Nothing Will Come Between Us

Chapter 1-2

“Alright then,” Mr. Darryl finally declared, breaking our silence.

“How about this damn fella here?” he asked while placing the last photo in front of me.

“I’ve been following Kevin for a year now sir,” I began. “I know this guy’s daily routine better than mine. The evidence we have on Kevin speaks for itself.”

“Kevin Longstreet is not OK. He is a damn problem because he knows way too much about FOWL’s operation, and he has personally invested in it himself. I have even seen Kevin at Andy’s Tavern, drinking and partying with members of FOWL.”

“If we want to deliver the Davis family the justice they paid for, then Kevin has to go. We can’t just move forward with our plans and hope this guy somehow stays out of our way. Kevin can spoil everything for us. He must be eliminated.”

“That’s why I’m here today Mr. Darryl. I need to know how far Robert Charles is willing to push this to get justice for the Davis family. I don’t want to go off on my own script on this one,” I further explained.

“You guys gotta make the call. Do Kevin Longstreet and Jessica Baker, live or die?”

I watched as Mr. Darryl began to nod his head in approval of my sentiments. The look on his face was deep and intense. This was indeed a big decision because it involved the lives of two black people. There is a code of conduct for these sorts of situations and I was intent on following it to the letter. Mr. Darryl grabbed another small stack of photos from the table and quickly flipped through them until he stopped and gazed upon one.

“So, we have all the evidence we need on these four bastards, right?” he pointedly asked me.

“Yes sir. I have two years’ worth of photos and video evidence on each of these FOWL members. I was able to get inside their secret storage unit and I have inventoried every single item locked away inside. I have fingerprints of all the FOWL members, and I’ve compared those prints with all the evidence collected from the Eric Davis murder trial. I even went through these guys’ trash bins to find old bank statements and receipts tracking their spending habits. We have all we need to expose these four guys, Mr. Darryl,” I calmly explained. “All I need is the final word from Robert Charles to start the operation and we will certainly eliminate all of them.”

Mr. Darryl threw the photos down on the table and grabbed his walking cane. As he began to lean forward to elevate himself from his seat, I jumped up to assist him.

“I am not a damn cripple,” he loudly barked, waving me away with his hand. “You’ve done enough work, son. There is no need for you to kiss my old ass anymore. You’re probably going to have my job here soon enough anyway. So, don’t worry yourself about helping me anymore. My time is about done.”

In defiance, Mr. Darryl slowly rose from his seat and pulled his cellphone out of his jacket pocket. “I have to make a few phone calls now. You give me a few minutes and I’ll have your answer,” he said.

I watched as Mr. Darryl disappeared behind a large bedroom door. It felt like the entire room shook as he slammed the heavy door behind him. This was it for me, as my years of painstaking work was now to be considered by Robert Charles. For me, this was a referendum on my professional standing. My reputation as a field operator was at stake. For the Davis family, this was their last chance at obtaining justice and freeing a loved one from an unrighteous conviction. For the both of us, I needed to get this right. Failure was not a choice.

After waiting for about ten minutes, I heard something strange stirring from within the bedroom door. I focused my attention towards the commotion, realizing that it was the faint yet undistinguishable voice of Mr. Darryl.

Seconds later, the bedroom door slowly swung open. The small limping figure of Mr. Darryl creeped out towards the dining area. I once again pulled out his seat, but this time, he limped right by me and walked towards the large window panel. He put his wrinkled hand up against the glass and leaned forward. As he braced himself against the panel, tears began to flow down his face as he silently gazed out over the mighty Mississippi River’s brown water. I felt puzzled and didn’t know what to say as he stood there in complete silence. I was almost afraid to ask him, but I knew it was relevant that I did. Whatever the decision, I knew it had been a hard one to make.

“Sir…. what’s the word?” I cautiously asked.

“You know why I recruited you to Robert Charles, Achim?” Mr. Darryl interrupted. “Because I see my young self in you.”

“I was once like you, Achim. In fact, part of me is still you.”

“But along this path to justice, the struggle can change you from a young roaring lion into an old used up toothless reject.”

“We have reached the point where there are certain things, I am no longer willing to do, and there are certain things that still must be done,” Mr. Darryl lamented as he wiped away tears from his face.

“Robert Charles has decided to give you the discretion to do what you believe is required in order to obtain justice for the Davis family.”

“But Mr. Darryl,” I interrupted. “What do I do about this black woman?” I timidly asked.

“If you happen to encounter any loose ends along the way, take care of them without prejudice,” Mr. Darryl said, fighting to hold in the tears. “If you determine that they are not on our side, then they are on the wrong side. Therefore, they must be eliminated.”

“But remember what I told you earlier son. Once you give all yourself to this, there is no turning back from this lonely road of life.”

I was stunned. Mr. Darryl’s answer shocked me. I would be allowed to eliminate my own people. Eliminating the adversary was one thing but killing your own was completely another. I stood there motionless as the thoughts of what I had to do soaked into my consciousness. Mr. Darryl turned from the window and walked over to the front door of his hotel room. “You didn’t lie to me today, Achim. You came straight up the middle. You’re a good young man and I respect the hell out of that. I believe that you will make the right decisions for us and Robert Charles. Whatever that decision happens to be, just know that I support you.”

“On a separate note, Robert Charles asked me if you were ready to replace me and assume my responsibilities.”

“I told them that you are ready. In fact, I told them you will do a better job than I’ve ever done in my forty years in this business,” a now smiling Mr. Darryl explained while unlocking the front door.

This was my cue to leave, and I hastily began to pack away my evidence into my worn brown briefcase. “Thank you, Mr. Darryl,” I replied as a grateful feeling pulsed through my soul. “I’ve learned a lot from you sir, and I want to thank you for your endorsement.”

“The job is not yours yet, Achim,” he further explained. “Robert Charles has decided that you can’t assume the position until you clean this Eric Davis mess up first. When you do, then my job will be yours and I can retire in peace.”

“Don’t forget to validate your parking at the front desk or these greedy bastards will charge your black ass that $35 parking rate,” He ordered.

He opened the front door and stepped aside. We exchanged a long handshake and I walked in the hallway outside of his hotel room. I looked back inside of the room as he held the door open, gazing up at me with a strange and curious expression. In an instant, he shut the door and that was it for us. There were no sentimental goodbyes in this business, just orders given, and orders followed.

I took the long elevator ride down to the ground floor and made my way to the reception desk. As I handed my parking ticket over to the young light-skinned black lady working behind the counter, my thoughts were a mix of excitement and dread. This was my opportunity; a God-given opportunity to rise up the ranks while doing something I genuinely cared about. Yet, I had reservations about what I might be required to do to earn this promotion. Fighting our enemy was business as usual but killing one of my own was something totally different. Internally, it’s going to be something I will ponder on since it will be my first time. Although I was certain I would have no issues killing the loathsome black male, having to kill the woman was a bridge I wasn’t sure I was ready to cross.

As the receptionist punched my parking ticket, she cracked a gracious but phony smile, and quickly handed the ticket back to me. “Thank you, sir. Have a nice day,” she said in a core New Orleans accent. I took my ticket and returned a forced smile. We both were in a hurry and had other things to accomplish. We both had jobs that needed to be done. Now, it was time to prepare myself for what I knew had to be done and leave this busy lady to continue with her own priorities.

My drive home across the Mississippi River Bridge was a lonely one. Far gone memories of my old life crept into my mind and replaced my innermost worries as I zoomed past traffic in the fast lane. The dreadful sight of my empty driveway hammered home my painful disposition. Opening my front door and walking into my empty three-bedroom apartment only worsened my ordeal. There was no wife to come home to anymore and I would no longer hold and feed my infant son. My reality was just a void of nothingness. The murderer of my family had himself opened a front door, walking through it into the most painful day of my life. Cruel fate would have the white gunmen drive into our middle-class neighborhood and arrive at the front door of my church. The authorities said the gunman had boasted online about wanting to shoot up a black church and kill a bunch of Dindu’s. It was his barbarous way of teaching us black folks a lesson for promoting the Black Lives Matter movement. Within a single second, the white gunmen had collected his aim and pulled the trigger, changing my life forever in that instant. One cowardly act of white supremacist terrorism had erased all the happiness in my life, while wounding me in the arm and killing scores of my congregation, including my wife and infant son.

No one cared if I didn’t arrive back home from work or if I stayed home all day long. No one cared if I left the toilet seat up or if my dirty white socks littered the hallway. To the world, the bloody m******e at my church was just another gun control issue to use as a political football, for insincere political campaigns. The hell with that lie, I knew better then to believe that weak excuse. All that I cared for had been taken from me in an act the white media would simply label as unfortunate, and not the White Supremacist terrorist act that it truly was. I had been robbed of the precious things in my life. All I had left was a few bar stools, a sofa bed, and a big flat screen TV. This empty apartment, which was once a home, had become the theme of my black existence. For me, this was a new life of extreme passion and painfully lonely ambition. Even though my empty home was a far cry from the excesses of Mr. Darryl’s Presidential Suite, I could see the correlation between these two vastly different environments. Was this promotion worth giving my life up for Robert Charles’s purpose? Could I ultimately find happiness with this type of lifestyle? A lifestyle that only took me further away from rebuilding the life I once had.