Read Online Our Man in the Dark by Rashad Harrison - Free Book Online

do. I decipher the things that people want me to know, but don’t want to tell me. And you—well, you’re an easy read. You’re in trouble. A shitload of it. After my boys cleaned up that alley with your ass, you got the nerve to walk back in here like John-fuckin’-Wayne, and without your mysterious white bodyguards. Business proposition? That means you need me to save your ass, and you want to make it worth my while so I don’t kill your ass after I save it. Man, that’s a whole lotta trouble. About twenty grand worth. Now I could be wrong. Maybe you’re here collectin’ donations for Dr. King.”
    He taps off ash, then chomps at his cigar with self-satisfaction. I’ve held many different feelings toward Count: hatred, envy, even fear. Butthis new feeling, respect, makes me disgusted with myself. His contempt and pity for me are quite clear, but in his tone, I detect a bit of disappointment, as if he expects more from me. It makes me think of my father and how I look down on him and Count in much the same way. They are both hard, physical men. How they must look down upon me.
    I hesitate to tell him my plan, but then I consider the trouble I am in. This is not small-time stuff, no vig for the loan shark, or debt owed to the pusher. I am now a player in the game of political intrigue.
    â€œA man that I work with needs to be taught a lesson.”
    â€œThought you Negroes were nonviolent.”
    â€œI don’t want him hurt. I don’t
need
him hurt. I just need you to break into his home and place this where he can see it.” I reveal an envelope from my inside pocket and lay it on the desk.
    â€œNow why can’t you do this yourself?”
    â€œLet’s just say that I lack the agility.”
    â€œDrop it in the mail. I’m not a fuckin’ messenger.”
    â€œThe mail? Presentation is everything. The man comes home and sees this letter waiting for him, nothing damaged, no signs of forced entry—he becomes acutely aware of his vulnerability. He knows that his walls and locked doors can’t protect him. He knows that he can be gotten to.” I lean back in my chair, feeling as if some spirit had just forced me to speak in tongues. I hope that he can decode what I’ve said. I’m not sure I’m capable of translating.
    He is silent and still, except for the subtle twitching of his eyelids. The twitching stops, and then Count smiles. I speak his language.

I slept well last night. That makes me nervous. I am glad that Count and I came to an understanding, but how easily we reached our rapprochement is unsettling. I’ve spent a great deal of energy trying to be accepted by Gant and the rest of the SCLC staff—even Martin—with little return on my efforts. Now, I have fallen in with a crime boss with ease, and the agents are waiting for my call.
    I feel uneasy as I arrange to meet Mathis and Strobe at their office. When I arrive, the agents don’t waste any time introducing me to Bureau efficiency.
    â€œWhat do you have for us, Mr. Estem?” asks Mathis.
    â€œWell, Gant has a childish scheme to buy buses.”
    â€œBuses?”
    â€œTransportation for the marches, he claims.”
    â€œAre there any other uses for these buses that he may have revealed to you?”
    â€œSuch as?”
    Strobe looks at Mathis, but Mathis stays quiet.
    â€œSuch as transporting communist agitators around to influence labor disputes,” offers Strobe.
    Mathis cuts Strobe a look out of the corner of his eye. Even I can see that he has missed the mark.
    â€œNo,” I say, “nothing like that. The fact is I haven’t . . . well, he hasn’t purchased the buses yet. He’s waiting for me to return the money.”
    â€œWhich you haven’t done,” Mathis says.
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    Strobe and Mathis look at each other.
    â€œWhat about King?” they ask simultaneously.
    â€œWhat