No Room for Mercy (63 page)

Obadiah Wickenstaff was a seventy year-old Native American belonging
to the Lakota Indian tribe in South Dakota. He was one of the first
Native Americans in the United States to earn a degree in Neurology
thirty-five years ago from Harvard School of Medicine, the number one
medical school in the country with a $3 billion dollar endowment.
He’d been practicing for nearly four decades, had written
numerous articles on brain activity, was once president of the Board
of Medicine and had sat on three Senate committees to discuss
healthcare reform in the nineties. He was a heavy weight in the
medical field and respected worldwide, and eighteen year-old Bena
Holland was now under his care. When Naomi shook Obadiah’s
hand, she was hit with a calming force. The doctor’s hands were
as soft as marshmallows. They were well-manicured also and Naomi
loved that and much more about the good doctor.

“How’s my daughter doing, Mister Wickenstaff?”

“Please, call me Obadiah. I’m Lakota. What tribe are
you?” the tall, tan-skinned, white-haired high-cheek-boned man
asked lowly.

“Creek.”

“Nice people. Your daughter? Would you like to see her?”

“Can I?” Naomi asked with a smile as the family all
gathered.

Obadiah looked the family over and said, “I’m sorry. I’m
afraid too many people all at once will not be good. I only wanted to
give you a full update and show you what we’re up against. I’m
sorry. I can’t allow everyone at once.”

“We’ll wait, Naomi,” Martha said lowly. “Let
us know how she doing.”

Naomi went in with the doctor and followed him down the hall towards
Bena’s room and the two stood outside of a large window which
featured closed curtains. A nurse wearing a sterile suit and surgical
mask walked up and Obadiah instructed her to pull the curtains back
slowly.

“Why is she dressed like that?” Naomi asked as the nurse
entered the room.

“These rooms are the most sterile rooms in the building, Naomi.
Infection can set in with these kinds of injuries and I prefer to err
on the side of caution. People often joke about eating off the floors
in some places because they are so clean. Here in my unit? It is not
just a statement,” Obadiah said proudly as the curtains were
slowly pulled back.

Naomi removed her hat and glasses, dropped them on the floor and
gasped at the sight. Bena looked like a robot, not a human, not the
once beautiful and vibrant child she had given birth to in July of
1985. She lay on her back naked, her head elevated, being held up by
a neck brace that had straps attached to the ceiling. She was shaved
bald and had a breathing tube inserted into her mouth. Her arms and
legs were spread-eagle and slightly elevated by the slings holding
them up. Her eyes were slightly swollen and shut and her skull was
nearly the size of a small watermelon. Her side was cut open and a
feeding tube was inserted into her stomach and tubes ran from her
private area to drain urine. She looked nothing like herself and it
pained Naomi to see her daughter in such a debilitating condition.

“It isn’t as bad as it looks, Naomi.” Obadiah said
as five people dressed in business suits approached the two.

“How could it not be as bad as it looks? This is horrible,”
Naomi said as she covered the lower portion of her face.

“I’ll admit, we’re not out of the dark. We have a
twenty percent chance things can go wrong, but I’m doubting
that highly. We’re monitoring Bena’s brain closely to
counteract a buildup of fluid, which is nonexistent, and the swelling
is subsiding. It’s retracting slowly, but it’s
subsiding.”

“What is all the equipment here,” Naomi asked as she eyed
a panel of instruments before her and Obadiah.

“This here,” Obadiah said happily as he pointed to the
computerized panel situated outside of the window. “This is a
state-of-the-art brain and heart monitor. Bena’s cat-scan
showed remarkable recovery only a day after her injury. So much so,
scientists from MIT have come to study her progress. I hope you don’t
mind?”

“That has to be the best news I’ve heard since this
ordeal began.”

“Thank you. Bena was hit with a fragment of a bullet that
pierced the skin of her skull on the right side and just barely
penetrated her left temporal lobe. The temporal lobe affects memory
and the comprehension of speech. Bena should not be able to recognize
names or react to words, but she does. What has sparked our curiosity
for study is Bena’s response when the nurse told her Tiva was
present. The heart monitors went ballistic and there was heavy brain
activity. Other words, however, like dog, sunshine, happy birthday,
any other word gets little response.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“My hypothesis is that Bena hasn’t lost her memory. That
means that there is little damage done to the brain, but her actions
could also be attributed to the fact that it was her twin in her
presence. Twins, especially identical twins, they have a very unique
bond, even able to feel one another’s pain in some cases.”

“My sisters had that ability a while back.”

“It comes and goes in some instances. What I want to do now, is
announce your presence. See what kind of response we get. Would you
mind? These people are engineers from MIT, by the way. They’re
the ones who’ve built this computerized system.”

“I don’t mind at all, Obadiah.” Naomi said as she
nodded at the staff. “Thank you for what you’re doing.”

“It is our pleasure,” an older woman said lowly. “We
wish you and your family all the best and a speedy recovery for
Bena.” she ended as she stepped back.

Naomi watched as Obadiah and the nurse used sign language to
communicate. “I gave my nurse your name and relationship and
told her to announce your presence. Here we go guys,” Obadiah
told the engineers as he gently grabbed Naomi’s hand, soothing
her nerves a little. “Let’s see what happens, Naomi.”

Naomi was on pens and needles. She knew not what to expect from this
impromptu experiment on her oldest daughter. The nurse leaned forward
and Naomi watched the lady, unable to hear her words, but clearly
reading her lips as she mimicked the words:
Bena, your mother
Naomi is here.

The engineers gasped and Naomi let loose with a wide smile when the
heart monitors began accelerating. The brain patterns on the computer
screen intensified and for a brief second, Bena’s eyes opened.
Naomi and Obadiah both saw it; the wounded eighteen year-old had
looked her mother square in the eyes for a couple of seconds before
she closed her eyes once more. Through swollen eyes and in her
wounded state, Bena still had the strength to pull her eyes open and
see her mother. No one was certain if she’d even recognized her
mother, but her actions were inspiring.

Naomi and the family would stay in town another two days before
leaving for Oklahoma, leaving behind Tiva and Dawk, who’d been
hiding out over to Malik’s house in Maplewood during the
family’s visit.

Tiva and Junior, meanwhile, would set up in the waiting room and
receive updates from Obadiah every three hours during his shift and
would report back to Naomi, who was down on the ranch preparing for
another round of sorrow amidst an on-going retaliatory move being
conducted by various members of the family.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

EXPOSED

DeeDee sat in Naomi’s old bedroom inside Kevin and Serena’s
old home back in Cicero sipping a cup of coffee. Naomi and the family
had all made it back to the ranch earlier in the day and were
preparing to bury his son as he sat alone watching the block as the
sun set.

A lot was on DeeDee’s mind. For one, he didn’t like the
way he had to move around ever since the day his son had been killed.
Second, he wasn’t sure if he was even going to make his son’s
funeral. And third, he felt as if the plan Naomi had put together was
falling apart because he’d been waiting for days and hadn’t
encountered anyone. He’d suggested getting rid of everybody all
at once, but Naomi felt her way would be better because the family
could clean their own house, find out who was involved in Doss’s
shooting and exact revenge at a later date once the heat subsided.

Images of his son as a child filled DeeDee’s mind. Doss was a
fun-loving lad, but DeeDee had known early on that his son had it in
him to be a gangster the whole time because he was a fearless youth
who tried his best to imitate him at all times. When he was a kid,
Doss loved wagons. It carried over into adulthood when he started his
family. DeeDee laughed to himself as he reminisced over Doss pulling
his children across the land in his flannel shirt shortly after he
arrived on the ranch for the first time. He was a good father and
husband, better than DeeDee could have ever hoped to be and had
accomplished much more in life. The tears soon rolled down DeeDee’s
cheeks and he sat alone and wept aloud, missing his son tremendously,
but having the understanding that what’d happened was a part of
the business they were involved in.

“
It shoulda been me, son,”
DeeDee cried aloud as
he bowed his head and heaved, finally able to release his grief alone
and in silence.

Time ticked by slowly as DeeDee poured cup after cup of coffee,
trying his best to stay awake. He’d stopped over to
Eastside
Bar
and talked to his contact on the force earlier in the day.
The man had given him a rolled up joint after DeeDee went into a long
dialogue about his son’s life. The officer told DeeDee that the
weed would help him open up to himself. DeeDee laughed at the time,
but he realized the officer was right because the weed had brought
back long forgotten memories of his son’s childhood, memories
he would cherish the rest of his days. After several more tokes,
DeeDee coughed aloud and covered his mouth as if someone could
actually hear him.

DeeDee was going through an array of emotions as he reflected on the
tragedy that had been thrust upon his family and what he would do
with the remainder of his life once this last job was complete. The
potent Mary Jane begin taking full affect as the seventy-five
year-old sat calmly, his eyes focused on Serena’s house
directly across the street from where he sat in seclusion and just as
Naomi had predicted, they’d arrived.

Three men pulled up in a dark brown cargo van and exited the vehicle
and trotted down the side of the house towards the backyard. DeeDee
got up from his seat at that moment and went and stood in the foyer
just as two Cicero patrol cars pulled up to the home. He went and sat
in Mendoza’s Cadillac and watched as his contact and three
other officers emerged from the side of the house with three men in
handcuffs and escorted them to the waiting patrol cars.

When the officers left the scene, DeeDee headed over to
Eastside
Bar
and waited for a couple of hours and an officer from the
Cicero police department tapped on the door. The man was let in and
while he and DeeDee shared a dry scotch, the officer handed DeeDee
three photos along with the names of the men who’d tried to
break into Serena’s old home.

“Bahdoon ‘Q-man’ LuQman. Cesar ‘Big Bounce’
Guerrera, and Pancho ‘Dead Eye’ Vera,” DeeDee said
as he eyed the photos. “We’ve been looking for this
Somali for some time now. Been had his picture, but we could never
finger the guy.”

“They said they were supposed to be going to a party when we
busted them. Can you believe that shit? What a bunch of idiots,”
the officer laughed as he downed his drink.

“They’ll be going to a party alright,” DeeDee said
as he slid the officer a satchel containing $50,000 dollars in cash.
“What can you charge them with that will have them back on the
streets say within a year or so?”

“Burglary. None of the guys have a jacket so I say sixteen
months max? Maybe less for good behavior, but they won’t be a
problem until next summer at the earliest once my guys are done.”

“It’s been a pleasure, my man. This place is all yours
now,” DeeDee said as he escorted the officer out of the bar. He
then locked up the place, handed the officer the keys to the
establishment, and went and visited Bena before returning to the
ranch two days later to attend his son’s funeral.

The crew from Fox Park had played right into the Holland family’s
hands by sending men who were under the belief that they were going
to kill two Asian men on this night, but they’d landed in the
middle of a well-orchestrated trap set up by Naomi herself; and at
the same time, the crew’s mole was clearly exposed. The ducks
were lining up for the family. DeeDee had done his part, the plan
would now shift to Mendoza, who was already on the ranch with
Francine readying for Doss’s celebration with the rest of the
family.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THE DAY

Naomi stood on the front porch staring at Mary’s refrigerated
produce trailer, which was parked in the field to her right. The
trailer was surrounded by a white fence and had yellow carnations
resting on its top. Red carnations surrounded the bottom of the
trailer inside the fence and a wooden stair case was placed at the
rear leading up to the trailer doors.

Inside the trailer rested Doss’s coffin. Morticians in Saint
Louis had provided the services, supplying the family with a black
marble casket with chrome handles and
Doss Dawki
ns engraved in
diamonds on the top. A black silk suit covered Doss’s body and
he wore a pair of black gator shoes. Naomi stood alone in her black
all-in-one dress, eyeing the trailer sadly in silence as she
reminisced about the good times she and Doss had shared throughout
their storied relationship and past history.