Hell was a night in jail. The steel trap stripped a person of all agency.
“God, your shit stinks,” Ravi said as Ash returned from the group bathroom.
“Yeah, and yours smells like roses,” Ash replied.
They had spent the night in the cell awaiting their arraignment, as New York mandated arraignments within twenty-four hours for most crimes. Even if WP theft hadn’t fit that definition, their government-appointed attorney had told them it wouldn’t have mattered. In cases of WP theft, there was a huge incentive to set a trial date. The DA’s office generally wanted these cases resolved quickly since the public couldn’t stand the thought of someone out there using WP against the rules. In a society with two sets of laws for the haves and have-nots, the greatest sin wasn’t breaking the law, but getting caught.
“Guys, I’m trying to concentrate,” Rakshan said.
“For what?” Krish asked. “We get trotted out like misbehaved dogs, sentenced, and then if we’re lucky, we die here before our parents find out what’s happened.”
At least your parents will visit you, Rakshan thought.
Only Abhinav remained silent, staring at the cells of the sleeping inmates around him as he stood by the bars that trapped them all.
Another hour passed in silence before the prison warden came to get them. “See you soon,” the man said, smiling at Rakshan.
So much for innocent until proven guilty. Ravi had been right; the phrase was never meant for them.
The courtroom was packed; America loved the illusion of justice. As he entered, Rakshan saw their court-appointed lawyer speaking to the DA and the judge.
“All rise,” the judge said. “The Court will now hear the People of New York vs. the WP Thieves.”
“They couldn’t come up with a better name for us?” Krish muttered under his breath as Ravi shushed him.
As the judge laid out the charges, all Rakshan could think about was the fact that Sadiya was not here. His sorrow turned to anger, though, when he saw Abhinav surveying the crowd as well. Kicking his friend’s shins behind the wood that separated them from the public, he smiled as Abhinav shot him a glare.
“We’re about to die and y’all are just fucking around,” Ravi hissed under his breath.
“Death was something to be afraid of yesterday,” Ash said. “Maybe prison won’t be so bad.”
“You’re crazy,” Krish whispered. “We won’t last a year.”
Death? The thought had never truly crossed Rakshan’s mind, not even when Karthik had knocked him out in the bathroom. What am I doing? Sadiya might be gone, but my friends are here.
“Will the bailiff bring the accused forward?” The judge ordered the boys to state their pleas.
“Not guilty,” Rakshan said. As the others followed suit, Rakshan didn’t need WP to sense the heat of the audience. Their rage was palpable; how dare someone try to steal? Those who had WP deserved it; WP was divine providence, evidence that karma endured past one’s lifetime.
“Your Honor,” their lawyer said. “These boys aren’t a flight risk, and some of them have physical injuries to take care of before trial. We ask that they be allowed to set their affairs in order.”
The DA didn’t bother to refute the defense, seemingly confident that the argument was ludicrous, but the judge granted bail at $500,000.
“Okay,” their lawyer said. “You got lucky.”
“Can I write my bank info down? Can we get out of here today?”
Though the courtroom emptied, the heat Rakshan felt did not dissipate. The last thing he saw before being escorted back to their cell was a sneer on the DA’s face.
Rakshan didn’t complain, even when the others decided he should post bail, though he was the only one of them who was unemployed.
“Consider it an asshole tax,” Abhinav said.
Their next court date was set for two weeks from now, but for the moment, the five of them chose to just enjoy the night in Rakshan’s apartment.
“We could still do it,” Ravi said.
“Are you insane?” Ash asked. “Karthik would murder us.”
“He’s going to murder us anyways,” Ravi said. “You think he can’t find a way inside our jail cell? Our lives are forfeit unless we get some WP.”
It was 6:00 p.m. Ash whistled as Rakshan stared out the window in the direction of Union Square.
“This is so stupid,” Krish said. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
After Abhinav ordered some food to Rakshan’s apartment, the boys considered their next steps.
“The cops confiscated the gecko gloves,” Abhinav complained. “How do we even get in?” And why would we want to? As much as he was dreading a lifetime in prison with his ex-best friend, he didn’t think death was a reasonable alternative.
“Okay,” Ash said. “Three problems: getting in, fighting Karthik, and getting out.”
“There’s a fourth problem, too,” Ravi said.
“Yeah?”
“Them.” Ravi pointed to Rakshan and Abhinav. “They’re too pissed at each other to work well together. Angry people make mistakes.”
Rakshan became fascinated with his shoes as Abhinav pretended to check his phone.
“Ravi’s right,” Ash said.
“No problem,” Abhinav said. “We do this, we split things evenly, and I never have to see him again. Right?”
Rakshan opened his mouth. “Abhinav…”
“You got something to say?” Abhinav put his phone away and looked Rakshan right in the eyes.
“I’m sor…I’m sorry.”
To Abhinav’s surprise, Rakshan’s eyes grew watery.
“You’re right,” Rakshan said. “I’ve been an asshole. I just…I miss her so much.”
More excuses, more lies. “You didn’t suddenly become a dick when Sadiya dumped you.”
“…No,” Rakshan agreed. “I’ve been a lousy best friend for a long time now.”
“Why?” Asking the question released a weight from Abhinav’s heart that’d been there for years. For the first time in ages, he could breathe.
“If I could convince myself I was cooler than my best friend, then I could convince myself my life was awesome.”
That…actually rang true. As Rakshan sniffled, Abhinav wondered if his friend had ever admitted the truth to himself. Rather than respond in words, he simply embraced his best friend in a bear hug. We’ll talk more later, he told himself. For now, these moments demand action.
“It’s okay,” he said. “The good thing about best friends is they have a greater capacity to forgive.”
“Great,” Ash said. “When the two of you are done jerking each other off, you might still remember we have the problem of Karthik.”
Abhinav sighed. It just can’t be easy.
It was half past nine by the time Rakshan came up with a solution. Pacing around his apartment, hungry for action now more than food, he was surprised the others couldn’t hear his heart pounding. With this plan, with these friends, I can still pull it off. “What if we didn’t have to fight Karthik?”
“What are you talking about?” Krish asked.
“Someone calls him with a fake job,” Rakshan said. “We get him far away from the apartment.”
“No one has his number,” Ash said. “Besides, he knows our voices.”
Rakshan rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’d distort my voice.”
“I don’t think that’d work,” Ravi said.
The boys chewed their meals in silence.
“I’ve got it,” Abhinav said. “We walk right in.”
“What?” Krish massaged his forehead. “I’m getting tired of harebrained schemes.”
“It’s been a whole day,” Abhinav said. “Karthik could even be gone by now. The doorman knows us. We ask him if Karthik is there, and if not, we just have him send us up.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because, Ravi, it’s not like he’s in love with the way of the world, either.” Rakshan grew manic, getting up from his couch to seize Ravi. “Abhinav’s right. This plan’s perfection lies in its simplicity. We tell him everything, and I mean everything. We promise him a cut of the WP.”
“What if Karthik is there?” Ash asked. “Even if he’s gone, what if the doorman still doesn’t agree? It’s a big risk sending us up with no guarantee.”
Abhinav spoke before Rakshan could. “I think we should try.”
I was so stupid to cast him aside. He promised himself he’d never forget the value of friendship again. It’s worth more than a gram of WP.
“Ravi is right,” Abhinav continued, “our lives are forfeit if we rot in jail. Aditya and Karthik won’t let us live.”
“I just don’t want to die,” Ash said.
“We won’t,” Abhinav said, “as long as we do it together.”
“Okay, you morons,” Ash exhaled. “I’m in. We do this smart, though. Someone make chai; we’ve got planning to do.”
It was eleven thirty before the boys were ready to leave. Rakshan had contacted Aditya’s doorman and found out Karthik had left the previous night. They had been working in silence for hours, but when he told the others the news, it was as if a spell had been broken. Smiles appeared on faces again, and Abhinav cracked open some Kingfishers from the kitchen. He offered one to Rakshan last.
“Bros before hoes?”
Sadiya had been the elephant in the room, but at Abhinav’s question, the last of Rakshan’s anger melted like kulfi under the hot sun of his motherland.
“Sadiya’s a grown woman,” he said, taking the beer. “She’s no one’s hoe. Whatever happens if we’re successful, happens.”
Clinking their beers together, Abhinav offered a hand to Rakshan. “So, we’re cool?”
“Yeah,” Rakshan brought him into an embrace. “We’re cool. She’ll make her decision, but we’ve already made ours. We’re best friends, right?”
“Right,” Abhinav said.
The boys showed up at Aditya’s apartment building around midnight.
“He could be sleeping,” Rakshan said, “but I think it’s more likely that he’s doing some WP. He gets home late enough, and if he’s anything like the others I’ve heard about, he needs a daily fix.”
“Oh good,” Ash said. “I was afraid this would be too easy with Karthik gone.”
The five of them walked through the lobby entrance before the doorman stopped them.
“Can I help you?” The man was a walking stereotype, with a baritone voice and over two hundred pounds of heft. He’d told Rakshan beforehand that they’d need to keep up a charade since the cameras were rolling.
“We’re here to see Mr. Shetty, please. We’re his cousins.”
After everyone signed in, the doorman led them into an elevator and turned the key to send them to the top floor before leaving with a wink and a whisper. “Remember, I need twenty percent.”
As soon as the boys stepped into his building, Aditya knew. They were dumber than they looked, but he was glad; killing them would be good practice before Karthik returned from Italy. When the door opened, he made sure he was the first thing they saw.
“Chai?”
“No thanks,” Rakshan said. “We just had some.” No one moved, but Rakshan caught Ravi eyeing the digital scale on the table with WP still on it.
“It was a mistake to come here,” Aditya said. “You won’t leave alive.”
“Being on WP still isn’t enough for someone like you to get away with murder,” Rakshan said. “You’re still an Indian; you’ll never be one of the privileged, no matter how hard you try.” This is it, he thought. Cold sweat ran down his back. I can’t fail my friends. Not again. They’re my family now.
Aditya laughed so hard he hiccupped, and Rakshan took that moment to push forward a little so that their opponent’s back faced his bedroom. If I can just get close enough to the WP…
“You think I want to be like them?” Aditya’s laughter died as he snarled like a cornered lion, savagery evident in a face that bore lines caused not by age, but by stress.
“I think you’re obsessed with wanting to be like them,” Rakshan said as Krish and Ash edged right, toward the island in the kitchen with enough WP to fuel a half dozen people.
“Then you’re a fool,” Aditya said. “These people have had WP for so long that it means nothing to them.” He looked at the ground for a moment as he curled his left hand into a fist.
Ash used the moment to step towards what Rakshan hoped was salvation.
“I’ve been to parties like you wouldn’t believe.” Aditya looked up again, and Rakshan saw hatred in his rival’s eyes. “Caucasians hocked up on so much WP they don’t even notice it sometimes. They think it’s boring…up until the point you take it away.”
“You took everything from me,” Rakshan said. “You have bougie paintings.” He pointed at the Vermeer to the left of the kitchen, intentionally shifting Aditya’s gaze as Krish joined Ash closer to the kitchen. “You want to be just like them.”
Aditya roared in frustration, causing Abhinav to step back. “I am so much better than them. My father had nothing. My people—our people—had nothing when they came here.” The man’s eyes looked as if they could light his fireplace up by themselves. “With my smarts, and their drug, I’ll be unstoppable.”
“I know how you got your WP,” Rakshan said, shifting to the left once more to try and turn Aditya’s back to the kitchen. “You stole it.”
“Only a fool would think you can steal WP.” Aditya’s right hand curled into a ball as well; the man was shaking and Rakshan didn’t know if it was rage, an overdose, or something else. “Privilege belongs to anyone with enough guts to take it.”
Rakshan saw his two friends back into the island. From the corner of his eyes, he saw them rummaging behind them in search of the scale. Catching a smile from Abhinav, he knew they’d found it.
“Why did you fire me?” I’ve got to keep Aditya’s eyes on me and not the kitchen. “You said ‘our people,’ but you never gave me a chance.”
“You never earned one.” Aditya uncurled his fists, but his eyes still shot daggers. “The biggest betrayals of all come from your own kind. I hired you because I thought you could help me secure a future for our kind here. Instead, you proved just as weak as the ones who horde WP for themselves.”
Rakshan took a step back and was rewarded when Aditya followed his lead. The farther he got Aditya from the island, the bolder Krish and Ash could be in securing enough WP for them to win the coming fight. He could see Krish trying to stuff powder under his fingernails.
“I worked hard,” Rakshan said. “Harder than Sadiya wanted.” And I still lost her. Rakshan saw his friends arrayed around the kitchen by this point. They stood before a baggie of WP lying next to an open drawer. But I still have my family.
“And yet it wasn’t enough.” Aditya grinned. The words cut into Rakshan deeper than a knife. “I heard about Sadiya. Losing a job and a girl in the same day, must be tough.”
Now it was Rakshan’s turn to curl his hands into fists.
“Go ahead,” Aditya said. “I’ve been wanting to practice my skills on a live target.”
Rakshan’s vision narrowed. The world was a prison marked by the walls of Aditya’s apartment. It’ll be my apartment by the end of this. I’ll get Adrsta, this apartment, and the power to create the family I deserve. The way to freedom wasn’t to break the law; it was to become it.
“It’s five on one,” Ravi said, stepping forward and glaring at Aditya. “Sure you can handle it?”
Rakshan refocused on the kitchen, but unfortunately, Ravi’s boldness had also drawn Aditya’s attention. The exposed bag of WP called out to Rakshan so loudly he closed his eyes to try and silence the voices in his head. When he looked again, Krish and Ravi had smeared as much WP as they could on their arms before throwing the bag his way.
Aditya tried catching it in mid-air, but the force of his outstretched fingers ripped the bag into pieces and sent the drug pouring down on all of them like rain from a storm.
“Let’s finish this,” Ravi said as he and Abhinav smeared what they could on their legs before joining Rakshan in a frontal assault.
Sadiya Murthy woke up in her own bed Wednesday morning. As much as she had wanted to spend the night, Maadhini had told her to save something for the weekend. Getting out of the shower, Sadiya threw on a bra and hiked up her jeans before heading out to work.
Maadhini was probably right, she thought as she left her building. It would be hard enough acting cool around everyone in the office; Maadhini didn’t want to tell anyone. As if Sadiya hadn’t gotten to second base with her childhood friend last night.
She sighed. Sneaking around her parents was one thing, but here she was, alone in New York City, and she still couldn’t be open about who she really was.
Maadhini had avoided Sadiya the entire morning. She’d almost said hi once while Sadiya was at her laptop, but had turned away when she’d noticed her reading an article on NYTimes.com about Rakshan’s arrest.
After their lunch break, though, Sadiya cornered her outside. “Hey, ‘dhini.”
Maadhini looked down at the ground to hide a smile as she blushed. “Hey, ‘diya,”
The two girls looked each other in the eyes and became women in that moment.
“I want to be with you,” Sadiya said.
“Me too…so desperately…” Her stomach ached, and Maadhini could not tell if the yogurt she’d had for lunch was expired or if this was love.
“But?”
“Rebecca…” I can’t go through that again…
“I’m not Rebecca, ‘dhini. What we have, I want to make it real. But it won’t be real until our parents know. There’s too much history.”
Maadhini looked at the ground, but only saw that Sadiya had painted her toenails red and gold. “I know.”
“Let’s go to Bangalore, like my mom said. Let’s tell my parents, and then we’ll come back and tell yours.”
“What?!” Maadhini’s head snapped up so fast she pulled something. Massaging her neck, she looked for Sadiya’s day planner. Did she plan to go insane today?
“When’s the last time you went back?” Sadiya asked. “Your parents are probably begging you to see some family there, right?”
“My parents are still begging me to sign up for an account on shaadi.com,” Maadhini said. “What is up with you? Ever since you left Rakshan you’ve become reckless. Spontaneous.”
“And I like it,” Sadiya said. She stepped closer, and Maadhini found herself glad she’d chosen to shave and shampoo today. “I didn’t know what I wanted for so long. I was naïve enough to think life was a plan! That there were rules to follow. But you came here and then you came out and now you’re able to be your true self. I want that for me. I want that for us!”
“It was a lot of work…” Maadhini’s head fell along with her voice as she traced a shoe against the dirt below her.
Touching her chin, Sadiya pulled her face up. “But you did it. You’re so strong. Your parents accept you.”
“My parents may accept me,” Maadhini said, “but any family I still have back there is quite glad to have forgotten about me. They’d think me going back there now to show them this,” she pointed between them, “is a conspiracy.”
“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s love!”
The finality of the words fell like weights on Maadhini’s ears. “’Diya…” She heard the longing in her voice, all strength sapped. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“Listen to me, ‘dhini. Hear my words. I. Am. Not. Rebecca. I’m not some privileged girl from the Hamptons who knew so little about life I’m surprised someone gave her a driver’s license. You got hurt bad, and it sucked. I know; I was there. I hugged you close and commiserated over wine and Gilmore Girls with you. We burned the Taylor Swift CDs she bought you and rocked out to Simple Plan to relive our high school years of solitude. But life goes on, and we can move on together.” With each sentence, Sadiya’s voice became stronger. “I know what love is and I know what love isn’t because I’ve been hurt before, same as you. So listen to me: I love you. I said it to Rakshan all the time and always thought I meant it. The second I put that ring on, I knew it wasn’t true. I know how to spot the difference now, and you’re it.”
Maadhini leaned back against the brick wall that housed their office. The sidewalk teemed with life as people raced to and from lunch, but in that moment, Sadiya was the only other person in the world. “What if it goes wrong?”
“What if it doesn’t?” Joining their hands together, Sadiya pushed Maadhini’s whole body against the wall before kissing her.
It never felt like this with Rebecca. Warmth flooded Maadhini’s body, finding its way inside every free crevice. As their bodies became one connected organism, she wondered why anyone would ever be foolish enough to think WP was the key to true power. It’s okay to give in to happiness and realize when good enough is good enough.
For the rest of the day, Maadhini couldn’t help but smile every time Sadiya passed her. Once, when they’d both gone to the bathroom at the same time, they’d washed their hands next to each other and she’d struggled not to giggle. Walking past Sadiya’s cubicle on her way out for the day, Maadhini noticed her friend’s day planner in the trash.
“It’s like you said,” Sadiya said at her questioning look. “The best parts of our lives are often unplanned.”
As the two boarded the subway, Maadhini spoke. “I’m not opposed to a trip.”
In the crowded compartment of their subway ride home, she’d initially let Sadiya sit while she stood. When it became clear that no one was about to get off, she yelled at the man close to them who had spread his legs out over two spots.
“You’re my hero,” a woman told her as she took a seat next to Sadiya.
“A man doesn’t need that much space unless he’s coming back from a prostate exam,” she laughed.
Sadiya threw her right hand over her face to cover a glowing smile. “You’re not opposed to a trip,” she repeated. “Good to know.”
“Yes,” Maadhini said, “but it shouldn’t be Bangalore.”
“It’s like ripping a Band-Aid off, ‘dhini. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but it’s the only way it can heal, and things will be so much better once that happens.”
Maadhini pondered this for the next several minutes, opening her mouth multiple times before closing it again. An India trip makes this real. The thought both terrified and excited her. After that…there’s no going back.
“Ban-ga-lore. Ban-ga-lore,” Sadiya started whispering. “Ban-ga-lore. Ban-ga-lore.”
Looking Sadiya in the face, she realized something. I don’t want to ever go back. It was okay for her to be happy. “When they come to the airport, they’ll see both of us together holding hands.”
“Okay.” Sadiya’s wavering voice betrayed the excitement that radiated from her like heat.
“We tell them right there when we land so they won’t make a scene. Then we spend the next two weeks winning them over.”
“Okay?”
Maadhini raised an eyebrow. “Are you in or are you out?”
“I am most definitely in,” Sadiya said. “And hey, I’ve got the brunt of the work here. At least your parents know you’re gay.”
“Knowing it and accepting it are two different things,” Maadhini said. “They want grandkids.”
Sadiya rolled her eyes. “Gay people can adopt. It’ll be an adventure.”
“You’ll protect me?”
“I promise.”
“Hey,” Maadhini said as the two walked back to their office. “What if soy milk is just regular milk introducing itself in Spanish?”
“…”
“We’re together now,” she said. “You have to laugh at my jokes.”
Laughing, Sadiya rolled her eyes and took Maadhini’s hand in her own.
It was past midnight when Therese returned from work. Opening the door to Jerome’s room, she saw a lumpy shape under his blanket and figured her baby boy was asleep. She didn’t think much of it until the next morning when he didn’t answer her calls.
“Jerome! School!” As she called out over her shoulder, she opened the fridge to see that the orange juice was finished.
He must have wanted to get to school early, she thought. She opened his room to find his backpack missing and was reassured.
When she opened her front door to leave for work, though, she knew something was wrong because two cops stood there, staring back at her.
“Ma’am, my name is Officer Jackson.”
Though a large Black man was talking to her, Therese’s attention focused on the smaller white cop behind him. Her heart dropped. Her soul left her body as she became a spectator to her worst nightmare. It’s finally happened to me.
“It’s about my son, isn’t it?”
Officer Jackson looked her in the eyes while he explained what had happened, but the other one, said his name was Sands, couldn’t face her.
That’s how she knew he was the murderer.
Therese fell to her knees and moaned like a wounded animal, her dirt-crusted nails scraping the ground as she looked for some support in a world that offered none to people like her.
“What did he do to my boy?” Flinging her head back as if possessed, she opened her eyes to see Sands.
The man stepped back. Bringing her arms up because she could not bear to keep her body still, she yanked her fingers through her hair, threatening to pull the locks clean off her head.
“Ma’am,” Officer Jackson said, “there’s more. We found something in his backpack. We’d like you to come down to the station with us, if that’s okay.”
For a moment, Therese closed her eyes and took comfort in a world as black as her skin. Here, in the dark, she could be herself…but nowhere else.
When she opened her eyes, she remembered that the door was open; neighbors were starting to stare. She could curse the world later—Lord knew she had plenty of experience doing that—but this world wouldn’t even let a mother mourn in peace. She looked Sands in the eyes when she addressed him, wanting to be composed. He isn’t worthy of seeing my pain, of seeing my truth. Pain was honesty, and these cops were liars.
“You didn’t kill him, not really.” She reached for the white handkerchief she kept in her bag and dabbed at her eyes as the cop struggled to figure out what to do with his hands. “He was marked the moment I brought him into this world.”
Officer Jackson interjected while Sands’s face remained blank. “Ma’am…”
“I won’t go with you.” Let me be. Leave so I can throw up and drown in my own vomit. Her voice shook. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to feel anything ever again.
“Ma’am,” Jackson begged. “We have reason to believe narcotics were involved.”
Closing her eyes, Therese saw the truth. Jerome had wanted the one drug Black boys couldn’t get away with dealing. As she nodded her head, Officer Sands helped her up and took her to the car. She let him. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing would ever matter ever again.
Closing the car door, Sands turned to his partner before they left. “Why didn’t you correct her? You fired the shot, not me.”
“Let her believe a lie,” Jackson said. “If she knows a Black man killed her boy, she’ll lose faith. Ballistics is gonna prove you fired your weapon first, anyway. Maybe he became more aggressive as a result and I had to end it before he could hurt you.”
Sands fought the urge to vomit again.
“Look,” Jackson said. “The myth of America is all that’s keeping this country going. If everyone loses faith in that myth, there’ll be blood in the streets. If people lose faith, even WP won’t be enough to protect the privileged.”
Sands nodded, though he still felt sick.
The two got in the car. As they drove off, Officer Jackson reached to the back of the car and offered Therese a handkerchief to muffle her sobbing.
Returning to the station, Jackson was about to take Therese to his desk and get her statement when he saw Lieutenant Edgar Torres sitting in his chair. Jackson’s boss was short in all ways: physically, in the way he spoke, and with regard to his hot temper. The man twiddled his salt-and-pepper mustache. Something was on his mind, and Jackson had to know if trouble was on the way.
“I’m so sorry,” he told Therese. “Hold tight for one second.”
As Jackson approached Edgar, he saw the man’s eyes looked heavier than a car. “Jesus, boss. You look like you’ve been punched in the face.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Edgar said. “This just came down the pipeline.” He slapped a memo on Jackson’s desk with calloused hands.
Edgar’s family had crossed the border from El Salvador in the ‘70s when he’d been just a baby, and the man had worked to become a cop ever since. Jackson didn’t know how Edgar could run a 5:08 mile when it always looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hunting gangsters was personal for him; Jackson had learned a few years ago that FGRN-14 had murdered Edgar’s uncle.
“Fucking feds want to bring me in,” Edgar growled. “These upcoming hearings in DC are spooking everyone. FBI thinks cops nationwide are on the take, and now I’m told to expect a subpoena. It’s a whole domestic conspiracy, according to them.”
“I got to take care of this woman…” Jackson tried to change the subject before he found himself the subject of one of Edgar’s infamous freak-outs.
“Look,” his boss said. “I ain’t gonna ask you about your business. I know we do what we must to hit our numbers…but if you’ve got anything going on ‘off the books,’ you should quit now while I can still protect you.”
All Jackson could do was nod as Edgar left and Therese was brought in.
Spartacus didn’t think much of it when Jerome didn’t show up Tuesday night. The boy was still in high school, after all, and had probably gotten cold feet. It was one thing to get a taste of WP; it was something else to walk around knowing you’d murdered someone.
The next morning, though, he read the crime section of NYTimes.com and learned the truth. An unidentified Black boy had been killed, and involvement of narcotics was suspected. The case piqued Spartacus’s curiosity since it was unusual for so many hours to pass without people taking sides and names being leaked. Hacking into the NYPD’s network, he saw the truth unfold on Officer Jackson’s dashcam.
“Fucking cops!” He banged his fist on his table before resting his face in his hands. That kid couldn’t have been older than sixteen, and all he’d wanted was a taste of what every privileged person in this country already had.
Spartacus had picked out his namesake because it’d been the name of the oldest person in history to lead a movement for equal rights. That was the point of the Dark Web, ultimately—to equalize access to communications and privacy. Once the power dynamics were forever shifted, America could finally live up to its promise.
Standing up, he paced around his small apartment before taking a swig of milk from the mini fridge and sitting back down.
“Moving on, moving on,” he grunted to himself as he took out his flip phone and dialed a number.
“It’s Spartacus,” he said, speaking into a distortion device he’d retrieved from his desk. “That guy you hit last night was one of mine.”
On the other end of Spartacus’s phone call was Pete Jackson.
“I told you not to call during the day,” Jackson hissed as he made a beeline for the bathroom.
“Relax,” Spartacus said. “I’m about to make you a star.”
“Yeah?” Jackson stopped walking and dropped his voice to a whisper. “How’s that?”
“You found the ring on him, right?”
“What kind of shit have you been getting into?”
“You scratch my back and I scratch yours, got it, Jackson? Those were the terms you offered six months ago.”
“Yeah, when I nabbed your ass. You remember that?”
“I remember you letting me go and I remember giving you a cut of every piece of business I’ve done since then. I got recorded calls and transaction receipts, motherfucker. What do you have?”
What did Jackson have? He thought about telling Spartacus about his conversation with Edgar. Congress wouldn’t be issuing subpoenas if they didn’t expect to find damning information, and maybe if Spartacus didn’t toe the line, he’d let it slip he knew someone worth subpoenaing. That would be mutually assured destruction, though. Jackson knew he couldn’t do that, at least not yet. He let the moment pass with nothing but a deep sigh.
“That’s more like it,” Spartacus said. “Now listen, you got the ring. Little Black boy doesn’t come across some WP like that for nothing, so already you got some smoke to fill a narrative. Your buddies downtown find a guy with a smashed face last week? Botched robbery?”
“Yeah, made no sense. It was a nice purse and whoever killed the guy just left it.”
“The boy killed him. I hope you can get both bodies. Run ‘em for prints and you’ve killed two birds with one stone.”
Jackson waited for his surprise to die down before speaking. “I’m not saying thank you.”
“You’ll never have to, Jackson. You questioning who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy in this little arrangement will always be enough for me.”
“Asshole.” Jackson was about to hang up when he saw a flyer by the bathroom. “Hang on a second.”
“What’s up, Tweedledum?”
“We’re not partners.”
“Okay, okay. Got anything for me?”
“Yeah…” Staring at the flyer, Jackson hung up the call and took a picture of it.
Spartacus was about to call that ungrateful prick back when he received a picture message. It was a piece of paper with some writing on it.
A new Silk Road? The NYPD has reason to believe the old trafficking website has been reopened under new leadership. Transfer to the cybercrimes division today and help us catch the man known as Spartacus. See your supervisor for further details.
Well, well, Spartacus thought. Cops weren’t as dumb as they looked.