Gangs Aren't My Style (A Black Death Novel)

Chapter 48 - Plunge it All to Silence

Gangs Aren't My Style

Book I of the Black Death Trilogy

PART THREE :: Cast Your Armor Down

Chapter 48 - Plunge It All To Silence

James was not expecting a phone call as he paced a path across his office and so the sudden shrill ring of his private cell phone worried him. When he realized that the number calling him was unlisted, his apprehension only intensified. Thus, it was with a suspicious voice that he answered the phone a moment later, not bothering with pleasantries. "Can I help you?"

A deep, male chuckle sounded from the other end. "You get right to the point, don't you?"

James was not amused. "Who is this?"

"No one that you need concern yourself with. My identity is of no import to you, but the identity of the person next to me just might be..." The man trailed off then, as if trying to draw out the suspense of the situation.

James growled in response. "What are you trying to say?"

"In short?" The man chuckled. "I have your sister."

James slammed an open palm down on the surface of his desk, a furious expression taking over. "Where is she?"

"Now that all depends..."

"On what?" The question was tense, murderous.

"On whether or not you wire a hundred thousand dollars to my account within the next half hour."

"No," was his immediate answer. It was common knowledge that Black Death did not negotiate or compromise.

"Then I do hope you aren't interested in ever seeing her alive again."

"If you hurt even one hair on her head," James exclaimed in a shout, "I assure you that it will be the last thing you ever do."

"Who says I wish to hurt her? I have a few other gangs in mind that would happily do so for me, I'm simply presenting you with the offer first before contacting them. If you are uninterested, I have no qualms about turning her over to the first party who is willing to meet my price. The choice is yours."

The phone clicked off. When James lowered the device from his ear, the screen was flashing 'Call Ended.' He snarled in rage, storming out into the hallway.

"Aiden!" James bellowed, allowing his voice to ring down the empty expanse before him. Only a fool would hear such a call and not respond.

As expected, only a few seconds later, a nervous Aiden stuck his head out into the hall. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to track a phone number."

Aiden motioned for James to enter before him and then followed his fuming leader into the gang's security room. James did not waste a moment before explaining the situation to him, producing the history on his cell phone that had retained the mystery man's number.

Aiden had just finished copying the number from James' phone to a program on his laptop and begun his search when a message suddenly lit up the screen. He looked to his superior for permission before pulling the phone closer and opening the text. "Fifteen minutes," he read, then he paused. "There's a routing number for the transfer."

"Just keep working," James commanded tightly, pacing back and forth behind the long desk on which Aiden worked.

Aiden nodded, turning back to his laptop. As he worked, however, a frown settled on his face and he pursed his lips. His typing became more vigorous and he leaned in closer to the laptop's screen.

"I can't track it," Aiden finally conceded, letting his fingers go limp on the keyboard. "It's been masked with a fake."

"What?" James asked, an underlying tone of warning vividly apparent.

Aiden shrunk away from him slightly and when he spoke, his words were hesitant. "I can't track it," he repeated.

James stood up in a rage, his chair crashing to the ground in a clamor behind him. He took a predatory step towards the younger member. "Then I would suggest that you try again."

Aiden gulped audibly. "It won't help."

Suddenly, the laptop was torn from under his hands and flung across the room. A spray of sparks erupted as it smashed into the wall, pieces spraying out across the floor. The bulk of the PC crashed to the floor next and Aiden winced, as if pained by its destruction, but voiced no protest.

"What exactly do you suggest I do now?" James demanded, forcing Aiden to his feet and pushing him back with a rough shove to the chest. "How do I save my sister when I have no idea where she is?"

Aiden lowered his eyes to his feet, as if in submission. "Call that man back," he recommended, "and agree to his demands."

James narrowed his eyes further. "Be careful, Aiden. Some might question if your sympathies truly rest with this gang."

Aiden understood the unspoken implication. His leader just might question his loyalties. The young gang member proceeded with caution. "There is a way to fake the wire transaction so that he believes the money came through without actually having sent it."

James paused, searching the other man's eyes. "You're serious?"

Aiden nodded. "It would be a lot easier, however, if you had not just destroyed my laptop."

"I'll buy you a new one," James dismissed easily, already proceeding back towards his office. "For now, we'll use mine."

Without a word, Aiden swiped the cell phone from the desk and moved to follow his superior. He did not require any instruction when they got to his office and immediately opened James' laptop, setting to work.

After a stretch of about five minutes, he looked up. "It's done."

James did not thank him, only snatched his phone up and hit the redial. The masked number sent him through a series of loops before finally connecting him with a true dial tone. Seconds later, the sound of heavy breathing filled the line. The man had answered.

James did not place forward any pretense. "The money is on its way. Where is she?"

There was a pause with the faint sound of keys clicking as the man presumably checked his account. His reply was short. "Cedar City, Utah. There's an abandoned warehouse at the outskirts of the town, to the right of Interstate 15. Russ' Depot. She is there."

The call ended and the room was plunged into silence.

"That's Sons of Saints' territory," Aiden realized aloud. He looked up at James in worry. "He's already handed her over. He probably handed her over before he even bothered to call us."