From the Pulpit, Chapter 8

Chapter 8
Tuesday, October 25th, 2011
1:30 AM

The dark blue Lincoln Continental, with nearly completely shaded windows, rolled quietly through the darkness of the night.  Cold Bones, whose real name was Reginald Whorly, sat in the darkness of the back seat with Akbar Usein as the driver took them across town.

“Mr. White is pretty cool as far being a boss,”  Cold Bones said, “but let me tell you in advance he’s a little strange at times.”

Akbar looked at the younger man seated next to him and asked in his deep, accented voice,  “How do you mean that he is strange.”

“Well,” answered the gangster, “for one thing, you won’t never see his face, or for that matter his whole body.  He keeps himself all locked up in the building somewhere and don’t let nobody but his two bodyguards and his butler in.  When we get there we’ll actually be going to a conference room on the main floor and talking to him through a video teleconference system.  It’s pretty hot technology and all, but still kinda creepy if you ask me.  He keeps his face covered with some kind of hood, and wears gloves the whole time so you can’t tell if he’s white or black.”

“He must be an important man then, to keep such security.” Akbar said in response.

“Yeah, important,” answered Cold Bones, “or hunted.”

Akbar smiled at the younger man.  “To be hunted indicates that one is important my friend.  If he were not a dangerous man, he would have nothing to worry about. “

“Whatever.” Came the reply.  “As long as he keeps me and I keep each others pockets lined, I don’t care if he is Satan himself, cause he the hottest boss in town, you know what I mean?”

The drive across town took about fifteen minutes ending in an empty parking lot in front of a nondescript grey steel building in a warehouse district on the banks of the Sciota River.  The driver stayed with the car as the other two walked in to the dark building through a metal door that creaked loudly in the cool night air.

As they entered the building a light shone out of a room at the rear. 

“That’d be the one over there.”  Cold Bones pointed towards the open door and they walked towards it.  The room was sparsely furnished with a table, two old looking wooden office chairs and a tall wooden cabinet against one wall.  The light was emanating from a fluorescent light fixture that hung from two long metal shafts bolted to the white sheet metal frame of the fixture. 

Akbar and Cold Bones sat on the chairs on one side of the table opposite the cabinet.  As they sat in the chairs something suddenly came to life in the scarred wooden cabinet.  Its top opened and out of it raised a wide screen plasma TV.  The screen flickered momentarily then gradually brightened with the shadowy image of a man sitting in a tall chair.

“Mr. White, sir.  We can see you on this end.”  Said Cold Bones.

“Yes, thank you Bones, for bringing your new friend here.”  Mr. White’s voice was digitally altered, rendering it with a Darth Vader quality.  “Mr. Usein, I understand you come to me with a business proposal from your associates in Central Asia.  Please explain your offer.”

Mr. Usein Stood, bowed briefly towards the screen then sat back down.  “Thank you for seeing me Mr. White.  I represent a large faction in the Central Asian Republics that has access to massive quantities of both raw opium and processed heroin as well as extremely potent marijuana and a good supply of methamphetamine.  We are looking for a buyer who can take our product into the Midwest market, and we are offering a very good price for mass purchases, nearly 30% below wholesale value actually.  Are you interested?”

The shadowy figure of Mr. White answered back, “I have two questions for you Mr. Usein.  First: Why the American Midwest?  Second: Why the low prices?”

“Why the Midwest?” Akbar repeated, “The Midwest is very profitable and we have an in place transportation chain that can easily deliver product to you and your associates.”

“That answers one question.” Replied White. “Why are your prices so low?”

“Because there is a caveat to this offer.”  Answered Akbar.

“And what may that be?”

“I need drivers you can trust here in Columbus to do some work for me.”  Akbar said. “They must be men you would trust your own life with, intelligent, not drug users.”

“For what do you need these drivers?” Asked White.

“That is my own business.”  Akbar replied.  “I am reducing the price of my product by more than a million dollars.  I am also including at no charge 200 kilograms of fine cocaine as a gift to buy your confidence.  If this will not suffice, then we have no business and I will go elsewhere.”

“Will my drivers be returned to me alive at the end of your business?”  White asked in a business like tone.

“As long as they have the skill to not get captured, yes.”  Answered Akbar.

“Wait.”

The TV went blank for a moment. 

Cold Bones sat quietly contemplating what Akbar had asked for.  He straightened up, faced Akbar and was about to speak when the TV screen came back to life.

“Mr. Bones.” Called Mr. White. “Provide three of your best drivers to Akbar.  I will provide the fourth from my own headquarters.  I will also reimburse you for the time lost, with a portion of the product Mr. Usein provides to us.”

“Yes sir, Mr. White.”  Cold Bones replied. “I know just who to call for this one.”

“I know I can trust you.” Replied the boss, “And I believe I can trust you too Mr. Usein.  But let me make one thing clear to you, if for any reason I think you are going to cross me, you and everyone associated with you will be killed.”

“You have nothing to worry about Mr. White.”  Akbar said. “I will make sure you profit well and everything will be in our mutual interest.”

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