TYCE 5 (11 page)

With that comment, I switched into my financial advisor mode.

“Yeah, she called me and wanted me to plug her with the dude that installed my pool. I ain’t tryna get all in your business, but how’s your money situation lookin’?”

“I’m good, especially fr
om that armored truck job. I put money aside to pay triple mortgage payments for the next three years. I’m workin’ with about a million two of free money. Plus, Ranae’s day care center brings in about six grand a month and one of my new fighters has a match comin’ up in two months that will make me about a hundred thousand. I jus’ gotta keep it comin’ in ‘cuz like you always say…you can never have enough money.”

I grinned and nodded my head up and down. “Now that’s some shit you can tell
everybody and their mama.”

The location of Khalil’s first stash house was an old farm about two hours outside of L.A. I had to admit, he was smart to put the bulk of his money
there because no one would think to look for it at place like that. Most people never even thought about farms until they bought vegetables at the store, or ate a garden salad. The land was owned by an old man who had glaucoma in both eyes. He was too poor to afford private health care so he relied on other methods to cope with the disease. Khalil supplied him with all the weed he wanted, and a little something extra to pay his minimal bills. All the old farmer had to do was take care of the two huge pit bulls that were on the vast property in an enclosure that looked like it belonged in a zoo. The money was buried on the north east corner inside with the vicious animals.

It was early in the evening when Sway, Peck, and I descended on the property. We had about two hours before it got dark. I chose to come out during the daylight because I didn’t want to g
o on a treasure hunt without the sun. Dallas was inside watching the game show Jeopardy with Hamilton. She held the man at gun point while they sat on his old tattered couch. I knew she could handle him, so I wasn’t worried.

As my team approached the gate the dogs started to go crazy. They charged the
fence barking and snarling daring us to enter their territory.

I pulled out my tranquilizer gun which was loaded
with Sodium Thiopental. It was a non-lethal sedative that would put the ravenous dogs in dream land within a few minutes. Most niggas would have just shot the canines and said fuck it, but I wasn’t like most niggas. The dogs were just doing what they were trained to do. Why would I kill them for that? I aimed my dart gun and shot them both in the mid-section. The dogs let out a screeching yelp as the sharp tips pierced their soft grey hair.

“You ready to go night
night nigga?” Peck pointed his shovel at the confused dogs.

I chuckled at his Kevin Hart impression. About five minutes later the dogs were on their sides with the
ir dirty paws in the air and their muscular bodies twitching.

“Damn, that website didn’t lie about that shit. It said it was strong enough to knock out a lion.” Sway walked over to the gate with a pair of bolt cutters to cut the
dense chain.

I carried two shovels in my hands while Sway and Peck each had large empty backpacks on their shoulders. After Sway easily snipped the chain, he pushed the gate open and started walking in a north east direction toward the back corner of the oversize dog run.

“That’s it, move them rocks out the way.” I pointed toward the dusty ground.

Medium sized boulders went flying left and right. I let them handle that shit because my back was still a little weak. I threw Sway his shovel
once he was done.

“Let’s start
diggin’ for gold boys.” I drove the silver tip of my shovel into the soft dirt.

We all started scooping mounds of
earth out and before long my shovel hit something hard. They both looked at me and started to dig around where I was standing. It didn’t take long before a silver trunk encased in four huge thick plastic bags peaked out from its underground hiding spot.

Sway and Peck wrestled it free and dragged it out onto flat land. Sway took his giant knife out and sliced
through the plastic. Next he used the bolt cutters to snap the pad lock. I stepped back as he flipped the lid open and nothing but green cotton stared back at us. The kind of green cotton with the faces of deceased white men on it; the kind of green cotton that the whole country was addicted to. Cold hard cash!

“Boom!” Peck started pop locking to an imaginary beat
like Turbo from the movie “Breakin’.”

“Let’s load this shit up and bounce before it gets dark and
Cujo and his brother wake up.” I knelt down and started tossing bundles of vacuum sealed money to my happy comrades.

Ten minutes later, the gate was closed with the dogs still napping, Hamilton was still high on his old couch watching Alex
Trebek, and Dallas, Peck, Sway, and I were 1.5 million dollars richer. Now that was what I called rich soil!

Inside the empty trunk I left Khalil a little note along with a single hundred dollar bill. It said:

`Here’s your first unemployment payment
after I took out taxes. The Notorious TYCE!

I wasn’t a fool. I knew
that leaving Khalil that note would surely tip him off to who had robbed him. That’s why I wasted no time getting to the other stash house after we left the farm. I didn’t want to give him any chance to recover. Two hits in one night.

The second job however wouldn
’t be as easy as the first. The next stash house was located in Watts, and it was guarded 24 hours a day by four armed men. The two bedroom house was owned on paper by a woman named Ms. Kemp. However, she lived in Atlanta with relatives and just happened to be Khalil’s grandma. It was just before ten o’clock when I walked up to the faded yellow house looking official in my starched white, short sleeved work shirt with the letters GM stitched in large print on the front. In smaller letters the word locksmith was underneath. It appeared as if I was by myself, but actually Sway and Peck were already in position. I stopped in front of the house holding a clip board as I pretended to read the paper attached to it with a confused look on my face. I caught the attention of a dark figure sitting on the steps in the shadows.

“You lost nigga!” He
shouted at me.

“Excuse me?” I looked up.

“I said are you lost! You don’t look like you belong in this neighborhood!”

He started walking down the side walk toward me taking
the time to spit in the grass. He looked up and down the block trying to spot anything suspicious.

“I don’t mean to bother you sir
, but did you call for a locksmith? I have a work order here for a Toyota Avalon with a set of keys locked inside. I’m having trouble seeing the addresses, I’ve been walking up and down the street. My van is parked on the next block.”

The light skinned man glared at me. “
Naw nigga, I ain’t call for no locksmith. You got the wrong address. You need to keep it movin’ up the block.”

I grinned up at the six foot four man. “And you need to look at your chest.”

He took a step back. “What?”

“I said you need to look down at your chest.”

I pointed to his black wife beater with my clip board. The annoyed man dropped his eyes to his chest and saw a red dot. It looked like a tiny bull’s eye right over his heart. Fear spread over his tan face as he realized that his life was in danger.

“You make a move and it’s over for you. If you don’
t tell me where the money’s hidden inside, I’ll drop this clip board and give my man the signal to take you out and find it myself. You understand?”

His jaw twitched
, but he remained still. “Yeah.”

“Good, now where’s the money?”

He licked his lips nervously. “There’s a bag under the toilet in the bathroom.” He looked at the red dot again as it moved back and forth slightly.

“How many niggas are in the house?”

“Two.”

“You got a stick on you?” I was referring to a gun.

“Yeah, I do.” he said gruffly.

“Take it out
and toss it in the bushes.”

He sucked his teeth
, but did as he was told. I could tell he was scared, but he tried to put up a brave front.

“Nigga do you know
who’s spot this is? You gotta be a stupid ass nigga to rob this shit.”

I nodded my head. “Yeah
, it belongs to a bitch named Khalil. I suggest you keep it movin’ up the block unless you wanna die protecting a bitch’s money. If I was you, I would take a walk. You ain’t gotta die tonight, but if you wanna check into that upper room I can damn sure arrange it.” I held the clip board out as the beam of light danced on his shirt. “What’s it gonna be? A short walk, or a long dirt nap?”

The young man scratched the dry parts in his cornrow braids.

“Cuz, I aint tryna hold you up.”

He pulled his sagging pants up a little and shuffled off.

“Ay, if I see your lanky ass back around here, I’ma shoot you in your head plain and simple.”

The man never turned around. H
e just put two fingers in the air as he continued to walk down the sidewalk. I waved my hand and seconds later Sway jumped out of a tree from across the street and came running over carrying a high powered rifle.

“We good?” He looked at the man in the distance.

“Yeah, we got two niggas in the house and the money is hidden under a toilet in the bathroom.” He turned around so I could put the clip board in his back pack.

“Peck is posted up behind a dumpster in the alley. You want me to call him on the
walkie so he can be ready to move?” Sway looked at the house again.

“Yeah
, tell him where comin’ in hot in 30 seconds.”

While my right hand man
talked to Peck we ran up to the porch and flanked each side of the front door. I noticed an old man smoking a cigarette across the street, but when we made eye contact he simply blew out a cloud of smoke and casually looked the other way.

“You ready?” I looked at Sway.

“10-4.” Sway reverted back to his military lingo.

I pulled out my .45 caliber weapon. The reason I had so many guns was because every time I used one, I got rid of it. Too many niggas get caught up trying to hold onto their gun like it’s the last one on earth. And then when they get caught with it, a simple ballistics test would be enough to put them in jail for life.
I also made sure we all wore long sleeved shirts and gloves. Again, a ballistics test would show gunshot residue on your hands and wrists. It also could show up on clothes as well. That’s the reason we burned the outfits we wore after every shoot out. After Peck told us he was ready over the walkie…Sway and I jumped into action. He kicked the door in with his black steel toe boot and we rushed in with guns drawn.

“Get the fuck down!
Get the fuck down! On the ground!” I pointed my gun at a man on the couch who was getting his dick sucked by some tramp in a pink skirt.

“What the fuck nigga?! What the fuck is this?! Who…” The girl’s head shot up from his lap as he questioned us.

I fired a bullet right between his open legs missing his wrinkled up scrotum on purpose. The bullet sent fragments of cotton flying up in their faces.

“Next time I won’t miss
! Get your punk ass on the floor now! That means you two lil’ mama.” I pointed at her as she stared at me with her mouth still open.

As the man and woman hit the floor face first, Sway moved down the narrow hallway toward the back rooms.

I stayed in the front with the unhappy couple. Suddenly I heard a loud clanking sound and a gunshot ring out from the back of the house. A grown man cried out in pain. I was starting to get worried because I knew Peck was back there by himself.

“Don’t move.” I pointed at my prisoners.

I was three steps into my cautious walk toward the kitchen when I saw a whale of a man come through the skinny door way with his hands behind his head. He was limping terribly and blood stained the front his tan khakis. Peck was walking behind him holding a gun to the back of his head.

“Keep
movin’ tubby.” Peck pushed him in his wide back.

“What happened? You alright?” I grabbed the obese hostage and pushed him to the ground right beside his room
mates.

Peck pointed at the fat man. “Yeah I’m good. He was in the kitchen when I came through the back door. The
muthfucka threw a hot skillet at me. I was lucky it wasn’t any grease in that shit or else I’d be fried up in this bitch! I shot his McRib eatin’ ass in the leg!”

“Fuck you cracker!” Fat boy barked into the dingy carpet.

Anger flashed in Peck’s eyes. He hated when people called him a cracker.

“Come
on man, let me shoot him again, he’s racist!” Peck begged me.

“Jus’ kick him in his mouth and if he calls you that again…t
hen shoot him. You hear me tiny? Don’t let your mouth get your chunky ass killed.”