Suzetta Perkins - Déjà Vu

Margo turned away and wiped the tears that had converged at the corners of her eyes. God, forgive me for my transgressions, she prayed silently. She opened her eyes and fell into Jefferson’s waiting arms. With all the firepower that surrounded them, standing guard to take out the enemy if it should decide to raise its ugly head against them, Margo and Jefferson made love, after which they settled into a restful sleep.

Jefferson’s body shook. He woke and sat straight up in the bed. Loud noises resounded in his head- rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat. His dreams would not retreat and release him to the real world. Santiago, surrounded by his death squad with automatic weapons, stood only several feet from his defenseless body, spraying him over the city street without an ounce of remorse.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh.” Jefferson struggled to catch his breath, reeling from the dream. He clasped his throat with his hand and then dragged it down to his heart, letting it lay there for a moment until his heartbeat became normal.

Margo’s body shifted. Not feeling Jefferson next to her, she sat up in the bed. Adjusting her eyes to the darkness, she reached out to him. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s, what’s wrong?”

“Go back to sleep, Margo. I’m restless…couldn’t sleep.”

Margo sighed. “I feel guilty because that was the best sleep I’ve had in a while. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sighing, Jefferson looked back at Margo, contemplating if he should share his dream, and voted against it. “I want this to all go away,” he finally said. “Do you mind if I turn on the TV? I need a distraction.”

“Go ahead, but turn it down low. I can’t stand loud noises early in the morning.”

Finding the remote, Jefferson switched on the television. The morning news with John and Barbara flooded the screen.

“We have a breaking news story out of Fayetteville,” Barbara said. “Denver Grey is live in Fayetteville now.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” Denver said. “We’ve learned that last evening, around nine o’clock, the home of Jefferson and Margo Myles, in the Jordan Estates subdivision here in Fayetteville, was riddled with bullets gangland style by unknown assailants as they drove past the home. An eyewitness to the event was able to obtain the license number and identify the make of the car. The Myleses, in the meantime, were taken to an undisclosed shelter under police protection.

“Many may remember that, five years ago, Jefferson Myles, a well-known businessman in the city, was involved in a covert organization called Operation Stingray and convicted of embezzlement. Mr. Myles was recently released from prison. Operation Stingray-headed by then leader Robert Santiago, who is still at large-was an underground organization that purchased stolen weapons from Ft. Bragg Army Base and then sold them to a rebel group in Honduras.

“The police have made a positive ID of the license plate and have the name of the owner of the vehicle, which they will not release at this time. They do say, however, that Mr. Robert Santiago, who has eluded police dragnets for five years, may be linked. There is some speculation that the murder of former Lieutenant Hamilton Barnes, who was killed at Central Prison earlier this week and was also a member of Operation Stingray, may be the work of Robert Santiago. Mr. Barnes will be laid to rest tomorrow.

“We will continue to update you on this news story as information becomes available. I’m Denver Grey reporting to you live from Fayetteville. Back to you, Barbara.”

Silence gripped the room, save for the newscasters’ continuing coverage of other local news stories. Jefferson sat glued to the television, as if in a trance, without batting a lash. Margo heard the news as well and sat up in the bed, now fully alert. Slowly, she lifted her hand and touched Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Did you hear what they said?” Margo asked.

“Didn’t miss a word. Santiago is written all over this atrocity. And you know what, Margo? I don’t feel any better with all those policemen sitting outside. He’d shoot all of them to get to me.”

“Why didn’t he try to take your life while you were in prison, as you believe he did with Hamilton?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about that. As I try and analyze this thing, I believe it all begins with his wanting to get even with Angelica.” Jefferson jumped from the bed.

“What is it, Jefferson?” Margo asked in alarm.

Jefferson continued to pace the floor with his thumb under his chin and his index finger across his nose. “That’s it!”

“That’s what?”

“Santiago wanted to control Angelica, to get her in his clutches. She owed him after she ran out on him to warn Hamilton and me that there was a hit out on us. I believe that Angelica wasn’t playing the game he wanted her to play, so he had Hamilton killed to put the fear of God in her, and after she ran out on him, he was out for blood.”

“But why you, Jefferson? You had nothing to do with Angelica.”

“Everything connected to Angelica and Operation Stingray is tainted. Santiago has declared war and is making every effort to see that we pay for the demise of that group, although only Hamilton, Angelica, and I did time for our part in Operation Stingray.”

“It always comes back to Angelica. When will men come to their senses about the likes of that woman?”

“Margo, Angelica was trying to start her life over. If you ask me, it was almost as if she was drawn to New York by Santiago. I know it sounds far-fetched, but I wouldn’t put it past that master manipulator to have pulled something off like that.”

“You’re sounding like those soap operas now-too good to be true. But, baby, I’m beginning to think like you. Humph. You may not be far from the truth, not far at all.”

Members of the Fayetteville precinct that Hamilton Barnes was affiliated with filed into the church to bid farewell. Their shields of authority hung over their left breasts on their dress blues, and they looked liked an elite brotherhood. Sergeant Carl Broadnax, who was now Lieutenant Broadnax, brought up the rear.

Fear gripped Angelica as she filed into the church, followed by Edward and a host of Hamilton’s relatives. She wore a charcoal-gray suit with black embroidery along the collar, pockets, and cuffs, charcoal-gray stilettos with a black suede heel, and a matching hat that looked as if it was sliding off the side of her head. Her eyes spotted Lieutenant Broadnax and Captain Petrowski, as they watched the crowd, scanning them for clues or some subtle message that would lead them to the killer or killers of the dearly departed. She almost stopped when she saw Margo sitting next to Jefferson, obviously surrounded by police officers. Angelica could have used one of Margo’s hugs today.

As Angelica approached the front of the church, she saw him for the first time-stretched out in his dress blues with his nameplate “Barnes” placed over his breast without the shield that was the policeman’s badge of honor. Some say he didn’t deserve to wear the policeman’s uniform, but Aunt Louise fought tooth and nail for her nephew to wear the uniform that had been a large portion of his life. In the end, even the police department gave up fighting the feisty, short woman who was going to have it her way or else.

In death, Hamilton still looked good. His hair seemed blacker than before but thinner, and he seemed very much at peace…at last.

From the tops of the few businesses that surrounded the church, sharpshooters were poised to respond to any strange activity they saw. Plainclothesmen with bulletproof vests were embedded among the mourners inside, equipped with firepower should they need it in the House of the Lord.