Vigilante Angels Trilogy Page 4

  7 Wyla's Bar

  Moses led the way. They traveled down the city streets, cutting through back alleys.

  As the surroundings became more decrepit, Tommy became more uncomfortable. He knew he’d left his carry weapon in the glove box, but patted his jacket to check for it anyway. Should’ve brought it into the hospital. Didn’t know I’d end up in the hood.

  “Almost there,” Moses said.

  As soon as they rounded the corner, Tommy knew where they were headed. He remembered the place from long ago—Wyla’s Bar. The same half-lit neon sign hung in warning above the entrance. He hoped nobody inside would remember him.

  He followed Moses into the dim tavern. The only light came from the glow of various beer signs and video games bordering a worn black-and-white checkered floor. The place was empty, except for a large, bald black man behind the bar. They mounted two barstools.

  Moses gestured to the taps. “Two drafts, Lucius. Make ‘em tall.”

  “Coke for me. Throw some ice in it, please,” Tommy added.

  Lucius eyed him without moving. “I smell the law. Who you keeping company with, Mos?”

  Moses put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “He’s alright. Fellow patient, he got the Big C, same shit as me. Not the law anymore. Just another guy like me with a short runway.”

  Lucius pulled a glass from the shelf and reluctantly filled it as the soda gun made a strangled noise.

  Tommy could see the spots and grime on the glass despite the dim light in the bar.

  Lucius placed it on the bar far enough for Tommy to have to reach to get to it. “Here’s your pop, Pops.”

  “Ice, Luce,” Moses said firmly.

  Lucius slid an aluminum bin open and used a metal scoop to gather a few cubes. He plopped them into Tommy’s glass, causing the contents to fizz and overrun the rim. “He’s alright for now. But you know it’s gonna get busy in here soon, and my patrons may not feel the same way. I don’t guarantee anyone’s safety.”

  Moses nodded. “Give us an hour, brother. We have some things to discuss.”

  Lucius moved back to his stool by the stereo system in the corner, well away from them, and placed headphones over his ears.

  Moses pulled hard on the icy mug, his large hand wrapped around the handle. “So what’s the deal? You a recovering drunk or something, Chief?”

  Tommy sipped from the smudged glass. “Not so much. Not that bad. My old lady is the one that has a problem with it. It wasn’t helping matters much when we were both hitting the sauce. At a certain point, you get old enough to figure out all it ever bought you was saying and doing things you regret the next day, or the rest of your life. Not to mention acting like a jackass, and hurting a lot of people you care about. I don’t like making bad decisions, and I don’t like waking up sick in the morning.”

  Moses laughed. “Well, you’re in the wrong club then. We all have a lot of sick mornings ahead of us. You might as well take it up again.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Yeah, the irony of it. Ain’t that a bitch.”

  Moses stared into the depths of his mug. “I was supposed to quit. It was a condition of my parole to stay out of places like this. Too much drinking leads me to violent tendencies, especially the hard liquor. That’s what got me locked up. I much prefer the weed. It keeps me nice and mellow. But, old habits die hard.”

  The silent television flickering above the bar caught Tommy’s attention. He read the closed captioning as the muted newscaster moved her lips.

  “It has been discovered that the accused priest was convicted of child abuse many years ago when he was a Scout leader, prior to his becoming a priest. The Church admits knowledge of his past transgressions but cited canon law, which prevents him from being punished for acts that were done when he was a layman. There had been a binding agreement between the Church and law enforcement that he was not to be placed in any role or situation where he would be around children. It is unclear whether these recent alleged acts took place in his capacity as a priest, or outside of Church activities or premises...”

  “Damn!” Tommy pounded his fist on the bar, causing Lucius to rip off his headset and stand. “Can you believe this shit? The motherfucker molested kids before, and the Church knew about it!”

  Lucius shook his head and went back to his music and stool.

  “Yeah,” Moses said. “I’ve been following that. Nothing changes. Church been covering up for them and moving them around forever. I remember it going on when I was a kid, but not on the news. My daddy used to be a janitor at the church. Both my parents were devout. Made me memorize the Scriptures, and I had to read the Good Book cover to cover. We didn’t talk bad about the church at home. Church could do no wrong. I guess it’s all about forgiveness. People with nothing need religion to lean on, to get them through the day, to give them some kind of hope that things will get better, at least after they’re dead.”

  Tommy drained his glass and put it down, waving to Lucius that he didn’t need a refill. “Right, and what the fuck is this priest doing out anyway? See, this is what I mean. Too much leniency. These perverts don’t ever get rehabilitated. They got a mental defect. They should never be let out once they’re caught. Anyone molests a kid should die. Or put them all on some goddamn island and let them molest each other. Now that’s a son of a bitch I’d like to take out myself. If it was my kid, I’d damn sure take care of it. I don’t give a goddamn if I had to spend the rest of my life in the joint.”

  “Easy there, cowboy,” Moses said, looking into his empty mug. “He’ll get what he’s owed one way or another. Anyway, he fucked up again and got caught. He’s goin’ away for good this time, I’m sure. Let’s talk about that asshole who’s hurting Carmen.

  “It’s a hell of a thing,” Tommy answered. “Something I always hated. I remember my daddy hitting on my momma. I swore I’d get him back, but I was never big enough until he was gone. Then Momma was gone, and I never forgave myself, even though I was just a kid. Ever since then, I can’t stand to see it. Same damn kind of marks on Carmen’s arm that my momma always had on hers. From the gripping and shaking.”

  Tommy swirled the ice in his glass. The door creaked open, and light flooded the room as a slim young black man, wearing a patched black leather vest and with a bandanna wrapped around his head, slid in.

  Tommy followed his path as he moved to the far end of the bar and sat. Lucius poured his drink without being asked. A regular. He watched as they said a few things to each other. The barkeep moved back to his stool, replacing his headphones. The new patron took a casual look down the bar at them, then quickly looked away.

  Tommy replied to Moses, “Ain’t that something, though. Carmen spends all day busting her ass in that damn place, taking care of sick people, and then goes home to a motherfucker like that creep. I can’t stand to think about her getting hit. Never could tolerate anyone hurting women or kids. Those were the busts I took the most pleasure in, back in the day.”

  He watched as the slim man stood, looked their way, then walked out the door, leaving a half-full drink on the bar. The intuition that had been burned into him in his years as a cop tingled. Lucius sat on his stool like a Buddha with shades and headphones, staring straight ahead.

  Moses didn’t seem concerned, or perhaps hadn’t noticed. He doesn’t have the cop sense, he’s got street sense, and this is a safe place to him.

  Moses spoke again. “You want to talk to Carmen’s man? Put a little scare in his ass?”

  “Yeah, what do we have to lose, Mos? We’re two sick old fuckers, past our prime. Let’s make a difference for her, anyway. Small thing.”

  “We’re going to have to space it away from these treatments though,” Moses said. “I don’t start getting any strength back for a good while, stuff knocks the shit out of me.”

  “Good point. We’ll set it up for just before the next round.”

  Lucius got up and refreshed Moses’ drink, leaving Tommy’s empty glass unattended. Moses was about t
o say something, but Tommy waved him off.

  “How we gonna get to him?” Moses asked.

  “Ever see that old cop movie where they send invitations out to the guys who have warrants, to meet some pro athlete and get autographs? Like they won a contest or something? Serpico, right? I got guys on the force still who can set it up for us on the down-low. Maybe get one of the undercover narcs to see if he’ll bite on a drug buy and pickup, and get him to work the door for us.”

  “Where we gonna do something like that?”

  “I know about some abandoned industrial properties we can use. It’ll be dark, he’ll never see us. He’ll never suspect a couple of sick old men. Let me work on it. We’ll do it for Nurse Carmen— she’s our angel. One thing I learned, most of these guys who beat on their women are big pussies themselves. He’ll back right the fuck down and maybe think twice next time. I’ll set it up.”

  While they continued to hatch their plan, Tommy saw something begin to glow behind the bar.

  Lucius picked up his phone and looked at it. He got up and moved from behind the bar to stand on the far side of the room, away from the door.

  The situation clicked in Tommy’s mind, and his aged body moved into action. Ambush. Rising from his barstool as the front door opened, he grabbed Moses by the arm and pulled him away. Moses’ mug of beer swung wildly, splashing in a wide arc. The flood of light as the door opened was quickly blotted out by the bodies pushing through it.

  “Get down, Moses! Move to the dark,” Tommy shouted as he pulled his friend to the floor on the far side of the room, out of the line of attack he expected to come. He jumped in front of Moses to shield him.

  The door closed, and the bodies that had rushed in encircled them. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark again. I don’t have my fucking weapon. Someone grabbed him, and as a reflex, he used a judo throw. The mechanics were the same as when he was younger, but his body was less responsive. He was old but still strong, and he was able to swing his attacker away, slamming him into an arcade game, smashing the glass. They can’t see either.

  He dropped to a kneeling posture and pulled his glasses case from his jacket pocket. He aimed it as if it were a gun, swinging his extended arms in a semi-circle. “Don’t fucking move or I’ll unload this full fucking clip.”

  The lights flipped on, and Tommy saw Lucius at a row of switches by the door.

  The barkeep threw the deadbolt and stood with his arms folded. “Seems like some people have a beef to settle with you, Pops.”

  Now they were all exposed. Tommy in the center of a ring of younger black men, all with the same leather motorcycle vests and bandannas around their foreheads. Moses sprawled on the floor behind him. Tommy crouched in a shooting posture, pointing a faux leather case from Pearle Vision like a 9mm Glock.

  Several of the men laughed, but the one who’d been thrown stepped forward and slapped the case from Tommy’s hand. “You ain’t no cop. Not no more. Just an old man. I got a real problem with you, motherfucker.”

  The most muscular youth in the group walked up to Moses and extended a hand to help him up. “Uncle Moses. Sorry you got caught up in the action.”

  Moses straightened himself. “Goddamit Lukas, what the hell is this all about? Where are your bikes? I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Tommy looked at Moses, then back to the group. Some held helmets. “What the fuck is this, the black Hell’s Angels?”

  Moses replied, “This is my nephew, Lukas. He runs with this group from our hood. Black Eagles, not Hell’s Angels. It’s a new group, gives ‘em something to do. I’m kind of their adviser, trying to keep them out of trouble. Not easy in our neck of the woods.”

  Don’t show fear. Tommy stood and addressed the young man who’d slapped his glasses case away. “What’s your beef?”

  “You took this place down. Ten years back,” he replied. “They were some working motherfuckers, ain’t making shit at their jobs, playing poker in the back room. My motherfucking old man. You put him away, bitch. Cost me time with him. And probably went to your own motherfucking card game with your cop buddies that same night. Time to pay your dues now. Racist motherfucking cops.” He moved forward, as did the others, tightening the circle around Tommy.

  “Easy fellas, easy...” Moses tried to interject.

  “Stay out of it, Mos. I want to hear what he has to say,” the youth commanded.

  Tommy’s mind raced back to that night. He remembered it. The game had started as a neighborhood thing, but it’d gotten out of control, taking in big money and starting to get the attention of the local mob. Bad for the neighborhood and the city, and bad for these poor working stiffs if the mob decided to move in. He’d wanted to do the take-down and get out without any problems. They were doing these guys a favor, but nobody knew it at the time.

  But then Paulie, fucking Paulie, had to let his hatred get the best of him and went over the top. He went out to the car, came back, and planted weapons and weed that were never there. Added years onto what would’ve been weeks for the guys they busted.

  Moses dared to move closer. “Now hold on a minute. None of you kids were there. I was there. Yeah, the cops took us down. We were asking for it, we were getting greedy and sloppy and taking action from out of the neighborhood. Too much attention.”

  “You his narc?” the leader asked Moses. “You had your time. This is our time. We got to make shit right, or we got no dignity. Price to pay for everything. That’s the law of the street.”

  Moses came forward, towering over them all. “Learn respect, young man. I know your father taught you that, at least. I was there that night. This man was the only one trying to be fair. Shit got out of control. His partner wasn’t as fair. But this man here wanted to break it up and let everyone go. He’s okay. You got the wrong guy. You want someone, go after the other one.”

  “Fuck that. I’ll take the one I can get. Proximity got a price. No cop is a good cop. Not that I seen.”

  Tommy addressed the man. “Listen, he’s right. My partner was over the top. I always tried to be fair. He paid the price. He got popped in a bodega.”

  It was quiet for a moment. Tommy broke the silence first. “Look, when I was a cop, I hated everyone, including myself. I tried to be fair. I let a lot of shit go. Paulie’s gone. He paid the price.”

  The leader pulled a knife from his cargo pants and clicked it open. “You got to pay the price. I got to remove something from you, for my daddy.”

  Moses stepped in front of Tommy. “Look here. You see what this man did when you came in? He put himself in front of me. He’s sitting here in a brother bar, a white man, and puts his body in front of a brother when there’s danger. Ain’t too many white men like that. Ain’t too many cops like that, black or white.”

  A distant wail grew louder as it neared, until it peaked outside the door. The young men all scrambled, and one yelled, “Back door!”

  Tommy said, “Wait. Don’t be stupid. It’s probably covered. You go running through there, and you’ll get taken down. Hold on.” He looked over at Lucius. “Unlock the fucking door before they break it in.”

  Lucius threw the bolt back, and Tommy opened door enough to expose his face and spoke. “Stand down. The situation in here is under control.”

  He opened the door the rest of the way to reveal several uniformed officers. “Sergeant Borata, what the hell are you doing here?” one of them asked. “We got a report of a disturbance.”

  “I’m having a few beers with my friends. It’s under control.”

  The officer appeared skeptical and peered behind Tommy to get a better view of the occupants. “Your friends? You sure?”

  “Yeah. Just a disagreement over some sports shit. I wanted to watch the hockey game. Go get some real bad guys.”

  The cops turned away, and Tommy closed the door. “I got to get out of here.” He reached into his wallet and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Lucius, that’s for the repairs, and get these guys a drink on us.” H
e looked at Moses and nodded toward the door. They both left without complaint from the others, who were eyeing the cash and taking seats at the bar.

  When they were outside with the door closed, Tommy turned to Moses. “You were there that night?”

  Moses laughed. “Hell no. That was some spur-of-the-moment bullshit. Improvisation.”

  Tommy put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Jesus. You saved my ass with that. What you said wasn’t far off from how it really went down.”

  “Yeah, good cop/bad cop. Same old story. That much I know from experience. Sorry about your partner. Was that for real?”

  “Yeah, he got hit. Not blacks though. It was a white kid, junkie who was taking down a bodega, high as a kite. Paulie wasn’t perfect, but he was my best friend.”

  They walked down the streets, avoiding the alleys this time.

  “You know what, Borata? You’re a dangerous motherfucker to hang around with.”

  “Yeah, well—let me pick the bar next time. I’m too old for this shit.”

  8 A Warning

  There was just enough light filtering through the ragged shade in the old warehouse office for them to make out each other’s forms. Tommy set his Taser to ‘drive-stun’ mode.

  “Now youse can’t leave,” he said, laughing.

  “Huh? What the fuck does that mean?” Moses asked.

  “Bronx Tale. You never saw that flick?”

  “No, I guess I’m not as much of a movie buff as you,” Moses replied. “Is that a gun?”

  “Nope—a Taser. Beautiful piece of equipment, standard police issue. This little baby can be used for direct contact against the body, or shoot electrodes from fifteen feet away into the perpetrator.”

  “I don’t know about this shit. I’m sick, Chief. Too sick to go back to jail. What if I get better, and have to spend years back in the hole? What if this motherfucker has a heart attack from that thing?”

  “Nobody’s going to jail. C’mon. We’re both sick. We planned this out. It’s not a big deal. We don’t need to do much. I’ve got all the tools to take him down, give him a warning, and get the hell outta here. Geez. Maybe I should have gotten you drunk on some hard stuff, to bring out those violent tendencies you talked about. Think about Nurse Carmen. All she does is care for us, and then she goes home to get beat on by this asshole. You okay with that?”