| NELSON |
| Memphis' Own |
| SPECIAL ISSUE |
| Ivy's Twisted Vine By: Latrivia S. Nelson Prologue South Memphis Late September 9:15 p.m. The midnight air rushed fiercely in Lt. Nicola Agosto’s face as he opened the unmarked squad car and hit the ground running, half-stunned by the extreme intensity of the weather. Sprinting through the snowy slush, he tried to ignore his aching knees and brain-wrenching migraine. Under no circumstances could he let this perp get away. He was the only lead they had in the Caesar Dominguez case, a six-week operation that had been the cause of too many sleepless nights following seventeen gang-related deaths. Pushing past the pressure on his lungs, he gasped for a second wind. Plunging through large puddles of water and trying to avoid the shards of broken glass that lined his path down the dark alleyway, he felt for his gun as he watched for any possible threat of an ambush. Hearing the constant barking of dogs all around him, he wasn’t sure what danger he was running towards. If his college football coach could have seen him right then, he would have shit bricks. Even at nearly thirty, Nicola was still quite agile. There was no cop on Truitt Street faster and no perp anywhere in Memphis smarter than he was, or at least he liked to think so. Stretching his legs out a little longer to close the gap between him and his prey, Nicola’s strides became more powerful as they went searing through the gusty wind. He smiled inwardly, feeling invincible as he caught a glimpse of his shadow under the street lights. He hoped that he would walk away victorious from the chase and go safely home to a cold empty bed and a strong lonely drink. Hearing his partner, Brooks, somewhere behind him, Nicola jumped an old wooden fence and felt a sharp splinter rip into his skin. Ahh! Almost invincible. Landing in a puddle of muddy half-frozen water that completely drenched his body, Nicola saw the young drug dealer run into a vacant dilapidated house. Wiping the grit from his eyes and posting up, he ran to the side of the door and looked in quickly. Nothing. Damn it. Seeing Brooks follow over the fence, Nicola signaled into the house. Taking a deep breath, he burst through the door with his gun pointed and ready to fire. His adrenaline was pumping, and his gear was irritating. Tugging at the top of his bulletproof vest with his index finger, he prepared to clear all of the downstairs rooms with his partner. The perp-catching process, as he had termed it, was executed with total precision and extreme prejudice. After all, he had been chasing offenders for nearly a decade now. It was simple enough to him…don’t move too quickly because the runner will always lead you to where he is headed; don’t move too slowly because you might lose him, and don’t move without your partner because there is nothing like being caught in the jungle alone. It used to make him livid, but he did not even get angry anymore. He understood the game now. It was their job to duck, hide, and run. It was his job to run, dive, and catch. The old house reeked of a damp odor left by the homeless crackheads that had used it for shelter. Cockroaches climbed the walls, and hoards of rats hid in the corners, peeping out past the shadows. Cold winds ripped through the dark, empty, gaping hallways and rattled the old portraits hanging vainly down the corridors. Slowly, Nicola peered in every entry under nasty, discolored, dusty furniture and listened past the creaking sounds of the wind and rain for a clue as to where the young man was hiding. Finally, as he focused in, he could hear the kid moving slowly about upstairs. Junkies and dealers alike were so stupid. Why would you go upstairs in a rickety old house? Anyone downstairs would be able to track you, he thought to himself as he put his infrared on the ceiling. He could end it all right then. All he had to do was shoot above him. He was almost certain that he wouldn’t miss. But the point was to extract useful intel, not to use the perp as target practice. “Why don’t you do us both a favor and just come on down and let me take you downtown? At least you’ll get out of here alive. If I don’t kill you, the rats will,” Nicola said as he and Brooks took their position at the base of the staircase leading up to the second level of the house. “I ain’t goin’ back to juvy,” the young man screamed in a mid-adolescent voice from the upstairs hallway. “You know, there are a lot worse things than juvy,” Nicola said, putting on his night-vision goggles. “Yeah, like what?” the teenager asked, feeling himself losing control of the situation. “Great, a kid,” Brooks said, shaking his head. They hated chasing teens worst of all. “The night just keeps getting better and better.” Nicola tugged at his vest again. Nicola instantly thought back to his last teenage chase. It went from a car chase to a foot pursuit. They ended up cornering the base heads in an alleyway. The teens were trapped, too scared to jump the fence where three bulldogs salivated and barked wildly at the prospect of fresh meat. When he snatched up what he thought was two boys, he discovered that he had two fifteen-year-old parochial schoolgirls that had been in the hood scrounging for crack cocaine. “Stall him,” Brooks said calmly, bringing Nicola back to the task at hand. “Look, if you don’t come down, then we have to come up after you,” Nicola screamed tauntingly as he watched his partner pull the tear gas from his vest. “Come on then!” the scared young man screamed again, this time sending several shots down the stairs to greet the cold and frustrated pair. “I ain’t never scared,” the boy screamed, holding his gun closely to him. “Obviously,” Nicola said under his breath. “Don’t worry, we’ll snatch a knot in his ass after we catch our breath,” Brooks said as he leaned against the wall. “Man, I’m tired.” “You’re tired? I left you with the squad car. I’m the one out here running like a guard dog after this kid. I swear I don’t feel like doing this shit tonight.” “You know what…I ran last night. So I don’t feel sorry for you,” Brooks panted. “You ran, but did we catch him?” Nicola asked, looking up the stairs. “That was your fault,” Brooks said, remembering the task at hand. “Are we going to do this, or are we going to sit down here and bitch at each other while the little prick shoots rounds at us?” “Alright, Alright.” Nicola got into position. “On the count of three.” “We’ve wasted enough time already…three,” Brooks said, launching the tear gas up the stairs. “Where did you get tear gas?” Nicola looked in amazement at Brooks. He might as well take off his goggles. It was obvious that he needed his gas mask instead, which he didn’t have. “I got it from a friend.” As usual, Brooks didn’t see the big deal about Nicola being ticked off. “What are you doing just walking around with tear gas on you, man? That makes no damned sense.” Nicola never would understand his best friend. “Well, neither does going upstairs after him not knowing what type of fire power he has,” Brooks said, looking up the stairs. “He’s already tried to shoot your ass off once tonight. Isn’t that good enough?” He looked over at Nicola, who rolled his eyes. Anxiously, they waited downstairs in position for the perp to come barreling down, choking and blinded. Finally, Nicola leaned against the stairwell out of tactical position. “I don’t think that he’s coming down,” Nicola said condescendingly. “Just…wait a minute,” Brooks said, irritated and still stooping down. Soon after, they heard glass break and footsteps out front on the ledge of the house. Running to the front door, Nicola saw a tall slender figure land on the ground, accidentally dropping his gun. “Go, go, go,” Brooks yelled. “Meet me with the car,” Nicola said, making his way to the front of the house. “Three minutes,” Brooks said, tapping the face of his watch. Busting through the door, Nicola screamed, half-dazed, “Freeze!” He had a good shot, but he decided against taking it. There was no visible threat, and he had a thing against killing kids, regardless of how stupid they were. Ignoring Nicola’s plea, the young man decided against trying to retrieve the gun and ran through a bush in the yard next door into the street. Stopping to pick up the discarded weapon, Nicola again ran after him, this time ready for the chase to end. Running down another garbage-filled alley, through a small apartment complex, and back out on to Wellington, Nicola could finally feel the fatigue of the weary battle overcoming him. Refusing to give up, Nicola pushed himself further, running full speed several blocks into the busy Crump and Danny Thomas intersection past the MAPCO gas station, where several fellow officers where too busy flirting with the cashiers to notice him. The young man looked over his own shoulder, fighting fatigue, to see Nicola closing in with every step. One pace, two paces, three paces, and then a launch. In midair, Nicola opened his arms, dove, and landed on the perp in the middle of the street, causing both of them to barely miss oncoming cars. Hitting the ground, Nicola felt his arm make contact with the cold concrete and a tearing deep into his flesh. Another gash that would leave another scar from another chase, he thought immediately as he grunted in frustration. Pulling the boy up, he kicked him in the stomach. Hard. That was for shooting at him. “Get up,” Nicola said, pulling the boy by his torn collar. “And don’t clown with me, or I’ll take you back to that house and finish what you started.” Of course Nicola was bluffing, but he liked seeing fear on their faces. It paralyzed them from making more dumb decisions. Seeing his partner and the squad car turn the corner, Nicola slapped the cuffs on the young man, took a deep breath, and looked at his watch. Two minutes and fifteen seconds. Like he said before…Invincible! Downtown Memphis Wendell’s Restaurant Late September 9:30 p.m. Sitting across the table from her boss, Ivy looked at the contract and smiled. The document was everything that she had hoped for, and now all that was required was her signature to make a once vivid dream her own reality. Inhaling deeply, she signed her name, gracefully stroking the paper with her pen and savoring the sight of the binding agreement. Sliding the paper back across the table, she took the crystal glass of full-bodied wine and sipped it, anticipating a response. “You won’t be sorry, Ivy,” her boss, Joseph Steinberger, said, putting the contract away. “Yveson and Letehwich is the best marketing firm in the southeastern region. I believe you know that our track record speaks for itself. Your talents will be best put to use here.” “I’m sure,” Ivy said in a hushed tone. “And we are sure as well.” Joseph always appreciated her humbleness, which is why their working relationship had turned into a professional friendship. “Since you’ve been with us, we’ ve come to build an entirely new program for our African American collegiate market. You’ve built long-lasting relationships with nearly twenty different organizations and have designed a five-year plan for our Clivestone project. You’re definitely a keeper.” “My main concern is that I’ll get out of the loop leaving until graduation. I mean, most of my contacts work with me because I’ve maintained a very close and personal relationship with them on an ongoing basis.” Ivy set down her wine glass and took a quick moment to glance at her breathtaking diamond engagement ring. “Well, that was our concern as well, which is why we have hired an intern to work for you. She’ ll be in charge of attending the meetings and reporting back to you on a biweekly basis.” Joseph passed Ivy her new intern’s resume. Ivy’s mouth instantly dropped. An intern with an intern? Who would believe her? “This is unbelievable.” Ivy needed a more defined explanation. “Well, you’ve earned it. And we recognize that you need to finish these last months at school before returning to the firm. We pride ourselves on the fact that in the last three years, we have only recruited magna and summa cum laude scholars from various colleges, and we expect the same caliber of academic excellence from you. We hope that you will use this time to seal your previous endeavors and come out in the spring ready to begin a new life with Yveson and Letehwich.” “I don’t know what to say, but I am truly honored.” And honored Ivy was. It was nearly unheard of for a company to offer so much for an undergraduate, but alas, she had pulled it off. Yveson and Letehwich had offered her a great manager’s position as soon as they had heard that four other Memphis-based firms and three Nashville-based firms were interested. She had of course made her decision according to the bottom line. Loyalty started with self. Wrapping the scarf around her neck, Ivy waited outside the restaurant for the valet to pull her car around after the meeting, recapping the biggest event in her life. Almost about to explode, she could not wait to get inside her car and call her mother. She was officially the senior project manager of African American collegiate marketing for Yveson and Letehwich, the number one marketing firm in Memphis, or should she say “the southeastern region.” All of her hard work had paid off, literally. After signing the contract, Joseph slipped her an envelope with a hefty incentive package to help her during her final year in school and a briefcase full of information about her new job expectations. It had taken everything in her to keep from bursting into tears of joy and laughter. She giggled even now standing in the freezing rain. She was on her way to the top, and nothing would stop her. |