The Genesis Group Read online

  “Baby, I’ve been dealing with his kind all of my life. I’m use to reacting to violence with violence. I’m sorry I went off the deep end like that, but I was scared.” I toned down my hostility, and tried to sound sweet.

  “You trying to say we handle things differently because we come from different backgrounds? You think that’s all it is? Well, I can tell you that it’s not,” he growled. “I know that accepting violence as a way of life has nothing to do with the low income environment you grew up in. The potential for violence is something that you’re born with, and it doesn’t matter if you grew up on the Gold Coast, or in Englewood. It’s either in you, or it’s not. It is clearly in you!”

  Steven was a smart man that I’d learned didn’t really have the rigor to be involved in my world of criminals and misfits. However, he was involved. Right up to his damn high morality eyebrows.

  It was regrettable, but like so many other white collar types, he had been seduced by the money. He got tangled up in a life of crime because he was greedy. Unlike some poor kid who had to steal to eat, he had other options, but he felt justified in passing judgment on those that didn’t.

  I looked over at him, and smiled admiringly, but I couldn’t stand his arrogant ass, or the man he worked so hard for to impress.

  “You’re right, and it’s why I’m so grateful to have you to show me another way,” I lied convincingly. “My life has changed so much since you walked into it, Steven. I really want to get away from the hustle and violence. If you’re really serious about helping me to change my living conditions, I accept.”

  “Yes, I’m serious about helping you, dammit! I told you that I want you to come back home to Kentucky with me. You don’t belong here with these ghetto black people. I want you to separate yourself from them.”

  I wanted to laugh out loud at his hypocrisy, but I didn’t. He wasn’t from the ghetto, but he sure in hell was shadier than anyone I’d ever met there.

  Steven’s mother doesn’t know he does unlawful things for a living. She is proud of his corporate success and squeaky clean reputation. In her eyes, it makes him better than his brothers.

  As far as she is concerned, all that is missing from his life is a nice black Christian girl to marry, and start having babies. She has no idea it’ll never happen because he never dates black women, and as long as there are plenty white women to fuck in every town his job takes him to, he never will.

  Of course, he goes through great pains to make sure mommy never finds out about his distaste for black chicks because she’s black, and she would see dating outside of his race as a betrayal.

  It’s why I know he doesn’t want to take me home with him to meet his family. He wants me to be his secret lover which he intends to hide away someplace in a neighborhood he’s not afraid to visit at night.

  Just like Steven is trying to fool me and his mother about who he really is, I’m fooling him about who I am. He doesn’t know that I only tolerate his bullshit, punk ass, because I’m trying to steal vital information about his latest business venture, and I’m using his infatuation with me to do.

  He’s been romantically involved with many white women, but I’m a different flavor. I’m a white chick from the wrong side of the tracks. I’m all the things he likes about his mama, wrapped in the pretty white packaging that he loves.

  Being with me is new and exiting for him, and a secret rebellion against his mother’s high standards of approval. But he would never settle down with me because his family is a bunch of closet racists, and my being white is the only reason they need to hate me.

  “Severe, I’m really glad you’ve decided to leave this awful city with me. It is too fucking dangerous. Self-defense classes won’t stop you from being hit by a stray bullet,” he added. “You’ll love living in Kentucky. I have a nice place in the city that my family doesn’t know about. We’ll be in a world of our own, nobody but you and me.”

  WOW! I screamed in my head. “I’m not going to be living at your family estate with you?” I asked like I was surprised to hear I wouldn’t be.

  “No, my parent’s estate is in the country. I’m afraid a city girl like you would bore quickly with farm life.”

  What he really meant was moving in with him would offend his mother. I didn’t care about any of that because my goal was to get an invite to his boss’ annual social event. It would put me in contact with Mr. Tyler Basin. He was the wealthiest business mogul in the South, and he was directly involved in everything from dealing illegal firearms to selling tainted pharmaceuticals.

  Genesis needed someone inside that party to collect information on the sell of a dangerous weapon. If I played it smart, Steven was going to be my way in. It would be dangerous, but it would be worth the risk.

  We targeted Steven as my way in because he was a man whore and the weakest link in the Basin Empire. He handled all of their legal matters, including the organization of this latest multibillion dollar venture.

  Like his brothers, who also worked for Basin Empire in other specialized areas, Steven knew where all the bodies were buried.

  Getting him to talk about the valuable compressed data card Basin was preparing to sell was easy. All I had to do was be a good listener, and pretend not to understand any of it, to get him to open up. Our pillow talk had been very productive. I’d learned about the card’s apocalyptic capabilities, and its incalculable value. I also learned that Mr. Basin was planning to auction it sometime during the next few weeks in hopes of getting more than the five billion the Saudis already offered him for it.

  I didn’t know who was going to be invited to attend the auction or how the participants would be selected. I did know that Steven was handling all of the arrangements, and the party would be the meeting place.

  “I’m going to take care of you, Severe. You don’t have to worry about that,” he patted my hand resting on his thigh affectionately.

  “If I was a black woman you wouldn’t be so quick to offer to take care of my broke ass,” I grinned. I’d heard his mother say that during a conversation he had with her on speaker.

  She had called him about the girl he’d been involved with before me. He had broken it off with her, and she had not been happy about it. She had showed up at his home looking for him, and talked to his mother, Shirley.

  Shirley had been pissed to learn he had been supporting a, ‘white bitch,’ and that he had divulged so much personal information about them. ‘If she was a black woman, you wouldn’t have been so quick to trust her ignorant ass with personal information about you.’ She’d snapped, and I’d teased him about it later.

  “You’re never going to let me live that embarrassing moment down, are you?” he laughed with me.

  “No, I’m not. So, if I move back to Kentucky with you, will I be your date for the annual party?”

  “I’ll probably be working most of the time during the party, but I can arrange for you to be there. It’s a real big deal for the town, so I’m sure you will enjoy it.”

  “So when are we leaving?”

  “I’ll be wrapping up my business here in a couple of days, and I plan to leave right away. Don’t bother packing anything. I’ll buy you whatever you need,” he glanced at me to see my reaction to his generosity.

  “I love you,” I said, and plastered a big phony smile on my face.

  “Where you get the big knife?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “This?” I held it up, and then put it back in its place at my ankle. “My roommate gave it to me. It’s a souvenir she picked up for me while she was visiting the Alamo,” I lied.

  The knife was actually an achievement present I’d gotten from my instructor at Charter. She had also given me a silver plated Sig P226, along with a list of what she called, life saving rules. Live by them girl, if you want to keep living,” she had warned.

  Steven moved my hand up higher on his thigh. “You’re not dressed to go out for dinner, so I’ll order a pizza. I want you to stay at my place tonight,
” he remarked casually.

  “We never spend the night at my place,” I pouted, like I did whenever he suggested we stay at his place, because I didn’t want him to suspect it was what I really wanted to do.

  I’d acquired a great deal of my information by snooping around at night while he was asleep. And whenever he woke up and found me out of bed, I’d pretend my restlessness was about sleeping away from home.

  “You really don’t expect me to drive through your neighborhood again tonight.”

  “Please,” I rubbed my hand down over his fly and got the reaction I was expecting.

  “You trying to bribe me to change my mind with the promise of sex?” he raised an inquisitive brow.

  “Yes,” I eyed him sexily. “You know I don’t sleep well when I’m not at home.”

  “Since you’re moving back home with me. You’re going to have to get use to sleeping in my bed. Don’t worry I plan to give you a real workout tonight, so you don’t have to worry about being able to sleep.” He pulled the car to the curb in front of the liquor shop in his building. “I’m going to pick up a bottle of Cognac. You want me to get you anything?”

  “No, I’ll order the pizza,” I took out my cell.

  Steven reached over and gripped the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his. He kissed me passionately, and then he opened the car door and got out.

  I watched him go into the store, and then I called Rayce Morgan. She was a twenty nine year old African American female who was posing as my roommate for this assignment. She’s ex-FBI, and like me, she’d just recently joined Genesis.

  I reported what I’d discussed with Steven, and told her where I’d be spending the night. I ended the call with her, and then called in our pizza order.

  I closed my eyes and tried to mentally prepare for a night with Steven. He was good looking, but I wasn’t fond of him, so I hated making love to him. And it was becoming increasingly harder for me to hide my true feelings.

  Maybe it was something all women who did my job experienced, but I had to work at not allowing my feelings for him to get in the way of me doing my job.

  I hadn’t shared my concerns with Ryan, but every time I crawled into bed with Steven, I was afraid that he was going to sense how I truly felt about his selfish, spoiled ass.

  Chapter 3

  My experience at Charter taught me a lot of things, but my most valuable lesson had proven to be, expect the unexpected.

  I woke up to find Steven in bed next to me, his skin ashen, and his eyes fixed in that focused blank stare of a dead man.

  I rolled out the bed instinctively looking for an assailant. I grabbed my Ka-Bar off the nightstand, and the .45 I had lifted off the Jacker, and started searching the loft while I was still in the buff. When I was satisfied that we were alone, I went back into the sleeping area. I resisted the urge to crumble and cry, and checked Steven for visible wounds. There were none— no bloody holes, ligature marks or petechial— absolutely nothing to indicate the cause of death. I called Melvin to report his death while I got into my clothes.

  Steven was perfectly healthy, and he had been fine when we made love last night, and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. His death was strange.

  “What’s up, Severe,” he answered on the second ring.

  “Ryan, Steven Chandler is dead.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t know. I woke up, and he was lying next to me dead. I fucked up,” I choked back a sob.

  “Do you think this was Basin, or someone else?”

  “I don’t know. He talked to the Syrian last night. He told me that he was last on his list of potential buyers. Ryan, I can’t tell if his death was natural or not. There is no clear sign of what killed him,” I reported.

  “We’ll figure it out later. Just get out of there, and I’ll meet you back at headquarters and Severe…”

  “Yeah,” I answered weakly.

  “You did not fuck it up. Long term assignments are hard on you emotionally. You performed the job remarkably.”

  “Thanks Ryan.”

  “Before you leave, I need you to check, and see if his computer is still there.”

  “You want me to take it?”

  “Yeah, we need it.”

  “Okay, see you in a few,” I ended the call, and then gave in to the urge to cry. Steven’s mother was going to be devastated by his death, and I felt sorry for her even though she didn’t deserve my sympathy.

  I put my shoes on, and then went into the living area to look for his computer. He usually kept it in his wall safe when he wasn’t using it, and he changed the electronic combination daily to prevent it from being compromised. Last night, I initiated sex before he finished working, so he hadn’t taken the time to put it away.

  I found it on the table next to his cell, right where he left it. I picked it up and put it in my canvas cross-body bag. I didn’t bother with his cell phone because I had already cloned it.

  I was about to leave the loft when I heard the distinct sound of lock picks in his front door. Getting caught in the loft with a dead Steven Chandler, was bad news, and it was exactly what was about to happen. Even if the person trying to pick the lock was an amateur, he’d be inside in two minutes.

  The thing I hated most about these rentals was both exits led to the same hallway. If I went out the back door, I’d end up a few feet from the person who was trying to break in the front door.

  I draped my bag over my body, and started quietly creeping out of the living area. I bypassed the terrace doors, and rushed back into the sleeping area, because although I’d seen it done hundreds of times in spy movies, exiting by way of a balcony twenty stories up was definitely not an option for this spy girl.

  I’d been taught not to leave anything to contingency, but it didn’t mean I didn’t have a contingency plan. Like any good operator, I had planned for the possibility that I might need another way out.

  Steven’s place was designed to look like a factory shop floor. It was a wide open space with support beams in the middle of the room. It had brick walls, wooden plank floors, and the air ducts were not concealed behind the walls. The gaudy big red tubes snaked along the high ceilings throughout the loft. The bedroom wasn’t even a room at all. Like the bathroom, it was a nice size space separated from the other areas by opaque sliding vertical partitions. So there was no place to hide.

  I climbed up on top of Steven’s chest of drawers, and then leaped up and caught hold of the oversized hasp on the grid covering the vent, and my weight pulled it open.

  The ducts were the size of McDonald’s playland tubes, so I knew I could fit inside.

  Using the hasp like a steel gymnastic ring, I raised my legs up until I was inverted with my feet up and my head down. I pistoned my hips, shot myself into the tube, and then I rolled over onto my stomach. I reached down, grabbed the lid and pulled it closed.

  The chutes led out into the hall on each floor, and then up to the heat and air conditioning units on the roof. I could get out by crawling out into the hall, and then climbing to the next floor. Or I could hide quietly and wait for them to leave. I decided to at least wait long enough to see if I could find out who they were.”

  As I predicted, voices were inside the loft in less than two minutes. “Check the sleeping area,” a deep voice that had to be male ordered.

  I heard the heavy footfalls, and then, “he’s in here, but he’s alone,” a different bass voice called out.

  He sounded disappointed, and I knew it was because he expected to find me there with Steven…dead. I looked down through the grid at the top of his head. He was wearing a baseball cap with a brim that was blocking his face from my view.

  “Where’s the fucking girl?” the other voice was approaching, so I pulled my head back out of sight.

  “Maybe she didn’t spend the night.”

  “You said you didn’t see her leave.”

  “I didn’t, but obviously she did! She’s not here,” he responded irascibly.
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  “Check the bathroom, maybe she died in there. I’ll look for his computer.”

  “Maybe she didn’t drink the Cognac. I told you that she looked like a beer drinking chick. You should have offered him a free six pack like I told you,” he complained.

  He was right, I didn’t drink expensive Cognac. I didn’t drink alcohol period. It was a virtue I can without a doubt attribute to having an alcoholic mama who died from liver disease at age forty.

  I deduced from their conversation that they were the two men who ran the liquor store in the building’s lobby. They were extremely big and tall brothas that looked like they shared the same gene pool.

  Steven liked them because they were real friendly and conversational. They had also special ordered, and now stocked an especially hard to find brand of Cognac that he liked just for him. It made him feel important, and Steven liked businesses that catered to him, as much as he liked white women. So, he made shopping at their store part of his regular routine. In addition to making all of his liquor purchases from them, he stopped in to buy lottery tickets at least once a week.

  Apparently, they had poisoned the bottle of Cognac he purchased last night, and I was reminded why being predictable was so dangerous.

  I went into their store with him often, but I hadn’t last night. Apparently, they’d been watching us, and had seen me in his car. It was why they expected to find me dead with him this morning.

  I knew Ryan had ordered thorough background checks on all of the tenants in the building. Janie, our senior techhead, was responsible for doing it, and I wondered why she hadn’t flagged them as potential threats.

  “The girl ain’t here,” he sighed loudly.

  “Neither is his computer,” his partner reported.

  “This is a fucking disaster! Suppose the bitch got his computer?”

  “Let’s not lose our heads. Maybe she drank the Cognac, and then went home. The poison I used takes a few hours to work. She could be at home dead.”