Luckee Lynx: The World Needs a Hero to Take Down Wall Street Read online
Luckee Lynx
The World Needs a Hero to Take Down Wall Street
TJ McKaye
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Author’s Note
Free Offer: The Plague Walker
About TJ McKaye
Chapter One
RULE ONE OF THE DARK WEB
Pelham, New York State
Summer 1996
Eduardo’s gun gleamed in the evening light as he tucked it into his shoulder holster.
“This guy Luckee ain’t a treat,” he scoffed, as he pulled his jacket closer. “He’ll fold like the rest, we just gotta push him.”
Carlos shook his head. He didn’t take his hands off the wheel as the battered Ford Bronco jounced over the pothole-ridden street. “You know Hector Flores, ran with La Familia Michoacán?”
“What if I do?”
“He gone. Double-crossed Luckee in a deal. Next day, La Familia’s bank accounts disappeared. Two days later, cops pick him up for murder. He’s up for fifteen at Riker’s.”
The news made Eduardo sit up straight. The seat’s rusty springs gave a creak.
“Hector never offed no one!”
“That’s right.” Carlos turned the Bronco down a dingier, darker side street. “Luckee hacked into the police department’s database. Swapped evidence with a gangbanger and pinned it all on Hector.”
“You’re messing with me, primo. This nerd a magician? I ain’t believing that shit!”
“Don’t matter what you believe. This guy can erase lives with a click. Don’t cross him, cousin. Keep that nine-iron under your jacket.”
Eduardo shifted restlessly in his seat. The gun was a solid, reassuring weight against his side.
The Bronco’s motor slowed to a grumble as Carlos pulled into the parking lot behind an old warehouse. Broken windows glinted against the sunset, boarded up doorways speaking to a sad end to the building. Dim streetlights illuminated a group of four men standing next to a pair of Dodge Chargers. The lot’s outer fence ran close behind them.
Carlos put the vehicle in park, shut the motor off and got out. Eduardo followed suit. Their steps sounded abnormally loud in the sudden silence as they walked up to the fence.
Three of the four men watched warily as they approached. The fourth one took a step forward. A pale face jutted out from beneath a black hoodie. The sweatshirt hung loose around a lean, slender frame.
“The package is up against the fence, twenty yards to your right,” he said, in a young, high-pitched voice. “Either of you can pick it up and verify I’ve delivered what you want. If it checks out, then you will pay the agreed amount. You will not exit the premises until we signal that we have counted the bills.”
“Fine. I’ll pick it up,” Carlos said. He headed towards where a small cardboard box had been propped up against a support post.
Eduardo scowled at the hoodie-wearing figure.
“You’re…” he finally said. “You’re just a kid.”
A pause. “The name’s Ti. And yeah, I’m a kid. A kid who scored you your shipment.”
“Bet you can’t even shave, chico. Itty baby chico.”
“The fuck you care, asshole?”
One of the remaining three men stepped forward to stand next to him. He easily doubled Ti’s height and weight and it was all muscle.
“Better watch your mouth, Eduardo. You got a rep for shooting it off without thinking.”
Eduardo laughed. “I know you! You’re Sherman Harris’ kid. What happened to you, Jamal? How’d you start playin’ bodyguard for a computer nerd?”
Jamal’s face remained impassive. “Just get your package and move along.”
Carlos jogged up to his cousin. The box lay open in his hand.
“It checks out. We’re paying.” He turned towards Ti and pressed a wad of bills into his hand. “It’s…it’s an honor to meet you. I been watchin’ your work. Don’t know how you do half that stuff you pull, though.”
Eduardo snorted. “An honor? We’re lucky this wasn’t a fuckin’ school night. Yeah, maybe that’s why they call him ‘Luckee’ online.”
Ti’s eyes narrowed. His three companions stared in anger at Eduardo.
“The hell you doing?” Carlos demanded. “You don’t say that name out loud, Eduardo!”
“Rule number one of doing business over the dark web,” Ti stated, glaring at the man. “Never address someone by their online handle.”
“The fuck I care, asshole?” Eduardo sneered. “That was one package. Now, we want the second one. The one you sniped from us online.”
Ti shrugged. “He who bids first and highest wins.”
Carlos stepped back and whispered urgently into his cousin’s ear.
“We didn’t offer to buy the second package!”
“But we know he has it,” came the whispered reply. “We push for it, he’ll fold.”
 
; Eduardo raised his voice as he looked over to Ti.
“You comin’ between me and what I want? You have any idea who I run with? Who backs up my plays?”
“The dark web doesn’t give a shit,” Ti shot back. “Not about gang zones, alliances, or how big your dick isn’t.”
Eduardo’s voice grew harsh and demanding. “I have a supplier commitment, Mister Luckee. We had an agreement. You better give me that package.”
Ti shook his head. “I don’t sell some things. No weapons. No biohazards. And no hard narcotics. That’s my rule.”
“Really? Then this is my rule.”
Eduardo went for his shoulder holster, pulling his Glock free. Jamal lunged forward, grabbing Eduardo’s arm as the gun went off with a bang.
The bullet whined off into the falling night. Ti didn’t flinch at the sound. He stood quietly, watching in amusement as his other two men joined in. They flung Carlos’ cousin on the ground and began to deal out a beating. Eduardo screamed as he took a series of vicious blows and kicks.
“Please!” Carlos gulped. “Don’t be killin’ him, he’s family.”
After a few moments, Ti snapped his fingers. His three men backed off. Jamal handed Ti the Glock from where it had fallen. Eduardo moaned and rolled to one side as he retched and threw up.
Ti knelt next to where the man lay bleeding on the ground. His voice remained even and utterly in control.
“Your full name is Eduardo Nunez Garcia. Your father is Ray Garcia, the Bronx kingpin. He supplies a half-dozen grades of meth and coke to the Upper West Side, as well as automatic weapons to the dealers down there. I knew that you’d have the cash to pay us. But you’re also trouble. I knew that we’d be dealing with your type.”
“Type? You mean Latino?” Eduardo gritted, between coughs. “You some kind of racist?”
“Puleeze, I’m half Puerto Rican, que estúpido. You’ve been in and out of out of juvie three times. The shipment back on the fourteenth to the Mendoza warehouse was reported missing by your dad’s henchman, Junito. Papa Nunez’ crew is prepping to put a hit on the Mendoza cartel since they believe them to be the ones who stole the shipment. But the CCTV cam in that facility shows exactly who took it…and it wasn’t the cartel.”
“The hell?” Eduardo gasped.
“Get this through your thick skull. Come near me or any of my people and the footage is released to Papa Nunez and to the authorities.”
Ti stepped back as Carlos helped his cousin to his feet. The two men staggered back to the Bronco. After loading the groaning Eduardo inside, Carlos came back and spread his hands in supplication.
“I’m sorry, Ti man. I thought he could hold his cool, but he thought you could get us the second package.”
“You know the rules, Carlos. Never cite someone’s online handle. Here’s your new job: Get your cousin to understand that he can’t bully his way to getting what he wants.”
“Of…of course,” Carlos stuttered in fear.
“Once you drop him off, I better not hear of you hanging with him again.” Ti warned. “You heard what I said about Papa Nunez. If I have to release that footage, then all you and your cousin have left to decide is which way you’re gonna try to run.”
Carlos swallowed hard. He retreated until he got back into the Bronco. Ti watched without comment as the SUV backed up and zoomed off.
Jamal’s voice rumbled in his ear.
“Maybe we should’ve ended those pendejos. Make an example of them.”
“We don’t end people’s lives. Ruining them if they cross me is enough.” Ti pointed to his remaining two men. “Pick up the second package and lock it in my storage unit. Then, you’re off for the night.”
He got a pair of quiet ‘yes sirs’ in reply.
“You play it close, Ti,” Jamal said, as they walked over to the pair of muscle cars. “Close and tight.”
Ti’s face broke out in a faint smile for the first time that night as he got into the passenger seat. “We’ve got enough on those two. They’ll stay scared. And that’s all I need.”
The Dodge Charger roared to life. One rumbled across the lot towards the freeway. Jamal headed north towards New Rochelle. He lit a cigarette and took a drag as they made their way across the town’s neon-lit main streets and on to the run-down outskirts.
“Here you are, boss.” Jamal pulled up to a tired-looking house. “You still want your order of Yoo-hoo?”
“I’m just a kid, right? Of course, I do.”
“I wish I could stop you from doing ‘em.” Jamal pulled out a bag of white powder with one hand. In the other, he held a bottle of the chocolate drink.
“Thanks.” Ti took both bottle and powder and opened the door to exit.
“Ti, I don’t get it,” Jamal blurted. “I mean, you drop out of school. You mess around with computers. You sell shit over the web to gangs and dangerous muthafuckers and make all this dough. Why you stayin’ here, in this hole?”
Ti looked away for a second. “It’s my home. To be specific, it’s the only place I could build a network behind hundreds of servers where no one can find out who I am.”
Jamal took another drag. “Luckee, huh?”
He got Ti’s trademark wry grin in reply. “That’s what they know me as.”
Chapter Two
YOU CAN HAVE THEM ALL
Six Years Earlier
The boy fled through the courtyard, his breath wheezing in his chest. Round-lensed eyeglasses bounced on the end of a long nose like a teeter-totter. His curly black hair topped a worn denim jacket and a set of dingy yellow sweatpants.
He pulled up short, his scrawny frame heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
“Riley!” he gasped. “They’re after me!”
Tim Riley steadied his friend by grabbing his shoulders. He dropped the paper flyer he was holding, and it fell to the pavement.
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“What are you talking about, Stevie?” he asked. “Who’s after you?”
“Zach and Kevin Bryant. They’ve got their crew with them.”
Tim looked over Stevie’s shoulder. Sure enough, he saw the two brothers approaching. They had their trademark arrogant smirks on their faces, and they had two more grade-school thugs in tow.
“Why’d you get those two pissed off at you?”
“Class rankings were just updated. I’m now at the top. But you know how the Bryant brothers are. They’ll make my life hell. They’ll kill me!”
Tim took one more look and made his decision.
“Stevie, take off!”
“But what’re you doing–”
“I said take off!”
Stevie nodded and sprinted around the corner. Tim turned back just as the Bryants strode up to him. The two brothers each had a muscular build, parted hair and red Junior Varsity jackets.
“Zach! Kevin!” Tim shouted. “Don’t blame Stevie. It was me!”
The two brothers stopped. “What are you talking about, loser?”
“I’ve been doing Stevie’s homework and assignments,” Tim lied. “He’s been paying me to get the high grades to reach the top. He had no intention of outranking you. It was me.”
His heart rate skyrocketed as Zach walked up and gave him a hostile glare. Tim Riley wasn’t as reed thin as Stevie Biros, but he looked even more threadbare. His faded Kansas City Royals Jersey and Airwalk shoes looked as if they’d been bought at the local thrift store. His dark eyes burned in a slight, pale face, but that wasn’t going to count for much in a fight.
Zach Bryant proved as much by throwing a lightning-fast right hook at the boy’s face. To Tim, it felt like his cheekbone had collided with a bowling ball thrown down the alley. He saw stars.
The next thing he knew, he was down on the ground, his nose pressed against the cool concrete sidewalk. He rolled to one side, but his legs had gone all rubbery so he couldn’t rise.
“Tim the terrible retard!” Zach
taunted him. “Come on, get up so Kevin can take a turn smashing your face in.”
“Nah, leave him,” Kevin said. “He’s just a sixth-grade loser. You’re not going to get anything out of this New Rochelle deadbeat.”
“Damn right, he’s a deadbeat!” Zach bent down and whispered in Tim’s ear. “You’re just a computer-loving fag from a trailer park family. Whose family name is on this school, dipshit?”
Tim gritted his teeth. “Yours.”
“Fucking right. Your shit name isn’t on it, nor is that Haji Biros! My family’s name is. And no one outranks me in Math. Got it? Next time that happens, you’re gonna be worm food.”
Zach, his brother, and his friends laughed at that. Tim closed his eyes and listened as the gang walked off. He didn’t open them until their cruel laughter had faded away. He began to gradually stand up. Left Foot. Right Foot.
Blood dripped from his left cheek as he hobbled off. He picked up the pace to a run as he passed East 3rd Street and Coriliss Avenue. No one came chasing after him. He slowed to a jog, and then to a walk.
The typical six block journey home from Bryant Academy was the merging of the classes. Colonials and Victorians built of stone on acre-plus lots were surrounded by verdant decadence at the start. By Bernard’s Avenue, Cape Cods and Bungalows with two car garages were the norm.
From out of nowhere, a car’s horn blared at him. Beep! Beep!
Tim quickly turned and was surprised to see a familiar Mercedes L Class swerve across the empty street. It parked by the curb next to him. The driver’s side window lowered.
“Baaaaaaaa!” someone shouted from inside. Tim jumped back.
“What the hell?” he cried.
The man behind the driver’s wheel guffawed.
“Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. Relax! It’s ya Dad.”
Ronald Riley leaned on his elbow as he looked out the car’s window. He wore an expensive suit with a loosened tie and a pair of loafers. The two top buttons on his dress shirt were unbuttoned.
That made Tim frown in confusion. He hadn’t seen his dad with two buttons loose since they went to the batting cages the year before.
“What’s the matter?” Ronald asked. He gestured at his son to come closer, and then pointed to the blossoming bruise on Tim’s cheek. “I see you threw a few punches at school today, yeah?”
Luckee Lynx: The World Needs a Hero to Take Down Wall Street