The Downtown Massive -a novel by Austin Mitchell-Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

           Douse had changed after eighteen months in prison on a wounding charge. Since his release two weeks ago, he had decided to cool out a bit and not hang out at any of his usual haunts. He had urgent business with Bobby Deacon, one of his former cellmates. He had promised to let him in on certain deals, but he had lost his number and had no way of contacting him.

            As Douse stood at the corner of Orange and Beckford Streets, a hand dropped on his shoulder and he spun around to find a short thickset man in front of him.

        "Douse, what’s going on? It’s a long time I haven’t seen you!”

          The two men shook hands vigorously.

         "Tad, what are you doing here? I heard that you were in the

     States,"Douse said as they finished shaking hands.

           "Yeah, I was over there, but they deported me."

           "What are you saying, Tad? I can’t believe it."

           "I spent three years over there, a couple more and I would have almost made it.”

           Tad cast his eyes to where some loader men were jostling to get passengers into their buses.        

          “It’s a business marriage I did but when I went over there it’s a different thing the woman was dealing with. I have to turn gardener, butler, chauffeur, everything. Well I did what 
they wanted, they wanted to get my stay. Then I left and went to live with a girl I knew from Jamaica. After a while my money ran out and I had to go and sell marijuana.”

        “I was going on good in the business until one day I only saw my wife turn up.  She said that I had to help her or else she was going to tell the police about me and what I was doing.”

        “So why did they deport you?”

          Tad looked over at the bus park. He saw two loader men having a tug of war over a female passenger.

         “I gave my wife some money, but you know how the hustling with the marijuana is. Lots of people have to get a cut out of it.”

           “One day the police raided my house and found some marijuana. I suspected that it was my wife and a rival marijuana seller who tipped them off.”

              Douse looked around wondering if anything had changed. The place was still crowded with vendors hawking their wares while keeping a wary eye out for the authorities. Shoppers wandered by, some only feasting their eyes on the shop windows, while others carried several parcels as they went from store to store. Extortionists thrived in the chaos that was Downtown, Kingston. Douse recognized several three card men. Grocery shops and wholesales lined both sides of the streets. Music blasted from various jewelry stores.

            “You’re not the only one who got into trouble,” Douse said.              “I’m just coming from the General Penitentiary.”

          “What are you saying, Douse? What did you go to G.P for?”

            “I was managing a store for a woman by the name of Hortense. Her boyfriend, Shortie Paul, got jealous because she liked me. He told lies on me, that I was robbing her blind and came after me with a knife and I stabbed him.”

             “Right now he’s in prison on a wounding charge, but I have to watch out for his friends because I don’t know what they might do.”

          “Those guys can’t do you anything, Douse. It’s a long time you’ve been firing guns, those guys are a set of novices.”

          Douse chuckled and moved out of the way of the juice vendors hustling through the crowd.

        “Bag juice, juice with ice, guava, orange, pineapple,” they cried.

          "I want go to England,” Douse said. “I hear that they have lots of women over there just ready to get married to you so that you can stay there permanently.

       "I have to reach back New York to deal with that guy, who set the police on me. As for my wife I heard that she ran away and is now living in Florida.” 

          Douse slapped Tad on his back.

         "Let us go and eat some food."

***

           At Cross Roads, Bus-up got on a bus headed for Downtown,  

Kingston. A man on Orange Street had offered to let him in on a business deal and he wanted some more information. As he sat down, he noticed a man staring at him through the bus window. He looked familiar, but Bus-up couldn’t place him.

           An elderly woman came to sit beside him and Bus-up gave her the window seat.

          A woman shouted from the back of the bus.

          “Driver, aren’t you going to drive off the bus? Don’t you see that it’s full?”

          “That’s how they behave, if the bus isn’t packed like a sardine tin, they aren’t satisfied,” a man said.

          “All of you can go on talking. Does anyone of you know how much gas oil cost?” the conductor asked.

          “Conductor lock the door, I’m going to pull out now,” the driver shouted.

          As the bus drove off, Bus-up glanced through the window and saw the man still staring at him. Rahtid it was Sam!  He looked over his shoulder as the man pulled out a cell phone and ran to a nearby motorcycle.

         He had to get off the bus. He jumped up and pushed  through the crowded passage.

       "Bus stop, driver!"

       "What happen to this man? He doesn’t know where he’s going?”

        The conductor closed the door tighter.

       "It’s the wrong bus I took," Bus-up said.

       "Big man, you don’t know town?"

        The driver glared at Bus-up.

       “You make little school children better than you.”

        The conductor and a few of the passengers laughed. Bus-up grounded his teeth.

        “Didn’t you hear what I said, driver? Let me off the bus.”

         The driver went faster and looked over his shoulder.

       “Your face looks like you were running and buck up in a  wall.’’

        Some of the passengers snickered. 

      The driver drove past two bus stops ignoring several would  

be passengers. Bus-up was sorry he wasn’t going as far as Parade so he could deal with both the driver and the conductor.

        Standing on the bus step, Bus-up saw his opportunity; a trailer was emerging out of a side road blocking traffic coming from 

behind the bus. Bus-up pushed away the conductor, jerked the door open and ran across the road. He spotted a taxi letting off a passenger.

      "Drop me up at Barbican."

      "It’s three hundred dollars from here."

      "Don’t worry yourself driver, I have enough money to pay my fare."

       Bus-up had no money for his fare, but he would do what he had to do when he reached his destination.

                                          ***

      Tad and Douse sat in the restaurant and waited for their order of stewed peas. Both ordered the same meal.

      "I’m down here looking for a guy who robbed some money from the Don last month."

    "Plenty money, Tad?"                            

      Tad leaned in close and whispered, “More than half a million dollars.”

      "What! Anybody rob that amount of money from the Don must dead."

     Their food arrived and both men dug into their meal.

     “We held him several times, we bust up his face and yet

he doesn’t want to talk," Tad said.

       “So what do you think he could have done with so much money?”

       Tad swallowed before replying.

       “He said that some men held him up and took it away. He can’t tell us who it was and he can’t describe them.”

      “Maybe he gambled it off or gave it to some woman.”

     “We’ve heard all sorts of rumors as to what he did with the money.”

        Douse decided not to ask Tad about how the Don got such a large amount of cash. It was unlikely that he could have collected it at any one time from the extortion business. It had to be from cocaine or marijuana.

         A steady stream of customers passed through the restaurant while they ate.

       "The next time we see him if he doesn’t come up with the   

money, we are going to kill him."

             Tad pushed away his plate and finished drinking his lemonade. After they paid their bill and got up, Tad's cell phone rang. He went into the passageway to answer it. He came back to Douse, frowning.

       "The man I was telling you about, was coming Downtown and Sam was trailing him but he gave him the slip. We have to find him    and deal with him," Tad said, as they left the restaurant.

        “You want to come with me?”

       Douse nodded.

       “Sam is around? I thought he was in Canada?”

       “Some slip up with his papers and they turned him back.”

        Douse ran behind Tad up a lane past some Chinese shops  

         He was surprised when Tad jumped on a Trail motorcycle. Douse got on the pillion and they roared away.

        They rode up Slipe Road to where Sam was waiting for 

them. He was swearing when they reached him. Douse stared at his motorcycle which was a shiny Kawasaki Ninja.

           “Douse, what’s going on? You’re back on the streets again,”   Sam greeted Douese and the two men touched fists.

             “It’s about two weeks now since I came out,” Douse told him. “I can’t find any trace of the boy, Tad."

         "Nobody didn’t see where he went?" Tad asked.

        “It looks like when the trailer blocked the road he escaped.            Those people over there say they didn’t see anything."

      "I wonder if they know who they are dealing with?" Tad

asked as he cranked up the motor-cycle.

         “Douse, don’t feel any way, if those boys want to try a thing you know where to find me and I’m sure Tad will go too,” Sam said.

              Tad nodded in agreement and Douse touched fists with the two men.

           "I feel that the boy is hiding out somewhere around here. I am going to ride up the lane and see if I find any trace of him," Sam told Tad as they parted.

***

          Tad dropped Douse in Parade and shared some information about his Don with him. Before they split up Douse assured him

that he would come and see him.

           Douse decided to take a look at some places he hadn’t seen in a long time. He avoided areas that he knew enemies were likely to be hanging out.

            Many businesses had relocated Uptown because of the extortionists and those that remained did so at their mercy. Douse wondered whether businesses Uptown were also at the mercy of those guys. He finished his tour by having a beer at a bar on Harbour Street. He took a taxi back to his sister’s house. Things were moving too slow for his liking and he had to make contact with Bobby Deacon very soon. He relaxed in his seat behind the driver and took another glimpse at the front seat passenger who looked familiar. A young girl was sandwiched between him and another man.

          They drove on East Queen Street and continued into

Windward Road. Douse got more comfortable in his seat. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught the girl looking at him and smiled to himself.

               The front seat passenger said something to the driver that Douse didn’t hear. The man eased sideways and reached into his pocket. The action was fast, Douse wasn't sure if the man had a gun jammed into the driver’s side.

          "Hey guy turn into the next lane."

             A thought flashed through Douse’s mind that the other man could be in league with this man.

             He sprang across the girl and grabbed him.

           "Turn in where? If you try anything with the driver I’ll cut your friend’s throat."

                He pressed his knife to the man’s neck. The girl    

screamed and then burst into tears. Douse fished into the man’s pocket and took out his ratchet knife and drew him across the girl to sit beside him. The girl scrambled out of their way and huddled in a corner of the car.

      "Stop over there so, driver," Douse shouted.

       The driver brought the car to a stop and Douse flung the door open, pushed the man out, still holding the knife to his neck. The other man jumped out too, but hesitated when he saw Douse holding his friend.

       "What happen, aren’t you going to let him go?" the man demanded, holding his hand close to his body.

       Douse could smell the man he was holding, perspiration.

      “You’d better give me your knife or else I’m going to take away friend and kill him.”  

        Still the man hesitated. Douse pressed the knife to the man’s throat and blood trickled down his neck.

      The man jerked and cried out.

      “Are you going to let him kill me, Distant?”

           Distant stood still as if he didn’t know what to do.

        “Watch me and him if he cuts you again, Phil.”

            Douse drew his knife across Phil’s neck and blood dropped on his shirt collar.

            “You want to do something about it, bad boy?”

           Distant edged towards Douse who held Phil tighter.

           Distant at last shut the knife and threw it at Douse’s feet.      But Douse wasn’t fooled.

         “Lift up your shirt and empty out your pockets.”

            Distant did as Douse ordered.

            Douse released his hold on his prisoner, and pushed him away from him as a small crowd began to gather.

           Douse picked up Distant’s knife and got back into the car.

         "I must meet you again,” Distant warned.

          “The two of you are idiots,” Douse shouted at them as

the car drove off.

        “Driver, you are really brave to have hung around,” Douse said. “Several taxi men I know would have run away, probably even leaving their car.”

           “I couldn’t do that. It’s so they prey on us and the police aren’t doing a thing to stop it.”

          The driver refused to take any fare from Douse.

           “Lord, I have to thank you because I don’t know what those two guys would have done to me,” the girl said.

          “That’s nothing, my sister. I wasn’t going to hang around and let them harm you.”

             She gave him her name, cell phone number and told him where she lived. He guessed her age to be about twenty, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to venture into her area as he didn’t want any boy screwing up their face at him.

***

             "Drop me out right here so driver," Bus-up said leaning forward.

           The driver brought the car to a halt and turned around.

           "Your fare, big man."

             His mouth dropped open when he saw the knife in Bus-up’s hand.

          Bus-up pulled the car door open and jumped out.

          “You old thief, it’s so you expect to get free ride in people’s car.”

           The driver grabbed his machete, flung the car door open and charged after Bus-up. Bus-up looked around and saw the driver gaining on him. He jumped over a wall, landed in a lane, both sides of which were zinc fences. He then slipped into a nearby track and followed it until he was sure he had outrun the taxi driver.

                                      ***

         When Douse reached home, Barry was cooking. He had been married to Douse’s sister, Cherry, for eight years now.

          "Cherry said that you are to finish up here, so that I can come for her.”   

           Barry knew Douse was a good cook. Whenever they had a cookout he was always in the mix of things.

           "Cherry loves studying, I wish I was like her. I just hope that she gets through this time,” Douse said

          "Those children must be asleep by now. She says that she feels more confident this time. I just feel that she is going to get through,” Barry said.

       "Two guys tried to hold up the taxi that I was in. I had to  

  grab one of them and put my knife at his throat.”

        "That’s why I have my machete in my car all the time. I   

want one of them to try anything against me.”

         "I’m going for Cherry now, so later, Errol, " Barry said and

went towards his car.

          After Barry left, Douse finished the cooking, he didn’t feel

like eating and decided to take a nap.

            Later on that evening, Cherry  tried to wake him up.

           “Errol, how come you’re sleeping so much? Why are you so tired and you’re not working? Aren’t you hungry?”

          “No, I’m all right, I will eat something later,” he told her    

 and dropped off to sleep again.

           Some time later that night, there was a series of gunshots.

Cherry shook him.

       "Errol, wake up, they’ve shot Barry.”

         I must be dreaming, Douse thought, as Cherry hit him in his back and he sat up.

        "What happen?"

       "They’ve shot Barry. You have to take him to the hospital.”

          She ran outside as he flung on some clothes. Douse glanced at his watch before putting it on, midnight.

           Rushing outside, he saw some men putting Barry into the

car. There was a lot of shouting in the yard as the neighbors 

converged on the scene. He took the keys from Cherry.

          "He’s not dead?"

             "He got shot in his left side."

              She was crying.

             He helped Cherry into the car where Greta, one of the neighbors was holding Barry.

            Douse got in the car and started it. Clinton, Greta’s husband

got in the front seat with Douse.

             He sped out to Windward Road and in no time they were in

the yard of the Kingston Public Hospital.

            Cherry shouted to some orderlies on duty.

            "Help me with my husband, gunmen just shoot him."

          Some male workers rushed to the car with a stretcher and

wheeled Barry towards the emergency ward.

        "Is he dead?" Cherry shouted at one of them.

        "The doctor has to look at him first, lady," the orderly told her.

            Douse then parked the car in the parking lot, locked it up   

and went into the waiting area joining Greta Cherry and Clinton.

            "He’s dead, I’m sure of it. He wasn’t breathing nor   

moving.” Cherry stared into space, talking to herself.

            "Let’s wait on the doctor, Cherry," Greta tried to comfort her.

            "Those men are very wicked. It’s about ten years now I  

know Barry and he is not a troublemaker," Clinton said.

            “All Barry do is to run his taxi from Downtown to Airport. I’ve never heard of him being in any war with anybody,” Greta put in.

         “He went outside to lock up the car and when he was coming back inside they shot him. They didn’t take anything from him. It’s only God know why they shot him,” Cherry said.

           Douse met her eyes and then looked away. He had an idea of what she was thinking. He edged towards the door.

           Sirens wailed outside and orderlies rushed inside with victims. ‘Gunshot wounds’ floated to Douse several times. A couple of men with serious knife wounds were also brought in.

            Douse turned around in time to see the grim look on the doctor’s face as he approached Cherry. He heard her cry out.

            “Lord, my husband is dead.”

              She fell against Greta, crying as if she would never stop.

              Greta made Cherry take a seat on one of the benches.  When she recovered, she requested that he drive them home.

         The hospital didn’t release Barry’s body until two weeks later as they had to do an autopsy on him.

             Douse acted as Cherry’s chauffeur taking her around as she  

made preparations for the funeral. They held a wake in Barry's

village of Guava Ridge on Saturday night after which the funeral took place the following day.

            After the funeral Douse was in a pensive mood. He suspected that it might be friends of Shortie Paul, who had killed Barry. On the other hand it could be the two men involved in the carjacking that he had stopped. In any case the gunman’s bullet was meant for him. Although he had decided to stay out of trouble he might have no choice but to take up the gun again.