Untitled (44 page)

  "
You
shut up," Moses said to Dake. Then he shot him in the head. His body jerked to one side, sliding him and Nita toward a wall. Blood and tissue showered the wall and Nita's nude body. She screamed and kicked, trying to get away from the dead man's corpse. Dake slumped over, his head falling to his chest.

  Moses knelt next to Nita and put his gun under her chin. "I'm gonna do it quick, so you won't feel anything," he said. "I owe you that much."

  Nita just cried and shook her head. Her body shook violently and she held her breath as Moses cocked the gun then pulled the trigger.

  The gun clicked loudly as the hammer struck. The sound echoed off the brick walls of the basement.

  Nita yelled and ducked her head down, and only a second later did she realize that she was still alive. She opened her eyes and saw Moses holding the gun's clip in his hand.

  "Get up and put your damned clothes on," he said.

M
arshall stood with Stephen Bradbury in the Museum of African American History on Woodward and Warren in the heart of Detroit's cultural center. The museum was a grand and opulent creation, a state-of-the-art facility showcasing the history of blacks in America. Marshall stood in the Core Exhibit, on a little bridge over statues of slaves. It was a beautiful and sad piece of art, a repugnant yet compelling reminder of the history of his people.

  It was fitting that he looked into the sad faces of men in bondage, Marshall thought. He felt a little as they must have felt. He was trapped by the case and events of his life.

  Bradbury was done with his Senate grilling and was now awaiting the vote. All the indicators said that he would make it and be the next black Supreme Court justice. Bradbury was happier than Marshall had ever seen him and looked much younger than his years.

  "I'm glad you could come," said Marshall. "I just needed someone to talk to."

  "I'm sorry about what happened with that witness," said Bradbury. "But you should know that there was nothing you could do. Muhammad Rashad is a great lawyer. He is thorough, and his attention to detail is nothing less than magnificent."

  Marshall looked at one of the slaves who sat upright, his vacant eyes seemed to be sad. "When you worked for the Justice Department, did you ever break the rules?"

  Bradbury looked concerned. "Marshall, are you in some kind of trouble?"

  "No, I just—I want to know if you ever bent the rules on a case." He couldn't tell Bradbury what he was feeling, that he was conducting an underground investigation on his own case and his superiors didn't know anything about it. He thought he'd try to get an answer by asking a question close to the one he wanted to answer.

  "Well," said Bradbury, "I never broke the law, if that's what you mean, but I did bend the rules here and there. Sometimes it's all you have."

  "I guess so," said Marshall.

  "Is this about the Douglas case?"

  "Yes," said Marshall.

  "Well, my advice is, don't do it," said Bradbury. His face took on a serious look. "You've come too far to take chances with your career. Play by the rules and your future will be assured."

  Marshall took a moment to let his friend know that he was considering his advice. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. Hey, let's get out of here. These slaves are bringing me down." Marshall managed a laugh.

  "Fine," said Bradbury. "I have to use the men's room. Then we can finish talking over lunch, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Bradbury walked off, and Marshall left the slaves and went farther into the Core Exhibit. The ceiling was lined with TV monitors showing various stages of black history.

  "You look troubled, brother," said a woman.

  Marshall turned to see a pretty black woman with a short Afro. She was in a lovely African dress and smiled radiantly at him.

  "I am a little troubled," said Marshall.

  "I'm Esaaki, a director here."

  "I'm—"

  "I know who you are," said Esaaki. "I hope you won't be upset if I say I am not rooting for you to win. Brother Mbutu is a good man."

  "He murdered a man," said Marshall. "How do you root for that?"

  "Look around you," said Esaaki. "It wouldn't be the first time someone was killed to advance a greater good."

  "I'd argue with the use of those words," said Marshall.

  "If you need anything, brother, you can ask at the front desk for me."

  Marshall watched her walk away. She was a beautiful woman, and he couldn't help admiring that. She glided along the room, stopping to talk to a woman.

  Suddenly Marshall's heart raced. Esaaki was talking with Debra Gibson-Chandler, the foreperson of his jury. Debra looked at him, and her eyes registered shock.

  Marshall stepped off the little bridge and walked around the room. He didn't want to engage her by chance. It was totally improper. He made his way around the room, which was set up as a temporal history of blacks in America. Marshall circled around to the beginning of that history. He stopped as a long line of schoolchildren stopped to look at exhibits.

  "I need to talk to you," said a voice.

  Marshall turned to see Debra behind him. She looked scared.

  "You know I can't speak with you," said Marshall.

  "I've been threatened," said Debra.

  Marshall quickly grabbed Debra and took her aside. "Look, this is wrong. You have to leave now," he said.

  "I got a letter at my house that told me to resign the case or else," she said.

  "Tell the judge," said Marshall.

  "The note said if I did, I'd be sorry. It mentioned my children—by name."

  "I can't help you," said Marshall. His heart was pounding.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," said Esaaki's voice on a loudspeaker. "We are blessed to have noted attorney and activist Muhammad Rashad in our facility right now. If you'd like to meet him, he will be in the Core Exhibit, then later, in the gift shop. He'll be signing copies of his seminal book,
De
fense of Life
."

  "You have to go," said Marshall. "If Rashad sees us, we're both done."

"What do I do?" asked Debra.

  Marshall could see the fear in the woman's eyes. She was terrified. What he did now would weigh heavily on his mind. He knew forces wanted to get rid of all the black jurors, and he couldn't let that happen.

  Marshall saw Rashad and Leslie Reed wade into the room with a crowd of people. He pushed Debra around a corner to hide her.

  "Don't say anything," he said. "Stay on the jury. Now, go!"

  Debra turned and walked off quickly. Marshall heaved a sigh of relief after she was gone.

  Bradbury returned a few minutes later. They walked out of the room, passing by Rashad and Leslie, who acknowledged them with mild surprise.

  They left the building and had lunch at a little restaurant on Woodward. Bradbury told him all about the confirmation process and the power behind it. Marshall listened, trying to forget about his problems and share the joy of his old mentor's accomplishment. When they parted company, he actually felt a little better. At least someone's life was going well.

  Marshall checked the time and went to his car and drove to meet Danny at his house. They were going to meet some woman who had a relationship with Moses in hopes that she might know where he was.

  Marshall drove down the Lodge Freeway back uptown. Soon he was walking into his house. He found Danny inside putting together a handgun.

  "Hey," said Danny.

  "I'm ready," said Marshall.

  Danny finished what he was doing. He pulled back the slide catch, and it snapped loudly. He nodded his head, looking at the weapon like a proud father.

  "My lawyer called," said Danny. "I'm officially off the police force now." He sounded matter-of-fact about it.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," said Marshall. "So, what happens next?"

  "I find another line of work," said Danny. "And I try to keep Vinny from going nuts. Don't worry about it. Let's finish your thing."

  "Okay," said Marshall. "I asked the judge for the day. After getting my ass kicked, I have my team locking down the ballistic evidence."

  "You got your ass kicked?" asked Danny. "How?"

  "Come on, I'll tell you."

  Marshall and Danny left, and he told him about the DNA debacle as they proceeded to Nessa's house.

  Marshall knocked on the door several times. Mrs. Washington came to the door and cracked it open.

  "Hello," said Marshall.

  "What is this, some kind of damned disguise?"

  "Excuse me?" said Marshall.

  Mrs. Washington opened the door all the way, then she raised her gun up to Marshall's chest.

  "You heard me, Moses, is that a disguise you got on, and why are you wearin' it?"

  Danny pulled his guns and trained them on the old lady.

  "Drop it," he said.

  "You drop yours," said Mrs. Washington.

  Marshall held his hands up over his head. "Please, everyone, just be cool," he said. To Mrs. Washington, he said: "Ma'am, I'm Marshall Jackson, I'm Moses' brother, his twin brother."

  "Bullshit," said Mrs. Washington.

  Danny kept his eyes on the old lady, and Marshall knew that if she did anything wrong, he'd shoot her dead. Marshall stepped between Danny and the old lady.

  "Marshall, move!" yelled Danny.

  "No," said Marshall. "You are not going to shoot this woman, Danny. Ma'am, reach in my jacket pocket and take out my wallet. Inside, you'll find my driver's license and my U.S. attorney ID."

  "U.S. attorney?" said Mrs. Washington.

  "Mama, what are you doing?" said Nessa from inside the house.

  "It's a man, says he's Moses' brother," said Mrs. Washington.

  Nessa ran to the door. She surveyed the situation. Her face expressed surprise when she saw Marshall. Then, she took the gun from her mother.

  "Mama, why do you answer the door without your glasses? You know you can't see good without them. That's not Moses."

  Danny lowered his guns. Marshall lowered his hands and told Danny to put his weapons away. Danny did, but he mumbled to himself.

  "I need to talk to you," said Marshall.

  "You do look like him," said Nessa.

  "I need to find my brother."

  "I don't know where he is," said Nessa.

  "Well, come on in," said Mrs. Washington. "It's cold out here."

  Marshall and Danny entered. The house was clean and well furnished. Religious pictures lined the walls. Mrs. Washington still had up pictures of John F. Kennedy. Many older black people still thought of JFK as a great civil rights leader. Not far from JFK were Martin Luther King Jr. and Bobby Kennedy.

  "Can I get you two something to drink?" asked Mrs. Washington.

  "No, thanks," said Marshall.

  "I'll take a beer," said Danny.

  "No alcohol in this house," said Mrs. Washington. "I'll get you a pop." She walked off to the kitchen.

  "Anything you could tell me would be good," said Marshall.

  "Sorry," said Nessa. "I don't like to deal with Moses' business. I only tolerate him because of our son."

  "Son?" said Marshall and Danny almost at the same time.

  "He didn't tell you?" said Nessa. "That's right, you two don't get along. Wait here."

  Nessa went into a bedroom and returned with Kadhi. Marshall's mouth almost hung open as he saw the little boy walk over to him. He could see his brother's features, his own features, in the face of the child. He thought about Chemin, and their broken marriage. The little boy ambled toward him, and he felt it, the wonder of life that can only be seen in a child.

  "Say hello to your uncle, Kadhi," said Nessa.

  "Kadhi?" said Marshall.

  "It means leader," said Nessa. "That's what he's going to be one day."

  Marshall was mesmerized by the child. He had lost everything dear to him because of his fear of making life, and here, right before his eyes, was a child fathered by his brother, Moses, a man who had made every bad choice in life. What did Moses have in him that he could be so courageous? He felt ashamed of himself.

  "Can I hold him?" asked Marshall.

  "Sure," said Nessa.

  "Good-lookin' kid," said Danny.

  "Thank you," said Nessa. "He's a good boy."

  Marshall took the baby and held him tightly. The boy looked at him and smiled a little. Marshall's heart lifted, and he found himself getting a little emotional. He handed the child back to his mother.

  "He's beautiful," said Marshall. "Just beautiful. Look, do you think I can come and visit him now and then?"

  "Sure," said Nessa. "I mean, we are like family."

  "Yes," said Marshall. "That's what I was thinking. Listen, if my brother comes back, and you find out anything, please give me a call." Marshall gave Nessa his card.

  Nessa took the card and looked at it guiltily. "He's gonna kill me," she said.

  "Why?" asked Marshall.

  "Moses is back with his crew in a warehouse, Tybo's, over on the east side. It's not far from that car plant in Warren."

  "I know the area," said Danny.

  "Thank you," said Marshall.

  "I'm glad to see my son has good people in his family. Maybe he'll grow up to be a lawyer too."

  "Please call me, bring him over to my house," said Marshall.

  "I will," said Nessa.

"Let's hit it," said Danny. "Time to do some damage."

"You're not going to hurt Moses, are you?" asked Nessa.

"I hope not," said Marshall, "but you know what he is."