Teri Woods - True To The Game III

“I’m tired of this bullshit! Where the fuck is she?”

“Oh, my God, no, please! Oh, God, please don’t kill him! Don’t kill him!” Gah Git pleaded.

Terrell turned the pistol backward and struck Gah Git across her jaw. “Where the fuck is she?”

Gah Git fell to the floor again.

“Where the fuck is she?” Terrell asked, striking Gah Git with the pistol once again.

Gary tried to rise. “Leave her alone!”

Terrell struck Gah Git across her face again, and then kicked her in her stomach. Gary braced himself and stood back up to charge Terrell, but before he could, Terrell turned around with the pistol in his hand and fired a shot into Gary’s stomach. “Lay down, bitch!”

Gary flew back into an end table, knocking over a lamp. Terrell turned his attention back to a crying Gah Git.

“Where is she, old woman?”

“I don’t know…”

Terrell gripped Gah Git’s hair and pulled her face up toward his. “How do you get in touch with her?”

“She just comes by!” Gah Git shouted.

Terrell struck her with the handle of his pistol several times, causing blood to pour from her head, her nose, and her mouth. “Wrong answer, old woman!”

Terrell continued to beat Gah Git with the pistol until she was unconscious. He then began to search the apartment. Terrell tore through the place, ransacking it in the process. He searched drawers for an address or a telephone number that would lead him to Gena. He found none. By the time he returned downstairs, Gah Git was awake and dragging her bloody, beaten, and bruised body into the kitchen where the phone hung on the wall.

“Well, well, well.” Terrell smiled. “Where are we going?”

“No, please…” Gah Git begged. “Just go. My grandbaby needs an ambulance. Please…”

“Call her,” Terrell said sternly.

“What?”

“Pick up the goddamned telephone and call Gena!”

“I don’t have her number! I swear to the good Lord, I don’t have no number for that chile!”

Terrell grabbed Gah Git by her hair and bent her over the kitchen table. “When you see her, I want you to give her a message for me.”

“Okay.”

“Tell her I said this.” Terrell lifted Gah Git’s housecoat in the back and ripped off her underwear. Gah Git screamed like a wild animal, but Terrell covered her mouth as he forced himself inside her. He ravaged her violently, though what seemed to last a lifetime lasted only four minutes. Gah Git had found herself at some low times in her life, but somehow, she had always made it through. She had always found strength in her God.

Once her assailant left the apartment, Gah Git crawled up to the telephone and dialed 911. She then crawled into the living room, lifted Gary’s head into her bloody lap, and talked to him to keep him from going into shock. The entire time she waited, she couldn’t help but call to God. You gonna have to carry me through this, carry me on. Why, God, why? Please don’t let my grandbaby die in here today; take me, Lord, take me, but don’t take my grandbaby; don’t take him.

Joshua Harbinger had been in the Federal Bureau of Investigations for the last eight years of his life. He had graduated from Harvard in the top of his class at the age of nineteen and had been recruited by the Bureau straight out of college. His plan had been to go to Harvard Law, but after talking to the Bureau’s recruiter midway through his senior year, he caught the FBI bug.

Josh, as he was mostly called, had for the most part lived a very sheltered life. His father was the United States ambassador to Australia, and his mother was a former United States attorney, and she was also a former White House counsel. Josh grew up around privilege and power. He also grew up around money, lots of it. His maternal grandfather was a former international commodities trader who later became a United States senator, while his father’s father was the founder of a very successful Wall Street brokerage. Josh was the product of the Andover prep school and had been groomed to go to Harvard Law so he could take over the family business. He, however, craved excitement and danger.

His first years in the Bureau were spent chasing low-level counterfeiters and investigating missing children cases. Eventually, after plenty of wild and loose but lucky stunts, he worked his way up the ladder and built a reputation as a maverick who would get the job done. His reputation won him a transfer to New York to work on the high-profile organized crime leaders and the New York Mafia families. Once they had been pretty much broken up, he was transferred to Philadelphia, where he was biding his time until he made deputy special agent in charge. He wouldn’t be content until he was in charge of his own major field office. He had been told that his promotion was in the works. The actual words were more along the lines of “It’s basically being a done deal.” All he had to do was sit tight. He, on the other hand, had other plans.

Josh knocked on the door of his boss’s office. His boss was none other than Special Agent in Charge Rudy Galvani. Galvani was a no-nonsense FBI agent through and through. Born in the Bensonhurst section of Brooklyn, Galvani had been raised on the mean streets of New York. He had watched his older brother, two uncles, and several of his cousins fall victim to gang and drug violence. It was after the funeral of his cousin Manuel that he promised his mother he would keep his shit clean, and he did. As a youngster, Galvani stuck his nose into his books, and for extracurricular activities, he played football and basketball and ran track. He was something of a high-school football star. He had led his traditionally horrid football team to a ten and three season, losing in the playoffs after meeting what was destined to be the state’s high-school football champions that year. So the team held its head up high, and Galvani, the star running back, was the pride of his community.

Academics took Galvani to Harvard on a scholarship. He was the first person in his family to go to college and he did it in a major way. Harvard Law followed graduation, and then an internship to a Supreme Court justice. A short stint with the Justice Department and a change of administrations found him transferring over to the Bureau. That was fifteen years ago, and now he was in charge of his own major field office. He was known in law enforcement circles as “The Hammer.” He would bust his own mother if he found her doing something illegal. His reputation for being an asshole was actually something that he was proud of. He gave no quarter, and he expected none in return. That was why his relationship with Josh was a curious one. Josh was Mr. Cut Corners, while Galvani was Mr. Straight and Narrow. How they even got along was a mystery to everyone in the Bureau. Agents in the office had taken to calling them oil and water. They simply did not mix.

“In!” Galvani shouted.

Josh pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Hey, boss man!”

Galvani nodded toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Josh seated himself and started digging through the jar of candy on his boss’s desk.

“I got your report, Josh,” Galvani told him. “Do you really want to open up this can of worms? It’s going to cause a shitstorm.”

Josh shrugged. “I don’t care. This Cleaver guy is dirty, dirtier than a prostitute’s panties on a busy Saturday night.”

Galvani nodded.

“He’s the cancer,” Josh continued. “He’s rotten at the core. He’s spreading his corruption throughout the department.”

“You can’t go after this guy with nothing more than a hunch.”

“I have more than a hunch, sir. He’s dirty, sir. Also, I had a peek into his file.”