Black pools of nothing stared back at him, and then slowly the barrel moved.
‘You have got balls, chollo. Si, I grant you that. Now drive.’
Shattner drove back in silence, gripping the wheel hard to hide the trembling in his hands. Diego sat motionless behind him, expressionless, bars of light and dark moving across his face as the car made its way to Blake Avenue. Probably thinking when he can kill me, Shattner thought savagely.
The next week, two gang members were busted by the police as they were selling drugs to street vendors near a school. The same school Shattner had driven Diego to. The week after that, a gang member was arrested as he was carrying out a hit on an MS-13 gang member.
The first arrest was shrugged off by the chapter as the price to be paid for being in business; the members were soon bailed. Just like most businesses of this size, Jose had lawyers and PR agents on retainers. The second incident caused uneasiness given its proximity to the first.
The third arrest happened in the subsequent week.
Ten gangbangers were flushed out after the police ran an elaborate sting operation on a prostitution racket owned by Jose. The uneasiness exploded into suspicion.
There was a snitch in the gang.
And Shattner was its newest quasi member.
Diego was with Shattner on every gang business errand now, watching him from behind his lizard-like eyelids. He didn’t care if Shattner knew he was under suspicion.
The gang still used him, and he wondered about that. Maybe all the members are known to the cops and they’re using me as a foil, he reasoned.
His phone vibrated on the table, bringing him out from the past. The text message stared back at him.
‘Tomorrow.’
He went to the bedroom window and stared into the dark street below him, wondering if he would return home the next day.
He had heard rumors of a large deal, and it was likely Diego wanted him as the getaway driver.
That, or the summons was for his execution.
He washed his face in the bathroom and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was even thinner now, his cheeks hollowed out, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hands trembled constantly, and he had to jam them in his pockets whenever his kids were around.
He took a deep breath, pushing away his constant fear, squared his shoulders, and stepped out of the bathroom.
Diego was awaiting him at the garage entrance the next day, sitting inconspicuously in an anonymous Toyota Corolla. Passersby did not give him a second glance, unaware that they were a few feet from the most ruthless killer in Brooklyn.
He jerked his head at Shattner, indicating for him to get in and drive, and Shattner obliged, taking them down Rockaway Avenue, onto Linden Boulevard and into a deserted industrial area on Wortman Avenue.
He parked beside a Ford Transit, and as soon as he had turned off the ignition, the rear doors of the Transit opened.
Rajek jumped out, followed by another heavily tattooed and armed man. Diego stepped out and opened the trunk of Shattner’s car, and Rajek and the other man started loading burlap sacks in the boot from the Transit. Shattner stood for a moment watching the activity and then helped the transfer. He reckoned there were two hundred kilos that got loaded in the car, and from the smell, he suspected the sacks contained crack.
Rajek and his companion drove off without a word, but not without Rajek grinning at Shattner. Maybe he was wondering how long Shattner had to live.
‘You think this is a picnic?’ Diego growled when Shattner stood staring at the back of the Ford Transit.
Shattner got behind the wheel and followed Diego’s directions, taking the Belt Parkway, moving out of the city and southwards. His suspicions were confirmed when they took the I-95 and merged onto the New Jersey Turnpike.
‘New Jersey, huh?’ He turned to Diego and received a stony look in return.
He shrugged and continued driving without stopping at any of the services. Conversation wasn’t Diego’s strongest point.
Southport in Gloucester City, New Jersey, on the Delaware River was once the site of a nineteenth- century shipyard and later was an industrial site. Now it was abandoned and fenced off, industry and shipping deserting the city, and this was where Shattner guessed the crack was heading to.
A brilliant choice for a deal to go down since law enforcement never ventured there, and the only people that visited were the odd fisherman or jogger.
They drove through the city, driving normally so as not to attract any attention, and Diego relaxed beside him. Relaxed like a snake. Down they went on Klemm Avenue and through to Market Street, the town, a very small place that industry forgot and where everyone knew the other.
On Water Street, Diego made him drive all the way from the waterfront to an abandoned industrial site where power stations, chimneys, and buildings defined desolation.
Shattner parked in front of an enormous opening to a long, dilapidated structure that ran for a mile on either side of the entrance, its roof partially blown away, exposing an intestine of girders and frames. From the inside of the structure came the sound of an engine revving, and another drab Ford Transit emerged from the maw of the building and rattled across towards them. The Transit reversed so that it was back to back with Shattner’s car.
Four heavily armed men emerged from the rear of the Transit and headed towards Diego.
Through the rearview mirror Shattner could see the men sported assault rifles and handguns; one had an M203 grenade launcher hanging from his shoulder. All four of them sported the tattoos of 5Clubs; Shattner suspected this was a trade between Cruz’s chapter and whichever other chapter these four belonged to.
Diego opened the trunk, and the four men swiftly began transferring the crack to the van. He stood at one side, talking into his mobile, his gun hand casually resting inside his jacket.
Shattner, taking his cue from Diego, felt around his back, pulled out his Glock and placed it in his lap. He angled the mirrors so that he could see everyone behind him.
And then everyone heard it. Their arrival could be heard a long way away, the throbbing of powerful engines approaching fast.
Chapter 4
One of the armed men ran out to the road leading to Water Street, jerked his head both ways, and came back shouting urgently. Diego started yelling back, and the tension ratcheted up.
Shattner couldn’t make out the shouting from inside the car, but the men speeded up the transfer. He stepped out of the Toyota as, at a sharp command from Diego, the four abandoned the transfer and ran towards the Transit.
‘Cops,’ shouted Diego to Shattner, and that was enough for him to follow Diego into the back of the van.
The van was already moving when they reached it, and rough hands drew them in the back. As soon as they were inside the van, it took off, its tires squealing in the dirt. The van careened on the road and then righted after a tight right took it onto Water Street, away from the industrial site.
Through the half-open door, Shattner could now see the reason for the escape; three New Jersey State cruisers were about half a mile away, their bars flashing, followed by a Police Command Vehicle, the roar of their engines growing louder by the second.
The air in the van felt thin to Shattner, everything jacked up and tight, and sound came to him at a distance, adrenaline drowning out normalcy. The cruisers turned on their sirens when they spotted the Transit making a getaway, and a loudspeaker called out, but the commotion in the van drowned out the words.