CHAPTER 3

Marcus entered St. James Park on Jerome Ave.as the train roared by from the tracks above. He saw Zarida and Janet as he looked to his left in the playground area. Janet didn’t see him until he came through the entrance to the fenced off area. “Daddy!” she screamed as she started running full steam ahead. His smile was nearly as big as hers. These moments were very precious to him. She jumped into his waiting arms and knocked him back a few steps as he squeezed her tightly. “Baby girl, you gonna break my back one day.” Marcus said as Janet kissed him on the cheek and returned her feet to the ground. “I miss you Daddy!” “I miss you too baby.” He replied as they walked toward Zarida who was sitting on the bench observing their closeness. Janet had her right arm around her father’s waist, and he had his left arm over her shoulder. “When are you coming home?” She asked. “Come on now don’t start with that today, ok?” “All right, all right,” She said reluctantly as she released her grip from around his waist. “Watch me on the swing.” She dashed off toward the swings full of life and energy. “Ok.” He said shaking his head from side to side and continuing to smile. “Damn, she’s getting big. Soon she’ll be looking you eye to eye.” He said as he sat down next to Zarida. “Yeah, she’s growing up fast; too fast.” Zarida answered. She had no problem when it came to closely working with him on assignments for The Black Liberation Organization, but in these kinds of personal interactions she never seemed to do very well. She was determined however not to make this a tense situation this time, but already an uneasiness came over her; partly because she was still very attracted to him but did not want to make that obvious to him. “So how are you doing Zee?” “Fine, yourself?” “I’m good.” They always went through these little formalities before things got tense. “Well, you look great.” She smiled and replied. “Still waiting for me to totally fall apart because I’m not with you huh?” “No, no I wouldn’t want that, I was merely observing how good you look. I’m sorry if I somehow insulted you.” She looked at him and rolled her eyes. He seemed more relaxed this time around and that usually meant messing with her head. “So, how’s Andrew the bookkeeper?” “Andy the accountant is just fine; like you really care.” “Just making small talk” “Yeah very small. How’s Lisa?” She threw back at him. “She’s very good. Thanks for asking.” Janet screamed from the swing. “Daddy are you watching?” “I’m watching baby.” He screamed back. “Since when are you interested in Andy’s well-being?” Zarida continued. Marcus sat back, sighed and put both arms spread out against the back of the bench. “Well, he’s taking care of my lady and he’s around my daughter so I should be concerned about how he is.” “Your lady? I am not your lady.” She snapped back emphatically. “Oh, that’s right I keep forgetting. I guess I still think of you that way.” Marcus calmly responded. “Oh really, I’m sure Lisa would be delighted to hear that.” She shot back. He laughed. “So how are you two really getting along?” Zarida’s annoyance was growing. “Cut the B.S. Marcus.” He paused then said. “Well I just wanted to know if all your needs are being met.” “And if they weren’t?” She asked raising her eyebrows. “Well I might be able to help you out.” He responded with a smirk on his face. Zarida sucked her teeth and turned to keep an eye on Janet. “Dream on Marcus, dream on.” There was a moment of silence then both of them returned Janet’s wave. “So how are you and Lisa really doing?” She asked emphasizing the word really. “Actually we are doing real well. In fact we are thinking about getting married. He said suddenly and insensitively. Zarida’s heart sank but she managed a big laugh. “Are you serious?” “Yes I am” He responded gently, too late in realizing that this could have been handled better. “What brought this on?” She asked hurting but trying her best not to show it. “Actually I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I just think it’s time.” She said nothing, just shaking her head and looking in Janet’s direction in a daze. She began to feel very uneasy knowing that she would not be able to hide her pain much longer. Her hope was that one day they would be reunited as family but she never really showed that that could be a possibility. Now she felt she had lost him for good. Janet came running back and both Marcus and Zarida had to quickly get their thoughts and emotions together and pretend all was well. “Daddy are you ready to go?” She screamed. “Ready when you are.” He said managing a smile. “Ok let’s go.” Janet said enthusiastically. “I could stand some food how about you?” Marcus asked. “Let’s go to …” “No McDonalds.” He interrupted her. She playfully hit him on the arm. “Give me a kiss sweetie.” Zarida asked as she bent over to Janet. “Are you walking our way?” Marcus asked Zarida. “No, it’s nice out I think I’ll sit here a little while longer.” “Ok.” Marcus said as they began to walk away holding hands. “Bye Ma!” Janet screamed. “Bye sweetie.” She responded. “Be good. Bring her back on time.” She added. “I always do.” He said as they walked away. Zarida sat back down, took a deep breath and licked her lips as tears began to form in her eyes. ”I should have been more open with my feelings instead of playing these mind games.” She thought as one tear slowly rolled down her left cheek.

The master of ceremony suddenly raised his voice “And now ladies and gentlemen the man we have all been waiting for who will honor us by cutting the ribbon officially opening the Marcus Garvey University, our own presidential candidate, Senator Gerald Jackson!” The crowd exploded with a roar of enthusiastic screams and applause as Senator Jackson approached the podium. “Thank you Mr. Jenkins,” He yelled out trying to speak above the crowd noise. “Thank you, thank you.” He repeated as he motioned to the large mixed crowd to quiet down. Slowly emerging from the crowd were two men members of the White is Right Party posing as journalist. Both men began to reach inside their athletic bags for firearms as they approached the podium. The Senator’s security detail was slow to respond but a Black Guard security agent by the name of Malik immediately reacted by jumping off the quickly assembled stage; flying into the crowd toward the two would be assassins. One man quickly side stepped Malik. Malik nearly missed both men but managed to get a hold of the second man’s arm as he hit the pavement. His strong arms pulled the second man down to the ground with him and in a flash spectators and security guards noticing the weapons covered both Malik and the would be assassin. The crowd began kicking and stomping the attacker. The other assassin pulled out an MP5 and was ready to fire. As he aimed his weapon in the direction of the Senator Jackson Lou Gorman, the bald headed B.L.O recruiter and personal body guard of the Senator , shouted “Down!” and pushed the Senator down from behind so hard that his forehead slammed against the wooden stage floor. Gorman draped his body over the Senator’s as he pulled his 45 from the holster in the arch of his back. The loud pop of multiple gunshots began to erupt as bullets flew. The MP5 sprayed the stage hitting several security guards, wounding Mrs. Jackson in the arm and barely missing the Senator and Gorman. A barrage of bullets entered the crowd from the stage and the roof directly above the area where the ribbon cutting ceremony was taking place. Innocent people were being hit, but the would-be assassin abruptly stopped firing as the force and multitude of bullets lifted him off his feet and sent him backwards. There was blood and screaming everywhere as chaos ensued. People were being stomped as the crowd scattered in different directions. Loyd Hillman, gun drawn, scanned the area for any other possible gunman. Then he quickly helped Lou Gorman get the Senator to his feet. The Senator was bleeding from his forehead and was a little dazed. The other guards whisked the Senator’s wife to a waiting limousine. A second limo pulled up right behind the first where the Senator was whisked away trailing his wounded wife as they sped off. General Jackson calmly and boldly walked up to the podium and in his deep bass like voice called for calm. “Please everyone keep your heads everything is under control now. Medical attention is on its way as I speak. Please stay calm the Senator is ok.” Sirens could be heard getting closer and closer as sobbing and anger replaced hysterical screaming. “Let’s get them out of here!” He yelled behind him to security to get the remaining VIP’s to a secure location. He paused to look over the scene with disbelief. His jaws began to tighten as he stepped forward to the edge of the stage. He kneeled down and bent over to whisper into the ear of Jim Baines. “I want to know who is responsible for this.” He paused then continued. “Before the authorities know; and Jim, I want to see Malik. That boy saved my brother’s life.” “Yes sir.” Baines said as he nodded and took off. The gunman who Malik wrestled to the ground would not be helpful to the Baines investigation. He was beaten and stomped to death.

Five hours later General Jackson arrived back at the scene of the shooting where he was scheduled to speak at the Paul Robeson Auditorium just a hundred yards away. He passed by the crime scene and ordered one of his men to proceed to make contact with the intelligence agents he ordered to stay behind and monitor the actions of law enforcement. Jackson continued to the auditorium with a heavy security detail surrounding him. The General, who was the CEO of Mind Warriors Inc.an African American think that was part of The Black Liberation Organization, insisted on continuing his scheduled speech despite pleas to cancel.

As he walked across the stage toward the podium the crowd erupted and applauded for nearly five full minutes before he was allowed to speak. Security was tight with high visibility. He began with his booming voice permeating the auditorium. “I just want to thank you for your support and I want to let you know that my brother was unhurt and he wanted to assure you that he was moving forward with his plans to occupy the White House.” The audience erupted with applause and shouts. When the crowd settled down again he continued. “Mrs. Jackson was wounded in the arm but she is not seriously hurt. She’s a strong black woman and she told me to tell you that no weapon formed against us shall prosper.” Again the crowded auditorium exploded with cheers. With Loyd Hillman and Lou Gorman at his side he shifted gears as the people settled down. “I’m going to try my best to give you the speech I prepared but under the circumstances I’m afraid that I will be brief so that I can be by my brother’s side along with his wife.” He paused and then continued. “My people it’s time for a new black order. It was not a mistake that during slavery families were separated, reading was forbidden, the use of our natural tongue and culture were prohibited. It was not a mistake but a strategy. A strategy designed to take away our heart and soul. But we survived and now we must move forward. In the words of the late Maurice Bishop of Grenada, forward ever, backward never!” The crowd cheered as he continued. “If we want a new black order we must make a concerted, unified effort to reverse the situation and take back those vital things that were taken from us. We must become an economic power. We must become a political force. We must develop a militia to protect our economic interest, our political interest and our communities. If there is to be a new black order we must reunite the family, read more, develop and use our own language, learn more about our history before, during, and after slavery. We must develop our own culture based on both our past and present ways of living. Finally, we must become mind warriors. In order for us to uplift ourselves as individuals and as a race we must raise our intellectual level up a notch, and then another notch, and another. We need to examine and study everything that goes on around us and around the world. We have to be more analytical in our relationships, decisions, and actions.” He paused for the applause and then continued. “While we lie asleep or while we watch hours and hours of senseless television programs, the people in power are studying ways to increase or maintain their power. They study ways to maintain control over you and I. Have you ever noticed white people on the subways? They are always reading. We need to read more to acquire as much knowledge as possible. Unfortunately, when we do read its tabloid gossip, sports, or romance novels. There is a whole world out there that we are shutting out. My people we do not have the luxury of counting out any methodology or strategy. But we must unite and attack on all fronts aggressively. Knowledge is power. Power is control. We have to control our own destiny. I started MIND WARRIORS because of our ability or inability to be thinkers. We can’t be thinking correctly when we shoot our own brothers and sisters, when we invade our bodies with alcohol and drugs, when we believe everything in the media as gospel. As MIND WARRIORS we can fight poverty and injustice on a whole different level. Instead of begging for jobs we can create jobs by starting our own business. Instead of complaining about housing we can build our own apartment buildings and houses. Instead of complaining about the price and quality of food we can farm and produce our own food and sell our products in our stores. Instead of crying about the school system we can focus on creating our own educational institutions.” The crowd roared as he continued. “Teaching our own, feeding our own, housing our own, healing our own, that’s what it’s all about.” They rose to their feet and applauded loudly. He yelled over the noise. “Aren’t you tired of being the doormats of the world? Unite, unite, unite; unity is the only way. An open hand is more powerful when it is a closed fist. Black Power, God bless you” He concluded raising his fist as he exited the stage.

Marcus jumped up and reached for his gun as the phone rang loudly disturbing his deep sleep. Lisa alarmed but calm sighed and reached over to Marcus putting her soft hands on his muscular chest. “Calm down honey it’s just the phone.” She said soothing him as the phone continued to ring. “You really need to turn that thing down.” She added and pulled the covers over her shoulders. As the phone switched to voice mail Marcus ran his left hand over his forehead and back toward the back of his neck as he gathered himself. After the beep Marcus focused on the caller. “Yo Marcus if you’re there please pick up. This is important.” He recognized Larry Fisher’s voice. Larry was an old friend from Walton High School and presently a member of The Black Liberation Organization’s 3^rd cell. Marcus picked up the phone. “What’s up chief?” Marcus responded. “Yo, you a hard brother to catch up with.” Larry was a no-nonsense man who had a degree in urban studies from Bronx Community College but more importantly was Marcus’ most valuable street connection. “I’m doing some recruiting for Lou (Gorman). I set up a meet with the gangs. “Are you expecting trouble?” “No, I think everything will be under control. We’ve been negotiating this for months, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some back.” Larry was the Executive Director of two grass roots organization, B.A.D. (Blacks Against Drugs) and M.A.A.D. (Male African American Development). Both organizations were part of the B.L.O. If there was anyone who could recruit gang members into the B.L.O Larry could. “Where and when?” Marcus asked. “Midnight tonight on 182^nd and Davidson Avenue, I’ll pick you up at 11:30; that is if you are down.” Marcus smiled. “I’ll be ready. Peace.” “Peace”. They hung up.

It was just before midnight when Marcus and Larry entered the dingy, dimly lit hallway and proceeded down the damp urine smelling steps to the basement. As they reached the bottom Larry gently pushed opened a rusty metal door that creaked and seemed like it was about to fall off the hinges at any moment. Both men entered the large room slowly and cautiously. Larry spoke first. “Peace.” He said as the glass under his combat boots made a crackling sound. “Peace.” He got a soft scattered response from several voices. “I appreciate you brothers showing up tonight and without sportin your colors. I won’t keep you long.” Marcus quickly scanned the room front, back, left and right. “What I’m gonna say you may not want to hear but you know me I’m gonna say what I gotta say anyhow. You know in the sixties when a lotta brothers and sisters were down with the movement and many of us had a keen interest in acquiring guns so we could protect ourselves or off some white folks, guns were hard to get. Those few of us who did get them suffered the wrath of the police and the FBI. But guns now flow freely. Did you ever wonder why?” He paused not really expecting an answer. “I’ll answer that for you. Because the guns used today aren’t being used for black liberation, or black power, or for protecting our people from racist attacks, or taking white people off. The guns today are used by you.” He said pointing to the gang members. “And you, and you, and you, to kill one another not to protect black men, women and children from racist attacks. You kill one another day in and day out and think nothing of it. You take the life of others and in the process ruin your own. Why? for a little drug money? to feel macho? to feel powerful? to show off for some girl? Think about what you brothers are doing to yourselves and your future. Do you even think about your future past a few days?” Larry said raising his voice in tone and volume. Some of the gang members who were sitting began shifting uncomfortably in their seats and looking at each other. Larry continued. “Does anybody here know someone who has retired from the drug trade after maybe 5, 10, 15 years? Do you know anybody in their 40’s or 50’s still in? How many here have lost a friend or family member? For what? For bullshit that’s what for. You’re living life in the fast lane. Fast money, fast cars, fast women, fast food and fast death. You need to think about the source of your problems. This brother here or this brother here, or this sister here is not the source of your problem. Wake up!” He shouted pointing to the gang members around the room. “There are two sources of your problems. One is you and the other is white people. You need to take care of what is right and then take care of what is wrong. If you brothers and sisters are really bad then you need to see me and go to war for all black people not just yourselves. If you gonna kill somebody kill somebody who’s been killing you for 400 years. If you wanna rob somebody rob somebody who’s been robbing you for 400 years. If you bad let me see you do that. We’ve got the guns now. All that’s needed is a plan. Me and my peoples, we got a plan. If you down, come see me. You know where to find me. And if there are any rats here, I know where to find you.” Larry turned abruptly and left the room with Marcus moving rapidly behind him with his eyes on the gang members and his hand on his nine-millimeter.

Marcus opened the door quietly to his apartment. It was after 1:00am. He entered his bedroom and stripped down. Easing his way into the bed he cuddled up his naked body next to Lisa’s. He began kissing her ears gently awakening her. “Wake up.” He said softly. At first, she was a little annoyed but as he continued to nibble at her ear she began to weaken. “Stop,” She said in a raspy unconvincing voice. “Wake up baby I need to talk to you.” “Now?” She asked looking at the clock on the dresser with one squinted eye open. “Yes now.” Rubbing her eyes to get a better look she saw the seriousness in his face. “What’s the matter?” “Nothing Is the matter I’ve just been thinking that maybe we should do this the right way. Her eyebrows rose. She knew what he was talking about but asked anyway. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?” He repeated. “I think we should do this the right way. Let’s get married.” Lisa smiled pushing her hair back away from her face. “Are you serious?” “Honey, do I look like I’m joking?” “Wow, am I dreaming?” “What do you think?” He asked. She hesitated then took a deep breath. “I need to think about it.” She replied. Marcus was somewhat shocked at her response. With a puzzled look on his face, he lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. “Ok.” He said with obvious disappointment. After ten long seconds she put left leg over his left thigh and gently kissed his chest. “Ok, I’ve thought about it. I would love to be your wife.” He smiled. “You like messing with me huh?” They laughed and he rose to reverse their position. As he lay on top of her they kissed passionately.