Dutch III: International Gangster Page 3

  “This way,” she said, leading the pack, while some of the Charlies stayed behind to slow down the officers’ pursuit.

  The two Charlies who had stolen the ambulance were waiting along with Craze outside the back of the courthouse. Ever since they had heard the first shots being fired inside, Craze had sweated bullets.

  “What the fuck is taking them so long?” he said as he listened to the gunfire being exchanged inside the courthouse, looking at his watch, keeping time.

  Within minutes the four remaining Charlies ran out the back door with Dutch in tow. Craze watched as they got his man inside the ambulance. Once Dutch was safely tucked inside, Craze closed the doors and watched as the ambulance sirens came on and the van slipped out of all the commotion, passing right by the police. Craze walked over to his car, unnoticed. He walked right through the crowd of frightened people, media, and scattered police officers. He got into his car and drove away as if nothing had happened. It was that simple, and it was already done.

  DEAD AT THE DOOR

  The scene in front of the courthouse was chaotic as Craze drove past police cars and ambulances. He was laughing all the way home, knowing it was too late for the police to do a damn thing. And if everything went as planned, one of the Charlies would be setting a nice little fire inside the courthouse to add smoke to an already burning flame. Craze picked up his phone and called Mr. Odouwo.

  “It’s done,” Craze said, smiling, letting him know Dutch had made it out of the courthouse.

  Mr. Odouwo smiled back, as if the two men were face to face.

  “Good. I will see you when you are done with your work here,” Odouwo said before hanging up the phone and pouring himself a scotch, straight.

  He picked up the phone again, dialing out to his personal assistant.

  “Get me a flight to Paris right away,” he commanded.

  Mr. Odouwo finished his return calls for the day and took a sip from his drink as he sat back in a tall-backed alligator-skin chair behind his desk. He was exhaling deeply, clearing his lungs, sighing with relief. Life was moving the way he had planned. It had taken him some time, but he finally had all the pieces beginning to fit into place. Dutch, Frankie Bonno, the Mafia, all of them were merely pawns in his game. It was his move, and checkmate once again. He now had Dutch, and together they would accomplish what no one believed they could; power. He grinned a devilish grin, knowing all was falling into place. Soon he’d have everything there was in the world he could desire, everything.

  Alex had been at the bar every night, buying drinks for everybody, playing pool, and having a good ol’ time. He usually could only afford happy hour, but thanks to Craze and his first installment payment, he was on the road to riches and had no plans of detouring, until the news anchor lady showed up on the color monitor above his head at the bar.

  “Hey, Joe, turn that up for me,” said Alex as the husky Irishman turned up the television for Alex.

  “You see this shit? Fucking asshole shot up the courtroom, killed the judge and the jury, every fucking body, they said,” said Joe as Alex picked up his glass and set it down for Joe to fill back up.

  “They killed everybody,” murmured Alex, listening intently. He stared off in the distance, thinking of the role he had played in the deaths of all those innocent people. He had never thought about that, just the money. He had had no idea anyone would get hurt, let alone killed. I’m a cold-blooded killer, he thought to himself as he slung back another.

  “Hey Alex, you all right over there, old fella?” asked the bartender, looking at the old sap sitting there. “Take it easy. Liquor ain’t leaving.”

  Alex had never imagined that he would end up a contributor to murder. He should have known. What did he expect for a million dollars? His heart lay heavy as he watched the news reporter interviewing a husband whose wife was still inside. He looks so sad, so worried. He felt bad, now that he was able to see the damage that he had done. He wished he had never accepted the money or the offer. He ordered another round before leaving the bar and making his way home.

  Just as he turned on the television, he heard a knock at his door.

  He knew exactly who that was. It’s the police, that’s who. Oh, my God, Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph, what am I going to do? They were the last people on the face of the earth he wanted to see. His heart raced, and he was scared to answer the door. Quickly, he went over to his dresser and began grabbing extra clothing, some underwear, and the tiny box holding the Whitaker watch his dad had passed down to him. Maybe the police will just go away and I can make a run for it.

  “Hey, Alex, open up, I know you’re in there,” said Craze from behind the door.

  Oh thank God, he said, his heart feeling lighter at the thought of not being arrested and placed behind bars. He took a deep breath and walked slowly to the door. Craze knocked again as beads of sweat from Alex’s brow trickled down the side of his face as he approached the door.

  “Who is it?” he said faintly, looking out the peephole, making sure the police weren’t behind the door setting him up.

  “It’s Craze! Open the door!”

  Alex slowly pulled the door back, allowing Craze to enter his apartment. Alex hurried to shut the door behind him, after peeking around the door frame to make sure the coast was clear.

  “What took you so long to answer the door? You act like you ain’t tryna get paid,” Craze said, holding Alex’s bag of money up to him. “What the hell is wrong with you?” asked Craze, looking at Alex all sweaty, pupils dilated, his straggly wet hair sticking to the sides of his face.

  “I thought you were the police.”

  “You expecting them?” asked Craze, wondering why he was even speaking of them.

  “After what happened today in the courthouse, I’m hoping not,” said Alex as he paced the floor. “I can’t believe you used me like that to kill all those people. The news said sixty-seven people were injured and forty-two people were killed. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

  Craze looked at Alex as if he was bugging. “What are you talking about? Man, what the fuck is you on in here? I suggest you take this money and go somewhere tropical, forget your life, start a new one.” Craze smiled, not realizing that the alcohol had given Alex what some folks referred to as the “rams” and Alex was ready to pick a fight. Only problem was, he was picking it with the wrong person.

  “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Whatever the fuck you want! Why in the hell are you sweating?” Craze asked, realizing that while Alex had done the job well, he was now blowing a tiny situation out of proportion. “You scared or something, Alex?” asked Craze, chuckling at Alex’s frazzled appearance.

  “I want you to get the hell out of here. Shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if the police show up here any minute,” he said, moving his hands and shaking his head. “I can’t believe what I’ve gotten myself into. What in the world was I thinking?” he asked himself as he stared off into the distance.

  “Yo, Alex, you bugging, man, be easy.”

  “I don’t think you understand. You just shot up an entire courthouse full of innocent people and then set it on fire and burned it down,” he said as he walked a few steps away from Craze.

  “I should have never done it. What in God’s name was I thinking? All those poor people?”

  Craze smiled and drew his gun, pointing it at Alex.

  “You know what, Alex?”

  “No, I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head “no” as if he really didn’t, still unaware of the cold steel barrel pointed at him from behind, across the floor.

  “Since you can’t handle seemingly tiny situations and you want to act like a fucking girl and shit, I think we’re gonna have to stop here and cut our ties, okay, pal? But you did good, though, Alex, real good.”

  Craze had really thought Alex could stand up under pressure, but he couldn’t. Alex screamed in fear as he realized Craze’s gun was pointed at him. He took two shots to the chest, silencin
g his plea as Craze sent him to meet his maker. Then Craze shot him once more in the back of his head, guaranteeing death. Craze laughed as he left Alex’s body on the floor. “Wow, this gots to be the dumbest motherfucker I ever met in my life,” said Craze, tucking his gun inside the waist of his pants. He picked up the briefcase and walked out of the apartment holding a cool million, another job well done.

  Detectives would of course be investigating all those who had access to the courthouse. Alex Kelly’s name would cross a desk or two, but not until he had failed to show up for work three nights in row. Unfortunately, when the detectives finally showed up at his door, they would find his dead body on the floor. The death of the courthouse janitor was all the evidence they would need to link Alex to the plot. And when they found the manila envelope filled with hundred-dollar bills, that was all the evidence they would need that he had been a part of Dutch’s murderous escape plan.

  FLY ME TO THE MOON

  Dutch watched as the Charlies quickly changed from their grandma attire into black leather catsuits in the back of the ambulance that had conveniently transported them from the courthouse. A van with diplomatic plates, courtesy of Mr. Odouwo, had been parked and was waiting for them. They left the ambulance in the van’s spot and headed straight to Newark Airport. They arrived at the airport and boarded a private plane headed to Paris’s Charles de Gaulle Airport. Dutch figured since Newark Airport was the closest, it was the quickest and safest route out of the country. It was surely their best chance to escape. Odouwo had prearranged a private passenger carrier under the names on the phony passports. All they had to do was get to the private passenger plane before the police realized Dutch was missing from the courthouse. The plane was ready and waiting when they arrived. There were no checkpoints, ticketing, or security measures used when traveling by private jet. They boarded the plane and no one suspected a thing.

  Once they were in Paris, a limo was waiting to take them to Hôtel de Crillon. Shortly after checking in, Dutch got a call from Mr. Odouwo.

  “I see you made it safely. All is well?” asked Odouwo.

  “All is very well, thank you,” responded Dutch.

  The two men spoke briefly and Odouwo assured Dutch he would be landing shortly. Within a matter of hours, Mr. Odouwo and two of his henchmen knocked on the door of Dutch’s Louis XV suite. One of the Charlies answered the door and allowed Mr. Odouwo to enter. She led Odouwo into the foyer, down a long narrow hallway to two double doors where Dutch was waiting.

  Upon Odouwo’s entering the room, Dutch politely stood to greet him, extending his hand and shaking Odouwo’s.

  “Mr. Bernard James. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Mr. Odouwo said, smiling and still holding Dutch’s hand in his.

  “No, I think the pleasure is mine,” Dutch said, thinking of the torture he would have faced had he been sentenced to life behind bars.

  “On many levels I would have to disagree with you, Mr. James. You are the one with the more interesting life story of the two of us. You just pulled off the biggest escape in history. From what I hear, you are on every news station in America. Yours is a story that has the nation in awe. I was just watching Anderson Cooper. I don’t think you understand: This is an amazing triumph, my friend. They are calling you ‘America’s Most Wanted,’ yes?”

  Dutch smiled. “From what I hear from your old Mafia cronies, you had some successful escapes yourself,” Dutch said, referring to the mob’s failed attempts on his life.

  “That was just bad strategy on their part, Mr. James. If you were after me, I would be dead, I’m sure, just as my nephew Kazami is right now, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Dutch avoided answering the question, even though he knew the answer and so did Odouwo.

  “I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” Dutch said.

  “No, I’m most confident we won’t,” Mr. Odouwo said, shaking his head and hoping that Dutch would never betray him, after all he had done to see the man free.

  Mr. Odouwo stared into Dutch’s eyes, dark brown, just like his own, before continuing.

  “Mr. James. I would like you and your friends to accompany me for dinner so we can discuss business. Meet me at the hotel restaurant in two hours. Reservations will be under my name.”

  Dutch agreed, and Mr. Odouwo nodded and headed for the door. Dutch walked out on the balcony and looked into the approaching Paris night. He knew he was far away from home and was farther away from jail. He smiled, knowing that he had been given a new start. And a new start was exactly what it was, a new chance to make his mark even bigger than it already was.

  Dutch and the Charlies, with not much packed in their suitcases, under the circumstances, went out for a quick shopping spree on Avenue Montaigne and the Champs-Élysées. The girls bought dresses, Dutch a three-piece suit, and while he didn’t have time to have it fitted, it actually lay against him perfectly. They arrived at the restaurant with only a few minutes to spare and were ushered inside by a valet. Before Dutch could tell the maître d’ his party’s name, he was quickly escorted over to Mr. Odouwo, who was already seated and waiting patiently.

  “Mr. James. I see you’re right on time,” Mr. Odouwo said as he stood to greet Dutch.

  “That’s the only way to be,” Dutch said, smiling as he took his seat.

  “I couldn’t agree more. I think the waiter needs to be right on time as well—I’m starving,” Mr. Odouwo joked.

  After dinner, but before dessert and coffee, Mr. Odouwo thought it would be a good time to discuss business.

  “Mr. James. Let’s take a walk.” They got up and walked through the restaurant to the outside terrace on the roof with its view of the Eiffel Tower.

  “So, I take it your friend explained to you why you’re here?” Mr. Odouwo asked, giving Dutch a glance.

  “It basically boils down to you wantin’ murder for diamonds.”

  “Did he tell you who I want you to kill?”

  “I told him it didn’t matter as long as I got out.”

  “Interesting,” said Odouwo, squinting at Dutch, realizing just how ruthless the man before him really was. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you who the person is anyway.”

  Dutch shrugged, letting Mr. Odouwo know he didn’t mind listening.

  “Your target is Taji Tita. He’s the president of Nigeria,” said Odouwo. “Is that still not a problem for you?” Mr. Odouwo looked at Dutch, trying to see if there was any uncertainty in his eyes, but there wasn’t. Mr. Odouwo knew then that there was nothing that could change Dutch’s mind. He was a stone-cold killer.

  “Nope, never heard of the man. Listen, Mr. Odouwo, let me be real clear with you so no one is confused. My one and only concern is how do my team and I benefit from all this?” Dutch asked.

  “Do you mean besides your freedom?” Mr. Odouwo smiled sarcastically. Dutch, unfortunately, was unable to find any humor in the man’s words. “Mr. James, I can make you and your friends very wealthy. I’m talking about the kind of wealth that makes all the money you ever made amount to chickenshit. I’m talking about these.”

  Mr. Odouwo held up a diamond so big and dazzling that it made Dutch’s eyes convulse. It was a beautiful stone, the most beautiful Dutch had ever seen. Mr. Odouwo noticed the zealous expression that came over Dutch’s face and knew it wouldn’t be hard to make him happy.

  “So, Mr. James, I take it you like what you see?” asked Odouwo as he extended his hand, the diamond resting neatly in his palm. “Well, if that is the case, you can have it.”

  Mr. Odouwo tossed the oversized gem to Dutch without warning. Dutch caught the diamond in midair.

  “I don’t know if I should take it without knowing what it’s worth to you,” Dutch said, knowing that everything of merit had a price. He held his new best friend up in the air. “She’s beautiful. Damn, look at that sparkle.” Dutch smiled, still waiting to hear its worth.

  “A dollar, that’s what it was worth before it was mined. Now it’s worth millions. T
omorrow I’ll take you to see the mines, diamonds worth five million dollars and more. You can just imagine how much they’ll go for on the market. You keep that, a little token of what’s yet to come.”

  Mr. Odouwo checked his watch. “Let’s get back to our guests. We don’t want to be rude now, do we? We can pick back up on this tomorrow. Now, we’ll enjoy our evening together.”

  Dutch and Mr. Odouwo walked back into the restaurant with a clearer understanding of each other.

  The next morning they took a private jet to Sierra Leone. They arrived in Freetown International Airport where a car was waiting for them. Dutch had never been to Africa. It was vast, beautiful, and breathtaking. He looked out the window at the West African landscape. The sun was dancing across mother earth, leaving a bright glow of orange. It was the most beautiful landscape he’d ever seen in his life, even more beautiful than the Amazon rainforest. They approached a swampy area between hills, where dozens of child slaves toddled through the murky water, as armed soldiers held their posts.

  “I love to see my children working,” Mr. Odouwo said proudly as they drove by them.

  The car finally stopped at the entrance of a cave where the old and the young were being put to work, mining the diamonds. Mr. Odouwo wanted Dutch to get out of the car and see the mining effort for himself. When they neared the entrance of the cave, Mr. Odouwo called over to one of the boys, asking to see what he had pulled from the cave. The young boy opened his sack so Mr. Odouwo could see inside it. Mr. Odouwo smiled as he pulled out a large stone and held it up in the air.

  “See, I told you I would have some for five dollars,” Mr. Odouwo said, showing Dutch the mud-covered stone.

  The diamond was three times bigger than the one Mr. Odouwo had given him last night, even though Dutch couldn’t imagine them being any bigger. And now that Dutch saw the entire operation up close, he was even more intrigued by the thought of working with Mr. Odouwo.