Blood Ties Read online

  The additional security was what had Leader spooked.

  Leader completed the packet and addressed his concerns to Menes.

  Menes raised his soot-colored hand, silencing Leader’s thoughts. “The as’ault ’appened ’bout six months ago,” he explained. The early morning sun burrowing through the dark tint made the diamonds in his pinky ring light up the car as he continued to clarify the ramifications of the contract. “When de fam’a lee come to me, I tell dem it be a while before I get de job done. Dey give half the money upfront. So, now dey ’ave me word. Ya undastand dat, yes?”

  Leader understood quite well what Menes was implying. He had given the family his word. In their business, your word was gold. Your word was equal to your life, sometimes more than your life, for if the person you offended felt your life wasn’t sufficient, then anyone you held dear was in danger. Such was the nature of their business.

  As the Rolls cruised the Magnificent Mile, Leader looked at the early morning shoppers and reflected on how he had gotten involved in the business that was his life.

  * * *

  Leader was raised by his grandfather in Harlem, New York for the first part of his life. Leader’s grandfather, Johnathan Moore (for whom he was named) took Leader away from his mother when he was an infant because he was dissatisfied with the fact his baby girl had been impregnated by a drop shot. Leader’s grandfather possessed a strong work ethic and thought he had instilled the same ethic in his only daughter. John Mo, as he was called by everyone who knew him, was a real estate tycoon by day, and a pit boss by night. He ran numbers and illegal gambling houses from his numerous properties spread throughout Manhattan. He had met Leader’s grandmother Annette in one of his gambling houses one night. She was in town from down south visiting relatives. John Mo laid eyes on her and refused to be denied. They engaged in a brief yet intense fling, and Leader’s mother, Carmen, was born nine months later.

  Carmen grew up between New York and North Carolina. She went to school in Carolina while her summers were spent in New York. One day while walking home from school, she met Leader’s father. He was a part-time construction worker and a full-time drunk. He was five years older than her, and full of game. He quickly swept Carmen off her feet. When reality brought her crashing down, it was too late. She was already three months pregnant. When John Mo received word that his precious daughter was knocked up by some drop shot, he rushed down south to pay his beloved a visit, and lay down the law on her baby daddy.

  When John Mo arrived down south in his new Lincoln, surrounded by his big-city goons, all eyes were on him. John Mo waltzed into his one-time fling’s home, noted the drab conditions, and immediately demanded she move to New York with him. He and Annette had their thing and kept in touch over the years on the strength of their child, and though he had his own type of love for her, he was a sporting man and not fit for settling down. Still, he didn’t know she was living like this. A man of stature, he had to offer help to her. Of course, Annette accepted his offer. So while she gathered her affairs in order to move to New York, John Mo went to see Carmen. When he arrived at the mobile home, his anger intensified upon seeing what his daughter had selected for a mate. Leader’s father, Slab, was planted in the love seat with one hand cupping a bottle of Gin, the other cupping his nuts.

  John Mo was livid!

  To Slab’s detriment, the situation escalated when Carmen hobbled her swollen belly around the corner sporting a black eye. Without warning, John Mo snatched the scrawny Slab out of the chair and commenced to pummel him. After Slab lay on the floor bleeding, John Mo stuffed his knee into his chest, and his Derringer underneath his chin. Told him if he ever put his dirty hands on his daughter again, he’d tap dance on his liver. He then ordered Carmen to pack a bag and get in the car.

  Leader was born the following month in Mount Sinai hospital in Manhattan. Carmen remained in New York long enough to breastfeed before being summoned down south by her boyfriend. John Mo allowed her to go on one condition: she had to leave little John Mo with him. Carmen resisted initially, but after much pressure from her sick mother, she agreed, and fled to North Carolina. The following month, Annette lost her bout with cancer, leaving John Mo with his grandson as his only blood relative living with him in New York City.

  John Mo doted on Leader, providing him with anything his young heart desired, and taught him all about life—real life—not the fairy tale presented to most children. He also schooled Leader about the real value of a dollar, and more importantly, how to earn one, honestly and otherwise. He taught him real estate tricks. He taught him how to study people to find out their weaknesses, then exploit them. John Mo gave his grandson the most valuable gift a parent could give a child. He gave him knowledge.

  For Leader’s part, he soaked everything in like cheap carpet. In fact, that was how he received his moniker. John Mo saw how quickly his grandson grasped things and realized he was destined to become a leader. He gave him the name Leader to remind and motivate him to be the best he could be so when the time came, he could be the best leader he could possibly be. Leader lived up to the name so much, that as a young boy everyone began calling him Leader, oblivious to the fact his grandfather had already given him the name.

  When Leader was sixteen, his father killed his mother, then killed himself, in a bloody murder-suicide that haunted the city of Fayetteville for years to come. It was reported that so much blood was spilled, the police could smell it as soon as they hit the block. Sadly, six months later, John Mo died lying in his own blood.

  A young Leader cradled John Mo’s head in his lap while awaiting the paramedics. Deep down inside he knew he wasn’t going to make it. John Mo was stabbed thirteen times by a gambler who had lost his rent money in the card game the previous night. The holes were so big Leader was able to put his fingers clean through them. Which was exactly what he did to curb the bleeding. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough fingers.

  When John Mo died, a part of Leader died along with him. Leader became depressed with the helpless feeling of not being able to save his grandfather. The feeling consumed him to the point that all he wanted to do was kill just to prove himself worthy of living. His grandfather’s death occurred near the end of the first Gulf War, so Leader knew exactly where to appease his hunger to inflict pain. Leader joined the army with the sole intention of learning how to kill. He refused to let danger near any of his loved ones again, and he not be prepared.

  Leader joined a unit guaranteed to see action. True to his name. Leader rose through the ranks to become a NonCommissioned Officer in no time. Much to his surprise (and his Commander’s pleasure) he was an efficient killing machine with nine confirmed and countless unconfirmed kills during his first tour. Leader was a natural because killing was his therapy. Every time he vanquished a life, in his mind it was reciprocity for the life of his grandfather. It didn’t matter that his grandfather never had any qualms with any Arabs. Leader’s mind had flipped. To him, the world had killed his grandfather, therefore he held a grudge against the world.

  As a result of his stellar combat record, the Special Forces came calling, and Leader answered.

  Leader began training at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, in June of 1994. From Bragg, he ventured to Fort Benning, Georgia for additional training before returning to Bragg for even more grueling training. By the time Leader was done, he had been turned into a fine-tuned machine, especially designed to build or destroy.

  As a Green Beret, Leader learned all about nation building. They also taught other impoverished countries how to defend themselves, equipped them with weapons and training to use them. Over the course of two years, Leader bounced from country to country, training troops with his twelve-man team. At the age of twenty-one, he was transferred to Afghanistan to assist in training their army.

  The Afghans were gearing up to fight the Taliban. Although the conflict would not explode on the world stage for quite a few years, U.S. troops were already in place. It was there that Leade
r discovered the dubiousness of his country. His CO’s would order one thing, then do the opposite. Situations would occur one way, but the media would report a contrary story. When Leader began demanding answers, he was quickly shipped out of Afghanistan into North Africa.

  His assignment? Assassinate Colonel Muammar Qaddafi.

  Leader was selected because he was the lone black man in his twelve-man squad. He was also the best at what they wanted done, which essentially boiled down to murder without a trace.

  Leader was educated on the languages and customs of his AO (area of operations) in the Sudan and Morocco. Teaching him was none other than a Sudanese national with ties to a far-reaching crime syndicate. In addition to teaching Leader what was needed for his mission, he also opened Leader’s eyes to limitless lucrative opportunities in the private sector. Every job from legal mercenary to illegal assassinations were discussed, ranging from locations as diverse as Timbuktu to the good ole’ U.S. of A. Leader was blown away at the possibilities, but he was still indebted to the U.S. Army, so he was forced to decline, opting to revisit the particulars at a possible later date.

  The hit on Colonel Qaddafi was eventually cancelled, but Leader continued to make his bones elsewhere. During the end of his enlistment, Leader grew disheartened with the whole bureaucratic process of the military and sought employment in numerous places for when he left the military. Much to his chagrin, no one was interested in hiring someone whose only skill was killing, therefore Leader was forced to leave the military without a viable job. New York was fraught with bad memories, so he opted to stay in Fayetteville, N.C.

  Leader found a series of odd jobs, but found that he still possessed violent desires. His favorite pastime became frequenting a social club just off Bragg Boulevard. The club was rumored to be owned by one of Fayetteville’s most well-known drug dealers, an O.G. name Sherlock.

  One night while Leader was at the club, a man attempted to shoot another man, just feet away from where Leader was standing, enjoying his drink. Call it instinct. Call it survival. Call it thrill. Regardless of the reason, the result was Leader disarming the assailant before he could get a shot off. When the assailant struck back with a wild blow, Leader effortlessly blocked it, then issued a palm-heel strike to his nose.

  The man was dead before he hit the ground.

  Leader knew he had fucked up big time! With his training on record, he knew the state would charge him with murder. Luckily for him, the man whose life he had saved was the notorious Sherlock. Sherlock had Fayetteville on lock! Police on the payroll. Crooked lawyers. Greedy judges. The whole enchilada. When Leader killed the man inside Sherlock’s club, Sherlock didn’t flip out. Instead, he offered Leader support and a job. After Sherlock ensured the body was disposed of properly, Leader began working as his personal bodyguard, with pay starting at $1,000 dollars a day.

  For the next five years, Leader never left Sherlock’s side. He eventually became more than just Sherlock’s bodyguard, he became his cleaner, eliminating adversaries and competitors alike with a brutal force never seen before on the streets of Fayetteville. As a result, Sherlock became even wealthier, and the riches trickled down to Leader. Leader used the knowledge injected into him from his grandfather to acquire real estate all over the Carolinas. Because Sherlock put Leader into a position to become financially secure, Leader was fiercely loyal. Sherlock only had to think of a problem and Leader handled it, swiftly and violently. Over time, in certain circles, Leader became more feared than Sherlock, for it was known that Leader was the crux of Sherlock’s power.

  Then it all suddenly came crashing down.

  The Feds indicted Sherlock. True to O.G. form, Sherlock held his water, didn’t implicate anyone else. He took his “elbow” like a man.

  At first, Leader was on the verge of losing it. He held Sherlock in high regard. Sherlock reminded Leader of his grandfather in so many ways. Leader stayed in contact with Sherlock throughout his bid, putting thousands of dollars on his books. Sherlock became ill and the letters become more infrequent. One day, Leader received an important encrypted letter from Sherlock. According to the letter, Sherlock had been telling some old African about Leader’s “skills.” As it turned out, the African knew people in high places who could benefit from his service. Not that “ghetto-shit” (as the African eloquently put it.) Sherlock assured Leader anonymity, and all but ordered he accept the offer. He gave Leader the contact information and three weeks later Leader was meeting Menes for the first time in an underground parking garage in New Jersey.

  Leader’s first job was a female business executive whose husband would rather she die than give her a divorce. Leader shadowed her for two days before making his move. The next day, while she was out for her daily run, he slipped into her home, injected cyanide into her orange juice, and slipped out without being noticed. His only instruction was to make it look like a suicide, to which he followed in spades. Later, as he sat inside his hotel room removing his disguise, he saw the news report of a marketing executive found dead in her home. Cause of death? Suicide by poison. The reporter spoke of her going through a messy divorce, and even ran footage of her bereaved, estranged husband. Authorities made it quite clear that homicide was ruled out.

  Leader collected $250,000 for his troubles.

  From that point on, Menes provided Leader with a job bimonthly. His jobs were as close as Charlotte, North Carolina and as far away as Beijing, China. Leader eventually had to create a security-consulting firm as a front, to justify his extensive travel and steadily growing bank account. He became knowledgeable of the world’s major languages and religions to assist in facilitating his jobs. In time, he became a wealthy man without a care in the world, and only enough love for himself and the almighty dollar.

  Then he met Glenda.

  * * *

  Leader’s thoughts drifted back to the present. Menes had never steered him wrong on a mark in the past, and Leader didn’t detect any hint of malice now, but you could never be too careful.

  “Yeah, I understand your position,” Leader answered, “But you understand mine, too. Right?”

  “Absolutely.” Menes reached into the humidor to extract a cigar, offered Leader one, which he declined. When he was done clipping the end, he lit it. “And like I tell you: ev’rything is ev’ry thing. You not ac’ting like dis because a de mark is a cop, are you?”

  “Hell naw!” Leader responded, a little too enthused. “That’s icing on the cake, far as I’m concerned.” He meant every word of what he said. Leader despised cops with a passion. In fact, in the past, he had contemplated taking a page out of the book of South Americans. South Americans were notorious for assassinating authorities. Judges, lawyers, investigators . . . they all were cannon fodder for their criminal cartels. Leader thought about going straight vigilante numerous times, but he was a businessman. Businessmen never gave for free that which could be bought. Besides, vendettas didn’t pay bills.

  “Good, good. Well, your mo’ney will be de’posited as usual. Anything else?”

  Leader shook his head. “Just watch the news. I’ll be in touch.”

  With that, Leader popped out of the limo with his bag over his shoulder, disappearing into the Chi-town crowd.

  Chapter 3

  “Brrraaaaat!! Brrraaaat!! The clique affirmations echoed through the halls of the high school as two boys swerved around Justus and kept running to catch up with their comrades. Justus was finishing his last few weeks as a senior at 71st Senior High School, and was on top of the world. Oblivious to the affiliations surrounding him, he only had one thing on his mind: Panee.

  Panee was Justus’s pretty young thang, or P.Y.T. She was a senior also, but she was only sixteen. Panee was like most prodigies, extremely book smart, but life-illiterate, and Justus exploited her weakness to the fullest. Half Native, half black, Panee was one of the baddest chicks in school. Her mother was of the Lumbee tribe from Lumberton, North Carolina. Her father, though long gone, was a soldier. Justus had s
potted her when she was a sophomore, and his slick, smooth ass swept the youngster right off her feet. She had been mobbed down with him ever since.

  Justus had not seen or spoken with Panee since the day of Pug’s party, two days prior, and he wanted to know why. He bent the corner by the cafeteria and ran into an impromptu rap cipher. During the lunch hours, a rap cipher was guaranteed to be in session, and there were always women gathered around. As Justus made his way through the sea of bodies, he spotted his Panee, deeply enthralled in conversation with some no-neck football-playing brotha. Justus decided to size the scene up a bit before making himself known. The longer he stood and watched, the hotter he became underneath the collar. When he couldn’t take anymore, he stepped over, pulling Panee away by the arm.

  “Ouch Jus! What the hell is wrong with you?” Panee demanded in her proper speech.

  “No, what the hell is wrong witchu?! All yakkety yakking with this nigga.” Justus jerked his finger toward the dude, and saw that he was gritting on him. “What nigga?! I know you ain’t beefing?” Jus challenged. Seeing that no-neck wasn’t backing down, Justus released Panee’s arm and stepped closer. Panee attempted to pull Justus back, but he snatched his arm away. Before Justus covered the short distance to his opponent, the rappers stopped their cipher and intervened to break them up. No-neck became overly belligerent, screaming obscenities and promises at Justus. This further infuriated Justus. When he saw his partner, Magi, standing behind the football player, he really got amped. Magi was a known brawler!

  Not one to disappoint, Magi flailed a hooking overhand right and cuffed the dude in the top of the dome. Then all hell broke loose as other football players joined the fracas, beating on the innocent rappers. Soon, school security arrived, pulling bodies apart left and right. Once Justus ensured Magi was okay, he snatched Panee by the arm and dipped out before he was caught.