skin was uneven, giving his face the appearance of a mask which didn't fit correctly around his hairline. His dry feral auburn hair had been straightened and pulled back. And he bathed in a cologne which smelled a lot like Crown Royal. He tugged at his junk in anticipation of entry.
'Who?'
'Red. I believe I'm expected.'
'All those on the list are already here.'
'Yeah, you cute. Ain't no one having a meeting of players in this here town without me.'
'No disrespect. But I ain't heard of you.' Cantrell ticked through his mental Rolodex of perps and junkies.
'My name'll ring out soon enough.'
'Till it does…' Cantrell opened the door. 'We talking to the lieutenants in here. Trying to get a big-picture view on things.'
'I ain't no damned lieutenant.'
'No disrespect.' Mindful of King's edict to keep the peace, Cantrell opted to massage this no-account fool's ego. 'I was hoping you'd be able to give some insight these other brothers can't provide.'
'Kind of like a consultant.'
Red liked the way this officer deferred to him with that 'no disrespect' stuff. 'Yeah, now that's what I'm talking about, son.'
The walnut-paneled, Georgia-styled library was on the south end of the mansion, both remote and private (Mr Lilly collected rare books meant to showcase). They also passed the Game Room with its floor-toceiling bookcases and marble fireplace. A rather apropos meeting place considering their gathering, but, no, they met where such occasions warranted, the Drawing Room. An overly formal, pretentious room with its hand-painted Chinese wallpaper and stuffy-looking furniture, fit for a royal tea party. A re producing piano, not that anyone actually entertained with player pianos anymore, hid in the corner.
Rellik seated himself next to his brother, neither one comfortable, but both quietly needing the time to adjust to the other. Flanked by Wayne and Lott, Colvin eyed the scene, the newest player to the table and the one out to prove himself the most. On the other side of Lott was Dred, King between him and Rellik. Merle stood behind King's seat.
King arranged the room to be for the players only. Not strictly those who were powers in the game — that was only one qualification to earn a spot at the round table. The other was knowing the shadow side of their world. The magic. Merle promised that he'd arrange for the food and the attendants and that those gathered would neither be offended nor unnerved by them.
'I thought that before we got down to business, we could share a meal together,' King said.
'Just like old times?' Dred asked.
'Just like,' Rellik offered.
King upticked his chin toward Merle to get the food started. The meal was a calculation on his part. He didn't know the history and tensions in the room. Cantrell and Merle briefed him as best they could: Dred and Rellik going way back as boys. Colvin a rising power. But there was still much he didn't know. Food had a way of calming treacherous waters. A delegation of faeries wheeled in a series of carts. Each faerie stood proud and erect, bedecked in a tuxedo, replete with white gloves. The carts interlocked in such a way as to form a single table. Seamless, such woodcraft hadn't been seen since the days of Daedalus. Sprites flurried about, like winged balls of light, fussing about the guests, laying down napkins, plates, bowls, and placing silverware. An elf, in a green suit and with the bearing of a humble cup-bearer, poured quail egg and dandelion soup into the bowls, setting down baskets of bread before disappearing. The faeries returned, each carrying silver-domed trays. They lined up and, with a flourish, pulled off the silver domes simultaneously. Poached pheasant, venison roast, grilled boar, and potatoes. All in all, quite the production. Merle was pleased.
'All my favorite meat groups are represented,' Wayne broke the silence. The room seemed to exhale then. Once the faeries retreated to a respectful distance, all that could be heard was the occasional clink of silverware against plates, the sipping of water, and Wayne chewing his food with relish.
'It's so sad to see the fey folk reduced to mere servants,' Colvin said.
'Their time is past. They know it and don't try to cling to past glories,' Merle said.
'Is this what you think we do?' Colvin asked.
'We live in this age, we should act like it. Instead, too many hold on to the old ways.' Merle searched the room for allies, but even Dred averted his eyes. King furrowed his brow as if nursing a brewing headache. 'Just making small talk.'
'King, you called this meeting,' Dred said. 'I'm surprised you had the juice to gather us at a table.'
Before King called for the summit, he met with high-ranking gang generals. The dons had come to Indianapolis during Black Expo and met in a hotel room. Bedivere. Howell. Craddock. The Board of Directors. Worn couches and carpets stretched between large televisions and stereo systems. They paused their poker game with thirty to forty K on the table. A table surrounded by pot-bellied men, tattooed and bedecked with gold and silver jewelry, their huge guts testaments to their capacity for self- or over-indulgence. Their guards left the room, but they were still armed with their Tec-9s. King had his Caliburn. The Steel Cutter. 'If anything funny goes on, all of us are dying up in here. Ain't none of us walking out.'
When men were so disposed, they would take as many out with them as possible. It was a bold gambit. The men had seen hundreds of deaths between them, had known its shadow as intimately as any lover. They wore death and it showed in their eyes. Its threat didn't move them. His brazenness, however, did.
'Look.' King held his gun at the ready. 'I'm about one thing: calling a halt to the slaughter. God changed my life. God told me to clean up what I messed up.'
'We don't truck with no God,' Howell said in a measured tone meant to convey calm and complete reasonableness. King heard the echo of a snake's rattle in the timbre of his voice. 'And we don't truck with no jail or anyone who wants to put us there. We're… risk-averse.'
'I'm not going to put you down, but I'm going to let kids know they got a choice. I ain't going to give anyone your names. Word is bond.'
As it was, the dons thought bigger. As part of their greater vision, they had been calling themselves 'Growth and Development' sounding more like a mutual fund than a gang, and had gone legit on the surface. Their long-term strategy was to take over a neighborhood from the top down. Community redevelopment was in their best interests. They even provided scholarships for young people.
So word came down from the dons. 'That's what we want him to do.'
That was what gave King the additional juice to summon them.
'What is it you wanted to discuss?' Dred asked.
'It's been a long time since many of us have gathered in one spot. Some might say it's been too long. Still others might say not long enough. Some are new to us.' King nodded to Colvin, who returned a cold-eyed glare. 'Either way, here we are. You all represent different crews and control most of what goes on in this city. In our community. As a family. Rellik controls most of the drug trade these days. Merky Water took over Night's operation. Colvin, you are all muscle. ICU is probably the strongest outfit at the table. And no magic gets done without Dred knowing about it or doing it.'
Colvin's mind began its own paranoid calculations, making a note to discuss with Mulysa the cast of his summoning.
'So what? You call us together, fill our bellies, and pat us on the back. Get on with it, nigga,' Rellik said. 'What you want?'
'I want the violence to stop.' King waited for the chorus of murmurs, 'aw shit' s, and sucked teeth to subside. 'It's simple business. When bodies drop, popo comes around. The police have even been by to ask about business.'
'Is that why Cantrell is here?' Dred asked.
'I trust that you didn't disclose any business.' Colvin's measured tone was more threat than actual question.
'Cantrell is here as a neutral party because I asked him. The only thing I've ever told Five-O was that we've had our problems in the past, but they were just that… in the past. I have to live in this neighborhood, too.' Deliberate and forceful, King let the words settle in, not allowing the insinuation to stand, but not allowing the accusation to escalate into any unnecessary posturing. 'Yes, we've all had tragedies visited upon us. Some more
