Real Black Men

By Royce D. Williams SR.

The past months have not been kind to this ST. Louis Missouri Special Operations Detective. This unnamed Detective is the head of a Ghost Intelligence Unit. His Unit tracks the movements of all major crime organizations on an international global scale.

 

Although his job is hectic enough it still doesn’t stop the normal day to day trials and tribulations of being the type of man that he try’s to be. Knowing that no one is perfect he feels that he and very few men of his race. Strive to keep a cool head and maintain good moral clear thinking. In a world that only sees, hears and believes only what it wants to.

 

In the middle of his day to day routine a beautiful Italian woman is ritualistically murdered. Her body carved and tortured. Trying to upset the Brass’s system. The Detective’s hard nosed Boss dumps the murder case right in the unwilling Detective’s lap. Its discovered that the woman has Italian crime family ties. He also discovers that there’s a war brewing among the high figure crime leaders. A war that spans across the oceans.

 

The trail twists and turns as the Detective finds one murdered victim after another. He learns that there’s a serial murderer in town from over seas and he definitely has a taste for raw Italian meat. Each scene gets bloodier and bloodier as the serial murderer leaves half eaten meals all over town.

 

The ride gets rougher and rougher as the Detective sifts through a world of crooked cops. Dangerous crime members and a paid mafia F.B.I. Hit woman. Not to mention a crashing home life that will leave his son spinning uncontrollably in a cold cruel world.

 

Still he has to stop the killings. Can he do it without getting his self killed in the process. Can he do it and still be a real black man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 14, 2005
• ISBN: 9781463454944

Royce D. Williams SR.

Royce Williams, Sr. is one of many offspring descending from a large Southern Baptist family.  He attended private schools throughout his childhood, directing him to the path of “the right thing to do.”  He has endured many trials and tribulations throughout his life which include, but are not limited to, family, friends, education, career, and sometimes just life in general.  As he grew with struggles all around him, he wanted people to see the moral and decent individual that events in his life had guided him to become.  He attended an outstanding Law Enforcement Academy, then gave fifteen years as a first class Law Enforcement Officer; however, he discovered that even after years of public service and numerous awards of excellence for his investigations, his struggle to exist in an unfair society filled with unjust rules and immoral views was still not over.  While receiving support from his family, others plotted and railroaded his character.  He realizes he still has not won the battle and wonders if he ever will.  Challenges still face him on a daily basis.  Keeping faith, he decides that there is nothing out there strong enough or hard enough that he won’t overcome to continue to prove who he really is: a Real Black Man trying to make it in an ever trying world.    

Book preview

© 2005 Royce D. Williams SR.

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 12/21/04

ISBN: 1-4184-0661-9 (sc)

ISBN: 1-4184-8285-4 (dj)

ISBN: 9781463454944(ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

To my son, Lil Royce Jr., who has suffered so many times

just for the fact that he was born half mine.

I love you and will never let go of your hand.

Chapter 1

Bittersweet Pain

Chapter 2

Just the Same Ol’ Same Ol’

Chapter 3

Please? Can I Have Bone?

Chapter 4

Phantoms in the Closet

Chapter 5

Courage Under Fire

Chapter 6

Grandma Used to Say,

Sometimes you go from sugar to shit in a minute!

Chapter 7

Crash ‘n Burn

Chapter 8

Eat ’n Run

Chapter 9

Sammy’s Bad Day

Chapter 10

In the Thick of It

Chapter 11

Sanctuary

Chapter 12

Sweatin’ the Rat

Chapter 13

When You Assume, You Make an Ass Out of You and Me

Chapter 14

A Legacy of Blood and Evil

Chapter 15

In My Father’s Shadow -

His Sins Beckon Me

Chapter 16

I Sold My Body into Slavery So My Son Could Live

Chapter 17

If Anyone Ever Runs Across the Guy Who Wrote

Murphy’s Law, Do Me a Little Favor -

Piss on His Shoes for Me!

Chapter 18

Fact or Fiction

Chapter 19

The Smorgasbord is Over

Chapter 20

A Ball of Yarn

Chapter 21

End of the Game?

About the Author

To my son, Lil Royce Jr., who has suffered so many times

just for the fact that he was born half mine.

I love you and will never let go of your hand.

No more nightmares, baby.

Chapter 1

Bittersweet Pain

It was Wednesday, April 12, 2000, three-eighteen in the morning. It was one of the most hellish rainstorms that God Himself had thrown in a long time. The streaks of lightening were so bright, it was as if daylight was brutally interrupting the pitch black darkness that surrounded us. The thunder was as if the Lord God was angry with his little children for playing a game of Russian Roulette with our lives that we’ve been warned before not to play. But still in the middle of all this was an intense situation involving two against five.

All I was able to focus on were those steel blue eyes of hers. They seemed as if they peered into my soul and gripped my heart. I tried to pretend that it was business as usual.

Yeah, business as usual, with only a half a million dollars worth of coke and three hundred million and change in ice cold hard currency. All resting on a table eight feet away. As a precaution, too tired to remember what this nasty little soiree was all about. I tell myself to remember what my old academy firearms instructor used to say: Tap, rack, and then bang!

Finally, a gust of wind blew between us and suddenly it seemed as if occupants of hell had just joined us, ready to receive the loser if anything goes wrong. I personally was never afraid of dying. Hell, a couple of times I remembered I would have welcomed it. After a long period of sizing each other up, a gray limousine pulled up. Blue Eyes looked at me in astonishment, although I can detect a slight hint of fear that swept straight through her, like a well-sharpened sword of a true samurai warlord. I could not offer her any support because to do so would mean taking our eyes off our playmates and that could be related to the worse move ever made in this game of chess. This is no game for amateurs.

The limousine slowed and then came to a complete stop. A thin, well-dressed number two pencil of a man stepped out of the driver’s side. The black-eyed Italian then looked around slowly as if he were making a mental note of where all the chess pieces were positioned on the board. After he was sure that it was safe, he opened the rear passenger door and exposed their king. He stepped out and another followed. A six-foot five, well dressed Italian stands and starts to approach us all. Suddenly bulges in expensive trench coats became larger. As he nears, one of the five breaks formation and begins to brief him while the still remaining four compensate for the loss in manpower with a show of gun blue muzzles and banana clip magazines. After their conference was over, the head man viewed the contents on the table, then approached us and spoke.

Who am I dealing with?

Neither one of us answered.

He speaks louder this time. Now! Come on! It’s cold and it’s wet! Which one of you is in charge? Actually, I really don’t have to know. I could just kill you both and simply call it a night.

I said to him, So. Like you said. Why don’t you just call it a night?

He turned and looked at the one who briefed him and nodded, and all at once he raised his weapon to carry out the order and suddenly dropped to the grass, shaking in convulsions. At this time the head man realizes that he did not hear his nod carried out. He turns and finds his man lying on his back. Now totally still. After a few flashes of lighting he is able to see why his man is lying on the grass. He was missing half of the top of his head.

At this time I say to Blue Eyes, as quietly as I can, Get ready to run!

He looks at us and slowly walked towards us with the most evil expression. So I speak again. Hey! Hey! Hey! I didn’t want this! I just wanted to… I just wanted to…

At this time he raises his right arm and the only thought in my mind is, FUCK! As I threw back the left side of my double breasted suit coat to retrieve my weapon, I looked at her and shouted, Watch your ass! Go for cover!

With my weapon nearly cleared, I turned my eyes back to the now charging bean pole, who is at least five feet away and screaming angrily at the top of his voice. The head man managed to discharge his weapon four times. The first one grazed my right shoulder. The second and third hit me in my vest, and as the force of being shot sent me backwards, the fourth round just misses my left side. As I roll backwards and come to my feet, I hear rapid gunfire from the four remaining trench coat squad. Now at the end of my tumble, I zero in on the head man’s face and raise my weapon. Thinking to myself, you motherfucker, I pulled the trigger twice and both rounds entered his face and exited the back of his head along with a spray of blood, brain and bone. The head man, who at first was charging, is now flying backwards as if he were clothes-lined by an NFL defensive linebacker.

All I can hear is gunfire everywhere. I looked to my right only just in time to see Blue Eyes barely make it behind a tree for cover. I noticed first one, then two and finally all at once the last of the remaining four of the trench coat squad drop just after developing a terminal case of bulletitis. The red dots of our sniper team indicate that the boys in the hills are having a good night for a change. Quite a difference from their operation last week when two cops died, one by the dealers and the other by the boys themselves.

A scream rang out. I looked up and the limo is taking off as though he suddenly remembered that he forgot to do something for his dear sweet mother and he’d better beat her home or else he’s gonna get it. I think, I’ve got to get him. After all he may be, as the low niggas on the street say, good for something.

My adrenaline racing, I took off running as fast as I could. I realized I couldn’t catch him on foot. Fuck it! I’d better go for the car! Over the hill I ran, towards my car. I’m thinking to myself, if I can get him, maybe I can clean this shit up, somehow. I’ve got to get to the entrance to the park. What am I thinking? Forest Park is so large, there’s so many ways in and out of it. I scream, This is so… fucked up! The car is in sight. I get to the driver’s side door and start digging for my keys. I get the keys. I pop the lock. Seconds later, my car was screaming down the street in the direction that I saw the limo head. I pulled the police radio from its hiding place. I clicked it on and before I can ask, I hear the back up units yelling out the location of the limo.

I think, that sonofabitch! He got through! A voice screams over the police band. He’s heading down Lindell! Toward the University! I think, I know how to cut his ass off. I’ll just take Boswick and catch him when he passes. I’m on Boswick and he flies right past me. I turn right sharply. Shifting the car into fourth gear to compensate for the wet grass and small hill, I made it past the trees and back on to the wet pavement. The rear end of the car slightly skids as I turn a sharp left. But the car quickly straightens out and I see him just ahead. I think, the chase is on, fucker! He’s nearing Skinker, the main street that’s outside of Forest Park. He makes a hard left out on to Skinker in front of the University and skids out of control and winds up stuck on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. At that time before he could get the limo moving again, I slammed on the brakes and my car slid to a complete stop across the street from him. Taking advantage of the view, I placed four holes in the driver’s side rear window of the limo. Call it an incentive to make him stop. Ignoring me, he finally gets the limo free from the mud and takes off again. He heads south on Skinker and manages to make it on to Highway 40 westbound.

There’s no one on the highway at this time of morning. Finally! Room to move! Now, I can pump up the volume! I dropped the hammer and peddle both. The clutch pops up and from under the hood of my car the loudest roar is heard. Normally, I don’t enjoy pushing it, but this time, I gotta have it! The limo’s starting to do speeds in excess of a hundred and plus. He continues to stay in the middle of the highway. My car streaks right past the right side of the limo. I’m too busy trying to stay alive to look at the speedometer to see how fast I was going. You know, for bragging rights later. All though the thought did occur to me that if I did, a feeling of fear might fall over me. So fast that I just might be forced to shit on myself. I realize I can’t spook him. So, I pulled ahead of him and cut him off.

Once I passed right in front of him he swerved. The limo was moving too fast for him to control. In my rearview mirror I see that the limo was out of control. He swerved to the left and then to the right and then finally the whole car just turned sideways and flipped over and over repeatedly. Afraid that my car might do the same thing, I continued towards the far left lane. In addition to the new acrobatic show that just opened in town presently being featured in my close circuit rear view mirror, I spotted a candy apple red ‘Vette in the middle of the lane, just two car lengths ahead. As I streaked passed them I leaned on my horn, to try and warn them but I guess they didn’t see what was going on right behind them.

From what I could see as I passed by, trying to get clear, it was like the whole thing was perfectly timed. The limo suddenly flipped and became airborne. While spinning in the air, the limo sails over the entire Corvette and lands upside down on the roadway, directly in front of the ‘Vette’s path. The ‘Vette then slams into the side of the long and badly damaged limo. Now attempting to slow my vehicle, I shout, This is so fucked up! While backing up, I check my watch to see when the morning traffic was going to begin. By the looks of the time, it won’t be long and then things will get really stupid. In other words, a media event. At this time, I noticed that a few cars were already starting to pull over to the side of the road and stop or at least slow down.

I stopped two car lengths from the scene of the accident. I got out of my car and proceeded to investigate. While approaching the limo, I reached inside the jacket of my suit and drew my gun. As I neared, I assumed the usual combat posture. The closer and closer I got I could see the driver’s twisted body lying on the ceiling of the limo, just somewhere between the front and the backseat. He looked as if he were unconscious. He seemed limp and lifeless. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was hearing screams. It was a male voice screaming. The last time I heard a guy scream like that, he had just lost everything in the world to one of the riverboat casinos.

I walked around the side of the upside down limo and approached the ‘Vette. Looking through the windshield, all I could see was an arterial spray of blood. I could see two people sitting in the front seat of the car. As I walked from the hood of the car towards the drivers side door, I noticed that blood also covered the driver’s side window of the car. I opened the door of ‘Vette and saw a white male sitting in the driver’s seat with his head straight back and his body rolling back and forth trying to deal with a serious amount of pain. His face was in agony. Once he discovered that I was there he immediately reached out and grabbed hold of my shirt and began to pull me closer. I quickly braced myself by putting my left hand on the roof of the car.

He began screaming, Help me! Help me! Do something man! Please! Please! Help me!

I looked across him at the passenger seat and saw a blue-faced white female. She was blue in the face due to the fact that just as his left hand was tightly still gripping my shirt, his right hand was also tightly gripping her throat. I still couldn’t get over just how much blood was all over the place. I started thinking that I’d better make him let her go. I peeled his left hand off my shirt, starting with his thumb and then the rest of his fingers. Once free, I hurried round the rear of the ‘Vette and yanked the passenger door open.

Now the white male was chanting loudly, You bitch! You bitch! You Goddamned, fucking bitch! Suddenly it became clear. His penis or what use to look like a penis was sticking up. It was erect or at least what was left of it. The rest of it had appeared to have been bitten off, clean. Just like a banana. He was squirting blood and urine everywhere. Suddenly the woman’s gasp of air snapped me out of my trance and I peeled the man’s grip from around her bruised throat. Now she was struggling to breath deep again. I looked on the floor for the rest of junior’s Johnson. I wasn’t going to pick it up mind you. But when the paramedics arrive, I wanted to at least let them know they could find it. I can’t find it, so I asked, Well where is it?

Suddenly I hear the woman say, I swallowed it. I look up into her now slightly blue face and she begins to sob louder than before.

I said under my breath as I walked back towards my car to give my location, Boy, talk about biting off more than you can chew!

Chapter 2

Just the Same Ol’ Same Ol’

Friday, April 12, 2000, seven forty-three a.m. It is two days later. I’m lying in bed and I’m dead to the world. I wake up to having my face kicked by my four month old son. It turns out that Arielanna, my better half, had put our first born child in bed with me while she performed the morning ritual of getting dressed for work. She works for one of the local TV news stations, I’m sorry I can’t say who. Anyway, I finally take my face out of range and my son, who I’m starting to believe does this because if he can feel you with his hands or feet, then you must actually really be there. To be honest with you, I can’t really blame him. There have been a lot of times that I’ve seen something and couldn’t believe my own eyes either. I sat up and looked down at him. He looked up at me and grinned nice