Book One (A Makaveli’s Prince Novel) Read online

  Book One

  A Makaveli’s Prince Novel

  Sam Hunter

  Book One

  Sam Hunter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Book One is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012 by Sam Hunter

  www.makavelisprince.com

  Smashwords Edition, 2012

  Limited portions of lyrics appear under fair use with thanks to Amaru Entertainment.

  www.tasf.org

  www.2pac.com

  ‘My only fear of death is coming back reincarnated’ Tupac Shakur (1971-1996)

  ONE

  Justine closed the heavy door to the dilapidated project apartment and headed towards the stairwell. The fluorescent light flickered above her as she descended the steps, her left hand intermittently grasping at the handrail. The sight of flaking paint on the walls, which in places had been covered with graffiti, made her reluctant to hold on for long. She stepped carefully as she went but not for fear of falling, rather that she hated the feel of cockroaches crunching underneath her feet.

  Justine reached the ground floor and exited via the front entrance. She looked back at the project apartment for a brief moment. The sun was just breaking the California skyline and darkness was in retreat. The windows of the small apartment were almost lost in the crowd of others crammed into such a small space and were all in the same state of disrepair. There was no light coming from the windows and so she was sure the man she’d just left was still fast asleep. She turned and began to walk.

  Her body felt fresh from the hot shower she’d just had but the unplanned stop over meant she was dressed in clothes from the night before - jeans and a green long sleeved thin polyester shirt. The night before the shirt had been tied up just under her chest exposing her midriff. Today it hung down crinkled. The faint lingering smell of the club mixed with a little weed and tobacco smoke would normally have bothered her but she had more serious problems on her mind.

  She’d broken the rules.

  Justine had fallen in love with this man and was pregnant with his child. She wasn’t supposed to be pregnant. They hadn’t paid her for that. But she knew what they were like and what they’d do if they found out. The game was getting dangerous.

  Justine had to get out to save herself and her child.

  TWO

  The small room was barely lit and Nia Rodriguez felt trapped. She felt disorientated and wrapped in a sense of dread. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t remember how she’d got there. Nia felt a sense of familiarity that she couldn’t grasp. There was a large window in front of her, and through the glass she could only just make out shapes in the shadows. During several sudden flashes of light she saw what looked like the outline of a man.

  A door opened to her right. A shaft of light sliced into the darkness. The shadows behind the glass moved rapidly. A wave of fear gripped Nia as she saw the deep black silhouette of a handgun appear in the doorway. Time stood still for Nia as she realized the aim of the handgun had fixed itself firmly on her.

  ‘Are you afraid to die? Or do you wanna live forever?’

  The deep guttural voice filled the room briefly and then faded into nothingness as if the walls of the room had completely absorbed it.

  Her heart was beating so hard it was the only other sound she could hear in the room. She felt it beating so fast her chest could barely contain it and she couldn’t swallow. Before she had time to react she saw the white hot muzzle flash and retort of the weapon as it fired.

  Was this it? Nia thought in a blind panic.

  It wasn’t the life she’d had that flashed before her eyes, but instead she saw all the things she hadn’t done. She’d not yet committed to a serious relationship, married, settled down or become a mother. It was all things that she desperately wanted to do and do right one day. But was it too late now? There were other things, too. There had always been other things. She’d missed out on so much for so long that it just felt natural. But lately she’d had to give up her chance at a normal life because too much rested on her setting the record straight.

  It had finally caught up with her and the end had come so quick. Nia knew she wasn’t ready. How was this fair? She wished she had an unquestioning faith in the existence of God and an afterlife. But she’d seen so much that made her question her Roman Catholic upbringing. Nia remembered her first communion well but it hadn’t been long before she’d found herself on a very different path.

  Rational thought gripped her, telling her that her life was over and this was the end but another part of her screamed in a desperate prayer to God. She struggled to see what was next as the enveloping blackness suffocated her in every possible way. The only thing she was now aware of was the same deep and familiar voice.

  ‘Tell me, what’s wrong nigga?’

  Nia woke up with a pain so sharp in her ribs that she felt her right side, searching for a trace of blood. She looked at her hand. There was nothing there. Short of breath and soaked in sweat Nia threw off the sheets and swung her bare legs out of bed. She recoiled as she saw she was not alone. Still panicked from the nightmare, she didn’t recognize who it was. The figure was athletically built, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight around his bulging biceps. White and in his late thirties, he had a cold stare. It lingered, like his frequent use of ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’, picked up in service as a Sergeant in the US Marine Corp’s élite Force Reconnaissance Company.

  ‘It’s only me ma’am,’ her bodyguard said as he stood.

  ‘Shit Marcus,’ Nia said, touching her hand to her chest, ‘for a second I..,’ Nia paused.

  ‘I was about to wake you. Same nightmare again?’

  ‘Yeah, same one.’ Nia’s voice trembled, carrying a thin trace of a Cuban accent. She sat for a moment on the edge of the bed gathering her thoughts. ‘I’m gonna hit the shower.’

  Nia was aware of his watchful eyes on her as she crossed the cheap motel room. They were somewhere between Fort Lauderdale and Miami. She was too tired to remember exactly where. She just knew they’d stopped to rest because the next leg of the journey was unlikely to give them the opportunity to sleep any time soon.

  She began to casually strip off her clothes before she reached the shower. They’d known each other since she’d been in her teens and Marcus had been working as her close protection detail for almost half that time. It was long enough that she wasn’t shy around him anymore. After all, he went almost everywhere she did. Nia considered him one of only a few close friends. Around him she always felt safe.

  Nia knew what he was probably thinking. He’d complimented her before on her looks, saying that her skin had a silky chocolate tone. Other men had described her as chocolate, as so many white men did to black girls, but Marcus’ compliment had carried a warm sincerity. They were close. Their bond of friendship extended past their professional relationship and somehow they’d avoided getting involved with each other. It had almost happened once, a few years before, at the time when he’d paid her that compliment but when he’d asked about the tiny scar on her jaw line it had brought back painful memories for Nia. People never normally noticed it but he had.

  As painful as the memories were it always made her feel safe knowing he was the sort of m
an who spotted the smallest details. There was some comfort in having such a man as a bodyguard when there were so few people in her life she could trust. She could count more than several occasions when he’d saved her life, each one increasingly more recent and serious.

  She stepped into the shower and let the water run its course all over her body. She found the water running down her back particularly soothing as she leant forward against the tiled wall and hung her head under the water. Her back was the canvas for a beautiful tattoo of a rose that reached all the way up from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. She imagined the water running down her back and breathing life into it.

  The sensation of the water helped to shake the lingering nightmare from her mind but didn’t rid her of it entirely. It always haunted her. She’d flirted with death plenty of times before and, at times, hadn’t even cared whether she lived or died but right now she clung to life like never before. Lately she’d felt death was close and it loomed with a certainty that she’d never before experienced. She wasn’t ready to die. Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, Nia told herself she only felt this way because of the secrets she carried. They were secrets to do with so much more than just her life but Nia knew everything rested on her to ensure their survival.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Marcus called, ‘there are reports on the radio that there are warrants out for your arrest, drug trafficking charges. It’s going to complicate things if we wait around. The clerk may recognize you. We should make a move.’

  ‘I hear you,’ Nia called from the bathroom.

  The rushing sound of water from the shower ceased and seconds later Nia emerged. Marcus looked up from the chair in the corner of the room. She’d dressed and was wearing boots, black combat trousers and over the top of her dark grey t-shirt she wore a black bullet proof vest. In a thigh holster Nia carried a Swiss SIG-Sauer P228 9mm pistol, a weapon Marcus had selected for her. It was favored by the FBI and US Secret Service due to its compactness and ultra-reliability. Marcus carried the same but his was on his right thigh. Nia was left handed and had never learnt to shoot with her right like most people.

  The stone grey metallic Hummer H2 SUT with cloned plates parked outside was Nia’s and Marcus slung their gear in the back. Nia tossed him the keys. ‘You drive.’

  The sun sat low in the evening sky as they pulled out of the dusty parking lot onto the street. Nia felt the air-conditioning kick in and the cool air wash over her skin. She tried to relax as much as she could and attempted to push her nightmare to the back of her mind. She leant back in the plush tan leather seat and put her sunglasses on over her hazel brown eyes.

  John Richard Lloyd sat on the terrace savoring the woody aroma of his vintage Hennessy Paradis Cognac. He hadn’t always been a drinker but as it slipped down his throat it helped remind him of better times. He felt the early evening breeze on his unshaven face and took in the supreme elegance of the claret sunset reflecting off his infinity pool, the edge of the water appearing to run seamlessly into the warm Miami waters. Birds flocked gracefully across the sky, silhouetting themselves against the sunset. It was this magnificent view which had sold him the house in Indian Creek Village, a small community on an island just north of Miami Beach.

  He’d bought the multi-million dollar house shortly after making an award winning documentary and now had neighbors like Sheikh Mohammed al-Fassi, Julio and Enrique Iglesias, all of whom he’d yet to meet. Indian Creek was notable for its privacy and people liked to keep to themselves. That probably explained why the island had its own police force with a people to police ratio of two to one, the highest in the US and a far cry from neighborhoods only a few miles away.

  After the documentary Lloyd had been quickly scooped up by the networks, landing a position as host of his own self-titled talk show and was now making more money than he sensibly knew what to do with. Investing in this house had been a smart move despite the economic slump. Luxury properties there had fared well. He spent the rest on frivolities such as on membership of the Indian Creek Country Club. The houses on the island occupied the outer edge with each one having a garden that backed onto its own mooring. He’d yet to splash out on anything to occupy his but he’d been giving it increasing thought lately after seeing his neighbor’s new yacht. The center of the island was dedicated entirely to what was arguably greater Miami’s finest golf course. But the sand traps and waterfront holes were places Lloyd rarely found himself. He just couldn’t see the point in the game. He preferred to do laps in the pool or tackle a steep incline on the treadmill at the gym.

  Giving the cognac glass a swirl, he drank it dry. He got up and headed inside and over to his ebony Makassar sidebar to pour another.

  Lloyd was in his early thirties. He was a handsome white man whose looks charmed and captivated at the same time, attributes that had won him plenty of female fans. He had short scruffy looking brown hair. Not because he didn’t take care of himself, he did, he just styled it that way. It was what was in right now, a network image consultant had told him. His rough cut jeans and white linen shirt completed his casual image.

  Before he reached the sidebar the phone rang. He picked up the cordless phone and answered. His sister Mary greeted him. ‘I called earlier but you didn’t pick up,’ Mary said, sounding a little annoyed.

  ‘I’ve been out on the terrace.’

  ‘I called your cell earlier today, too. It’s almost impossible to get hold of you these days.’ Mary was younger than her brother, in her twenties, but was constantly trying to act like his big sister.

  ‘You know I work a lot and can’t always answer,’ Lloyd replied, cradling the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he poured his next glass of cognac.

  ‘You could’ve called me back. Ever since you finished that documentary you’ve been unhappy and reclusive. So don’t give me any more bullshit about your work John. I’m worried about you.’ The words struck a chord with him. ‘You have to let me take you out to lunch some time. You can meet some of my friends and maybe, well you know.’

  ‘Sure, sounds great. I’ll check my diary,’ Lloyd lied.

  ‘You’ve seen the news today?’

  ‘I’ve not had the chance,’ Lloyd said, searching for the remote.

  ‘Looks like the economy might finally be picking up.’

  Flicking on the television, he kept the sound on mute. Lloyd let his sister ramble on. She was bad at small talk and he didn’t really care about the market. He might have if he’d not been disinherited by his banker father for going to study film at university rather than becoming a doctor, lawyer or banker. It had been the final straw for his father. They’d grown further and further apart ever since his father had objected to his interest in what he disdainfully called nigger noise.

  Lloyd found CNN and to his surprise saw another story that caught his attention. ‘Can I call you back?’ Lloyd asked.

  ‘Sure but think about what I said,’ Mary said as her brother hung up the phone and turned up the sound.

  ‘...according to official sources federal authorities are seeking the arrest of Nia Rodriguez on a number of warrants, one of which is for drug trafficking. Sources are telling us that the trafficking took place between Cuba and the US,’ said the middle-aged female news reader.

  Lloyd watched for a while as some short video clips were played and then, as the news moved on to another topic, he picked up the phone again and quickly dialed a number from memory he hadn’t dialed for some time. He listened to an automated message stating the number was no longer in use. He hung up the phone and flicked to another news channel to try and catch the whole story on Nia Rodriguez, the primary source for his documentary.

  The Hummer pulled to a stop at a red light and sat patiently. Nia pulled down the mirror on the passenger side visor and began to tie back her wavy black hair. Nia was a fit and well-toned woman thanks to regular workouts but she retained a seductively curvaceous figure. Currently, she looked distinctly different from her normal appearanc
e, which often had her wearing something a lot more flattering than a bulletproof vest.

  The lights turned green and the vehicle pulled off smoothly to the low purr of the large engine. The streets of Miami were heaving with early evening traffic and Nia felt a lot safer cocooned in the Hummer. The vehicle had been custom built with armor plating and ballistic strength windows. The additions weren’t noticeable and it had cost her a small fortune but recent events in her life demanded such precautions. Marcus had insisted on nothing less.

  Turning around slightly in the passenger seat she reached into the rear footwell and felt for the M4 Carbine assault rifles behind the driver’s seat. They were still there, stashed under a jacket and offered her some assurance. The M4 was an updated, shorter and more agile version of the classic M16. It had less stopping power up close than the higher caliber P228s but Nia knew they might need something with a little more range.

  Marcus was the first to spot the car following them. ‘Ma’am I think we’ve picked up a tail.’ He looked in his rear-view mirror again. ‘Black Lexus, two cars back. It’s been following us for a couple of turns now. I doubt its cops, could be Feds though.’

  ‘Take a turn down a side street and double back. We’ll see if they follow us,’ Nia said. Marcus took the next opportunity to make a left and turned into a long narrow alleyway. The surface was uneven and cluttered with trash along the edges. Looking behind them Nia saw the Lexus drive by.

  Suddenly, Marcus slammed on the breaks and Nia jolted uncomfortably forward in her safety belt. A white delivery truck had reversed out into the alleyway in front of them. There was no room for the wide Hummer to pass it. Marcus honked the horn wildly, recalling vivid memories of roadside insurgent ambushes in Afghanistan. He looked around quickly, assessing the situation. He began to check his rear-view mirror and slip the vehicle into reverse but then the driver of the truck pulled back into the delivery bay. Quickly putting the Hummer back into drive he passed before the truck reversed out again.