Fatal Greed (12 page)

Tony employed a variety of methods to succeed in his job. He’d become proficient in the latest technology, and against every natural urge in his body, he’d learned to be politically correct in public settings. But when all other measures failed, he utilized his physical stature to intimidate and to force his will on those who wouldn’t follow instructions.

Over the last several years, Tony had witnessed American society, and its values, turn upside down. Minorities and their special interest groups had poked holes in every constitutional amendment, and their rising power ate away at the fabric of the country.

Initially, Bill Clinton introduced the ridiculous policy of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell to protect the gays in the military. As a proud member of the Marines, Tony couldn’t imagine fighting the towel heads in the Gulf War with some faggot next to him. He’d insisted all of the men in his outfit prove they were honorable, heterosexual Marines.

In January, 2009 Tony had watched with disbelief as a Negro raised his right hand and swore to lead the land of the brave and the home of the free. He had nothing against the average black man, but couldn’t believe how anyone in this country or any of our allies could respect a black president. Watching him and his family prance around the White House like a normal, white, Christian family made Tony sick to his stomach. He had heard the chatter from some of his old retired military buddies. Given the president’s name, he was a mole put in that position by an unknown terrorist group, which, over time, would work to dismantle any security our country still maintained.

What’s next?
he wondered.
Taking guns out of our hands so we can’t keep the damn spics and non-Americans out of our country? Maintaining our security by owning and using any type of gun we desired is our God-given right!
Fuckin
’ commies.

He refocused his attention on the glowing computer screen to review the next target’s material.

Experience over the years proved that research and preparation were essential keys to a successful operation. Tony had hacked into his second target’s home computer and installed a spyware application. It provided ample ammunition.

Raymond, known by all who knew him as a proud black man, was very much into the online porn scene. The two-term zoning commission member spent hours on the porn sites during the week in which Tony monitored his web habits. Raymond even had his own online chat-room moniker, BBS, which apparently stood for Big Black Stud.

On his most recent “business” trip monitored closely by an old military friend of
Tony’s
, Raymond visited a strip club—not just any strip club, but one of the seedy clubs in south Atlanta. He became exceedingly friendly with every dancer and waitress who would let him touch their merchandise, tossing around one hundred-dollar bills like he’d just won the daily double at the horse track. But Raymond couldn’t control his libido, and he had been thrown out of the club for jumping on the main stage and stripping alongside the headline performer.

Though Raymond had dropped out of college, he had a strong work ethic, starting his own plumbing company with one employee and one van. After five years, he’d expanded the business to twenty employees and eight vans.

Two years later, Raymond purchased a bankrupt electrical business. After a name change, fresh paint on the trucks, and a couple of key government contracts to springboard the once-fledgling company, his two businesses were being used on more than half of the new homes, government projects, and commercial buildings in the area.

For these two businesses, Raymond leased cheap warehouse office space on the east side of town. There had been some noise recently to upgrade that part of town by changing the zoning of the properties around him, but he’d been able to swap favors with three of his fellow commission members to maintain the current zoning for his two services businesses.

Raymond had visions of his own in the commercial development world. The position he held on the zoning commission afforded him the opportunity to quietly pluck well-positioned properties off the market before other vultures could make a bid. His desires focused on the far west side of town.

Tony uncovered all of this information in little time with modest effort.

He put in a call to Carol. “We’ll use the same basic approach with Raymond as we did with Tom. Raymond is a bigger person and might require more of that special dose. He’s not as naïve. Play it careful. As the boss always tells us,
get in and get out.
”

“Roger that, Tony, sir,” Carol said mockingly.

Tony’s
nostrils flared. He didn’t need her sassy-ass attitude.

On a day of wall-to-wall gray skies and a cool mist, Raymond visited the truck stop on the highway east of town. He filled his car with gas and perused the porn magazines in relative anonymity.

Dressed in jeans with well-positioned holes and wearing a trashy brunette wig, Carol introduced herself to her target.

“Hey there, stud,” she whispered into his right ear. “Let me know if you see one of my pictures in there.”

Shocked to hear a woman’s voice, Raymond shut the magazine and turned, only to see her walking away, her white skin partially exposed through loose threads over her right butt cheek.

He caught up to her just as she finished pouring herself a cup of hot coffee. He looked around for cream and sugar. “Here, Miss…uh?”

Carol didn’t respond with her name. “Thank you, kind sir.” She blew the steam off her coffee. “But I like mine black.”

She winked and walked to the checkout counter, put two dollars down, and headed directly to the old Pontiac that Tony had given her for this project. As she purposely fumbled with her keys, she heard a knock on her window.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get your name inside,” Raymond said.

Carol reached through her open window and laid her hand on the side of Raymond’s face. “What’s your name?” she asked, unsure he would provide it.

“Raymond.”

She had him. “Listen, Raymond, you look like the kind of guy who could meet my needs.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you like handcuffs, Raymond? What about candle wax or a whip?” She knew he had watched online videos with those cinematic elements.

“Why, yes ma’am.”

“Follow me.” Carol popped his cheek, then rolled up her window and turned the ignition key of the twelve-year-old clunker.

She looked in her rearview mirror to be sure Raymond followed. Then she examined the beaten-up car, which had a rip in the passenger seat and a peculiar orange stain on the vinyl. The piece of crap smelled like cigarette smoke, which she found repulsive. It only increased her desire to end this project and return to her first-class lifestyle, driving her lipstick red convertible, a Lexus IS 350 C.

***

Carol opened the door to her motel room. “Welcome to my humble abode, Raymond. You can start by treating me like a real lady and pouring me a drink. They say it’s not good to drink alone, so join me.”

It was only mid-afternoon, but she needed him inebriated to initiate the seduction.

“I’m not into drugs or anything. I have a reputation to uphold, and I need to be a good example for my teenage kids.” Raymond sounded like he was running for office.

After they each downed two drinks, Raymond made it easy on her when he said he needed to use her restroom. Carol poured him another drink and slipped in the magic powder.

He came out without his pants on—just a stretched white T-shirt that wasn’t long enough to cover his bulging belly, boxers, and black socks. She laughed out loud.

“Hey, my feet get cold.”

They talked about the weather and even briefly discussed the latest challenges for the black president, which seemed to boost Raymond’s self-image.

“I need to freshen up a bit. When I get back out here I want your black ass on that bed, full Monty.”

“I can’t argue
wif
dat.” Raymond’s words began to slur.

Carol walked out of the bathroom in a black see-through negligee. She carried a pair of handcuffs and a black whip. Raymond’s eyes didn’t blink. He’d moved to the bed but still had on his T-shirt and black socks. The boxers were on the floor. He licked his lips.

“Ha!” Carol said. She walked toward him, cracking the whip on the floor.

During some of these productions, she felt like a porno film director. Carol knew using props enhanced the production quality. She needed a shot of this large, naked black man whipping her while she lay helplessly handcuffed to the rusted metal headboard.

“Come on, Raymond, let me see what you’ve got.” She locked the handcuffs around one of the poles, knowing she could free herself with a quick snap of her wrists.

“Okay,
biiiyatch
.” Raymond began to lash Carol. The whip was made of faux leather to ensure Carol would feel little pain. Raymond was losing his balance and coherency more as each minute passed, but Carol still felt the force behind the lashes.

“Take off your T-shirt. I want your sexy chest on top of me.” Carol moaned, adding to the erotic atmosphere.

Raymond finally lost all inhibitions and ripped off his shirt, exposing his flabby belly. He flung the shirt toward the cheap bookcase. The shirt hit a hidden camera. As if in slow motion, the camera twisted, sliding closer to the edge of the shelf. Carol’s heart raced, and she couldn’t avoid staring at the camera. After another lash, Raymond saw her distraction. He sluggishly turned his head toward the object of her focus. The camera slid off the shelf and fell to the floor.

"What
da
fuck is that?” He appeared puzzled but groggy.

He leaned to his right, falling off Carol and the bed. She attempted to distract him, but the flaky
rust
from the metal bed must have lodged inside the handcuffs’ locking mechanism. “Don’t stop Raymond. I want you now more than ever.”

Raymond picked up the camera. “I knew you were into some kinky shit and everything, but this takes the cake.”

He turned back toward Carol and grinned. “We can go there. BBS can put on a show for you and all the other
mudderfuckers
out there.” He grabbed his crotch.

Carol took a breath, thinking she’d averted disaster. Then, as Raymond placed the camera back on the bookshelf, his hand tangled in wire dangling from the shelf. He jerked it toward him. The rest of the wire, which had been stapled to the bottom part of the wall, flew upward. He continued yanking. More staples and wire popped, as if he was pulling up railroad tracks. The wire snaked up another wall. He kept pulling and another camera crashed to the floor.

Carol could see through Raymond’s foggy brain—something about this scene wasn’t right. He took two steps toward the second camera. He then raced back to the bed.

“What the fuck is all of this, bitch?” Raymond snarled, tossing the leather sex toy aside.

Carol twisted and yanked, but couldn’t unlock the jammed handcuffs. She knew she was vulnerable to Raymond’s growing fury.

“You little, white, cracker whore. Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He crawled back on top of her and slapped her. “You could have had the best cock of your life and you go and pull this shit?”

He closed his fist and punched her in the nose. She screamed as blood gushed out.

Suddenly, a horrific noise came from across the room, as a beast of a man burst from the closet, taking the door off its hinges.

Before Raymond’s heart took a second beat, Tony dove across the bed, tackling the naked black man.
Tony’s
initial surge caromed Raymond off the side wall and into the bookshelf, knocking dusty books and fake plants to the floor.

Carol nearly peed herself in fright from the shocking entry. She continued to try to free her hands from the cuffs as the two men fought.

 
“You want a piece of me?” Raymond bellowed. Obviously energized by an adrenaline rush, he bounced to his feet, still in his dark socks and nothing else. “Boy, by the time I finish with you, you’re going to wish you hadn’t been jerking off in that closet.”

Although more than ten years older than his adversary, Tony was quicker and stronger. He dodged an errant right-hand jab, then grabbed Raymond’s fist and twisted his own body under Raymond’s arm. Instead of Tony gaining leverage, Raymond’s perspiration caused Tony to lose his grip. Raymond seized the opportunity to bull-rush Tony, flipping him against the metal headboard near Carol. Tony groaned as he landed on his right side.

Carol tried to kick Raymond, but he grabbed her left ankle and flung her sideways. The handcuffs stopped her momentum and kept her from flying across the room.

Tony composed himself, as he and Raymond faced each other, circling. Raymond continued talking and cursing.

“Come and get me, bitch,” Raymond barked.

“Don’t you get it?” Carol shouted. “We have everything on you. This is all being recorded. You want to see your life ruined? You’re going to be
our
bitch, Mr. Big Cock.”

“Shut up, Carol.”
Tony’s
steely look unsettled her.

Tony waited for another Raymond lunge. With perfect timing, Tony dropped to the floor and kicked out the back of Raymond’s knees, then thrust his left elbow into Raymond’s larynx. Raymond’s armed flailed, as he gasped for air.

Tony stood up and rammed his right foot into Raymond’s testicles. Even with restricted air flow, Raymond let out an agonized groan as he rolled onto his side holding his crotch.

Tony touched his head and saw blood on his hand. He rolled Raymond over, sat on top of him, and pummeled his face with closed-fist shots. “There’s only one bitch in this room, and that’s you, you fat fuck.”

Carol’s hands finally broke free from the cuffs.

“Stop it, Tony!” She jumped on his back. “We’re not going to kill this man. Chuck wouldn’t want it.” Carol’s weight made Tony fall backward. The impulse to destroy Raymond had been interrupted.

Tony gave Carol a cold stare, then turned back to Raymond. “Mr. Zoning Commission member, you can never speak of this day. You need to know how serious we are and what will happen if you don’t cooperate with our instructions.”

Tony grabbed his target’s right hand, and with the flick of his wrist snapped two of Raymond’s fingers, breaking each in several places. “Try to play on your computer with those fingers.”

Raymond cried out in pain. Tony bent down so Raymond could hear him. “If you cross me again, I’ll take a broomstick and shove it three feet up your ass.”
Tony’s
threat lowered Raymond’s moans to a soft murmur.

Carol didn’t move, now more fearful than when BBS was slapping and punching her. She had seen Tony in a couple of bar scuffles and knew he had a temper, but she’d never seen such ferocious anger.

Silence took over the room, aside from the rhythmic drumbeat of her heart reverberating in her core. Carol rose from the floor and tiptoed to the bathroom to clean her wounds. Minutes later, she came back out slightly more in control of her emotions, and stepped around the debris that littered the room. She kneeled to give Raymond a wet washcloth. He remained quiet but accepted the small token.

Tony, who had been standing in the corner, took three steps toward Carol.

“I’ve spoken to Chuck. He isn’t happy, but we’ve worked out a revised plan.”

Raymond would live, for now.