The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(3)

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Junior walked over and shook his hand. From the cold, hard stare Minister Farah was giving them, it did not look like our meeting was going to be very productive.

Harris gestured toward me. “And over there in the corner is my other brother-in-law—”

“Vegas Duncan!” Minister Farah’s surprisingly strong voice boomed, and his eyes turned to mine. His hard face broke out into a wrinkled smile as he came into the room, arms outstretched, to welcome me into a brotherly hug that barely reached my middle. “As-Salaam-Alaikum, my friend. It’s really good to see you.”

“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam. It is better to see you, Brother Minister,” I replied, pulling back. We stood there, grinning at each other for a moment. I can’t begin to tell you how good it was to see him after all these years. His face brought back memories of a forgotten past.

“It has been too long. My God, what’s it been—ten years?”

“At least. I left the school in 2003.” Minister Farah had been one of my instructors and the associate headmaster at Chi’s Finishing School in Europe.

“I’ve heard your name spoken many times over the years through the grapevine. You’ve made quite a name and reputation for yourself. Your incident with the Armenians was quite honorable. I am very proud of you,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied humbly. “I’ve tried to utilize what you and the others taught me.” Over Minister Farah’s shoulder I could see the surprised expressions on Junior’s and Harris’s faces.

“So, what brings you uptown? You slumming?” he asked with a laugh.

“Heck, if this is slumming, the poverty line must have been raised considerably while I was away,” I joked. “But in all seriousness, Minister, my brother Junior has a problem. I think it’s with one of your people.”

Minister Farah was one of the most respected members of the Nation of Islam. For years he had run the Fruit of Islam, or FOI, their security force.

“Then let’s talk and see if we can solve this problem.” He patted my back, prompting me toward the table. The four of us sat down.

“You say your brother is having a problem with one of my people?”

I turned to Harris, who flipped open his folder and said, “Do you know a man by the name of Brother Xavier? His government name is Charles Brown.” As soon as Harris said the name, a look of concern crossed Minister Farah’s face.

“Yes, I know him. He is not a man to be trifled with, but he is not one of my people. Not anymore.”

“He’s not? What did he do? Why did you break ties?” Harris questioned in rapid-fire succession.

“For many years Xavier was an important man in the Nation. I actually appointed him head of the New York FOI myself. He was a hardworking, honorable man who moved up the ranks swiftly, until he lost his way.”

“Lost his way how?” Harris chimed in before I could interject. Minister Farah shook his head, looking worried.

“Without any of us in the hierarchy of the Nation realizing it, he was committing robberies along with the men he was supposed to be leading closer to Allah,” Minister Farah’s tone sounded like he had tasted something terrible. Just the memory of it infuriated him.

“Wow, now that’s what I call a gutsy move,” Harris added, stopping short of sounding impressed. I glanced at Junior, who was still taking it all in.

“Obviously we couldn’t allow him to continue to represent the Nation or the FOI. We released him from his position, and he was shunned from our community. We believed that would be enough to bring him back in line, but we were wrong.”

“In what way?” I asked.

“Instead of humbling him, it led him to create his own organization, the Islamic Black Panther Party, a very powerful, radical group that he now runs very successfully from a jail cell.”

“Whoa! The Islamic Black Panther Party is run by Brother X. You’re telling me this Brother Xavier is the same man they call Brother X in prison?” I stared at Minister Farah uneasily. All of a sudden his level of concern was nothing compared to mine.

Minister Farah nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard him called Brother X before.”

“You know this guy, Vegas?” Junior asked.

“I never met the man, but if we’re talking about the same person, we have a much bigger problem than we thought. The IBPP are known for carrying out the majority of the paid prison hits in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. They pride themselves on being able to get to anyone, anywhere in the prison system. Last year they got those three guys the Feds were holding in protective custody for that big Mob trial. To this day nobody knows how they got in those cells. The Russians, the Jews, and the Italians use them extensively.” I finished with a shiver. I literally had goose bumps on my arms.

Minister Farah ran his hand across his face. “They have over a hundred highly-trained men in the prison system at any time, and have at least that many on the outside. They are as good as any of the people trained by the FOI, and a hundred times more deadly because they have no conscience.”

“Jesus Christ, what the hell has Sonya gotten us into, Junior?” Harris got up and started pacing nervously, reminding me of why I hated his punk ass so much.

Ignoring Harris, Minister Farah turned to Junior, full of apprehension. “Young man, I must ask you, what is your business with Xavier?”