Black Gangster

  A uniformed officer came hurrying out. "Sir," he began, "they had ropes in the alley to get over that large fence that made it a dead end. In fact, they even had a couple of broken-down stepladders. It looks like they been planning on a bust coming their way."

  Gazier grunted and started up the car. He turned on the siren and sped towards police headquarters.

  Captain Mahoney and Lieutenant Morales walked out of the interrogation room and stepped into the captain's office.

  "Well, Mahoney," Morales said, "looks like that kid has knocked around with the law before this."

  "He has," Mahoney answered. "But as soon as I get him out of the jurisdiction of the juvenile authorities, we'll get some of that smartness out of him."

  "Well, I'll be damned!" Morales said hotly. "Just listen to this! Larry Drualle, age sixteen, arrested twenty-two times, found guilty on six misdemeanors, beat four felonies, given probation twice." Morales slammed the folder down on the desk. "No damn wonder these kids go out and commit every crime in the book. The killing part about all this is that the only thing we can pin on this kid right now, if he sticks to his story, is car theft."

  "Car theft, hell," Mahoney roared. "We got that punk in there, the one with the leather jacket on, by his goddamn balls, Morales, and I'm going to make him confess to being at that goddamned rumble."

  A fat officer with captain's bars on his shoulders stepped into the office. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. "That kid," he began, "still sticks to his story about dropping his girlfriend off up on the Heights before he was picked up."

  Captain Mahoney asked sharply, "Did he give you the girl's name?"

  "No, not yet. He still says he doesn't want to involve the girl because of her parents."

  "Yeah, I'll bet," Mahoney mumbled.

  "Captain Harris, do you believe Drualle is lying?" Morales asked slowly.

  "Of course he's lying, but what can I do about it?" Harris replied, then hesitated for a moment to stuff his handkerchief back into his pocket. "That's one of the reasons I rushed over here, Pat. I want you and your boys to go easy on this kid. I guess you know he's not but sixteen, so that makes him a juvenile untouchable."

  Mahoney swore angrily. "Untouchable or not, Harris, we got that punk this time, and I'm going to see to it that he gets his just rewards."

  Morales picked up the kid's record from the desk and pointed the folder at the fat officer. "Captain Harris, do you know that any adult with such a lengthy police record would still be doing time instead of being allowed to run the streets?"

  "Not only do I know it," Harris said, turning on Morales angrily, "but the kids are acutely aware of what can and cannot be done to discipline them. This is the first time you've come in contact with Larry, but it's not mine. I've been having problems with him ever since he turned the ripe age of eleven."

  Morales slammed the folder down on the desk. "If he's been in your hair that long, why in the hell do you come in here telling us to take it easy on this kid?"

  "Morales is right, Harris," Mahoney said. "Even if the kid was only ten years old, I would try to nail his hide to the door. This is nothing but a murder case, and that punk kid is up to his neck in it."

  "With that kid's statement, we can blow the lid off of this thing," Morales said quietly.

  "That's the damn truth, if you never tell it again," Harris replied. He removed the handkerchief from his pocket and nervously began to wipe his face. "You say you're going to blow the lid off this case-you're going to blow the lid off this town, Mahoney, if you don't take it easy."

  "Well, that just might happen then, because I'm going to bust this case, and I'm not going to baby no damn punk while doing it," Mahoney replied sharply.

  Harris turned to Morales. "I've been following the incidents that have happened in the last few weeks, Morales, rather closely, and I believe I have something that might help you guys."

  "My boys have been working night and day on these killings, Harris," Mahoney said impatiently, "but if you've got something you think we might want to know, I'll be glad to hear it."

  "I'll start from the beginning, Pat, so you and Morales will be able to understand just what makes me think along these lines." Harris lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the desk before continuing. "It's not Larry you really want. He's just one of the young suckers being used. The man you want I met about ten years ago. He was just big enough to see the top of his head over my desk when they brought Melvin Walker, nicknamed `Prince' by the kids on the block, into my office. I was working my way up through the ranks at that time and they had me in charge of all the kids who plague this department. You know, the aggressively delinquent, the goddamn ones nobody can seem to do anything with."

  The name Melvin Walker had rung a bell with Morales. "Captain Harris," he asked, "was Prince potentially violent, assaultive, or in need of special mental treatment at that time?"

  "No," Harris replied. "That's the surprising thing about him. I knew he was capable of violence, but even then he had the ability to influence older boys. Prince had a very high IQ. He was what I call an operator-the leader who involves weak and dull boys in vice."

  Mahoney asked impatiently, "Isn't there another approach to this problem instead of waiting until my department gets up to its neck in wholesale murder?"

  "Don't worry, Mahoney," Harris replied, the sarcasm in his voice obvious. "I'm not going to start telling you about our shortage of young bureau officers, or the need for beds in our too few youth homes, or about the trouble we run into with mentally ill children."

  Mahoney tossed his hands in the air in mock alarm. "Okay, okay," he roared, "just stick to Prince, that's enough for right now!"

  "Well, I'll make this as brief as possible," Harris went on. "Since Prince's release a few weeks ago, it's appalling to see how much influence he has over the rest of the gangs in this city. I don't know how many boys Prince has following him, but from what I can get out of some of the kids, I would estimate he has at least four hundred or more kids in his organization.

  There was a sudden knock, and a tall blond officer entered. He crossed the room and handed Captain Mahoney a folded piece of paper. "What the hell is the matter now?" Mahoney said as he unfolded the paper. His face turned a deathly white as he read the note. With a violent motion, he grabbed the phone just as it rang. He listened quietly, then slumped down in his chair and let the note slip from his hand.

  Morales leaned forward and picked up the message. After a quick glance at the note, he reached over and took the receiver out of Mahoney's fingers. "Hello, hello," the sergeant yelled on the other end of the line. "Yes?" Morales inquired swiftly.

  "Here's Lieutenant Gazier now," the sergeant said. "He knows the full details."

  "Put him on the line then!" Morales barked. "Gazier, what's the truth in this goddamn report?"

  "It's the truth," Gazier answered, his voice shaking with anger. "It's all true, I was upstairs when the report came in. Mahoney's son and his partner were both killed, along with the witness they were directed to pick up. Oh yeah," he added, as if an afterthought, "they killed the witness's wife, too."

  Morales remained silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was icy cold. "I'm taking Pat home, Gazier, so while I'm gone I want you to have a pickup put out for every dope addict, prostitute, and stool pigeon in this city. I want so much heat put on this city, Gazier, that when they see a cop coming they'll drop their heads in fear. If you put it on them right, somebody somewhere will talk, quick."

  After hanging up, Morales spoke to the officer who had brought the note. "You take that kid downstairs and have him moved from precinct to precinct."

  "For how long?" the officer asked.

  "For just as long as it takes to keep him from making bond," Morales answered sharply.

  "Just a minute, Lieutenant," Captain Harris said. "Don't you think you're overstepping your authority slightly?"

  "No, Captain, I don't. Two
officers were killed tonight, and I mean to have an arrest made on the killer as soon as possible. And I mean to see that kid as soon as I get through taking Captain Mahoney home."

  A little while later Morales drove Mahoney across town to his home in the suburbs. Morales glanced over at Mahoney sitting slumped in his seat. A wave of anger ran through him, as pity for his old friend jammed in his throat. It had just been a little over a year ago that Mahoney's wife passed away; since then, he had been staying with his son and his son's bride of six months. After driving for half an hour, he turned onto a clean block with red brick houses on both sides of the street. He remembered how it had been only a few months ago on his way to the captain's house to be best man at his son's wedding. Now it was all in the past.

  "Pat," he said softly, "I'll go in the house and break the news to your daughter-in-law."

  "Do that for me, Jim," Pat answered, before his voice broke.

  8

  DARKNESS WAS JUST beginning to fall as the car weaved its way through the evening traffic. Prince rolled his window up in the rear. "It feels like winter the way that wind is shootin' through the goddamn car.

  Ruby, driving, pushed a button and all the windows in the Cadillac shot up. The woman next to her on the front seat glanced out the window nervously.

  "I still think you should call it off, Prince," Chinaman stated firmly beside him. "The police been raiding every goddamn place they can think of trying to find you."

  "That's tough shit, baby," Prince replied as he stared out the window. "We can't stay in hidin' forever just 'cause the fuckin' man got a hard on. They done busted everybody they can get their hands on, so it won't make no difference if they take us down. Our lawyer will be out front tonight, so if something do go down, he'll be right on the case."

  "Ain't no such thing as if something should go down," Ruby said loudly. "When they see you and Chinaman up on that stage tonight, there's goin' be some arrests made."

  Chinaman's girlfriend, Blanca Rodrigues, spoke up for the first time. "What else can they do but show up?" Her dark eyes flashed as she glared over the seat at her man. "All the Chicanos in the city will be here tonight to listen to what Chinaman has to say. It's too late now to think of not showing up."

  Prince grinned at the attractive young Mexican. He wished silently that he had a hundred more dedicated women in the new organization like Blanca. "You see what I been telling you, Chinaman? With your woman's brains and your nerve, this thing can't miss." Prince laughed lightly, then continued. "What she says makes sense. If I don't show up tonight, you think I'll ever be able to get the crowd back again that we have waitin' on us?"

  "Do you really think this thing you're going to try and work out of, Prince, is really worth it? It ain't no doubt about us going to jail sometime tonight," Chinaman asked.

  "You better goddamn well know it, man. You can see what's happening in the streets now. Every time one of the Rulers hits the streets, they get their ass tossed in jail. So what we got to do is go legit. That way we can get the heat off our backs, and help out our people." Prince smiled in the darkness of the car. It amused him to speak of what he was going to do for others, when he knew his only concern was filling his own pocket.

  "Man, I ain't never talked in front of a lot of people before," Chinaman said nervously. "I hope when I get out on that fuckin' stage I don't blow it."

  "Don't let it worry you, baby," Prince replied smoothly. "I ain't never talked in front of nobody either, but I'm going to take care of business tonight."

  Ruby pulled up and parked. It was impossible to get in front of the hall they had rented since it was swarming with teenagers and young adults.

  "Mon, look at the crowd!" Chinaman exclaimed excitedly. "You don't think there'll be any trouble, do you, Prince?"

  Prince studied the crowd. "Naw, baby. We got all the mean studs workin' the doors. There better not be any shit."

  "We better go in the alley way, Daddy," Ruby said as they climbed out of the car. "If the man is waiting on you, at least you'll be able to get your speech across before the bust goes down."

  Danny opened the stage door for them. "Man, I didn't think you'd show up. Police are all over the place. I been hiding back here so they wouldn't puke me off."

  Prince walked over to the curtain and peeped out. "Baby, the place is packed. I didn't think ya'1l would pull that many people here."

  Ruby smiled and looked out at the house. "Honey, when you got as many people spreading the word as we got, it can't be no other way. Dot furnished free babysitters for whatever women needed them, so we got all the A.D.C. mothers in the neighborhood, besides their boyfriends."

  "Don't forget the free entertainment after the speeches," Blanca said.

  The emcee came backstage and spoke to Prince. "Whenever you're ready, baby, we can get this thing started."

  Prince nodded, then smoothed out his midnight-blue silk suit. He reached up nervously to pat his high natural. Ruby walked up and put her arms through his. Behind him, Chinaman and Blanca did the same thing. As the announcer began to introduce them over the loudspeaker, he could feel his stomach tighten. Butterflies began to buzz inside his stomach, but he told himself this was the big step and walked out on the stage with his woman to the sound of loud applause.

  Ruby released his arm as they reached center stage and walked over to the chairs that were placed behind the microphone. Chinaman led his woman over to the seats, too.

  Prince held the microphone in his hand and stared out at the crowd. For a moment he didn't have the slightest idea of what he would say, then the words began to flow.

  "Brothers," he began, raising his hands high. The gesture was met with loud acclaim. "I've asked you to meet me here and listen to what I've got to say because it's a deep need for it." He stopped and surveyed the crowd. He could see his men and women working the aisles and this gave him the confidence he had been lacking. "All of you know without me telling you about it how the police have been running through our neighborhoods cracking heads lately. Not that they didn't do it before, but for the past two weeks they done got beside themselves."

  Officer Morales held Gazier's arm. "Not yet," he cautioned. "I want to hear just what our smart little boy has to say."

  Prince waited until the scattering of applause died down. "For some reason," he continued, "the white man thinks all blacks are crazy or something. He must if he thinks we're going to keep acceptin' this bullshit." He waited until a few mutters of anger quieted down. "For some reason, whitey likes to tell black folks about what their problems is, but they can't never see what the fuck their own hangup is all about. Now dig this," he said, raising his hands for silence. "Whitey is always talkin' about how our trouble comes from having our women rule our homes. Can you dig that shit? While the truth of the goddamn thing is that the white suburban families are matriarchal, ruled by the goddamn woman even though the man is in the home every fuckin' day."

  The young brothers in the audience were on their feet, stomping and screaming. Again Morales had to restrain his partner from rushing towards the stage.

  "With your help out there, brothers and sisters," Prince continued, "we can work towards the elimination of inferior education in our neighborhood schools, put an end to discrimination in some of these lilywhite bars and clubs that dot our inner city."

  Again he raised his hands for silence. "The time has come when we have to stop lookin' for help from whitey. How you can sincerely believe that a white man, born and raised in a society diseased with institutionalized racism, can ever bring himself to really help someone of the black race is beyond me." He stopped briefly, then shouted, "We got to get off our knees. All that goddamn praying ain't where it's at, and singing `We Will Overcome' ain't about nothin' either. Damn all that singin' and prayin', what we need is some businesses for us to operate."

  The crowd was on its feet again, moved by the agitators sprinkled through the building.

  With the patience of a good showman, Prince waite
d until the murmur had quieted before continuing. "After this is over, some of the kids are going to pass through the crowd signing up members for our organization. As most of you know, we call ourselves F.N.L.M., which means Freedom Now Liberation Movement. Now, if some of you out there are worried about us puttin' the bite to you, forget it, don't cost but twenty-five cents to join, and I might add," he added for emphasis, "if you think of yourself as a black brother, you'll join."

  Again, his agitators started a round of applause.

  "If some of you are worried about what you'd have to do, don't worry. We are not demanding the supreme price that some of our black brothers are unselfishly giving in the fight for justice in this racist country. No, we ask nothing like what the Panthers' members experience, so there's no danger involved. No more than what the average black man has to experience in everyday life. Sometimes you may be called upon to help picket government people who won't get their goddamn foot off our necks, plus some of the black politicians who seem to think all they need to do for us is to get their goddamn pictures in the fuckin' paper."

  He stopped long enough to regain his breath. "This bullshit practice of comparing black and white statistics without taking into account difference in opportunities emanating from the reality of white institutional racism, by our administrators, the ones we put in office, is going to come to a flying halt." He smiled slightly and thanked his lucky stars for the many political arguments he had had in prison. "I for one am sick of whitey accepting the black man as an equal only when it relates to crime statistics." He raised his voice and shouted, "Fuck that shit! We want and we can get equality now. Not next year or the year after, but now."