Ausarian Prophesy (Excerpt)

The room was decorated in blood red, from the carpet that bore the drug lord’s scripted initials to the Italian leather couch. Around the outside of the room were Roman-style pillars, two larger pillars stood on either side of a black lacquered desk.

The walls were decked with photos of his brother posing with some of the biggest names in music and pro sports. The air reeks of marijuana. Behind the desk in high-back leather chair sat Jalil Anderson.

He was dressed in all in black with a matching shoulder holster strapped on. He was a mirror image of Khalil, down to the haircut. On his desk sat a humidor, a bottle of Hennessey, and a scandalously dressed young woman with a face cut from the cover Video Vixen Magazine. Over his right shoulder stood a towering giant, his eyes like soft razors.

“Welcome, brother, I’ve been expecting you. It’s been about 5 years now, hasn’t it,” his brother asked cordially. “So, to what do I owe this visit? Wait a minute, you are not alone. Is that Jamal from the old neighborhood? Last time I saw you, you were strung out on Z. Nasty little habit. Good to see that you kicked it. There are many in the black community not as fortunate. What a shame, somebody ought to do something about the poison flowing into the hood,” he said, shaking his head.

Suddenly, his eyes swung to Maria. Slowly he rose from his chair and came from behind the desk.

“And, what do we have here,” signaling his man to prod her closer. “Brother, you don’t waste any time do you? Did he tell you what happen to his last piece of ass? If you should ever tire of Mr. Wall Street over here…,” he said” sliding the back of his hand slowly down over the side of Maria’s face.

Maria knocked his hand away in one swift motion, causing the human-refrigerator behind the desk to lunge forward; his brow furrowed and his teeth clinched. With the raise of his hand, the drug lord stopped the behemoth in his tracks.

“I have killed for less, but I like your fiery Latin temper,” he said, wagging his finger. “You always did know how to pick em, bro, even if I like mine with a little more back. Then, he returned to his seat. G-Pack, take our guest downstairs and buy them a drink: my brother and I got some catching up to do.”

The three men escorted Maria and Jamal out of the room. When they’d gone, Jalil leaned back in his chair, refocusing his attention on his brother.

“If the old man could see us now,” he started.

“Yes, if only he could see us now,” Khalil responded sarcastically.

“That’s right; he always did believe we were destined for big things. All that shit about us being given special gifts that would allow us to make a difference. All those night listening to him go on about how our people were builders of the first civilization and how one day we would ascend to our rightful place. And of course, he would always gaze in your direction when he talked of this black renaissance.

“Father loved you as much as he did me. He did the best he could after mother died,” said Khalil. Jalil leaned forward, plucked a blunt from the humidor and lit it with great care, blowing the smoke in his brother’s face before leaning back again.

“He never missed an opportunity to rub your accomplishments in my face,” said Jalil, growing irritated. “You did everything to try to outshine me, and he bought it.”

“And, by outshining you do you mean going to school, studying hard, and trying to do our father proud. But, you had other ideas like cutting school, running with the wrong crowd and getting arrested. And, even when he bailed you out, you wouldn’t even thank him.”

“I didn’t need his help,” yelled Jalil, springing to his feet. “I never needed anyone’s help, above all his. I learned early that our father was fucking nuts. Look out there, black people have never been worse off. So, what was he talking about?”

“And, you are doing your part to see that it remains that way, I see,” quipped Khalil.

“Don’t try that guilt shit on me, brother. You’re the one atop the FBI’s most wanted list. You’re the one being investigated by the IRS. You’re the one wanted for killing that rich bitch. What was her name,” Jalil asked turning to his bodyguard. “I know that those society bitches make lousy fucks, but did you have to kill her?”

Khalil had heard enough and lunged across the desk. But, before he could reach his mark, he encountered a wall made of flesh and bone. The man’s massive hands collared Khalil in mid-air and hoisted him to the ceiling.

“Put him down, Bebo,” ordered Jalil. Bebo did as he was told. “You were always the emotional one. Come brother sit and have a drink with me. Who knows, maybe we can come up with a solution to your legal woes.” Jalil grabbed a glass from the bar and pour his brother a shot of Hennessy.

“Tell me about the Dark One,” Khalil demanded, straightening his clothes.

“Maybe father was right after all. We can be kings. With enough money, all things are possible. You should know that better that anyone, moving billions for your clients and receiving peanuts in return. The filthy rich don’t follow the rules, they make the rules. Isn’t that what kings do?”

“While you live well, high above them working-class fools, you’re nothing more than a house nigger, managing the treasures of the rich and powerful. Well, how would you like to be the one making the rules? The old man was right about another thing; we both have special gifts.”

“What are you talking about, Jalil. You’re inviting me to join with you in the drug business,” Khalil asked, shaking his head. “Keep your blood money!”

“Whether you are willing to admit it or not, we’re the same. Where do you think the profits that you’re paid to hide from the government come from. It’s all blood money in one way or another.

“Whether it politicians hiding the money they’ll stolen from the slush fund or received from their PACs, weapons czars playing keep away with the dough from illegal arms deals, or banking and corporate moguls stealing billions from the unsuspecting millions. Any way you slice it; the money that you wash clean is minted in dirt and blood.”

“Jalil, you talking crazy talk. There are four cops dead, and I going down for that. All the money in the world can’t change that.”

“Oooh, I beg to differ, brother. There’s no problem that money can’t solve.”

“Who is he, Jalil?”

“He’s your lifeline right now. With him behind us, nothing is impossible. I mean, this motherfucker is capable of shit you wouldn’t believe.” Jalil took a long guzzle front the bottle and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

“After being forced out of Harlem, I moved my operation down here. Of course, some took offense to my move. After a long, drawn out street war, where no one but the undertaker was profiting, I was forced to negotiate.

“I was given a few corners in East Baltimore, moving a couple miserable bricks a month. And, one day we walked into my office and there he sat, parked behind my desk. I ordered my people to cap it ass. Suddenly, the room went pitch. When the lights came on, my people had been ripped apart like stuffed animals, guts and entrails everywhere. They had to be carted out in garbage bags.

“Yo, man, I had never seen anything like it. Naturally, when he talked, I listened. He seemed to know what my competitors were going to do before they did. With his help, I rolled over the competition in route to conquering the whole fucking city.

“Brother, his influence extends beyond police and judges, but into the highest levels of power. Man, I’ve seen him do shit that boggles the mind. He is definitely not someone to fuck with.

“He even predicted your coming. Your little ruse to get in the club didn’t fool me or him. You’re only here because he wants you here. From a few corners, my reach now extends from Philadelphia to Richmond and this is just the beginning. He has plans for us, brother, big plans.

“Together we can rule the underworld.” He paused to guzzle down some more brandy. “Nothing will move in America, in the pen or on the streets, without our say so. We can rule it all! Those in power will be forced to offer us a seat at the table. And, in time, even they will be made to bow down.”

“You ever stopped to think that you may be selling your soul in return,” asked Khalil, moving closer to his brother.

“Everything has a price, brother, including the soul. Some have traded there’s for a moment in the spotlight, others for diamonds and furs, and some for a night with their best friend’s wife. I, on the other hand, am asking for a tiny bit more.”

“What if I can offer you another way? I only helped you launder that money because you said you were getting out for good. Well, I have millions hidden offshore. When the heat dies down, I can move it. That, plus what you have stashed away, can give us a chance to start over. We could find some remote place to live off the grid. Maybe do some good with the money. We could leave tonight.”

Jalil began to chuckle until it grew into uproarious laugh. The laughing gradually faded and the stone cold glare returned.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? There is nowhere to run that he can’t find us. If you run, he’ll kill you. And if I allow you to run, he’ll kill me.” Both men glared at each other with the Bebo looking on.

“If you release Jamal and the girl, I won’t put up a struggle.”

“There we have another problem, brother. It would seem that the boss isn’t big on mercy. By defying him, you sealed their fate. ”

“Why do you think he wants us so bad? Think. We possess special powers, maybe even divine. We each have a voice, an inner presence that guides us. As kids, were thought we were just smarter than other kids. Everything came so easy to us.

“In time our gifts have made us both rich. Who’s to say that our powers won’t continue to grow? Maybe, father was right when he said that these gifts were given to us for a reason. Maybe the Dark One knows this and…”

“You were always a great teller of tales. When we were kids, I believed everything you told me…only we’re not kid anymore.”

The last vestige of hope was sucked form the room as the brothers reached an irreconcilable impasse. Jalil drew his .44 magnum from his shoulder rig. Jalil’s shadow lumbered forth, his gigantic fingers wrapped around a .12 gauge, implying that their talk was over. Khalil stood tall, prepared to confront his fate.

“I guess it’s time to get all Cain and Abel. And, since I’m holding the gun, I’ll be Cain.”

There was a double click made by the slide action of the pump. “Don’t use that thing, your idiot, use this,” said Jalil, handing the big man his magnum. “Make it clean: through the head.”

Bebo’s took aim, the muzzle just inches away from Khalil’s frontal lobe. Khalil thoughts flash to his father and then to Maria. His last thoughts would be of her. But, instead of a bang and flash of muzzle fire, there was nothing. The hulk of a man started to shake his head.

“I can’t, boss,” Bebo said, lowering his gun hand.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t,” asked Jalil, mystified. “Shoot him, you moron.” Bebo raised the barrel again, but soon his hand began to shake, prompting him to drop it to his side.

“You’re as useless as dead skin. Give me the gun and stand back.” Jalil snatched the weapon back and took aim, his finger slowing squeezing the trigger. Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground in a heap. Khalil eyes followed his brother down. Looking up he saw Bebo, standing there, butt of the shotgun pointed toward the floor.

“I’ve killed him,” Bebo lamented. Khalil knelt down beside his brother and searched for a pulse.

“No, he’s alive,” Khalil responded, climbing to his feet. His hand caressed his brow as he stood trying to think how to free Maria and Jamal.

“Bebo...Bebo...Bebo, Khalil repeated, each time with more emphasis, summoning the big man back from his thoughts. “Is there another way out of here,” Khalil asked.

“Uhhhh, yeah, the boss had an escape door put in, but it’s through the vault behind the bar.”

“Do you know the combination?”

“No, G-Pack is the only one that your brother trust with that.” Khalil thought for a minute.

“Bebo, I’m going to need you to fetch my friends.”Bebo nodded and headed for the door. “And, make sure G-Pack is alone. And, Bebo...”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

“I couldn’t do it,” was all he said before heading out the door.

Khalil quickly exchanged clothes with his brother. He barely had time to finish when the door swung open.

“Here they are, Jalil,” said G-Pack, gesturing to Jamal and Maria with his gun. He glanced down at the body on the floor.

“What did you do to him,” you monster,” cried Maria.

“Shut your mouth, bitch, or you’ll get the same,” warned Khalil. Then he turned to G-Pack. “How much is in the vault,” asked Khalil.

“Bout 300, give or take…”

“Get it.”

“What's the money for, boss,” his second-in-command asked, sounding skeptical.

“Just do what the fuck I tell you, Pack!”

“G-Pack did a second take of the body on the floor and then his eyes swung back to Khalil. Finally, shaking his head, he walked over and reached under the bar. After which the display case parted, revealing stainless steel door.

After four careful turns of the knob and a pull on the door handle, the vault squeaked open. G-Pack soon reappeared with a black satchel and tossed it on the desk. Then he looked at Khalil’s ring-less hand, and then at the hand of the man on the floor.

“Shit, you ain’t Jalil,” he said, going for his weapon. Before he could reach it, he was grabbed by Bebo, who boosted him into the air like yesterday’s laundry and then hurled into a nearby wall.

“Hell, I couldn’t even tell,” said Jamal, while retrieving G-Pack’s weapon.

“Are you alright,” asked Khalil, his eyes trained on Maria.

“Who you calling a bitch,” asked Maria.

“Yeah, I’m fine too,” Jamal answered. “But, how did you...” He never got to finish is question when a knock sounded on the door.

“Boss, everything alright,” came a voice from the other side of the door.

“Bebo, lead the way,” said Khalil. Grabbing up the black leather bag, he headed into the vault with other on his heels. Jamal, the last one inside, shut the vault door behind him.

While Bebo searched for the release lever, Khalil flattened the middle shelf back against the wall, and the wall swung open. One by one, they slid down a poll descending into the basement. Bebo led them through a series of rooms, discarded old furniture concealing the passageways. Shoving the furniture aside, they continued on until they came to a door leading to the street.

“Let’s move,” said Khalil. Weapons at the ready, the four of them stepped out into an alley behind the club. Just as they reached the street, they caught sight of the street gang. The street instantly erupted in gunfire.

Though Khalil’s squad dropped three of their attackers right off the bat, they were forced to give ground. Outgunned and outmanned, they dashed around the corner and up a back street. Bebo bought the group some time as he played a deadly tune with his scattergun before running to catch up.

But by now, they realized that they were penned down, as more attackers swarmed the streets ahead of them.

“Khalil, we have to find a way out. If we stay here, we’re dead” yelled Maria, trying to be heard over the fray. “I’ll cover you guys while you head between the row houses ahead.”

“No you don’t, Jamal. If we go, we go together,” Khalil replied, continuing to return fire. The situation was becoming critical as they were nearly out of ammo. All of sudden, a van came peeling around the corner, coming to a stretching halt just yards away. Jamal was about to open fire when a voice call to them.

“Khalil Anderson, get in the van,” the voice yelled. No one moved even as the gang closed in from both sides, they two were confused by the sudden appearance of the van. Khalil decided to trust his feeling and made a mad dash for the van. It was the very same van from the accident.

“Khalil, we must go now,” insisted the old man. Khalil searched the old man’s eyes before reacting.

“Come on, hurry up,” Khalil yelled while signaling to the others to follow. The three started for the van with Bebo laying down a cover fire. By the time Bebo reached them, the van too was taking fire. Bebo loaded into the cargo area in the back and the old man floored it. Sustaining a gauntlet of gunfire that shattered windows and riddled the doors with bullet holes, the van rounded the corner and disappeared into the night.

“We must get off the street,” said Maria.

“Let’s ditch the van and grabbed some new wheels, Jamal suggested.”

“No need to, young man,” replied the old man. “I’ve taken the precaution of securing a safe house; I believe that is the proper term.”

A few minutes later, the van pulled on to a side street filled with vacated row houses. Slowing to a crawl, the old man pulled into the service alley. After coming to a stop, he turned off the lights and killed the engine.

“Home sweet home,” said the girl, seemingly oblivious to their near death experience.

“We figured that you would need your belongings, it wasn’t easy but we moved them here. You’ll find them inside,” said the old man.

“Well, what the hell you guys waiting for, an engraved invitation,” barked the girl. Not waiting for them, she and the old man exited the van and entered the back door of a dark and dilapidated old house.

Maria, Jamal, and Khalil glanced at one other before following them inside.