road; Josiah looked on as the car’s headlights approached. The car stopped beside them.
“Is this the old man?” Pennant asked.
“The same man, the youths were telling us about,” Grosset replied. “The description fits him. Short and stout and walks with a limp.”
“Get into the car, we have some questions to ask you,” Premba told him.
Still Josiah hesitated.
“Who are you, police?”
He heard a ‘click’ behind him and his body tensed.
“Just shoot him, Lance,” Premba directed.
Josiah looked at Grosset and at the other men and realized that he had no chance of escaping. Grosset started pushing him towards the car and finally bundled him into the back. He and Lance got into the backseat on either side of the old man.
Premba spun the car around and headed for Kingston, Pennant followed in the Ford Escort. They drove for some time before they again found a dirt track and went into it. Pennant in the other car didn’t follow, but remained on the main road near the entrance of the track.
Premba drove for about a kilometer before stopping. They got out of the car and dumped the old man on the ground.
“Who paid you to beat up Pinchie and Evert and steal our weed?” Premba asked.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s chop off his head, Premba,” Grosset suggested.
He moved closer to Josiah with his machete. The old man looked at Grosset and realized just what a predicament he was in.
“It was Raiders, who hired us, me, Martin and Richie. He lives in Kingston and he returned with the truck, which carried the weed.”
“Raiders, I know him. He lives in a lane off Bay Farm Road. He should be dead long ago. That guy held up my sister and stole her chain. He’s an old thief. He’s a tall man, with a long knife mark in his face,” Lance told them.
The old man nodded.
“Who, Raiders said was buying the weed?” Premba asked.
“He didn’t tell me the man’s name.”
“Where does this man live?”
“Raiders only told me that he lives in Kingston.”
Premba opened the car door and got back inside.
“I’m getting tired of this. Old man, where is the money, search his pockets,” he told Grosset and Lance.
Grosset was at the old man’s pockets immediately. He came up with one hundred dollars and a pack of contraceptives.
Grosset hissed his teeth.
“How much money did you find, Grosset?”
“One hundred dollars.”
“It’s only that money I have, I don’t have any more. It’s the truth, I’m telling you.”
Premba felt that this man was of no more help to them.
“Hey, come, let’s leave this place now,” he directed at Grosset and Lance.
As he shut the car door, Lance asked, “What happen, Premba, you’re not going to fire two shots into the old man?”
Premba didn’t reply, only spun the car around and drove past a prone Josiah. He had only driven a few meters when he stopped and put the car into reverse. The old man only saw when a hand reached out of the window, saw the gun, but couldn’t throw himself aside as it barked once then twice. The first shot took him in his left breast, the next one in the neck. Premba put away the gun and drove off again. When they reached the main road they pulled up beside Pennant’s car.
“We’re going to check a guy on Bay Farm Road,” Premba told him and drove off. Pennant gave him a two-minutes start before following.
In the early hours of the morning McCreed’s fighters returned to Kingston and headed for Bay Farm Road. Lance directed them to a lane and they reversed the car into it. Pennant didn’t come into the lane, but stopped a few meters from the entrance and waited on Premba’s group.
Premba stopped his car before a board gate, which guarded a tenement yard. A board house was on the other side of the road, Lance said that this was the house and the three men went over to it. Premba pulled the gate open and they entered the yard. Grosset knocked on the front door of the house.
“Raiders, Raiders.”
They could hear snoring inside the room. There was a creak of bedsprings and a rustle of bedclothes.
“Who is that?”
Grosset hit the plywood door with a rockstone he had picked up in the yard and it shattered into pieces, the three men rushed into the room.
Raiders didn’t even have time to grab his machete before Grosset grabbed him.
“Raiders, you dirty fucker. You beat up Pinchie and Evert and stole our weed.”
He drove a right hook into the man’s belly, which sent him crashing to the floor.
Premba had turned on the lights. Raider’s woman, was curled up in a corner of the bed.
“Get out of the bed,” he shouted, looking approvingly at the curvaceous woman’s figure.
“Hey, guy, we’re taking away your woman as revenge, because you beat up our friends.”
The girl was about to scream when he grabbed her and covered her mouth with his hands.
“Raiders do you have any guns or money?” Premba asked.
The man shook his head.
“I don’t have any guns or money.”
Premba looked at him and laughed.
“You spent off the money already, you dirty fucker.”
“Who paid you to beat up Pinchie and Evert and steal our weed?” Grosset shouted at Raiders, his hands were in the man’s nightshirt. Lance was at the door with the AK-47 rifle.
The man didn’t answer Grosset.
“Where did you hide our weed?” Premba asked him.
“I rode my bike back to town. I don’t know where the truck went with it.”
Raiders realized that he had been betrayed. He was about twenty six years of age with a hazy look in his eyes from too much marijuana smoking and violence.
Premba was searching the room for a dress, presently he found one, which he threw at the woman. This she put on over her nightie. He then told her to pack her bags. When she finished, he started to push her towards the door.
“Where are you taking her?” Raiders asked.
“What you want to know that for?” Premba asked him. “Where you’re going you won’t be needing her again.”
Lance raised the AK-47 and pointed it at Raiders.
“We’re wasting too much time talking to him, I’m getting sleepy.”
“He knows who is the man behind the stealing of our weed,” Grosset told Lance.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. But I can tell you about Josiah Bethune, he’s their contact up in the country.”
“We settled with your friends already, Raiders. That’s how we know about you. Save your life by telling us who he is,” Premba told him.
“I don’t know who he is,” Raiders said finally.
“So you don’t know who is paying you, well, okay then, Raiders,” Premba said as he pushed the girl out of the house, Grosset going before him. He signaled to Lance. Lance pointed the gun at the condemned man, who realizing what was about to happen, flung himself on the floor. He tried to roll under the bed, but Lance had already started shooting. Two shots caught the man in the back of the head. He lay on his belly at the side of the bed.
Again Lance aimed the gun and fired it into the man’s back. He then backed out of the house and ran to the car, opened the door and got in where Grosset was holding the mortally wounded man’s woman. Premba had already started the car and they drove off. They went back out onto the main road and headed for Wareika, Pennant keeping a short distance behind them.
***
The next day, Sunday, at around nine-thirty in the morning Bendoo was sleeping in a hammock when he heard shouts waking him up. Grosset, Lance, Pennant, Butler and Chaser were there. The men all sat on a long bamboo bench near the hammock.
“What’s happening, Bendoo?” Grosset greeted him.
Bendoo rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness, which he still felt.
“I’m trying to get some sleep.”
“So how did it go? I heard that you guys crashed a party and really enjoyed yourselves,” Lance stated.
“We didn’t see the two men and nobody knew anything about them so we just decided to spend the rest of the night at a party. We reached up here about four o’clock.”
He got out of the hammock took some paper, put some of the marijuana in it and began making a cigarette.
“This herb’s nice,” he remarked as he let out a ring of smoke.
“Last night was nice. I saw Dally with a real sexy girl. We smoked up a lot of the green herb and drank some hard liquor.”
“So what happened, you didn’t get any girls?” Lance asked.
“Of course, I got two of them, Duffus got two too. Hey we had to take Dally’s girl away from him. He wanted to spend the whole night with her.”
“He’s a dangerous youth,” Grosset remarked.
“He was high on the green herb and liquor. He’s not supposed to wake up until tomorrow.”
“So what happen to Pablo?” Lance asked.
“Indian, hey, he found a girl up there. The girl didn’t want to let go of him so we had to leave him up there. He said when he’s ready he’ll just borrow a motorcycle and come in on it.”
“When we were dancing with some of the girls we saw some little guys making up their faces but when they realized that we were armed they just had to cool it.”
“Bendoo, the four men we wiped out last night were the ones, who beat up Pinchie and Evert and stole their weed,” Grosset told him.
Bendoo tried not to show any emotion.
“Those men should be dead. They can’t beat up our friends like that and live. I’m angry that Ardez never sent me because it’s a long time since I’ve killed a man.”
“Bendoo, Premba kidnapped a girl from Bay Farm Road and brought her to the camp. When we were coming down, Lance and I had to hold her to prevent her escaping. When Lance shot her man she flung herself down on the ground. It’s a wonder people never came to find out what was happening. Then when we were coming up here she put up a fight trying to escape. We had to leave her down at Rattigan’s shack. She refused to go to Premba’s shack with him,” Grosset told him.
Bendoo was glad, if the girl was at Rattigan’s shack it meant that Camilla was taking care of her.
He grimaced, but tried not to show it.
“Grosset, are you mad? When people hear those guns barking, they are not going to leave their houses.’’
“That’s true, Bendoo, all when we held the gun on the guy he didn’t want to tell us anything. He tried to roll under his bed, but I let him have three shots.”
Bendoo rolled some more marijuana leaves and lit it.
“Premba knows that Bridget will fight his new woman,” he declared.
“He wants to get rid of Bridget. The two of them are always fighting,” Pennant stated.
Bendoo knew that Bridget loved fighting as she had told him that she had once wounded a girl in a fight. She loved partying and going to dances. Premba had told him that she had two children for him but they were with her mother in the country.
“We saw two expensive motorcycles up at the dance. We
wanted to take away one of them, but because Duffus is from that area, he said we shouldn’t do it,” Bendoo told them.
“I understand how Duffus felt. They probably would have blamed him when they found that the motorcycle was missing,” Pennant stated.
“Yeah, I agree with you. I’m going to get some more sleep,” Bendoo told them.
He climbed back up into his hammock as most of the fighters began drifting back to their shacks, shortly he was snoring.
Chapter Eleven
Lex felt like a man on the edge of a precipice. His wife was now operating his business and he had to be in hiding from McCreed’s gunmen. She had gotten redundant eight months ago and had been unable to find another job. He felt that the present situation was unbearable and it would be better for him to leave the syndicate. He reflected on King. The man was obviously not fit to lead anyone. His puny efforts to raid Mc Creed’s weedfields were completely useless. They would not make much money from the small amount of weed poached so far. Brad and Jack were just as spineless. All three were worthless and he would have nothing more to do with them.
He drove to Bigs Avenue that evening. There were syndicates, he knew, who had fighters for hire, but he was not sure of their relationship with McCreed. Bigs Avenue men were always there for hire plus they were reliable and trigger-happy. He employed four men.
All had done small jobs for him before. He gave them an advance and told them to meet him on Monday if they were successful. He gave them the directions to Mc Creeds’s house and the type of car he drove. He then drove at breakneck speed for the meeting with King and the man, who had flown down from Miami, G.C. Cox.
***
G.C. Cox was a hard cigarette smoker. His doctors had warned him several times to the extent that he was smoking a pack a day, down from the two packs of ten years ago. At fifty-two he cut a rather professional figure being clean cut and always neatly dressed. He stepped out of the Air Jamaica jet at the Norman Manley International Airport, collected his baggage, went through immigration and customs and headed for a waiting taxi, that would take him to King’s Cherry Gardens home. He would then head for his sister’s house in Meadowbrook Estates.
G.C’s sojourn away from Jamaica had been a long one and the man responsible for this was none other than Gus McCreed. He had narrowly escaped death at the hands of his gunmen. The big bald head giant was cutting a clear path to dominating the drug and marijuana trade. If he hadn’t refused his offer to buy the lands at Jackfruit Valley and the weed crop, then maybe he wouldn’t have to run away. He knew he shouldn’t have run away, but he had reasoned that it was safer because had he stayed he would certainly have been killed, with so many bloodhounds on his trail. How McCreed had known about him, he didn’t know, since he was a small grower.
The death squad, which had visited his office that afternoon, had mistaken his accountant for him and had ruthlessly cut down the man. He suspected that when McCreed heard that his men had gotten the wrong man he had sent them on a hunt for him with orders to shoot to kill on sight. He had gone into hiding, hardly venturing out at all. His wife began looking after their immigration papers and after some pocket lacing they got permanent visas to reside in the United States. They had left for