Sex in the Hood Saga (46 page)

Knight's deep voice echoed off the damp, black walls of the tunnel as he spoke to Crew Q. He had hand-picked these fifty Barriors and B'Amazons to execute important tasks during the wedding and The Games, or so they thought. Knight knew Li'l Tut, and these muthafuckas were scheming to steal his secret maneuvers and plans, report them back to his brother and his team of bandits, and dare to think they could plunder the riches that Babylon would accumulate the night of The Games.

Knight could hear his older brother, Prince, urging him to follow one of his rules of power, “Crush your enemies.” Actually Knight was about to let them crush themselves as they attempted to execute their most misguided, knuckle-headed plan that would backfire in the most tragic of ways as Manifest Destiny triumphed.

“Twenty-one days,” Knight said in the dim fluorescent light that flickered from a square panel on the ceiling.

In black scuba suits, Ping and Pong stood at his sides, along with his most trusted B'Amazons, Lee Lee and Dayna. All four of them held rifles. And they needed to know the bogus plan for Crew Q for when they carried out the real deal to whisk the money, Knight, and The Queen far away from Babylon.

“We have zero tolerance for error,” Knight said over the sound of dripping water. Though the air was rank with mold and musk, he breathed calmly and deeply.

After years in a prison cell, he felt perfectly at ease in the confines of this hot, humid chamber, its metal walls glistening with greasy grime and patches of green moss. His face and body felt cool, his black ninja suit dry. But sweat glistened on the tense faces and bare, muscular arms of the troops to whom he spoke.

“Hesitation will get you killed.” Knight knocked on the wall behind him in the twelve by twelve footwide area “Down here, thirty feet below the water's surface, the Detroit River shows no mercy.”

He stared into the serious, yet scared eyes of the soldiers, especially Antoine's look-alike brother, Ben. He, like the others, wore fatigues, black boots, and black tank tops.

“So when this door goes up,” Knight said, “it's game time. Anybody who misses their play will get a permanent time out for life.” Knight looked over the heads of the men and women, into the thick blackness of a dozen more feet of tunnel behind them.

“Everybody hear me?”

They answered with military punctuality and speed, “Yes, sir!”

Knight took a large canvas backpack from Pong. He pulled open a zippered slot. “Remember, this holds your flotation device. Any heat, your enemies on the water will shoot first, ask questions later, after they snatch the cash.” Knight held open the backpack's large inner bag.

“This waterproof pouch will hold the money. Lose it—put on some cement shoes and don't try to float. Your goal is to make it the half mile down the river to the boat with the underwater hatch.”

Knight glared into the shifty eyes of that face that looked too much like Antoine to be trusted. “You got that, Ben?”

“Yes, sir!” he boomed back.

“Good.” Knight probed his eyes with a hard gaze. The cat's only crime was nature's cruel trick of modeling him after his brother, whose misdirected lust at The Queen was about to get him jacked.

That didn't make him exempt, from Knight questioning his loyalty. Every man and woman down here right now had some mark against them. That mark could have been a rumor that they were Duke sympathizers, or a glance toward Knight that flashed hostility or game. Perhaps they'd shared phone conversations, e-mails or personal contact with Babylon board members who were contemplating a power coup.

So giving directives to Crew Q was the best way to divert all the Barriors and B'Amazons who were vulnerable to conspiring with competitors, especially Duke. Informants had clued Knight in on his baby brother's plan for a heist, followed by the rape and plunder of Babylon's riches. And anybody who helped make it happen would share the wealth, power, and future of Babylon. At least that's what Duke had promised.

Now, the eagerness in several of the soldiers' eyes confirmed Knight's suspicions. They were looking at him but mentally ticking down all the details they would report back to Duke.

“I'm glad I've got your attention,” Knight said. “Now, if at any time during that twenty-four-hour period, you get the star signal, you are to report immediately to this tunnel. Not from the outside port, but from the basement inside The Playhouse. Everybody hear me?”

Knight could call this little exercise a test or a diversion or a trick. But he had to do whatever was necessary to make sure Manifest Destiny unfolded with perfect precision.

“One mistake could be your last.” Knight's words reverberated through his chest. A dull ache was all that remained there now, thanks to the sexual healing powers that he and The Queen had conjured up while making love every morning and night since the board meeting.

Plus, in his mind, he found strength by envisioning that baby boy growing inside the warm, nurturing flesh of The Queen's womb.

Knight tapped the metal door wall. “Out in the river,” Knight said, “that current is ruthless. There's boat traffic too. But here at the edge, you're safe. Just watch for floating debris; sometimes it's sharp or toxic.”

Someone let out an annoyed groan.

“So wear your goggles,” Knight said. “And just like we did in the drill over the summer; grab onto the metal handles in the river wall. Hold tight or that current will suck you down to the Rouge Plant and your bones will end up in the metal frame of somebody's new Ford.”

One of the B'Amazons at the back of the group sucked her teeth and whispered, “Sheeit, this ain't worth it.”

“Officer Sykes, step forward,” Knight commanded. He had not seen her face.

Crew Q parted like water in the Red Sea. The woman slunk between them. Her muscular brown shoulders slumped; her close cropped head hung shamefully in front of Knight.

He spoke softly, “Get the fuck out.”

The rest of the crew was silent as Lee Lee took her arm.

Pong aimed a small silver remote at the blackness at the rear of the tunnel. Squeaking hinges and the sound of a rising metal gate echoed with spine-chilling screeches.

“Lee Lee, bring me back her discharge papers.” Knight stared hard into the eyes of Crew Q.

They stood still and silent as statues. Everybody knew life after Babylon was hell. Even if you left town. It was the ultimate black list.

“Anyone else?” Knight raised his hand toward the blue light dancing on the thick, humid air now that that the back gate had risen. His laughter echoed in a way that made Crew Q look spooked. “After all, we are standing in a tunnel that led to freedom on the Underground Railroad.”

Ping nodded and said with a chuckle, “Find freedom or get fucked up, or both.”

Knight smiled. “Now's your moment. Whether you're looking for a freedom ride or to smuggle your way out of here, speak now or forever hold”—He tapped the black Glock strapped to his hip—“your piece.”

He took the remote from Pong's hand. His finger poised over the red button, he said, “Any defectors are welcome to take the water way out.” Knight pointed to the silver square at the metal wall leading to the depths of the Detroit River. He pushed the button. With a deafening squeak, the door began to rise. Water crashed in, flooding the floor.

Several Barriors and B'Amazons jumped to avoid the frothy white water that filled the chamber with a strong fish odor. But Knight remained perfectly still. His waterproof boots rested firmly on the metal floor.

Suddenly his mind was illuminated with a thrilling “Ah-ha moment.”

He was in the zone. And for Knight, the zone meant total concentration and focus on a goal. No distractions. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

With this and everything else, he set a goal and accomplished it. And that's what he would do the night of his wedding; accomplish his plans of moving on to a better life with his wife and unborn child. “Ben!” he shouted over the loud splashing sounds. “Ready to swim?”

Ben's huge eyes peered down at the rush of water under the metal door.

“Yyyyyy-eeeehhhh, sssssssiiiirrrr,” Ben stammered without stepping forward.

Knight tossed his head back; his laughter echoed off the wet metal walls. The door slammed down. The only sound was the soft fizz of calming waves and bubbles around their feet. And Knight's deep laughter.

“Crew Q,” he shouted. “How can I trust you to execute this plan when you're all standing here quaking like a bunch of pussies?”

Ben squared his shoulders. “Master Knight,” he said. “What if it's somebody in the basement? Like they followin' us or somethin'?”

“Stop them in their tracks,” Knight said. “And follow through.” He stared hard into Ben's pretty-boy face, knowing that he would snitch every detail back to his conniving brother. Who would then tell Reba, who would then tell Duke.

There was one glitch though. Knight didn't know where Duke was staying. The Barriors had followed Reba to The Suites downtown hotel, and even identified Duke's room. But when they busted in to take care of him and eliminate this need for plan Q altogether, the Barriors found the room abandoned.

All they found were a used, broken condom on the disheveled bed and some bloody bandages in the bathroom. The Barriors had reported back that fresh funk and sex vapors hung heavily in the warm air, so it was clear that Duke and a now infected female had just fled.

But plan Q would still be in effect. Just in case the likes of Shar Miller and other conspirators had any ideas about claiming the millions in cash that would be on the premises the night of The Games.

“Now, assuming that you do not get the star signal, and everything is going smoothly,” Knight said, “I'm dividing you into driving teams for the drop.”

The men and women nodded.

“When Ping and Pong make the drop in Hummer One,” Knight said, “we'll have three decoy vehicles. Three other black armored Hummers will take separate routes: one to the vault at HQ; another to a boat down river; and the third to the warehouse.”

The warehouse owned by Jamal, who by then, would be the rightful owner of Babylon.

But these turncoat backstabbers didn't need to know that. Nobody did.

Knight's insides smiled while his face maintained a serious expression. He and The Queen had decided that they would name their son after Knight's older brother. Baby Prince would live a life far away from the violent streets, gunfire, and turf wars that had claimed his uncle. On their island paradise, Prince would study, smile, play, and prepare for a life of greatness.
Our Prince of Peace.

The night before, Knight and The Queen had thought, then said exactly those words, “Our Prince of Peace” at the same time. Their simultaneous thoughts and spoken words were so sudden and supernatural. Now, suddenly Knight felt warm inside. The Queen was thinking the same thing, feeling the same amazing sensations. This time their soul deep connection had transcended words.

He'd have to be careful, though, so she didn't get any hunches about his real plans for their wedding night and the rest of their lives.

“This information does not leave the confines of these slimy walls,” Knight commanded. “Does
everybody
hear me?”

A Barrior named, Deuce, stepped forward with a grim expression. “Master Knight,” he said softly, “I can't swim. I need a reassignment up in The Playhouse, or I'll drown in a Motor City minute.”

Knight glared at him, not just because the cat just used one of Li'l Tut's favorite references for time.

“All of you took rigorous swimming tests as part of Boot Camp,” Knight said with an accusatory tone. He nodded at Pong, who stepped close to the cat. “If you somehow cheated, give me the name of the Sergeant who helped you commit fraud against Babylon.”

The Barrior squealed like a girl. “Sir, I ain't tryin' to get nobody in trouble. I take full responsibi—”

Pong whacked him across the mouth.

“Do you realize that your cowardice could have put your fellow Barriors and B'Amazons at risk?” Knight shouted. “Gett 'em outta here!”

Knight's phone vibrated. REBA flashed on the display screen. He pushed the little silver button to put her to voice mail. Didn't that bitch remember he'd told her never to call him again? “Now everybody hit the gym,” Knight ordered. “Sixty minutes of cardio kickboxing. Now!”

The phone vibrated again. REBA. He flipped it open. “What?” he snapped.

“I ain't tellin' you nothin' you don't already know when I say Duke tryin' to bring you down,” she said with a nasal tone, like she'd been crying. “But that nasty ho playin' wit' people lives.”

“Reba,” Knight said calmly, “have you talked with him?”

“Yeah, 'bout how he gon' take Babylon back. But he sick. He crazy. He done gone renegade!”

“Where is he?”

“I ain't tellin' you nothin' else wit'out cuttin' a deal. So I can
g-t-f-o
when I need to.”

Knight started to propose that she meet him somewhere to talk. But was this a set-up? Was she going to lure him to a remote place so that Duke could pounce on him?