Teri Woods - True To The Game III

Galvani held up his hand, silencing his agent. “I can read. The problem that I have with this operation, Josh, is that I signed off on none of it. You pulled in other field agents, redirected Bureau resources, retasked Bureau assets, and ran roughshod over standard operational procedures. Those procedures are in place for a reason, Agent Harbinger.”

“I know, sir. Please, just consider all of the evidence. They’re dirty, sir, and they’re planning on killing an innocent girl for money.”

SAIC Galvani sat and stared at his young agent for several moments before leaning back in his seat and waving his hand toward the chairs in front of him. “Okay, numb nuts, let’s hear it.”

A smile spread across Josh’s face as he seated himself. Phil wiped away the beads of sweat that were running down his forehead and quickly plopped down into his seat.

“We’ve got them, sir,” Josh said excitedly. “We have recordings of a couple of different conversations. And we’ve narrowed it down to this small cabal: the vice lieutenant, Cleaver, and the two vice detectives.”

“And you knew Cleaver was dirty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All of this time, you’ve had an itch in your pants for this guy. Why?”

“Sir, when I went undercover as a police detective, he approached me several times to join him in some very questionable activities.”

Galvani lifted an eyebrow. “Questionable?”

“Illegal.”

Galvani lifted the file and flipped through it again. “Well, it appears you were right about him.”

Josh swallowed hard and nodded.

Galvani handed the file back to Harbinger. “If you fart without permission, I’ll have you reassigned to the U.S. embassy in Sri Lanka. Do you understand me?”

Josh smiled and nodded.

“Good work, Agent Harbinger. Next time, remember who’s the SAIC of this field office.”

Josh rose and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Phil also rose.

Galvani lifted his phone and pressed a button. “Sylvia, get me the district attorney on the telephone, please.” He turned to his agents. “You get out, and you make sure you get these crooked sons-a-bitches off the street. You need anything, you call me. You got that?”

Josh nodded. “Yes, sir.”

The speakerphone came alive. “Sir, I have United States District Attorney Paul Perachetti on the line.”

Galvani lifted the receiver. “Paul, how’s it going? You’re not going to believe what I have for you today.” Galvani covered the receiver. “You two misfits, get the hell outta my office.”

Josh and Phil turned and headed for the office door.

“Gentlemen, one last thing,” Galvani said.

They stopped and turned back to their boss.

“Don’t let them kill her.”

Josh nodded and headed out of the office with Phil following close behind.

“I told you he wasn’t going to kill us.” Josh smiled.

“So, what’s next?” Phil asked.

“We make those assholes our new best friends.”

“What?”

Josh stopped and turned to his partner. “They are after this money. With a couple of FBI agents hanging around, they’re going to get really anxious about trying to get it. They’re going to be desperate to make their move, and they’re going to do something careless. And when they screw up, we’re going to nail their asses to the wall.”

“And the girl?”

“They can’t touch her with us around.”

“How are we going to pull this one off?” Phil asked. “They aren’t just going to open their arms and allow us to just hang out with them.”

“We become part of the new Federal Vice Task Force.”

Phil laughed. “There’s no such task force.”

“That’s never stopped us before. Besides, we know that, but they don’t know that. Wherever they are, we will be. I want that bastard Cleaver to make his move.”

Quadir strolled into the living room and plopped down on the couch. He had just completed an intense workout session in the gym, and yet he still found himself stressed out. Usually working out relaxed him, but today, no matter what he tried, Gena was on his mind.

He had always been there for her when they were together. And he always did whatever was within his power, not just for her, but also for everybody around him. Back then, he could throw money at the problem, he could send some of his boys to fix it, or he could take a quick trip out of town to unwind and relax. None of those things was within his power to do now.

He knew that Gah Git was on Gena’s mind. She had always occupied a special place in Gena’s heart. Whatever was happening there would be key to making Gena’s troubles go away, or at least easing them. And Bria-whatever was going on there would probably work itself out. Teenage drama usually fades with age. And last but not least, the money. Gena had the money, and he knew that she was using it. Whatever problems she had involving money, she was certain to have fixed those by now. The only issue she could be stressing over with the money was whether to give it back. She was probably wondering what she would do if she gave it back.

Quadir leaned back on the couch and began to massage his temples. I wonder how Cherelle and Quanda are doing. He had sent his mother to Cherelle to make sure they were okay. Believe it or not, Viola was without a doubt absolutely one hundred percent convinced that Quanda was her granddaughter. And she was nothing but a skeptic, especially when it came to her son.

“Quadir, you can’t really believe that this baby of this girl’s is yours. She’s just looking for a handout. Forget about these chickenheads out there and stay focused, son.”

For months and months, Viola had preached the same old sermon, until one day she decided to go off on her own and pay Cherelle a visit.

“Can I help you?” Cherelle asked, standing at the door with Quanda at her side.

“Are you Cherelle Byrd?”

“Who wants to know?” asked Cherelle, not volunteering any information.

“I’m Viola Richards, Quadir’s mother. I’m looking for Cherelle Byrd.”

“Oh, my God, come in, please. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who you were.”

Cherelle opened the screen door for Viola and welcomed her into her first-floor row home apartment. She only had one bedroom for her and Quanda to share, but her apartment was clean, Quanda was clean, and it was clear that Cherelle did the best that she could do for herself and her daughter. She had a sofa and a chair and one floor lamp facing a twenty-eight-inch television sitting on a stand, a small kitchen, an even smaller dinette set, a bathroom, and a bedroom.

“I found your name and address among Quadir’s personal things. I tried calling but the number was disconnected.”

“I’m glad; I’m glad you came by here,” said Cherelle, all smiles, feeling a sense of acceptance for herself and her daughter from Viola. She had yearned to be accepted ever since the birth of her daughter, not only by Quadir, but by his family as well.

“Look, Quanda; look who’s here to see you,” said Cherelle, introducing Quanda to her grandmother.

“Hi, baby, let me take a good look at you,” and Viola meant that shit in every sense of the word.

“This is your grandmom,” said Cherelle.

Viola looked piercingly at Cherelle, not appreciating one bit being introduced as the child’s grandmother. That fact remains to be proven. But the more she looked at the child, the more she saw her own son when he was just a toddler.

“I’m not Grandmom; I’m Granny. You call me Granny, okay?” she said, embracing the little girl as she picked her up and placed her on her lap. “Granny is going to take you shopping and buy you all kinds of toys and clothes, and you and I are going to go to church, how’s that?”