The Diamond Empire--A Novel Page 2

  Diamonds replied, from Goldie’s bloodied body back to Auntie, “Oui.”

  Every bit of common sense she had told her to banish the young man and his troubles from her property, but the mother in her gave her pause. In his eyes, she saw not only greatness, but someone who could possibly pick up the burden she’d been carrying for nearly five decades. “So be it.” She extended a withered hand.

  When Diamonds took her hand, he found it cold and rough. Gnarled fingers clamped down over his and yanked him to her. He tried to pull away, but her grip was surprisingly stronger than he had expected. From somewhere within the folds of her tattered duster she produced a dagger. The handle was carved from bone and the sleek blade was black and scorched.

  “What are you doing?” He continued to struggle futilely.

  “This is a game of souls you’re looking to play with the Horseman, little one. To sit at the table, you must first have something to wager!” she hissed before bringing the dagger down.

  UNKNOWN LOCATION, 2006

  Diamonds was snatched from his sleep by the scream that had forced its way from his throat. His heart boomed thunderously in his ears, and his lungs seemed to be working overtime to process oxygen. Instinctively the fingers of his left hand went to the palm of his right, expecting to find a bleeding gash, but instead found traces of the long-healed scar that Auntie had given him nearly a decade prior. The scar marked the start of his walk down the dark road that had eventually led him to the predicament he now found himself in: stretched out on a tattered cot and the prisoner of a man he had already killed … or so he’d thought.

  “Glad to see you haven’t checked out on us yet,” a voice said from somewhere in the darkened room.

  The fact that he wasn’t alone startled Diamonds. He missed him on the first sweep of the room, but was able to pick him out on the second … if a him is what you could call it. The speaker appeared to be little more than a pair of youthful, yet seasoned, eyes staring at him from the inky haze of whatever hellhole he was in.

  “For a while I thought we were going to lose you,” the shadow continued.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Diamonds capped and tried to get up from the cot. An intense pain shot through his midsection and stole his breath. The room swam and he felt himself falling.

  The shadow moved soundlessly and caught Diamonds before his skull could make contact with the ground. “Easy, my man. You in and out of it for the last couple of days.” He helped Diamonds back to the bed. Now in the light Diamonds could get a better look at him. He was a young dude with a wavy fade, dressed in a sleek black suit, white shirt, and black tie. “You might wanna take it easy before you bust them stitches again.”

  “Stitches?” Diamonds didn’t understand. His eyes looked down toward his naked torso and for the first time he noticed the blood-stained bandage roughly taped over his stomach. With a wince, he peeled the covering back to examine himself and was overwhelmed by the stench. The bandage smelled of the grave and so did he. Upon closer inspection, he could make out several deep gashes across his stomach. Someone had tried to stitch them closed, but they were still seeping blood and pus. It was then that the torture session with Slim came back to him. His old enemy had taken his time cutting into Diamonds with the same black dagger he had used on so many people. As promised, Slim wanted him to suffer before he died and suffering he was.

  “I treated you as best I could, but my resources here are pretty limited,” the young man continued. “I was able to tighten you up enough so that you don’t bleed out, but I might’ve been too late to stop any infection. I tried to tell Slim that you need a real doctor, but as you can imagine he wasn’t too keen on that idea.”

  Diamonds snorted. “I’ll bet. Appreciate the effort, friend, but won’t no modern medicine fix what’s going on inside me.” He gently pressed the bandage back over the wound. What he knew, but the young man didn’t, was that the blade of the black dagger that had cut him was cured with a toxin that only a few knew the origins of. A simple nick could inflict pain and even sickness, not unlike the bite of a snake, but if the cut was deep enough it would bring on the Three. First came the fever, followed by madness, and when the poison finally made its way to the victim’s heart it would bring about a slow, and incredibly painful, end. Over the years Diamonds had developed a tolerance to the poison, but he wasn’t completely immune. If left untreated he would eventually succumb to the Three. Outside of him, only two other people knew how to make the antidote and one of them was dead by his hand.

  Thinking of Auntie, Diamonds reached for the pouch that always hung around. With a fright he realized that it was gone. Ignoring the burning of his wounds he began searching the cot and the floor around it.

  “Looking for this?” The young man held up a leather cord. He examined the pouch swinging from the end of it. “Slim tossed it out with the rest of your bloody shit, but I salvaged it from the trash.” He tossed it to Diamonds.

  Diamonds caught the pouch and opened it, exposing the contents. It was packed with earth from the Devil’s Tit, a gift from his one-time mentor and eventual victim Auntie. She had promised him that so long as he kept the soil close to his heart, Louisiana would never let him die, and up to that point it had held up its end of the bargain. He dipped his fingers into the soil and applied a small amount to his wounds. He could feel the burning recede, but it was only a temporary fix. Diamonds knew it would take more than an old woman’s hex and a handful of dirt to save him from the poison that would soon ravage his body.

  “You always go Dumpster diving for your captives?” Diamonds asked.

  “You ain’t my captive, you’re my charge,” the young man corrected him. “And to answer your question, hell no. Quamdiu vobis custodiante te et custodiat in eam fidem. ‘So long as you keep the faith, it shall keep you.’ Even a man on death row is allowed a Bible to bring him comfort during his walk to the gas chamber, so I saw no reason to deny you a token of whatever God you worship.”

  “You a religious man?”

  The young man thought on it. “No, just someone who respects the faith, even ones I don’t follow.”

  Diamonds nodded in a way of thanks. “So, how long have I been here?” He was trying to calculate how much time he had before he reached the point of no return for the antidote to the blade’s venom.

  The young man thought on the question. “I can’t say for sure. I only arrived two nights ago, but from the looks of the bruises that have started to heal already I’d say they been working you over for at least a few days.”

  This shocked Diamonds. It seemed like only a few hours ago Big Slim’s boys had gotten the drop on him and kidnapped him from his building. If the poison had already been in his system that long, then the situation was far direr than he expected. His tolerance would allow him to hold out longer than most, but he reasoned he didn’t have more than a week, maybe two if fate smiled on him. By then Big Slim killing him would be considered a mercy.

  “You must’ve done some scandalous shit for Big Slim to opt to torture you instead of killing you outright,” the young man said.

  Diamonds shrugged. “Some people can’t take a joke. While we being all chatty, why don’t you tell me why one of Big Slim’s lackeys is so concerned with my well-being? Them other two jokers seemed to take great pride in my pain.”

  The young man laughed. “Unnecessary cruelty is for the weak and insecure; I’m neither. Furthermore, I’m not now nor have I ever been anyone’s lackey. I was simply paid to perform two tasks: to keep you alive and confined to this room.”

  “If Slim only saw fit to leave you to guard me he’s either forgotten how I get down, or you’re one bad muthafucka,” Diamonds said.

  “My brother, with what Slim and his boys have put you through I doubt you could even stand on your own let alone give me any trouble. However, I didn’t get this far in life by underestimating my opponents.” The young man opened his suit jacket and showed Diamonds the black gun hanging from his should
er holster. “I think it’d be in both our best interests for you to be easy and not give me any trouble, Diamonds.”

  Diamonds raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, mon ami. You know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours.”

  “And you don’t need to know it, considering we’re on two different sides of the gun here. But in the spirit of all this gentlemanly courtesy we’ve been showing each other, I’m called Brother Minister.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I don’t know about this, kid. Maybe we should wait until the sun goes down,” Hank said from his position behind the wheel. He was an older, brown-skinned man with hard eyes and a generally sour disposition. At one time, he had been the voice of reason and wisdom of the crew, but lately his advice had fallen on deaf ears. It was a new day and they were under a new regime.

  “Ordinarily I’d agree with you, old head, but timing is key on this one. We wanna make sure everybody gets the memo around the same time.” This was Goldie. He was a lanky youth, with a thick goatee and hair that he wore braided into long plaits. As usual, his signature black bandanna was tied snugly around his neck. At just shy of twenty, Goldie had the combat seasoning of a man who had lived twice as long, and he was calling the shots.

  “Fuck all this debate shit. I’m ready to jump out and dump on a nigga!” Snake fumed from his position in the backseat of the vehicle. He was pole thin with dark eyes and spoke with a lisp. Some thought he got his nickname because of his speech impediment, but in reality, it was because he couldn’t be trusted. Snake was only loyal to whoever was holding the biggest bag, which is why Goldie couldn’t understand why Buda had been so insistent on Snake going along on the mission. Lately Buda had been making quite a few suspect decisions, but he was chief of their crew now and Goldie, like the others who had taken the pirate oath, were bound by honor to follow their chief … at least until he gave them a reason not to.

  Goldie turned in his seat and gave Snake an irritated look. “You’ll get your taste of blood, killer. But only when the time is right and not a minute sooner. So cool the fuck out.”

  “There he is.” Hank’s voice broke the tension between the other two men. His eyes were fixed on a man who was coming out of the building across the street. His name was Pat Williams. Pat didn’t look like much, wearing a pair of blue jeans, a New York Giants sweatshirt, and carrying a beat-up knapsack, but in the game they played looks could often be deceiving. The man was a runner for a big-time dealer named Big Stone, and strapped to his back were five kilos of uncut cocaine.

  “Make a U-turn and pull up on this nigga,” Goldie ordered Hank, while checking the clip of his gun.

  “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” Snake said excitedly. He had only been in New York for a few days and had been itching to spill some northern blood.

  Goldie ignored him, keeping his eyes locked on Pat. The runner made hurried steps toward a minivan that was idling at the curb, waiting for him. He looked around nervously, but his eyes never turned in the direction of the car that was coasting toward him. Goldie tightened his grip on his hammer, anticipating closing the curtain on Pat’s life. He was just positioning himself to deliver the kill shot from the window, when a second person emerging from the building Pat had just left gave him pause.

  “Wait a minute, Daddy!” A little girl of about ten or eleven came running down the walkway toward Pat. She was a pretty little thing with chocolate skin and thick black hair she wore in two Afro-puffs. In her hand, she held a piece of construction paper that flapped in the breeze. “You forgot the picture I made you!”

  “Thank you, Rose.” Pat hugged her. Rose wasn’t his biological child, but he had been raising her with her mother since she was four years old. Her father had walked out of their lives shortly after she was born, and only made random guest appearances.

  “Fuck!” Goldie cursed and slunk back in his seat. He’d almost made a horrible mistake.

  “What you doing, man? You had him in your sights!” Snake pointed out. He was clearly upset about Goldie not taking the shot.

  “He’s got his kid with him. We gotta do this another time,” Goldie told him.

  “Fuck that! Buda said he gotta die today, so he gonna die!” Snake barked. Before anyone could stop him, he had gotten out of the slow-moving car and was making his way toward Pat and Rose.

  “What is this idiot doing?” Hank asked. He looked around nervously to see if anyone was hip to them and their intentions yet.

  “I got him,” Goldie said and got out to chase down Snake.

  Pat was giving Rose a hug and telling her again how beautiful the picture was when he felt a presence behind him. He turned, a man he had never seen a day in his life walking up on him. He didn’t know the man, but the gun in his hand told him what he wanted. Before the man could reach him, Pat took the knapsack off and dropped it at his feet. “I already know the routine, just take the bag and go. I don’t want any trouble.” He raised his hands in surrender and positioned himself between Snake and Rose.

  Snake snatched the bag up and slung it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he told Pat, before shooting him in the head.

  The sound of a gunshot and Rose’s screams drew the attention of the driver of the minivan. He looked up in time to see Pat’s body hitting the ground. He was supposed to be protecting the runner, but had been so preoccupied with his phone that he never saw the gunman creeping up. He jumped out of the van and tried to bring his Glock into play, but Goldie shut him down when he shot him twice in the chest.

  When Goldie was sure that the driver was dead he turned his attention to the mess Snake had created. Rose was leaning over Pat’s dead body, screaming for her daddy to wake up while Snake laughed menacingly. Goldie had always known Snake to be a piece of shit, but shooting a man in front of his child was a new low. Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more disgusted, Snake raised his gun and pointed it at the child.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Goldie grabbed Snake by the arm.

  “This little bitch has seen us. That mean she gotta go too,” Snake said and jerked free of Goldie. He was determined to make sure there were no witnesses to what he had done. Snake was about to blast the child, when he felt the press of steel to the back of his head.

  “On everything I love, if you hurt this child you’ll be joining her in the afterlife.” He cocked the hammer back with this thumb to punctuate his statement.

  Snake weighed his chances and decided against it. “You got it, boss man.” He lowered his gun and stuck it back into his waistband. Slowly he began to back away.

  Goldie kept his gun pointed at Snake until he was away from the girl and back in the car. When he looked down at Pat’s corpse and his grieving daughter, his heart sank. He was supposed to be in charge of the hit squad, but had let the situation get out of control. Goldie was a killer and had committed some gruesome acts, which he made no apologies for, but gunning a man down in front of his kid was a line that even he wouldn’t cross. What troubled him more was the way Rose was glaring at him. Her eyes were no longer those of a frightened little girl, but those of the monster Snake had unwittingly given birth to.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe you left that lil bitch alive to identify us,” Snake fumed. He had been ranting since they left the crime scene.

  Goldie remained silent, staring out the window and trying his best to ignore him.

  “Why don’t you give it a rest,” Hank suggested. Unlike Snake, he was familiar with Goldie’s moods. The quiet was the calm before the storm.

  “Fuck that shit, Hank. You know that ain’t how we do things!” Snake continued. “No witnesses, no prison time. That’s been understood since we was shorties running around the wards. I don’t know, maybe y’all been away from New Orleans too long and all this big-city living has dulled your edges—”

  “Snake,” Hank said in a stern tone, but the young man kept talking.

  “—or maybe this little nigga on
ly tough when his big brother around.”

  Without warning Goldie turned and shot Snake in his big mouth.

  “Goddamn it, Goldie!” Hank almost lost control of the car when the gun boomed in such closed quarters. With his free hand, he wiped away the blood and brain bits that had splashed on his face. He spared a glance at what was left of Snake’s face in the rearview and shook his head. “Buda ain’t gonna take too kindly to the fact that you killed one of his people.”

  Goldie sucked his teeth. “Fuck that dishonorable-ass nigga in the back and fuck Buda too. If Buda wanna buck behind this, he knows where to find me and I know where to find him.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Babe, about how much longer do you think we’re gonna be?” Trudy asked for the fifth time in nearly as many minutes. She was a pretty slim girl with big tits, a pretty face, but barely a speed bump’s worth of ass and a shitty attitude.

  Shadowing her were two husky bodyguards, who looked like they could think of a million other places they’d rather be.

  “We’d have been done if you would help me pick something instead of complaining,” Oscar snapped, continuing to sift through the rack of expensive dresses inside Nordstrom. He was an older man with a hard face and kind eyes. As usual he wore one of his custom suits, this one purple with green polka dots. Oscar considered himself a fashion icon and boasted an impressive wardrobe of custom-made pieces, but no matter how much bread he spent on the clothes he always ended looking crazy. That had become kind of his calling card. Despite his appearance Oscar was a certified whiz with numbers. He laundered money for criminals and businessmen alike, but his biggest client was a man whom they called Big Stone. He ran Harlem.

  Trudy sucked her teeth. “What the fuck do I look like, helping you pick something out for the next bitch and I ain’t got no bags in my hands?”