CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MITCH

 

Mitch was lying on the sofa like he did every night, hoping that eventually this war with the Russians would come to an end so that he would be free. His wife, who never missed a moment of sleep, was sprawled out on the bed as usual.

Considering that prior to now they lived on an island and she had every luxury imaginable, Mitch wondered what made her rest so easily in the beautiful dungeon.

With her always asleep, he oddly found the attentions of Sarah comforting. He appreciated their long talks despite their different backgrounds. Him white, fit and healthy. Her black, overweight and drunk.

Still, she had become the only person who made him feel like a human being. She didn’t care about the money he had or the reasons he was being kept against his will. She sincerely wanted to get to know him and that made her invaluable to him.

He was just about to drink some wine when his door opened. Hoping it was Sarah, he was disappointed when he saw the Kennedy family, minus Camp, standing before him. Mitch stood up and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his silk black pajama pants. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

“So you heard?” Kevin asked with a lowered brow.

“Yes.” He looked at Denim. “Your mother told me. She’s God sent. She doesn’t mind keeping me company and considering my predicament,” he looked up at the gold accented ceiling as if he were in a Mexican prison as opposed to paradise, “it means a lot to me.”

“My mother won’t be coming around anymore,” Denim said firmly. “And I wanted to let you know personally.”

Mitch removed his hands from his pockets. They hung loosely at his sides. “Please tell me that her dismissal isn’t due to anything that I have done.”

“It’s not because of you,” Kevin said louder. “It’s just that with the war we’re involved in, this was no place for Sarah.”

Mitch’s jaw tightened and it was apparent that he wasn’t happy about the news. “So what brings about this visit?” He looked at the Kennedy family with painted disdain. “You must want something.”

“We wanted to tell you that things have escalated,” Scarlett advised. “With my husband being murdered and the twins going missing, we predict things will get worse.”

“The twins are missing?”

“Yes,” Kevin responded.

Mitch sighed. “Well, in that case, I don’t doubt that things will get worse,” Mitch responded. “And however I can help I’m willing. Just let me know.”

“We need your connections, Mitch,” Kevin said. “We know you have access to technology we don’t.”

“Technology?” Mitch repeated.

“Yes. We need someone who can run the Russians’ names and find out some more intel. Where they work and where they sleep. Stuff like that.”

“But I gave you what I knew. I told you the address of their hideout and the restaurant where they often meet. I don’t know anything else.”

“We believe that you do,” Kevin said.

“You all are giving me too much credit.”

“We don’t give credit unless it’s warranted,” Ramirez advised. “Now them mothafuckas killed my brother and they may have my nephews. Will you or will you not help us? Will you or will you not assist us in ending this war?”

Silence.

Mitch didn’t answer right away but it was apparent to the Kennedys how he felt about them. He threw his hands up. “Look, I’m very sorry about what happened to Camp. And I’m even more heartbroken now that I hear what’s going on with the twins. But I don’t have access to anybody in the states who can be of service. If I was home, in Mexico, I could.” He sighed. “Perhaps you should let me go so that I can be of more assistance.”

Kevin frowned and finally he saw him for the person that he was. A bitter man who was unsympathetic to his family’s needs. “Naw, my man. We gonna keep you right here. Just be ready to make them calls when this shit dies down. We’re going to need another shipment ASAP.”

“Yeah, we know you know how to take care of that shit at least,” Denim said.

When they left, Mitch stomped toward the phone. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. It rang twice before it was finally answered. “Sarah, my dear. How are you? I just heard about what they did to you!”

“Not good,” she sobbed. “I’m in a cab, Mitch. They threw me out on the streets like trash. They turned my own daughter against me! I hate them all!”

“Well do you have anywhere to go?”

“They bought me some house that won’t be ready for a few weeks. Unless I plan on sleeping on the cold hardwood floors, I don’t have a plan,” she sobbed louder. “I guess I have to stay in a hotel until then.”

“Nonsense,” Mitch said. “I have somewhere you can go. It’s one of my homes in Washington, D.C. From its view you can see the monument in the city.”

“For real?” she responded excitedly.

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “Anything for my friend.”

“I didn’t think you could do anything for me,” she replied sounding more upbeat. “Since you’re stuck there like a prisoner.”

“My dear, a man like me can touch anybody from anywhere.” He exhaled. “I wonder how long they think I will allow them to keep me here before I wage a war of my own. On their own territory.”

Sarah exhaled. “I love my daughter but that’s exactly what they need. To be shaken up a little. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”

“Yes.” He sat on the arm of the recliner in his room. “There is a woman, who sometimes works for Bambi. The one you told me was disgruntled at the dinner with the east coast bosses.”

“Yes, Yvette.”

“That’s her. Give her this number and tell her I would like her assistance.”

“What will you give her if she agrees to call?”

“Money and power.”

“That’s a hell of a start.”