From Under a Caribbean Sun

Kingston, Jamacia.

Down Robin Hood Chase things went on as normal. There had been further botched shootings, more duplicitous deals and further misery wraps dealt & consumed on the promise of pain, felony, delinquency and sin.

Deano mused as he supped a Wray & Nephew mixed with Cola, sitting in the gardens of the Jamaican Eating House, his belly full with saltfish & ackie. As he put down the 12oz glass and felt the bulge his wallet was making it his Hollywood style leather jacket, he realised it was time to go.

He took a stroll up the mount of Corporation Oaks. Then looking down from the south of the hill, he took in the view of the kingdom he had usurped and saw that all was GOOD.

Deano’s particular delight on this day was spruced by the sweet reminisce of what happened at 221 Wells Road three nights ago. He had managed to lance someone who had metaphorically been a cyst on his smooth black ass. The carbuncle in question was known to Deano and his associates as Fatz Bluey. Bluey and Deano went back long time.

i) Kingston, Jamaica.

Under a Caribbean Sun we go back to the outskirts of Trenchtown, to a time that was not good for Lincoln Jeffries a.k.a Deano. A time when he didn’t know if each day was going to be his last, so deep into trouble did he fall,

Lincoln began his career working for Fatz, he was one of his ‘errand’boys. When he was fourteen and due to his father’s death (aged forty four) he came into ownership of his father’s Hillman Imp (which to be fair had seen better days). As a good son he had taken to doing deliveries on the farm as his father became ill.

However, under Fatz Bluey’s employment the fertilizers and groceries that once filled the boot were to be replaced with AK47s, Gloks and huge sheets of ice white crack cocaine.

Lincoln left the running of the farm to his eleven year old brother. He got further and further into the underworld Fatz had introduced him to but, he soon had assignments further afield.

At nineteen years old he was stateside doing some enforcing on occasion, but mostly selling white and dark to dumb ass whites, who it seemed had an insatiable appetite for drugs, espcially good white. This was around the time he became known by his new name.

As Lincoln turned into Deano he began to see Fatz Bluey as the fat ponce he was and despise him all the more. Fatz had the contacts and a pool of expendable and cheap labour.

He was like a gossipy old woman, milking the cash cow of teenage recruits back in the outskirts of Kingston –many who didn’t make it through to make the easy money and taste the good life. Some were buried in the pauper’s cemetery, some disappeared altogether.

In the Summer of 1998 Deano came back home. He bought the smallholding off the landowner and five other much bigger plots. The Hillman Imp was replaced with a shiny new truck and Deano’s brother was now able to hire several hands (thank the Lord; Fatz Bluey hadn’t got his dirty, stumpy fingers on him, Deano thought).

Fatz Bluey was in disgrace now anyway. Not only it seemed did he surround himself with teenage boys as his minions, but he had a penchant for teenage girls for other more seedy purposes. He got caught with his 48 inch pants down...............

"Me gowanin Ingerland........takin’retirement. " he told Deano.

What he also told Deano was how it was over in Britain. No guns, (well a few replicas), plenty girls and plenty money. Feeling the contempt rising from his former protegee then he did what he was known best for. He blathered on about how he’d set Deano up in the UK, how he was sorry for the time the Hillman Imp had been spangled with lead on Deano’s second assignment and how he’d make good –he knew people, had contacts, etc.

Although Deano contemplated caving Fatz skull with the pick axe that lay next to the Hillman on the spot, he listened and decided he’d delay his gratification for now. Maybe, he’d take up Fatz’s offer - the UK sounded like an easy skank.

He spent the summer with his family on the farm, but the rural life was not for him no more. The pull of white man’s money took him over to San Francisco once again. He sorted a few things out and set up a small time, big profit operation –but things went drastically wrong. One of his brethren got shot to pieces and Deano ended up killing some rarse clat Latino’s over a dispute involving the ‘rights’to a neighbourhood. He’d made a mistake and had to get away.

Then he remembered Fatz and his promise. Four days later he was checking in at East Midlands Airport, UK. From what he’d been told you could sell half a teenth of crack –(retail ten US Dollars) for forty British pounds and 400% mark up. This was simply unbelievable; apparently you just wrapped it in cling film and didn’t even have to bother with them stupid vials.

Even better over here there were no AK47s, no Gloks and most important of all no blud clat Latinos. OK –part of Deano mourned for the past, the excitement and violence. On reflection though like Fatz said he would ‘take his retirement’ after all he was getting old now. He was twenty fucking five!

The move to the UK, enabled with courtesy and ease thanks to Queen and country (maybe some kind of late apology for it’s dodgy colonial past) was in comparison to his life on the outskirts of Trenchtown going to be so quiet. Nottingham for all its sins was to usher in a new halcyon era in Deano's life. Peace, quiet and beatitude - a deal done by those milky white wraps. He would join the ranks of the many and become a crack coke millionare!.

He was met at the airport by Bum, a gangly youth of nineteen. He knew Bum from days past over in the yard, Bum had been recruited by Fatz Bluey to work as a driver, mule and debt collector. Bum had been doing well for himself. At first he was homesick and hated the English weather, but after spending his first year in and around Nottingham, he realised that life in England was an easy ride.

Bum couldn’t believe that the government paid you for a place to live, put food on the table and the police - Jeez, they left you alone and didn’t try and shoot you or beat you up. Bum told Deano all about this as they got into his car, a VW Golf Gti and a recent purchase. Deano was amazed, "Yo buy this man....after workin’in Notting-ham, how long?"
Bum smiled and then pointed in his mouth to a newly inserted gold tooth, "Yes, blud. The streets of Englerlan....dey paved with gold, eh. Innit........"
"Seen."

It seemed that Fatz had got things organised well over here in the UK. He had loads of youths running drugs for him, lots of contacts and mules. He obviously had some plans for Deano in his little empire. What Fatz didn’t reckon on though was that Deano certainly had plans for Fatz, plans that had been brewing long time.

Plans that had been waiting since the terrible day Deano almost lost his life. His friend, a boy of no more than fifteen, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the Hillman Imp when they made the big delivery wasn't so lucky. He had his brains blown out all over the dashboard.

NO -Fatz Bluey may have forgotten these things but Deano, no he’d never forget.

They soon sped off the M1 and then hit the A roads on the short ride into Nottingham.

A safe house had been arranged in a place called St Anns, part of the inner city.Bum told him that there was ‘many, many workin’gal, Much, much - money......little lil polis. Many smokers, many like to lick da rock...you see, dis good place." When Deano arrived though, he was met by Pablo.
"Where’s Fatz.......bred, he OK?"

Pablo stammered a bit. "Well yo see now - Fatz he not about at mo’ He tell me to sort you out. Then he wanna get me show you tings here. You now the main man, Fatz he da big boss - but he, he have lil problem,"
"Whaydayamean," Deano grabbed him up. Pablo then told him that his bosses behaviour had been a little errant of late.

There were rumours of Fatz having a white girlfriend, one of the girls that worked the beat - but worse it seemed was to come. Fatz was renowned back in Kingston for having more than a liking for strong white rum, but now it appeared he'd gained another ruinous vice.

"Yeah, Fatz he drunk man. Drink a lot. I don’t know......there rumour that he sometimes like to smoke. Smoke the white.........."

All this played a sweet tune in Deano’s ears. He had come as Fatz’s nemesis, but it seems that the fat ponce was already doing enough to contribute to his own undoing. OK, some of the young kids like Bum and Pablo, they still had respect for their elders - but Deano would soon put them right. Fatz had become a victim of his merchandise’s success, he was a bumba clat crack head.

Fatz was probably sat trying to pick up the imaginary flecks of crack from off a carpet somewhere, spangoed on white rum and bowing to every whim of his new ‘girlfriend.’Deano felt revulsion even more for Fatz, but even he detected some pity for the guy, he'd seen what happened to those that went too far in with the crack thing.

A lot of rich whites in the States - once they got licked by this stuff, man they went down so quickly.

All this was good for Deano though, in no time at all he’d be in charge of the operation over here. The good lord had delivered all to him - he wasn’t even going to have to wrestle with Fatz for the business.

He’d heard Pablo tell him enough for now. Bum had brought back a huge meal of rice, peas and chicken stuffin’from the Jamaican Restaurant on the Wells Road. They sat around talking of good times in Jamaica and how easy it was gonna be for them to make their dollar over here. Good times ahead............

That night Deano slept soundly for the first time in days. No more nightmares of Latino’s or waiting for the knock on the door. Now his only dream was of home. His mother safe, solvent and loved and looked after by his brother Karl. Sunset over the fields, the beet and plantations well cared for, the crops brilliant as the Carribean Sun said it's strung out goodbye and kissed the night. He wasn't a bad guy, was he? Not like that bumba rarse clat Fatz. He snuggled his pillow and he thought, all may be well, be well, be well................

After the first month of getting set up, keeping a low profile and arranging for a few deliveries in and out of the East Midlands for Fatz, Deano felt confident enough to carry out his Plan B - a coup d’etat to put Fatz Bluey in his place.

Although Deano had originally anticipated having to kill his old boss - maybe even torture him, he changed his mind. After the trouble in San Francisco he realised he had no stomach for murder. Deano’s plan was to get Fatz Bluey in a place where he would be useful, but completely under his control.

First for his plan he needed some drugs, but not of the kind he retailed himself. Drugs to knock someone out. Drugs to create a total blackout and disorientate. He managed to get some of a working girl called Chrissy who in turn got them off a crack addict Deano knew by the name of Ben. They’d met briefly once and he knew that this guy - he was a clever, computerman - this guy Ben knew all about thing like tablets and what they did.

The drugs in question were a blisterpack of flunitrazepam, street name ‘Roofies’,a drug which had gained notoriety in the media as the date rape drug. Deano was assured that these pills would be perfect for his purposes.

Then he needed a street gal for his plan, but not just any street girl - one he could pass for under sixteen. She would be used as bait - bait to catch a fat fucking fish. He soon found a girl called Laura, she was sixteen and only on the game for a few months. She still looked fresh, looked clean, looked good.

He invited her round to his flat and explained what he wanted her to do. At first she was frightened, she didn’t know Deano well - only his runners Pablo and Bum. What he said scared her - but as the night went on and he told her what Fatz Bluey was like, how he’d left Jamacia in disgrace and how he deserved it, she was won round.

Well, maybe it was Deano’s story, but more likely it was the endless wraps of crack he doled out to her with as they chatted on. That and the promise of more and more. Now Deano had got all his ingredients together - it was time to bake the fucking cake.

They found Fatz Blue, looking hung over and on some kind of a crack comedown in the back room of the Woodborough Pub. Deano, had got some 'business' to discuss about arranging for the next kilo to arrive from London. After buying Fatz a couple of drinks he went to the backyard to telephone Pablo - "Yes, send the gal. Send Laura in....."
Within five minutes Laura arrived, "Oooh hello Deano, can you sort me summat out?"
"OK"
Fatz Bluey rubbed his sore eyes and was immediately transformed into a picture of lechery. After introducing them Deano slipped out again to phone Pablo. All things were going as planned it seemed.
When he got back Laura was working her charms on the corpulent yardie. Deano left - he'd arranged with
Pablo and Bum to meet at the house on Wells Road in three hours time. The fat fish had bit the bait, now he had to be landed.........

After Laura had convinced Fatz to go to a crack house at the bottom of the Chase. Deano and Pablo prepared things in a dingy garage at the back of the house on Wells Road.

When Fatz Bluey awoke he felt like his head had been split in two and it was dark, no in fact he couldn't see a thing - it was like - it was - it was a hood he could feel over his head. He tried to remember what had happened - was this hell? He tried to move but found his hands tied.

What was most terrifying was the smell, a smell that would haunt him for every day he would live. It was a chemical petrol like smell, yes it was petrol!! He panicked and started to hyperventilate. He pissed and shat himself shortly afterwards. He didn't know how long he was like that for.......until he heard Deano's voice.

"Well me bredren. You have really fucked up this time. You are a disgrace - a disgrace to Jamacia. Running off with white gal, drinkin and foolin about all the time. Dis and worse - smokin rock. lickin pipes.......you a clown. A fat fuckin clown, yeh?"

Deano cracked the back end of a replica Smith Weston in his face, kicked Fatz hard a few times and then tore off the hood.
"Yo smell something.....gasoline...." he sniffed the air. He then laughed saying, "Is that pork I smell. Gonna cook me a pig, yes?"

Fatz Bluey started screaming, Deano was now waiving a zippo lighter about, throwing it up in the air and catching it. Fatz Blue looked at where he was lying, he was tied to a chair - but around him was all bedding and linen, all covered damp with petrol.

Deano smashed his in face again, several times with the end of the shooter .
"Now stop, your cryin' and start a pleadin'"
Fatz, begged him to stop. Deano, looked down at him. He was a disgrace, a pathetic figure. He then told him to shut the fuck up - unless he wanted him to accidentally drop that Zippo into the makeshift bed that had been set up in the garage.

Deano explained what he wanted out of Fatz. He would take his phone, his number, his contacts - and the deal was that Fatz would basically be a prisoner in this safe house on the Wells Road. Deano, went on about Fatz crimes, his laziness, his immorality and if Fatz tried to interrupt he was met with a crack from a fist, or a kick in his kidneys.

Deano reminded him of the youths he'd sent to their deaths doing dangerous work back home in the Carribbean. Then Deano sealed things with the blackmail he'd cleverly arranged whislt Fatz had been drugged and sleeping.

On a digital camera, there were various pictures -of things that even Fatz found repellamt, repulsive. Fatz naked in bed with someone (a man it seemed) when he examined the pictures Deano thrust in his face. Fatz with a girl with 'My Little Pony' panties on, she could be no more than maybe twelve? Fatz thought?

In truth the pictures had been set up and contrived - it was Laura and the man was one of Deano's addict clients. After Laura had slipped the crushed flunitrazepam into his rum, Fatz had soon passed out and was then set up and manhandled into various incriminating positions.

You couldn’t really make out exactly what was going on in the shots, or any of the faces apart from Fatz - yes, Fatz was clearly identifiable. (even though he had some kind of white dribble coming out of his mouth)

In Jamaica it was the worst offence to be known as a batty man (homosexual) in the kind of small minded religious communities from where Fatz and Deano had originiated. Fatz shivered as he saw the snaps of himself next to a emaciated naked white man. The pictures with the girl weren’t graphic, but they implied something terrible.

Fatz did have a penchant for young girls but not that young, he tried to justify himself. Deano threatened to send the pictures back home. There was evidence enough to make sure that Fatz's already rock bottom reputation would never, ever recover.

It was enough to gain Deano all the leverage he needed though over Fatz. Fatz begged for forgiveness and told Deano he'd do anything, anything he wanted. All the contacts, all his runners and wokers all over the UK - everything Fatz had Deano would take. Fatz agreed to everything, he was not up it anymore. He realised he'd been stupid, how could he have been foolishness enough to start smoking rock? He thought.......

Deano was pleased, happy - nonetheless, he had to stop himself lighting this human bonfire several times. It was so tasty, it was so sweet! It would have been tempting to set Fatz alight and watch him go spastic on fire.........but then again he didn't want any trouble with the law in the UK, let alone having to clean up mess. Deano had seen people burned alive before. when he worked for Fatz, time ago - the remains looked like blud clat human philadelpia cheese.

The blackmail and mental torture was sufficient.........that and the mess he'd made of Fatz face. Anyway he wasn't going to let Fatz go just yet.

"I'll give you some time for con-sidera-tion, Fatz." he said emphasising the vowels and proceeded to stuff half a cucumber in Fatz mouth. He sealed it with masking tape and put the hood back on. Fatz was left overnight in the garage to contemplate.

Deano wanted to be sure that Fatz would be eating off his hands. As he left him he whispered in Fatz's ear, "Bye then for now. Bye Bye battyman........to tell da troof, I ain't decided what I'm gonna do with ya. Fatz" then he laughed a laugh, full of the mirth of revenge fulfilled.

Deano looked down from the hill and reflected on how easy it had been since his arrival in England. However, there were still some problems. Some of his boys had been shot at and another one robbed of some crack. The amount in question had been small, but it angered Deano. No one in there right mind should mess with him and his yardie bredren, he would surely teach them for their dis-respect.