Murderville 2: The Epidemic (15 page)

“This is the end result right here,” Omega said as he pointed at the potato sacks full of pure cocaine.

“Damn,” Po whispered looking at the sacks and sacks of cocaine. He had never seen so much white in his life.

“Let’s go to the back so I can introduce you to Zulu,” Omega said. They walked through the corridor to a steel door at the end. An armed man that was as black as night with shades on stood post.

“I need to see Zulu,” Omega said as he approached the man. The guard opened the door and stepped to the side. Omega walked in, and Po followed closely behind. A chiseled man sat in a chair while two of the thickest women Po had ever seen massaged his shoulders. One girl for each side of his body.

The two men began to speak in their native tongue while Po just stood there, unsure of what was being said. They were going back and forth about something, and Po was dying to know what the topic of discussion was. After a couple of minutes Zulu stood up displaying his six foot three frame, then walked over to Po and shook his hand. At that very moment, Po was plugged. Cocaine would never be a problem again.

They left that corridor with an agreement that Po would be their United States distributor of cocaine. The next day, Po left for the States and Liberty stayed in Africa with Dahlia. She wanted more time with her cousin, and since Po expressed that he was returning, she decided to stay for a couple extra weeks. Po was about to set up shop and not only take over Castro’s territory, but the entire country.

*    *    *

Po and Omega returned from the Zulu meeting and things were very clear. Omega would go into business with Po.
With Zulu’s blessing, the plug had been made and Po would be a part of a long pipeline that would flood the streets back home. Omega had been doing export business with a few people from the States, but no one stayed consistent since his old connect Baron Montgomery. Omega had a good gut feeling about Po. He loved his demeanor and felt a good vibe with him. Zulu was the head honcho, but Omega was the underboss and usually dealt with the day-to-day. Once they reached the house, Omega went into detail with Po.

As they parked the four-wheelers in the back of the house, Omega began to brief Po. They both hopped off the bikes, and Po wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hands.

“This is a big opportunity for all parties. We have been looking for a young partner that can make moves in the States. Can you handle what’s about to be bestowed upon you?” Omega asked as he slid his hands in his pocket, and they headed toward the house.

“It ain’t nothing to me. I can move bricks in my sleep. Not being arrogant, but I’m just telling you the truth. If I can get my hands on that product I just saw, that unstepped on raw, I can make them bitches disappear. Believe that,” Po said confidently.

“How much can you handle?” Omega asked as he stopped and crossed his arms, looking Po directly in the eyes.

“I can move fifty a month easy,” he replied confidently.

Omega paused and remained quiet as he intensely
studied Po’s eyes. Po nodded his head up and down, assuring him that he could do the numbers easy.

“I was thinking more like five hundred.”

Po couldn’t believe his ears. This was every dope boy’s dream. He was actually connected with the source and with the right moves he could become richer than he ever fathomed. Tony Montana rich.

“Let’s do it,” Po said as he extended his hand. Omega smiled and shook his hand, loving Po’s ambition and willingness to go hard.

“Now, getting them to you is very easy. The only thing you would need to do is pick them up from the port of Miami. We will take care of everything else. Our coke is catered,” he said while slightly grinning.

“Beautiful,” Po smiled as the plan was coming together.

“Our coke is moved on the ship we like to call
Murderville
. We hide the coke in hidden compartments on crates. We use various imported items to move it to the States, such as detergent, corn, and even coffee beans. We have friends at the border, so everything usually goes smoothly. Your point person is Mrs. Beth. A blond-haired, blue-eyed exporter that is a master at what she does. We have been working with her for years. She will let you know what the fee is when you meet her,” Omega explained as they headed toward the house.

Po listened closely as he soaked the game in and was very impressed on how organized this African was. He listened carefully as Omega continued.

“You know how a connection that, if used right, can
make you a rich man. Along with this connection, you have protection. We are all family in this business. So if someone has a problem with you . . . they have a problem with our mob,” he said in his heavy accent.

“That easy, huh?” Po asked as he soaked it all in.

“That easy. Welcome to the underworld.”

ELEVEN

PO MADE THE TRIP BACK TO LOS
Angeles with a new coke connect and the strength of the African mafia behind him. It had always been a two-man team with Po and Rocko, but now they had shooters for days. The States hadn’t seen a crew as ruthless as the one with which Po was now affiliated. He led the way through the crowded airport with an African goon squad behind him. All arrangements had been made. Two black Maybachs waited curbside for the gentlemen, and as Po stepped inside, his adrenaline raced. He could feel the money in his hands before he even made it. He had sales lined up with all of the major buyers in L.A. His hustle was limitless now, and after he took L.A., he planned to dominate the entire West Coast. He was building an empire that would feed his kids’ kids. The amount of money he was about to come into couldn’t be spent in one lifetime. He was about to eat like a king, and everybody in his circle was invited to the feast.

He pulled up to Rocko’s spot and was taken off guard when Ayo said, “We always get out first.”

Po frowned slightly, and Ayo explained, “Dig it: Stateside, you’re the boss. You step out last after me and my crew have secured the area. If bullets fly, you should be the last one hit, not the first. You’re not on the front line no more. We’re your protection; we’re the muscle. Use us.”

Po nodded and relaxed as Ayo and his men exited the car. Rocko appeared on his porch with his gun sitting on his hip. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck is up? There a problem?” Rocko asked with bravado and limited patience. Ayo smirked, then sniffed as he grabbed at his nose. If all the hustlers in America were as pompous as Rocko they would have some problems. Ayo and his men moved silently. They didn’t need to bring the circus to town to put their murder game down. He didn’t rock with clowns; he was associated with killers. Men that would slit your throat, and then show up at the funeral to pay proper respects. The African mafia was a business. An organization of great structure. The niggas in the States were in it for the image and the ego. The two things that could get you killed.

“No problems, unless you want them, homeboy,” Ayo responded in a thick accent.

“What, nigga?!” Rocko said. The tone of his voice alerted Ayo’s goons, and within a split second, seven guns were pointed in Rocko’s direction. Rocko reached and kissed Ayo’s forehead with the steel of his gun. Ayo’s jaws clenched. The men were testing each other. Po immediately emerged from the car.

“Put the guns away. You’re on the same team. Save that shit for Los Familia,” he ordered. Rocko kept his aim steady until every single gun was lowered off him.

“Rocko,” Po said sternly.

Rocko spit between his teeth toward Ayo’s feet, and then finally let his gun fall to his side. Po stepped between the two of them and laid down the ground rules.

“Never pull your pistol on my man again, you got me?” he said to Ayo.

“Understood. I didn’t know. My apologies, Po,” Ayo replied. He held out his hand to Rocko, but Rocko simply stared at it.

“Rocko, play nice. These the mu’fuckas are about to help us get rich. You two might as well get used to each other. You’re my right hand, Rock, but now, Ayo is the glove that protects it.”

Rocko reluctantly shook Ayo’s hand, and the men entered Rocko’s spot.

“The plug came with all this?” Rocko asked, referring to the new partnership.

Po nodded and lowered his voice. “This connect came with any and everything we need to not only take L.A. over, but the entire West Coast. So I need you to play nice, fam. They were real hospitable to me over there, so we got to return the favor. This is so much deeper than some street shit, Rock.”

Rocko nodded.

“What’s that Los Familia situation looking like?” Po asked.

“They lying low, but after what I did to ol’ girl, they won’t stay that way for long,” he replied.

Ayo stepped up and interrupted. “We’ll settle that beef before it becomes a problem. It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m not trying to step on nobody’s toes. I’ll follow your man’s lead when it come to the drugs if he follows my lead when it comes to the war. I come from war. That’s what I do. You command in your field of expertise, and I’ll take the lead when it’s my arena. Anything you need . . .”

Rocko nodded his head. He couldn’t help but to respect it. Now that Po had his two lieutenants on the same page it was time for the takeover. He was about to show the streets something they had never seen.

*    *    *

Being at home gave Liberty a peace that she hadn’t felt since she was a little girl. Her life had been marred with so many bad memories that she had completely erased the good times that she had experienced in Sierra Leone. The last time she had seen her village it was burning to the ground, but today, it thrived and the community of people that lived there seemed so happy. “I never thought I would be able to come back here,” Liberty said as she looked around, smiling, feeling complete, as she took it all in.

“They rebuilt it nicely, and, of course, Omega and I donate money and goods to the economy here. Sierra Leone is transforming, Liberty. This is home,” Dahlia said. “I am so glad that you finally found your way back to it.”

“Me too,” Liberty replied. They held hands as they walked through the village, and it seemed as if their family
bond had never been broken. A lot of years had passed, but time and space had not distanced them. Now that they were reunited they were just as close as they had always been. Liberty had forgotten how pure Sierra Leone was. Growing up in the States had taken away her appreciation for nature, for community, for simplicity. She was jaded by labels, wealth, and the hustle, but as she became reacquainted with her roots she realized that none of that mattered.

“I want to stay here forever,” she said.

“Then stay, Liberty. You are enslaving yourself by not living your life by your own standards. You’re free now, Liberty. Do what
you
want to do,” Dahlia said. “Who would your decision displease? Po?”

“He wouldn’t move here. He’s too . . .”

“He’s a city boy,” Dahlia interrupted. “He has the city swag, the rugged nature. He can have that here. Besides, I think that he will do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

“It’s not like that,” Liberty rebutted. “Our hearts are linked to people that we can no longer have.”

“I see the way that Po looks at you. The only person who doesn’t see it is you,” Dahlia assured.

“It’s complicated,” Liberty answered.

Liberty drifted ahead of Dahlia and purchased crafts from the locals and trinkets from the children. She didn’t need any of the stuff, but she knew that what she spent on homemade trinkets could help feed a family for a week. The locals were out hustling, but she wondered what her life would have been like had the rebels never invaded her village. Life may have been more peaceful, but she would have never known
A’shai, and fate would have never led her to Po. Having A’shai in her life was worth everything she had been through and finding Po after tragedy was like the cherry on top. Her feelings for Po could not rival what she had once shared with A’shai, but they were strong enough to be the bandage over her wounded heart.

“There is more to Sierra Leone than the simple life, Liberty. You see how Omega keeps me. I do everything on a grand scale. I have the finest jewels, cars, furs . . . but besides the lifestyle, the thing that is valuable most here for a woman is influence,” Dahlia schooled. “The circle of women that I introduced you to are the elite few who have the power to start wars, Liberty. Yes, of course, their men are on the front lines. The men are the mouthpiece, the businessmen, the leaders, but the women are behind the scenes, pushing the buttons and pulling the strings.”

“Is that what you do with Omega?” Liberty asked.

Dahlia scoffed and shook her head. “No. Omega doesn’t grant me that type of power. He likes to keep it all for himself,” she admitted with a bit of contempt in her voice. She quickly perked back up and continued. “But Po is different. He will let his queen rule over her court. Po trusts you, and if you play your hand right, you could have it all. Money, power, respect. Po will need you in his life in order to keep his position secure. His business is in L.A., so he won’t be here enough to make sure that his will is considered. You are his eyes and ears. Know the connects, make them know you. You hold him down and ensure that his contributions to this game and to the local government
are not forgotten. You actually have a man who values what you say, Liberty. When you speak, he listens to you. He acts and reacts according to what you deem acceptable. He cares about you. You’re not just a showpiece. You have free will. A lot of women would give anything to have that. Don’t squander it because you’re holding on to a ghost.”

*    *    *

Po watched as large, industrial steel crates were unloaded onto the dock. He stood between Ayo and Rocko as they each waited for the shipment to be unloaded. The operation was flawless. They had a connection with Customs that kept their crates off the log so they could transport as much cocaine as they needed in and out of the port of L.A. Po walked up to one of the crates and frowned when he heard voices coming from inside of it.

He stared up at Ayo. “There are people inside of that crate,” he commented.