The Apostles (27 page)

Still Solemn Shawn maintained his silence.

Grove decided to turn the heat up a little. “I'm tired of this bullshit. You know what? I hate you motherfucking, gangbanging-ass
niggas! You bitches ain't nothing but parasites! You sick motherfuckers get y'all hooks into these kids and promise them the fuckin' world, but all you deliver is a fuckin' body bag! Tough guys! I been fighting you bitches all my damn life!”

With cold fires burning behind the lenses of his designer glasses, Solemn Shawn said, “I smell that.”

“You smell what?” Grove asked.

“I smell fear on you,” Solemn Shawn said. “I've always been able to smell it. I don't smell it on your partner, but it's all over you. You reek of it. You talk about fucking over these kids. The same motherfucker that puts packs on these young'uns. Sending them to the joint just so you can fill your quota. Yeah, you scared. That's why you became a cop. So you wouldn't have to be scared no more. You joined the biggest gang. You motherfuckers are the real parasites, using your fear to sell wholesale fear to the masses. Making a living pretending that you're serving and protecting while you're really living out your sick fantasies of having control and power.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Grove scoffed. “You niggas ain't nothing but pussies. That's why y'all stick together. You punks don't go nowhere unless y'all deep and got heat.”

“Sounds familiar, don't it,” Solemn Shawn commented. “I read about dudes like you in psychology books. Cats with inferiority complexes. In order not to feel inferior they overcompensate. I've known little punks like you all my life. Bully motherfuckers that's really bitches.”

Grove guffawed. He turned to his partner. “Do you hear this motherfucka? I don't believe this shit. This motherfucka is trying to psychoanalyze me. He got to be losing his fucking mind.” To Solemn Shawn, he said, “That psychobabble bullshit may work on those uneducated assholes that you run with, but I don't know who the fuck you think you dealing with. I ain't one of those fucking schmucks you got killing and dying for you. If you so fucking smart—”

The door to the interrogation room was flung open and a short, balding white man carrying a black briefcase burst into the room. Detectives Casey and Lonihan were on his heels.

“Let's go, Shawn,” the small man commanded.

“Who the fuck is this?” Grove queried, jerking his thumb at the small man.

“Benjamin Stein, and Mr. Terson is my client. I have been informed by the homicide detectives that my client has not been charged with any crime, therefore I am invoking his Miranda rights and this interview stops now. If you want to talk to Mr. Terson about this matter again, I suggest that you get an arrest warrant.”

Grove was stupefied. To Casey and Lonihan, he said, “You just gonna let this motherfucka walk ‘cause some fancy-pants mouthpiece comes in here talking slick? I don't believe this shit.”

“We don't like it any more than you,” Casey said apologetically, “but it's not our call. The captain says to cut him loose.”

Grove hopped up and kicked his chair over. “This is bullshit!”

“C'mon, Shawn, let's go,” Stein repeated.

A light came on in Grove's head. “Hold on there. He ain't going nowhere. He is under arrest.”

“What are you talking about?” Stein asked. “My client hasn't been charged with any crime.”

With a sly grin on his face, triumphantly Grove countered, “Yes, he has. Illegal gambling. Your client was picked up at a street dice game.”

“Is that true, Shawn?” Stein asked.

“Yeah, but I wasn't gambling. I was eating some chicken.”

“Tell it to the judge,” Grove grunted, as he pulled his handcuffs from the pouch on his belt.

As his client was being cuffed, Stein said, “This is a misdemeanor, Detective. I expect to see my client free in a maximum of eight hours. If I don't hear from him by then, I'll be back with a court order for his release and a restraining order for you two. Shawn, don't answer any of their questions. Kick your heels up for
a few hours. When you get out you make sure you give me a call. I'll post your bond at the front desk before I leave so they can't shit you about waiting on an I-bond.”

Ben Stein headed for the door, while Bull and Grove prepared to take Solemn Shawn to the lockup.

Shawn Terson stared at the pictures on the walls of Captain Bellows's office. The framed photographs were accompanied by a short shelf that housed several bowling and softball trophies of different shapes and sizes. Alongside the trophy shelf were awards, plaques, and certificates.

With a small smile, Shawn realized that this small collection of personal accolades summed up the captain's existence. If the captain was lucky, maybe one or two more trophies would find their way onto the shelf. Maybe a plaque or two more might adorn the wall, but that was all he had to look forward to—and that wasn't enough for Shawn.

Shawn felt a warm feeling of happiness as he allowed himself his second smile in as many minutes. Today he was leaving. Leaving the place that had been his home for almost four years. He had big plans. He didn't feel bad about his stay. He had been inspired inside of these walls. At the age of eighteen he was already the head of a criminal organization. It was like being the CEO of a company.

Though an outside observer couldn't tell, Solemn Shawn was secretly looking forward to the money and power his position afforded him. He hadn't planned on becoming a leader, but it had happened and he was going to roll with it. It felt good being the alpha wolf.

The office door opened and Captain Bellows entered. There was no ceremony surrounding his entrance, he just appeared and took his seat behind the desk.

Before today, Solemn Shawn had never noticed how small and weak he looked. Bellows always seemed so big and powerful in the past, especially when he was threatening the boys he was charged with keeping in line.

Captain Bellows locked eyes with Solemn Shawn, then looked away. His eyes wandered to the window, which was frosted and barred. He sighed. “Mr. Terson, what did you learn during your stay here?”

Solemn Shawn's mind whirred through the useful information, legal and otherwise, stored in his memory banks, but to Bellows he said, “I don't know.”

Captain Bellows sighed again. “I didn't think you would admit that you learned anything worthwhile. I've watched you since the day you walked through the door. I took a peek at your school grades. I could see that they were about average. Too average. That's when I noticed the pattern. You only did enough to get by, never enough to stand out. I always knew there was something about you, so I had one of your instructors slip you an IQ test. Something that you couldn't purposely manipulate. Your score confirmed my suspicions. Do you want to know what you scored?”

“I don't care,” Solemn Shawn said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Borderline genius,” Captain Bellows continued. “Test scared me. It made me take a good look at your file. I looked at your case. The judge stuck it to you. You should have gotten off with a slap on the wrist for extenuating circumstances. You shouldn't have had to grow up in here. As smart as you are you had a real chance, but all they did was create a monster. A monster that I have to return to the world.

“Yeah, I called you a monster. I know what you've started. I know some of the things that you've been responsible for doing behind these walls, but try as I might, I couldn't catch you. You were too smart for me. I took the same IQ test as you. My score said I had average intelligence. I took it over and over again. Same score: average intelligence. Funny thing, not being as smart as a boy. The only comfort I drew from that is that I'm not a monster.”

Captain Bellows fingered the release forms in front of him. He chuckled as he pulled a gold pen from his crisp white shirt. “Now I've got to sign this shit. Don't have a choice. I have to let you out of here so you can get started on your adult life of crime. Believe me, I know what you're going to do. You're going to be a criminal until someone kills you or you go to prison for life.”

Gold pen flashing, Captain Bellows began to scribble his name on the necessary lines on the release forms. Without looking up at the young man, he said, “This is supposed to be your exit interview, Solemn Shawn.”

Shawn's eyebrows raised at the captain's use of his nickname.

The captain saw the look on his face. “I know you're Solemn Shawn. This is supposed to be an exit interview, but it feels more like I'm giving birth when I should be getting an abortion. But that's what we do here. We warehouse baby killers, baby thieves, and baby drug dealers until they get old enough to get out and ply their trades as adults.”

Captain Bellows finished signing the release forms. He removed a rubber stamp and ink pad from his desk drawer and stamped a big red “Reformed Release” on the top sheet. He smiled at the irony of the stamp, then his smile faded as he pushed the release forms into Solemn Shawn's file. “That's all, Solemn Shawn Terson. I guess I'll see you in hell.”

An unemotional smile graced Solemn Shawn's lips as he got up and prepared to exit the office. At the door he stopped and turned. “No you won't, Captain,” he said coolly.

Captain Bellows looked up. “No I won't what?”

“You won't see me in hell,” the young man said confidently. “I'm an Apostle, I'm going to Heaven.”

Softly, Solemn Shawn closed the office door behind him.

W
ITH HER NOSE BURIED IN A THICK TEXTBOOK
, S
AKAWA SAT
on her sofa. Frustrated, she tossed her book to the side and got up to go and brew herself some tea. As she was about to cross the threshold of her living room, she heard the telephone ring. She learned across the couch and looked at the caller ID before lifting the receiver. The number on the caller ID wasn't one that she immediately recognized, but she knew it had to be China Doll. Her friend was always trying to call her up from some mysterious number and act like she had been on something heavy. She picked up the headset.

“China Doll, bitch, where you at now?” she said.

Instead of China's voice, Insane Wayne rasped, “Now is that any way to answer the telephone, bitch.”

Sakawa shuddered at the sound of Wayne's voice.

Insane Wayne laughed—which chilled her even more. “You don't sound like you happy to hear from yo man, Saki. I thought you loved me.”

“I don't love yo ass no more, Wayne,” she spit acidly.

“Insane Wayne,” he corrected her.

Anger replaced Sakawa's fear. “Yeah, motherfucka, you is crazy if you think I love yo ass after the shit you did to me! You hurt me and I ain't never done shit to you!”

“C'mon, now, boo. I know you ain't mad about me getting a little shit on my dick,” Insane Wayne scoffed.

“You know what, Wayne! I hate yo trifling ass! Fuck you!”

“Nall, bitch, fuck wit me,” he slurred.

“Listen to you. You sound like you got a mouthful of shit. You need to get them fucking wires and shit out yo mouth. I know yo damn jaw been healed. That shit ain't cool, motherfucka.”

“You wasn't tripping on the wires and shit in my mouth when I was sucking yo fat hairy-ass pussy,” Insane Wayne replied. “It tasted nice and sweet like old times too.”

The thought of that night made Sakawa shiver. Her head swimming in anger, she shouted, “Nigga, fuck you! I hate yo motherfucking ass!” She could hear the laughter stream out of his twisted mouth as he guffawed at her outburst. “Nigga, that shit is funny, huh? You think that shit is funny? Let's see how funny it is when I marry Vee!”

Abruptly Insane Wayne stopped laughing. “Saki, don't play with me, girl! You ain't finta marry that nigga!”

Enjoying his obvious discomfort, Sakawa taunted, “What if I do, nigga? What yo punk ass gone do?”

“I-I-I'll kill both of you bitches!” Insane Wayne sputtered. “Fuck that! Bitch, I don't know who the fuck you think I am! You better respect my shit, ho! Bitch, and you better not keep fucking with that nigga either! I ain't playing wit yo ass!”