"True To The Game III" - читать интересную книгу автора (Woods Teri)

Eye Spy

Quadir parked the black BMW near the corner of Second and Green. He could see the door to his building. Large numbers were mounted above the door: 234. Two-thirty-four Green Street, he thought. My old secret hideout. Still in his car, he reached into a plastic bag and took out the Davy Crockett hairpieces Amelia had suggested he wear. He carefully put them on, pressing the sticky backs to his skin. He checked his mustache and beard in the rearview mirror, making sure they were on straight, and reached into the backseat for a baseball cap to put on his head. Feeling safe and undetectable, he got out of the car and walked to the front entrance of the apartment building. I need my keys. He wished he had his diamond Q keychain.

Just then a locksmith carrying a small duffel bag and a locked metal box brushed past him. Quadir couldn’t help but notice the man’s smile.

“Excuse me, I’m locked out of my house and I was just wo-”

“Sorry, pal, I can’t help you right now. I’m uuhh…

I’m off!”

Quadir watched as the man got into a locksmith van and pulled away from the block.

“Thanks a lot,” said Quadir.

It turned out that the locksmith was the same one who Gena had called to open the safe. The duffel bag the locksmith was holding had his money in it, and the reason the locksmith couldn’t help him was that he was in a rush to get home and share his good fortune with his wife and kids.

Quadir walked around the side of the apartment building and looked up at his old bedroom window. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll call the management office and have them come down here and let me in. Oh, damn, I can’t do that with this Davy Crockett getup. They won’t recognize me. Shit, maybe I should call a locksmith. Quadir had to see his apartment, and he desperately needed to know that all its contents were safe and sound, especially his money.

He got back into the BMW, started the engine, and no sooner had he put the car in park than he saw her. It was Gena. She was right there in front of him, fewer than two hundred feet away, carrying a large gold-framed photo of them that had hung on the wall of his apartment. She placed it in the car. Wow! She found my hideout spot, he thought to himself. He watched her as she placed two pillowcases inside the car. Is that my money in those pillowcases? What should I do? His first thought was to jump out of the car and run over to her. That he didn’t would be the biggest mistake he’d ever make. That one opportunity, that one chance was right there, but instead, he stalled, and those few moments cost him dearly. Before he knew it, the lights of the baby-blue Mercedes reflected off the car in front of it and the driver maneuvered her way out of the parking space. Quadir stepped on the gas, following the car down the street.

Where the hell is she going? he wondered as Gena made her way out of the city and onto the New Jersey Turnpike heading north. He speeded up, not wanting to lose her in the sea of red brake lights. Catching him off-guard, she quickly exited the turnpike. He cut off the car in front of him, almost causing a rear-end collision, and made the exit ramp just in the nick of time. He paid the toll and followed Gena’s baby-blue Mercedes into an Exxon station off the highway. His gut instinct was to jump out of the car and run over to her, tell her that he was alive and that everything would be okay. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do; I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her right now. And just as he was about to get out of his car, he saw the glass door to the mobile station open, and Jerrell Jackson, his archenemy, stood in the doorway, staring straight at the BMW. Quickly, he turned on the car’s engine and watched as Jerrell walked across the gas station lot, heading toward him. He quickly turned the car around and sped from the gas station. What the fuck is she doing talking to him? Quadir’s mind wandered in all directions searching for possible explanations, but nothing made sense. Isn’t he supposed to be in jail? Forty testified and they still found that nigga not guilty? He couldn’t believe it, nothing was making sense, and worst of all was his money. It was no longer in its safe hiding place. What is she thinking? What the hell is she thinking?She was in on this with him? She got my money for him?

Quadir didn’t know what to do. He had lost her trail and couldn’t follow her anymore. He didn’t want to return to Amelia’s house, at least not yet. What he really wanted to do was visit his old neighborhood. Ride down the streets that he had built an empire hustling on. The streets he once owned. The streets that made him “that nigga.” The streets he hadn’t seen since the attempt on his life. That’s what he wanted to do and that’s what he was going to do. No one can recognize me anyway. He couldn’t help it. He saw her with the pillowcases and the picture and knew she had found his money. He drove through the streets of Philly hoping that no one would notice him. He knew he was asking for trouble coming to this side of town. I hope the police don’t pull me over. Boy oh boy, he definitely couldn’t let that happen. No way, Jose, he thought.

He drove down North Philly across Twenty-ninth Street over to Lehigh Avenue. Then he went down Lehigh to Seventeenth Street and took Seventeenth Street all the way up to Erie Avenue, then Erie over to Broad and back down. The streets were so familiar it all seemed like yesterday. But it wasn’t yesterday and things had somehow changed over the last six months. He thought of Gena and wondered where she was. Still on Broad, he took it down to Girard and crossed over to Thirteenth and took it down to Wallace, entering Richard Allen. He had hoped to see Gena’s baby-blue Mercedes parked in front of her grandmother’s house, but it wasn’t. He rode around the block a few times but he didn’t see the car. He looked down at the time clock display in the BMW. It’s getting late. Quadir decided it was time to go back to Amelia’s house. I’ll be back, first thing in the morning. We’ll see what you’re up to then.

The next morning, Quadir was again waiting outside Gena’s grandmother’s house. He followed her to a mall, maneuvered the BMW into a parking space just across the street from a Porsche dealership, and sat quietly and watched. Gena had started her day rather early. Had he gotten to Richard Allen a minute later, he would have missed her. As soon as the mall opened, she was the first one through the doorway. Quadir watched her as she loaded up the Mercedes with shopping bag after shopping bag. Then she went down Jewelers’ Row. No telling how much damage she did at the jewelry store. She looks happy though. She don’t look like she misses me at all. Watching Gena, he couldn’t help but wonder what in the world she was thinking. She was like a madwoman with money and she was spending it and spending it big. He looked across the street at an unmarked police car and watched the detectives inside. It seemed Gena’s start wasn’t that early; she had company. Quadir watched as the detectives snacked on bagels and their morning coffee. He wished he could get out of the car and go to her. He wanted so bad to rush to her, to embrace her, and to tell her that he was alive and kicking. But to do that would have been too dangerous. Those extra eyes watching her would then be watching him, and he definitely didn’t want that. Instead, Quadir lay low and stayed out of sight. He had no time for the Philly PD or whoever those guys were. Maybe they’re following her, hoping that she’ll lead them to me. That was his first thought, but then he thought again. Maybe they know about the money and they’re hoping that she’ll lead them to it. It could be anything, but one thing was for sure: She was definitely under surveillance. He knew he would have to keep his distance if his plan was to have any chance of success. He couldn’t even get close enough to Gena to warn her.

The fact that Gena had found his money certainly complicated things. Now she was being watched. How the hell am I gonna follow her, if ola is on her ass? How the hell will I ever get my money back? His plan was simple: Follow Gena until she led him to his pot of gold. But now they had company and Gena was moving around a lot. She was all over the place. He couldn’t afford to let the Philly PD catch him following Gena. Not those jokers-that would be a nightmare. I bet it’s a hefty sentence for faking your death. Not to mention that Quadir certainly had not come this far to end up behind bars. The plan was the Bahamas, not the pen. He would have to shadow Gena carefully and he would have to do his best to keep her safe from a distance. But how?

Gena exited the Porsche dealership and stood patiently by the front door. Soon, it became evident what she was waiting for. A saleswoman pulled up in a guardsman black 911 Gemballa convertible.

“Holy shit, she’s fuckin’ nuts!” Quadir exclaimed. “Don’t do it, Gena. They’re watching you; don’t do it!”

He watched from across the street as the Philly PD pulled out surveillance cameras. Gena finished with the saleswoman, shook her hand, then pulled out of the dealership parking lot. She had just blown over three hundred thousand dollars of his money and it wasn’t even lunch time.

Several weeks later Quadir sat on the sofa silently as he pictured himself flipping over the coffee table and the stacks of medical journals lying on it.

“Dammit!” he muttered as he moved away from the table before he could actually trash it.

“What? What’s the matter with you?” Amelia calmly asked.

Quadir looked at her, not even wanting to explain. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Talk about what?”

“Nothing. Please, not right now, Amelia.”

He looked at her smile slowly fade. He had hurt her feelings and he knew it. Her entire mission in life was to help, to save, to be a hero. He completely understood that, but there was no way in the world she could help him. No one could.

“Why don’t you sit down, Quadir? Just take it easy and get your thoughts together.”

“Gena is seeing someone,” he said.

“Gena? Your Gena? No way,” said Amelia surprised at his accusation.

“Not only is she seeing someone else, she’s seeing the guy that tried to kill me. His name is Jerrell Jackson.”

“Oh, my god, Quadir, are you sure? That doesn’t make sense. Does she know he tried to kill you?”

“I don’t know what she knows, but even still, the streets is always talking and everybody knows that Jerrell was behind my murder. Everybody. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

That’s when Quadir’s vision came to life. Amelia sat calmly as her coffee table was flipped over and knocked to the floor, while her medical journals landed all over her living room.

“Are you done? Because tearing my things up isn’t going to fix the problem, and it certainly won’t help,” said Amelia, turning over her coffee table and positioning it perfectly back in place.

“Yo, don’t you hear me? This bitch is sleeping with the motherfucker who tried to kill me. And that’s only the half of it. Gena found my money, so she’s got it, all of it, and I can’t figure out how to get it back. I can’t even figure out where she’s got it at.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know Jerrell shot you. And obviously she has your money because it was made available to her to get,” Amelia said as she gathered her journals off the floor and began stacking them back neatly on the coffee table.

“She might not know who he is, but trust me, he knows who she is and if he thinks for one minute that she’s got my money, he’ll kill her for it. I know him; I know how he thinks. Every nigga I know and trusted would bring me harm if they could get their hands on that kind of money. I never let anyone know about the money I had saved. No one knew.”

“Quadir, it’s just money.”

“You always say that, Amelia, just because you come from a well-to-do family, but twenty million ain’t nothing to sneeze at.”

“Twenty million? You got twenty million?”

“Do I? Well, I did. Now Gena has twenty million, or better yet, my archenemy Jerrell Jackson has twenty million.”

“Oh, Quadir, twenty million?”

“Well, technically, a little over seventeen million, Amelia. And she’s spending it, like water running out of a faucet.”

“Well, what are you going to do? Quadir, twenty million is a lot of money.”

“Amelia, please, you’re making my head hurt,” said Quadir, scratching his head trying to figure out his next move.

“What makes you think that if you can’t figure out where the money is, Jerrell will? I’m sure Gena’s not that gullible. I’m sure she’s smart enough to hide the money in a safe place.”

“Amelia, Jerrell is the grimiest dirtbag I know. If he thinks Gena has something, he’ll torture her to death in order to take it. This shit is crazy. It’s getting more and more complicated as time goes by. Now, I have to babysit this nigga.”

“Listen, I have money. I can make you a loan; I can help you get a new start out here, if that’s what you want. I mean I don’t have twenty million dollars and I know that’s a lot of money, but Quadir, it’s not worth your life. It’s not worth prison. You know what I’m saying?” asked Amelia, hoping he was smarter than she thought.

“Amelia, a loan? Are you nuts? We’re talking my twenty million, Amelia, my twenty million dollars, and I will get my money back. I have to get it back!”

“No, we’re talking about Gena’s twenty million and we’re talking about you risking your life!” she shouted, hoping to penetrate his brain with common sense.

Quadir just looked at her blankly, not wanting to hear her logic. “That’s my twenty million. Mine. I busted my ass for that; I damn near lost my life for that. I want my money. I want it back!”

“Well, what do you want me to do to help? What about hiring a private investigator to help track the money down?”

“No, that would just be one more nose up in the mix. Shit, he’d probably find out where the money is and take it himself.”

“Quadir!”

“What? I would,” he said, eyes wide.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, what?” he asked, stopping his pacing for a split second to hear her out.

“Are you mad at Gena for having your money or are you mad at her for being with Jerrell?”

Quadir thought about her question and honestly didn’t know the answer. His pride was hurt, of course. Any man’s pride would be. That was just the tip of the iceberg. The truth was his archenemy had his girl and access to his dough. Nothing could be worse than that.

“Right now, I just want my money back,” he said, broken-hearted.

“She thinks you’re dead, you know,” said Amelia, trying to reason with him.

“I know, but he’s the enemy.”

“She probably has no idea who she’s dealing with.”

Quadir just shook his head. The situation was way out of control. Why didn’t I stop her at the apartment? Why didn’t I stop her then, before she had a chance to get into the car? What was I thinking?

“Damn, I want my money.”

Amelia said nothing; she just let him pace around, scratching his head, hoping he’d figure out something without harming himself or, worse, her medical career. Of course he knew that to do something foolish would just be plain stupid. He had everything going for him: a new life, a fresh start, and twenty million dollars somewhere out there. And he would figure out where. He had come too far not to. He would have his money. He might not have Gena, but he’d get that money back, one way or the other. What are you doing, Gena? Of all the dudes out here, why him? Gena had committed the perfect betrayal. If Quadir didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was in cahoots with Jerrell. No, she loved me, didn’t she?

“Are you okay?” Amelia asked, lightly touching Quadir’s shoulder.

“No, I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Seriously, let me hire someone to help you get your money back.”

“Not yet; not right now. She already has Philly PD on her, and if you hire a PI then it’ll look like a damn caravan going down the street. I just need to change up my tactics and I need to switch cars too.”

“You can use the Jeep, if you want,” said Amelia, hoping to be helpful. “Just be careful.”

“I will; don’t worry.”

“Quadir, don’t you worry. She’ll be back.”

Quadir thought for a moment, and the truth was that after he saw Gena and Jerrell together, he didn’t know if he wanted her back.

She’ll be back? Maybe she should stay where she’s at; maybe she don’t need to come back.

Amelia strolled out of the room while Quadir contemplated his next move. He would switch cars and push the Range and he would change up his hours. She was hiding the money somewhere and sooner or later she would lead him to it. Either that or Jerrell would, but one way or the other he was going to watch her like a hawk. And watch out for those snooping detective motherfuckers too! I wonder if they’re FBI.

“Doc!” he hollered as she walked by the living room and into the dining room.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she asked leaning backward in the doorway.

“Thanks,” said Quadir.

“Don’t thank me; I’m just waiting to see this twenty million dollars. Maybe I will let you pay me back,” she said, laughing.

“I thought you said money could never repay what you had done for me,” said Quadir, trying to match his voice to hers.

“Are you nuts? Twenty million… I’m ready to go out there with you and follow Gena around myself. She’s lucky I got rounds to make or I’d be out there with you. Now, you said you needed the Jeep, right?”