Lee Williams, Harassment Agent - Episode 3

by Lee Williams

(This story is a complete work of fiction.)

Washington D.C.

Pierre pulled to the side.

"Holy shit," I said.  "That was something."

He turned and looked at me, like this was my fault, but didn't say anything.

"What?" I asked.

"So, are they killing me and you when they clean house?  Or just you."

He knew that I knew the answer, but it also wasn't me who got him into this mess.  He was just in it.

"Whoever gave you this number -"

"Leon.  Leon f*cking Manna."

"Okay," I said.  "Leon either didn't know about this or wants you disposed of."

"Motherf*cker... I should have gone to Ireland like he said."

"What the hell even happened?"

"I don't know," Pierre said.  "I was friends with this junkie lawyer named Lenny...  Using that word, lawyer, loosely... And then he introduced me to this drug-addled hacker type named Leon.  They needed me to steal a boat.  Anyway those two idiots got arrested in Miami and I dipped before they could nab me too.  They managed to beat most of their cases, somehow. And then I got locked up for getting in a bar fight that turned into a murder and called Leon, who told me to call a number, which I did.  Next day the warden said I was being released.  When I got out, some old bald guy with a mustache picked me up, said I had to pay, and that I was theirs now.  So he sent me to that bar you met me at."

"That was Ray.  I assume Leon didn't screw you then, but they're still gonna take you out anyway.  That's what they do."

"Have they ever done this before?" he asked.

"I only saw them do it once...  Everyone was wiped out of the organization except for me and Valentina.  I think I was 19."

"How old are you now?"

"21."

"Christ.  So what do we do?" Pierre asked.

"We have some options.  But I think our best bet to stay out of jail is to stick to murder capitals.  Alternatively we can go out of the country.  Like a bitch.  My aunt has a house in Canada.  Well, she did.  It's mine now."

Pierre was silent.

Me and Pierre went downtown and got coffee.  We sat down at a coffee shop in some rich, stinking neighborhood called Georgetown.  Named after a dead president who was here all those years ago...  And here I am now.  Again.

Then me and him walked to an Irish pub near the waterfront.

Sitting in the bar, we hatched a plan.

I sipped my Modelo.  "We could go to Cuba."

"Nah," Pierre said.  "I knew a guy who tried to do that."

"And?"

Pierre laughed.  "It was one of the guys I was talking about.  Leon.  Lenny the Lawyer's friend.  He got arrested on the dock.  And then by the grace of god, somehow, didn't get incarcerated for any of the stuff he did.  He got lucky, a bad prosecutor and a lazy judge.  He pled guilty to some drug charges though."

"Well," I asked.  "Where are they at now?"

"Lenny Cruz, his friend, is dead.  Leon is alive, kinda."

"What do you mean?"

Eh... his brain is kinda... done.  Or some part of him is not the same.  It's hard to explain.  He's on drugs, I think."

"You have a warrant for your arrest, right?"

"What does it matter," he said.  "We're f*cked one way or another."

I had a flashback to being a teenager, here, in D.C.  I remembered one of the guys who saw me grow up.  I knew he was still here.  But some deep, instinctual part of me knew that it wasn't the time to reach out.

Arlington, Virginia

I mixed some of my crypto, sold it at an exchange, withdrew it to my bank account I have set up under someone else's name, and went out to a shitbox motel in Arlington, Virginia to get a bus ticket somewhere else.  That could all change if That Friend Of Mine picks up.

"It's 50 degrees right now," I said to Pierre.

"It's going to be 25 degrees there and it's snowing.  My aunt's house has no heat, and we'll need snow tires.  She lives off a dirt road."

"So what the hell do we do?"

"I say we go south.  I wanna go to South Carolina.  Or Florida."

"Whatever dude, at this point I've kind of accepted my fate," he said.  "Just don't get us arrested."

"Arrested?  I was planning to just pump fake on the cops.  Hopefully they'll shoot me."

I canceled the tickets and bought another set for Jacksonville, Florida.  The next available bus was at two in the morning, but I decided to take it anyway.  We arrived at the bus terminal and got on.  I took some Seroquel, and passed out.

I had a dream on that bus ride.

It was when I got pinched in 2022.  Last time I got grabbed.  For possession of marijuana.  And then somehow JB was involved, and I remembered his email, which he never, ever got locked out of no matter what.  And I reached out and the whole time he wasn't dead.

And then I was driving down Atlantic Boulevard, in Morehead City, North Carolina, and a girl was in my passenger seat.  Can't remember who, but it was someone from a long time ago.  Someone who I thought I had forgotten.  And I was just driving down the road, citation flying out the window, but I was still gonna go to my court date.  If I didn't, they'd put a warrant for my arrest.  And then I crashed out into a pole.

I was standing at a payphone, under a palm tree in some downtown area.  BellSouth, or Bell Atlantic, or something.  It was night time.  I started smoking Lucky Strikes.  The street lamp was flickering.  Suddenly that phone rang.

I picked it up.

"August," a female voice said.  "They're gonna get you."

I could recognize that voice anywhere.  It wasn't Valentina's.  It was a girl from another life that I lost a long time ago.

"I think," I said, heavily, "you have the wrong number."

"No.  You don't really look like a Lee, you know that?  Always thought you looked more like an Anthony.  You may as well have stuck with an Italian name."

"Whatever."

"This dream you're living in is silly," the familiar voice said.  "Don't go to Jacksonville.  Bad things are waiting for you there.  What are you doing?"

"I'm going," I said.  "I'm sorry."

Suddenly I wasn't on the phone anymore, I was on a couch, in the abandoned house, in Maryland.  I was 19.  Andres was standing by the window.  Looking out at flashing lights.  Then turned to look at me.

I woke up in South Carolina, took a piss, and dreamed a dreamless sleep until I woke up in Jacksonville.  I wrote an email to JB, with absolutely no idea if he'd even receive it, and booked a motel on Airport Road.  Pierre was nowhere to be found, but he had my Signal.  I checked in via a cab and fell asleep in the motel.  At 5 am I awoke to my Signal ringing.

INCOMING CALL: UNKNOWN

I picked it up.

"Hello?" I said sleepily.

"Is this August?"

I snapped up in bed immediately.  I know that accent.  "John?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus Christ, I thought you were dead.  Yeah, it's me.  I go by Lee now."

"No, I was committed to a mental hospital.  And you don't look like a Lee."

"Welcome back, I guess," I said.  "How are you doing?"

"By now I've made over a million dollars and am in the top 1% of my country."

We spent the next couple hours on the phone and messaging via Signal discussing what was going on with him and me, until the sun rose.  I told him I was in Jacksonville, and he asked why.

"I'm running."

He was quiet for a second, over the phone.

"Since we fell out of contact," he said.  "I got rich.  And I think, after all the favors you've done me, as a foot soldier... the no pay jobs you did... and sticking through all the shit I had going on...  I'm giving you and someone else 10k."

"What do you mean," I said.  "Someone else?"

"I've had multiple constituents this whole time."

"Yeah," I said.  "I figured that much.  I had a feeling it wasn't just me."

"You're each getting 10k, for helping as my main constituents."

"God bless you," I said.  "I really did think you were 6 feet."

"No.  I needed the meds, though.  I was manic."

"I assume you have some work you need done, then."

"Yeah," he said.  "Do you need help?"

"I'm in deep shit, John."

By 8 am, Pierre was nowhere to be found and I was alone in Florida.  I looked around, and tried to make something of my situation.  HHH, it is evident they don't want me anymore.  Johnny is back though, Johnny Boy.  And this third figure who I have yet to speak with.  And now I had an extra 10k in my pocket.

The first part was getting more.  It was apparent to me that Bitcoin was on an up-and-up type wave, so I made sure to keep it in BTC so I could keep earning every day.  And when it seems like the price has gone so far up, and you've won so much you feel tired of winning, that's when you pull.

I also needed a place to discreetly rent.  If you ever want to discreetly rent, go on Craigslist.  I looked around for a while, until I found a place, and reached out.  It was a short drive out of Jacksonville, way out in the swamp, called Baldwin.  I checked out the room, and everything looked good.  Then I used the money from that aforementioned up-and-up to put down a deposit.  Finally, when they asked for ID, I showed them the one that says "Lee Williams."

In case it wasn't apparent, I've been living under a number of synthetic identities for 2 years.  I do this with a combination of realistic false documents, credit privacy numbers, and lies I tell myself and the people around me.  Credit privacy numbers, in particular, I find interesting.  There's a website that anyone can access where you can check whether an SSN is in use or not.  If you find one that isn't in use, you can then work with that to slowly and surely create a "fake person" if you put the right info in the right places.  And with that, you can open lines of credit, rent cars, the whole 9 yards.  But me, I was never flashy with it.

And all this took, to rent a living space, was just a picture of my false documents.

I looked out at the sunset from my window.  I was tired.  I didn't want to think.  My mind couldn't take it anymore.  The place and time I was at the beginning of this story had already started to feel foreign to me.  I wasn't sure how much more I could endure.  I didn't know where Pierre was, or if I could even call any of my old associates, or if I should do anything at all.  And my standing with Johnny Boy, it's back.  Where I go from here is completely unknown to me.  But at the very least, it's a known unknown.  I'm aware of its existence, or lack thereof.  But would they find me here?

What if I went in circles?  What if I traveled constantly, never staying in one place too long?  What if I ran and made them run?

And as for if I'd ever get my get-back on Ray, I'll find out.

7 missed calls from Valentina Garcia.

Soundtrack

Track Meet - Migo Lee

Cold Blood - Peter Tosh

It Was Only a Dream - Joey Quinones

Duke of Earl - Alton Ellis