Chapter 16: Going Loud

I had never been to New York or New Jersey before. To be honest I am okay with never going back. I was utterly gobsmacked by the overwhelming sense of ... humanity. So many people packed in such a relatively small area. Hell, the lowest high-rise towered over anything in my entire State. I felt so compacted by humanity it was physically oppressive.

God only knows how Gil felt about it all. If it troubled him, he gave no clue. Even Bianca was awestruck by it all. “There are over 30 million people here,” she breathed, “That is half of my country!”

It took us two days to drive here. We didn’t stop unless we had to, for food and fuel. With my two fuel tanks and the 100-gallon auxiliary in the bed, we could drive for hours and hours before stopping. Gil and I took turns driving and we all took naps in the crew cab. The tolls nearly depleted my cash supply by the time we got to the address provided to us by her uncle.

Sam, Bianca, and I spent the entire day planning this trip. While I disposed of Owen the two women reached out and contacted Hondo’s only surviving son, Mario. He was also sent back to the old country, being only a teenager when the ‘war’ began between the two families. He remained in Italy for 10 years, learning the ropes from ‘Familia’, before returning to the States and going deep underground.

We planned to rendezvous in a non-descript place where we could lay low and reconnoiter Bartolo territory. Mario had just the place in mind and when we arrived at the location, I parked literally facing the ocean. Gill chuckled from the back seat and corrected me— “That ain’t the oshun son,” he drawled, “that there’s the Hudson River.”

My jaw dropped, “That’s a river?” I could barely see the other side of ... New York Harbor, I guess.

“Yessir,” he grinned, “what’s left of it anyhow.” He pointed off to the left, “Up north there is where you’ll find the Statue ‘O Liberty,” he nodded, “and over thar, some whirs is where that Sully feller took his Airbus swimming.”

We were surrounded by tall dilapidated high-rise apartments, that looked as if they hadn’t been lived in for decades. Bianca sent a text and got an instant replay. She looked up, “We wait.”

Ten minutes went by when we noticed a beat-up Chevy Malibu pull up behind us. It rode on ridiculously high tires and I could make out five people inside. I opened my door and got out just as they opened theirs and began piling out as well. There were 4 black guys decked out in gang colors with matching Dew Rags, and a casually dressed white male in his late 20s or early 30s. Bianca recognized him with a happy scream and burst out of the driver’s side to race up to him.

“Mary!” she cried when he grinned and caught her in his arms. While they hugged, I casually studied the other four. The passenger was probably the biggest man I had ever seen in my life—black, white, or any other persuasion. He stood well over 6’ 8” and had to weigh 300 pounds or better. The driver was a skinny younger kid of maybe 18 or 19, who effected an air of indifference as he flicked a toothpick in his mouth. The other two were equally young and clearly brothers.

Gil climbed out of the back and drew gaping stares from all four of them as he leaned back and stretched before releasing a loud colon-cleansing fart.

“Thanks for holding that til we got out,” I muttered with a shake of my head.

“Don mention it,” he grinned back.

The two brothers started laughing uncontrollably which earned them a frown from the giant. Gil stepped forward and stared up at the man with squinty eyes. His ragged mining hat perched crookedly on his scalp. The huge man stared back down at him with a neutral expression.

“Jeeshus boy,” the old hermit exclaimed, “just how much do you eat?”

The driver chortled.

“I could eat you, little man,” he replied with a deep baritone voice, “and then some.”

Gil slapped his leg and cackled. He winked at me and said, “If it comes down to a gunfight, just stay behind this one!”

I snorted, “If it comes down to a gunfight, something went very wrong.”

Bianco and her uncle stepped forward. He reached out to shake my hand with a friendly smile, “Hi I’m Mario,” he said, “but everyone around here calls me Mary.” He didn’t have the accent that Bianca had. His was mild ‘Joysee’.

“Carter,” I replied lightly, “I was a very good friend of your dad’s.”

“That is what B says,” he replied sadly, “I haven’t seen him for so long yet I miss him even more now that he’s gone.” Then he turned to his companions. “I’d like for you to meet my vertically endowed friend Pip,” he said with some alacrity. Pip just nodded and none of us were inclined to reach out and test his grip. The two brothers stepped up and Mario introduced them as Harvey and Marvin (Harv and Marv)—clearly, they were twins.

The one on the right touched the bill of his ‘skewed lid’, “I’m Harv, it’s easy to tell us apart,” he said jerking his thumb over to his mirror image, “he’s the dumbass!” That earned him several laughs and a solid punch from Marv.

“And this young brigand is Devon.” He indicated the driver who plucked his toothpick out and swaggered forward, having eyes only for Bianca. He moved well into her personal space, turned his body sideways, and tilted his head down to regard her over his sunglasses. “My friends call me Devon,” he purred to her smoothly, “you can call me ... De Von! And might I add that you are simply Dee Vine.” His voice was smooth as honey.

Bianca smiled radiantly at him and held out her hand. “It is my pleasure, De Von,” she replied with her sultry Italian accent.

He took her hand gently. “Don’t you Italians like to kiss when you greet?” he asked suggestively as he pressed his lips to her palm.

She tsked several times and placed a delicate hand on his chin, “yes we do,” she crooned, “like this,” and she planted a soft kiss on each of his cheeks before stepping back. He stood frozen for a minute as we all grinned. Then he sucked in his lower lip, exposing a gold tooth before replacing the toothpick and nodding one time. His swagger was a little lighter as he returned to the car. I knew if he were white, he would’ve been blushing.

We had a brief discussion that centered around getting us moved to a more secure location and starting our recon. I briefly described the trap I wanted to set and I was met with five eager grins. They knew just the place.

“Harv and Marv will ride with you,” Mario said, “since they know the way. B, will you join me?” He asked holding his arm out, which she promptly grabbed and clung tightly to.

“Cool!” Harvey said as he skipped over to my big black Ford.

“Sweet ride!” agreed his brother, “can I drive?”

“I dunno,” I replied holding up the fob, “can you?”

“Sheeet!” Harvey scoffed, “he couldn’t even drive our sister’s tricycle!” He opened the front passenger door and held it for his twin, “you ride bitch.”

“Shaddup man!” Marv whined, “Why you gotta dis me like that in fronna the white folk?”

I was guided to an underground garage beneath a small apartment where Gil and I made ourselves comfortable. I assumed that Bianca and Mario would be going to their family mausoleum so I wrote down all the coordinates, codes, and the combination. While they were gone the twins took Gil and me for a stroll around the neighborhood. It was a lively and decrepit area. All the buildings were run down and the streets were full of trash and old junk cars, covered in a layer of snow. Children played amongst the vehicles and garbage paying it no mind at all. We passed a vibrant game of stickball that took up the entire street for half a block. Dozens of people were gathered in groups to watch. Most of the community that we saw were black, with a small scattering of whites and Latinos.

Marv piped up curiously to Gil, “You da muthafucka Mary say can shoot the balls offa blowfly a block away?”

Gil beamed back and chuckled, “Ah reckon that all depends,” he drawled back.

“Depen on what?” Harv asked.

“Is he black or white?”

I snorted as the twins looked blankly at one another. Then they shook their heads in disbelief.

“Nigga you crazy!”

We crossed a street and it was like a subtle invisible boundary. I could feel the difference in the air and the twins became less talkative even though they maintained a façade of nonchalance. We were in Bartolo territory. There were signs of construction and road work everywhere. Orange Jersey barriers and street cones were cluttering the streets and temporary signs redirected traffic away from closed roads. The buildings on either side were all abandoned.

“Word is they gonna tear all this shit down,” Marv mumbled as we walked past groups of workers in hardhats and OSHA vests. Most were simply standing around smoking and joking with each other. Some looked at us oddly.

“That Michael Vincent muthafucka got a crib, right ova there around that corner,” Harv added pointing down the street to the right side. Just ahead of us on the left was an alley and the twins steered us into it, darting into the shadows quickly. Tall empty apartment buildings stood to either side of us, rising 30 stories into the sky. “Dey gonna blow these fuckers down sumtime soon I hear.”

I nodded thoughtfully as I surveyed the area turning about in complete circles as we continued down the alley. It ended not at another crossroad but rather a cul-de-sac-like courtyard, but with several roads joining it like spokes—each closed off with more jersey barriers and wooden gate frames. Several pieces of heavy equipment were parked within the circle, including a light crane that held a large welder generator similar to mine, high overhead. I spent several minutes walking about the circle examining each road and the equipment staged there. Looking back at the two buildings I glanced up at the roofs. All the windows had been removed.

I took several pictures of the alleyway we entered through as well as the circle. I even did a 360-degree panoramic. Satisfied I sent a text to Sam with my locater pin coordinates.

Mark this spot.

What do I call it?

The cheese.

I turned to the twins and pulled a mini mag light from my pocket, “Let’s go take a look in these buildings.”

They were completely gutted of all furnishings and fixtures. Much of the pre-demolition drilling was already completed and I recognized the color-coded wands and flags that jutted from each hole. There were holes drilled evenly across the wall as well as the overhead joist beams and load-bearing columns. Each area had a color that designated a specific charge and type of detonator or det cord.

I went up four floors before I was satisfied and we returned to the safe house taking a different route. The apartment was full of people when we got back. Bianca and Mario were standing over a table grinning over a collection of black bags and a metal case. Pip and Devon were seated on a couch and several other white guys were gathered around the living room looking bored.