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repercussions
of telling on a well-connected guy. He knew it could lead to his
death if the word ever got out.
    He expressed this to the agent and was
assured there were ways he could do it anonymously, where Carlos
wouldn’t know. But this was only if he didn’t take it to trial.
    Rich banked he wouldn’t because of the Fed’s
high conviction rate, and tipped the agent a week later that Carlos
would be at a certain spot cooking crack.
    After Carlos’ arrest, Rich broke into his
stash house and made off with ten kilo and two-hundred and fifty
thousand in cash. He then covered up his crime by paying Carlos’
sister the twenty thousand that he owed him and visiting him every
visitation day.
    Rich cruised the streets with his
fourteen-year-old nephew sitting in the passenger seat; he took in
the scenery for the last time. He hadn’t been able to give the
agent C-Jay, and the agent had made good on his promise. It was too
dangerous and less prosperous to stay in Atlanta when everybody
knew that he was an informant.
    “God-lee, Uncle Rich. Why do you have to
leave?”
    “One thing you have to understand is the more
money that you have, the more problems you’re going to have. Before
your daddy passed, he used to tell me that all of the time. But I
didn’t understand it then, ‘cause my money was funny. I know now,
though.”
    “Who’s going to buy my school clothes? You
know momma ain’t going to keep me up to date.”
    “You act like I’m dying. Don’t worry about
none of that, I’m going to send you like a bond a month,” he said,
pulling up in front of his house.
    Rashaun knew a thousand dollar a month would
guarantee that he would stay fresh. But he still didn’t want to see
his uncle leave. “Why can’t I just go with you? That would be
easier for the both of us.”
    “You have to stay and help your momma out
with your brothers. They would be squares without you around. You
got to teach them what me and your daddy taught you. Stay
sucker-free, stand up for what you believe in, and don’t let nobody
take what’s yours.”
    Rashaun thought about that before nodding in
agreement. “Yeah, I got to teach them that. I don’t want no square
biz brothers.”
    Rich laughed. “Come on, help me grab my
stuff.”
    Rich let them in and grabbed two large
suitcases sitting next to the couch. “Go get the smaller suitcases
out of my bedroom.”
    “Okay.”
    Rich headed out of the front door and gasped
when he saw the gunman!
    Tywan tailed the car for the third time this
week, wondering where he was going. Though prepared, he wasn’t sure
if he would make his move today. Rich proved to be a difficult
target because he lacked a pattern.
    Tywan knew if he adapted the kidnapping
method that most robbers used, it would simplify his problem. But
kidnapping was an act he avoided, it was too risky. He had seen a
lot of people go to jail doing it, and he wasn’t about to be
another statistic.
    The Bel Air ran through a changing yellow
light, and Tywan was forced to stop. He waited impatiently for it
to turn green before accelerating in the direction the car
disappeared in.
    “Where this nigga go?”
    Tywan combed the area for five minutes before
finding the Bel Air. It sat in front of a large house, and
everything in Tywan’s being told him that it was now or never. He
got out and approached the house calm but swiftly, just as Rich
stepped out holding two suitcases.
    Rashaun ran into the bedroom in search of the
smaller suitcases. He loved going to his uncle’s houses for various
reasons. One of them being that his uncle never missed things he
stole. His uncle was the type that bought whatever he desired for
the moment. This was the reason why it was extremely hard for him
to remember all of his possessions.
    He glanced back nervously as he unzipped one
of the suitcases. Inside, there were two Ruger handguns molded in a
Styrofoam-like substance. He closed it back and opened the other
one. A big smile spread on his