L.A. Blues III (11 page)

After Venita left, I called Mayhem's cell phone. I was surprised when he answered on the third ring. He'd been gone over three months and I was really becoming worried. He was getting ready to board the plane in Rio, headed back to the United States.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“I'm good.”

“Did you find Appolonia?”

He became quiet. “No. It's a long story . . . . What's happenin'?”

I blurted it out. “I'm about to be blackmailed by these two fools—Agent Braggs and Agent Stamper. They're still asking for another million.”

“Don't give them shit . . . Fuck them. I already paid them bitches. What are they trying to blackmail you for anyway?”

“They set me up. I've been locked up behind them. They're trying to blackmail me about Tank.”

“Why would they do that?”

I caught myself. I had lied to Mayhem and now I'd have to come clean. “It's a long story. I'll tell you when you get back.”

“You still got the password. If you need to, go and take the money. I'll take care of them when I get back.”

I didn't want to use Mayhem's services and be obligated to him. I had another idea. I hadn't really gone and thoroughly searched the house since I'd moved back in a few weeks ago. I mainly worked in the living room and even slept in there on the let-out sofa. I wasn't strong enough yet to sleep on the same sheets we'd slept on. Although the sheets looked clean, I could tell they hadn't been changed since Romero died. They still smelled like Romero and, although I didn't sleep on them, I wasn't ready to change them.

I wanted to keep all the sweaters he had, all his uniforms, which hadn't been cleaned, even his old threadbare robe, just so I could go in and smell them for comfort. I went and checked his dresser drawer and found my engagement ring in the box. I put it on the chain around my neck with the amulet.

For the first time, I went into Romero's home office and checked his laptop, which, unfortunately, had a password. I didn't know his password. I paused for a moment. Something told me to try my name. I typed in “Zipporah,” and bingo, I was into his laptop. As to be expected, Romero's files were very organized. I was looking for his partner's phone number, which I found in alphabetical order under his file named “Contacts.” I found Detective Mitchell Hamilton's phone number under “Partner.”

I programmed his phone number into my iPhone. I called and introduced myself. “Hello, my name is Zipporah Saldano—I was a friend of Romero's.”

“Sure. I know of you. You're Z . . . Romero's fiancée,” Detective Hamilton said in a jovial tone. “You were all he talked about. He wanted to marry you. He showed me the ring he bought you. I can't believe he's gone. He was a good guy.”

“Sure was.”

“Can we meet around four o' clock today? This is urgent.”

“Yes. Let's meet at the old Forum in Inglewood.”

 

 

First, I went to Bank of America downtown and went into Mayhem's safe deposit box. I was surprised that there was no jewelry or bling inside. No cash. All I found was a large manila envelope. I opened it and took out a flash drive. I also left the two flash drives with Mayhem's accounts in the safe deposit box for safety. I didn't need the money. I'd saved money over the past two years, and the money from the show had been banked as well.

Afterward, I sat in my car, going over the information on my new iPad. The list of crooked agents included the two federal agents, Special Agent Jerry Stamper, FBI, and Special Agent Richard Braggs, DEA, who had set up my brother's kidnapping. They both had been involved in shaking down drug dealers, not turning in drugs when they confiscated them, and had green-lighted a few street hits between the Mexican and Black gangs.

There was also information on a secret society called The White Falcons. The main mission of this group was to take back over and return White men to power. They hated the fact that President Obama had been elected for another term. They wanted to regain power by white supremacy by any means necessary. There was a list that sounded like possible green lights against various Black political leaders. There were bribes to judges to set cases against Black political prisoners.
Whew!
I let out a deep breath. How did Mayhem get this information? No wonder they wanted him dead.

I drove from downtown to Inglewood to the Forum parking lot. On the drive there, I kept looking back, seeing shadows in the corner of my eyes, in my rearview mirror. As soon as I pulled up, I saw the unmarked pewter-colored detective car.

I was surprised to find out that Romero's old partner was a white dude. He looked to be about thirty-something. He had narrow, closely set eyes and plain brown hair. He reminded me of Ethan Hawke, who played Jake in
Training Day.
I guess I was only surprised because I'd always assumed he was a Hispanic fellow officer. They both always spoke in Spanish over the phone whenever he called the house and they talked, as well as they had both become fluent in Vietnamese and Korean. L.A. was a multicultural gumbo, so most of the detectives were not only bilingual, they were trilingual.

I'd never really met him and I thought it was because Romero kept his private life separate from the job. I showed him my identification and Detective Hamilton showed me his.

“What did you want to talk about that you couldn't tell me on the phone?” Detective Hamilton asked.

“Are you wearing a wire?” That was my first question.

“No, I'm straight.” I frisked him anyhow and he was clean. “I don't know who I can turn to, or who I can trust,” I began, “but I know Romero trusted you with his life.”

“True dat.”

“Well, I'm coming to you as Romero's friend because this is about corruption in the DEA and the FBI.”

I had already devised a plan in the back of my mind to entrap these two. I related what had happened and showed him the text messages that did not include any incriminating information on me. I climbed into his car and fired up my laptop. Out of the corner of my eyes, I studied Detective Hamilton's face as it crumpled into ridges of alarm as he read deeper into the documents.

After a long silence, I interjected, “I have a three
P.M.
meeting with them at Universal Studios at the new Tower.”

“Go ahead and have the meeting.”

“Are you in?”

“Fo'sho. Can you wear a wire?”

“No problem.”

“I'll come with my new partner, and we'll be nearby. Act as if you're taking them the money, though. Come to the station and we'll give you some real, marked bills to have on top and some fake money. I'll also have backup with me. You have my cell phone number, so we can text.”

I gave him a copy of the flash drive with the information I had on Agent Braggs and Agent Stamper and the others. After he thought about it, he let out a low whistle in kind of an Ooohweee melody. “This can be dangerous information. Be careful.” His face drained all of its color and he definitely seemed a little shaken.

“Meet us at twelve
P.M.
at West L.A. station and we'll get you fitted up for a wire.”

“Will you follow me?”

“Definitely. You just meet them, and I'll be right behind you. Why do they want to blackmail you?”

I told him about their attempts to blackmail me because of my brother's kidnapping. I left out the part about my getting Tank's head in the mail and dumping it in the park.

“I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll get a squad to follow us out there.” He let out a long deep breath. “We'll catch them,” Detective Hamilton assured me.

As soon as he drove off, I called Chica, and told her what I wanted her to do.

“Gotcha,
mija
.”

I drove over to the West LAPD station and met with Detective Hamilton, where I was fitted with an electronic wire. Part of it was in my ear. It was much smaller than the old wires they used when I was on the job. I pulled my hair over my ear.

I put in a call to Chica, who'd done a stakeout at Agent Braggs's house last night.

“He's leaving now,” she whispered into the phone. “In fact, Agent Jerry Stamper just pulled up to his house and they are riding in separate cars. They both packing,
mija
. Be careful.”

“You too.”

I arrived an hour early at Universal so I could see if my blackmailers were, in fact, Agent Richard Braggs and Agent Jerry Stamper. I carried a briefcase with the top bills that were real. They covered fake money provided by Detective Hamilton. Back up was sitting around the park in plain clothes. They'd all driven in unmarked cars.

I didn't see but a few people in the area, and the usual crowds were missing.

“Testing, testing, one, two, three, can you hear me?” Detective Hamilton was calling my name over my wire.

“You're coming in loud and clear. Do you see the perps yet?”

“Not yet.”

It was a foggy day and the Studios weren't as crowded as they usually was. You really couldn't see but a few feet in front of you. The frigid dampness in the air pierced me to the bone.

I stood by the Tower, waiting. I was beginning to get a little cold, and I felt my baby kicking. Whenever I became anxious, the baby would move around and around.

Just when I was about to give up on them showing up, I saw the two men heading for me. As they got closer I saw it was Glass Eye and Agent Stamper.

“I see you're here,” Glass Eye, aka Special Agent Richard Braggs, stated rhetorically. Standing in the fog, he really looked like the devil. I wondered what made him cross the line to the dark side.

“Why have you been following me?” I said, trying to get them to admit to as much as possible on tape. “My brother said he paid you.”

“Yes, he did. We just wanted you to know we mean business, too. But we've got another person who's gotten involved and he's gotten greedy. He wants $500,000 and we want the other $500,000 for our finder's fee.”

“Why did y'all set up my brother's kidnapping?”

His lips curled into a look of distaste. “Fuck your brother. He's collateral damage as far as we're concerned. Ninja got where he thought he wasn't going to pay his taxes to us . . . . He really had gotten it twisted.”

“What happened to Tank—my brother's lieutenant?”

“Just say he was collateral damage too.”

I paused. This was just as good as a confession. So they probably did order the hit on Tank to shake me up and make me go to Brazil to get the money.

“So why are you trying to set me up?”

“Like I say, we got an outside interested party. Besides, you're a liability.”

I let that digest for a moment. So the blackmailers were being blackmailed.

“Where's the video?”

They handed me a flashdrive and I handed over the brief case. Just as Agent Braggs opened it, I gave the code words “Now is that enough?” so the LAPD could come rushing in and arrest these fools.

Without warning, though, shots pierced the air. Right before my eyes, Agent Braggs crumpled to the ground, and, in a flash, Agent Stamper grabbed the briefcase out of Agent Bragg's bloody hands, and dashed off. I looked down and saw that Agent Braggs had been hit. Who was the shooter? I hid for cover and pulled out my piece. However, the shots were not from the direction that the police team was situated in an unassuming van or from the under cover cops who were sprinkled throughout the lots.

I dropped to the floor and just moved behind the inside of the doorway. I decided not to shoot back because I didn't want to accidentally hit anyone from LAPD.

“Man down. Something's not right,” I shouted into my earplug. “Someone's shooting! I'm not sure where the shots are being fired from!”

Detective Hamilton and his crew rushed forth, swarming the area, and sending retaliatory shots.

“Agent Stamper went that way!” I pointed in the direction of the agent running off. It was so foggy, it was as if Agent Stamper had disappeared into the mist.

Several officers stayed behind to work on Agent Braggs, but I could tell when they stopped, old Glass Eye didn't make it. He was dead.

The old me would have run after Agent Stamper but my baby was beginning to kick like crazy. My doctor had recommended that I stop working at this point to keep from having an early delivery. I had already decided not to take on any more cases, but being arrested gave me no choice. I had to take action. Now I was waist deep in some more corruption. Should I fight or do flight? I didn't know what I was going to do, but it had to be soon.

After the smoke and the dust settled, Detective Hamilton came and found me stooping over Agent Braggs's body, both dazed and paralyzed. I couldn't move.

“Are you all right?”

My teeth were chattering; my hands were trembling. I shook my head. “No, I'm not all right. I'm pregnant. I can't be out here fighting. This is the second shootout in a month I've been caught up in.”

“You're pregnant?” Detective Hamilton took my hand and helped me stand up. He sounded pleased. “Good. We'll have us a little Romero running around.”

I was too numb to respond to that remark. “I'm going to have to get home. Did you find Detective Stamper?”

“No, but we got his number now. We'll pick him up later if he doesn't go on the run.”

I took off the wire and handed it to Detective Hamilton. “Can you check the surveillance cameras here and try to see who did the shooting?” I suggested. “The shots came from that direction.” I pointed north toward the hazy Santa Monica Mountains, which loomed in the distance.

“Yes, we'll do that. From what the deceased said, there's another blackmailer involved, so that could be the shooter.”

How did he know that
, then I remembered the wire.

“Anyhow, I think you need to go into protective custody,” Detective Hamilton continued. “We're going to need you to testify for us.”

“I'll go back home tonight then come back in tomorrow.”

“I'll send a police escort with you.”

“That's all right. I'll call my sister, Chica. She's a bounty hunter. I will feel safe with her.”

 

I called Chica, and she met me at the house. “I might have to go underground while I testify against this crooked FBI agent.”

“You really bite off some big fish, don't you, girl?”

“I know. This thing with my brother's kidnapping was only the tip of the iceberg.”

Chica looked down and gently touched my stomach. “How about the baby? Are you going to be all right?” She really looked worried about me.

“According to the doctor, the baby is growing and doing well. This is nothing like how I planned to go through this pregnancy. I'd wanted to have a doula. I'd planned to go to Lamaze and use you as my partner, but none of that is to be.”

“Oh, it will be all right.” Chica leaned in and hugged me.

“I'm supposed to go in tomorrow and be taken to the safe house.”

“Can I do anything?” Chica asked.

“Can you spend the night and take me to wherever I need to be dropped off at so I can leave my car here at the house? Also, can you come check on the house for me?”

“You know I will. Let me call Riley and let him know I'm spending the night with you.”

Chica helped me pack a few things, my laptop, my iPad, my camera, and my prenatal vitamins.

I teared up. I didn't know what I was getting into and I didn't know how I'd make it without my friends to help me through this pregnancy.