Thin Ice 6 - Hangman & Socrates

  Thin Ice 6 – Hangman & Socrates

  By

  KR Bankston

  All rights reserved. No part of this series of books may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including, photocopying, recording, taping or by an information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author or publisher except in the event of quotes embodied in articles and reviews.

  The work is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2010 KR Bankston. All rights reserved.

  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Preface

  “Lauren, I promised Carlo I would look after you,” he told her, his voice getting weaker as he fought to breathe. Stepping back she allowed the nurse who’d entered the room to check his vitals, turning up his oxygen. She injected something into his IV that seemed to calm him immediately, then as quickly as she entered, left them alone again. “Morphine is a wonderful drug,” Socrates told her, beginning again and sounding somewhat stronger.

  “I’ll be fine Socrates, I’m a big girl now,” Kaitlyn tried to reassure him. He smiled again, holding her hand yet another time. “I know, but I’m a man of my word and I keep my promises,” he returned. “So Lauren, I’m leaving you, but he will be here to protect and care for you,” Socrates spoke, causing Kaitlyn to frown slightly, confused who he was talking about. She thought perhaps the morphine had made him delusional, but after a brief silence, looking past her, he spoke again. “Hangman’s daughter,” he began as Kaitlyn continued to watch him wordlessly. “Socrates son,” he said simply, as she felt the arms encompass her waist, and the voice invade her senses. “I love you KiKi,” Ian told her softly, as she stopped breathing, the room spun and she passed out.

  Ian “Ice” Bailey and Kaitlyn “KiKi” Ross have a destiny. Their lives have been filled with one tumultuous, tempestuous, occurrence after the other. Finally fate, divine destiny, or just plain bad luck, depending on one’s point of view, has brought them together as man and wife, and more importantly as business partners.

  But who is responsible for the larger than life shadows that both Ice and KiKi cast? Why is the name Hangman Cisneros still enough to strike fear into men’s heart? Who was Socrates the Philosopher? Thin Ice 6: The Hangman and the Philosopher, answers those and other questions by taking you back into the past, so you can understand the present, and foresee the future.

  Warning: this story deals with mature subject matter and it is extremely explicit and graphic in certain portions. It is not for children, or the faint of heart. If you think you can handle it however, please, open the door and walk in the world of The Association, and see how it all began.

  For Chicago’s African American community it was the biggest trial of the decade. The FBI had finally managed to bring down The Association; the nucleus of the city’s drug, gambling, and prostitution business. At the center of all the proceedings were the alleged leader, Carlo “Hangman” Cisneros, and his right hand, Cartier “Socrates” Lemmings. The courtroom had been packed every day for the last two weeks since the trial began and today was no exception. Hope Cisneros was in her usual spot, directly behind her brother and the defense table. The trials were being held separately. The District Attorney tried unsuccessfully to turn the two men against each other and testify for them. Neither Carlo nor Cartier budged.

  “All rise,” the bailiff bellowed as everyone stood and waited on the burly Caucasian to take his seat behind the bench.

  “Is the state ready to continue its presentation,” he asked, giving the DA a look.

  The slightly balding fifty something prosecutor replied that he was. Nodding slightly the judge told them to proceed.

  Calling their next witness, Hope once again endured the damning testimony concerning her brother’s illegal and illicit dealings. She listened as yet another member of Carlo’s organization took the stand and told all he knew about the operations, driving nail after nail into his proverbial coffin. She knew Carlo would never see freedom again after this trial and while she’d reconciled herself to that fact, it still hurt to hear the vile things his accusers described him initiating or taking part in. The morning seemed to drone on forever until they finally dismissed for lunch. As always, Hope waited for her brother to turn around and acknowledge her presence, and as always, he left the courtroom without doing so. Sighing deeply she rose and headed into the hallway stopping at the bank of pay phones in the lobby, readying herself to make a call.

  “Hey, aren’t you Hope Cisneros,” one of the reporters called out, recognizing her.

  Before she could react she was being swarmed by reporters with cameras and microphones pushed in her face.

  “Back the fuck off,” Roderick growled, stepping in front of her.

  The reporters quickly retreated as he turned and asked her if she were okay.

  “I’m fine, Roderick,” Hope replied smiling slightly. “Thank you,” she added as he smiled again and asked her to get coffee.

  Roderick accompanied Hope back into the courtroom where they were getting ready to begin again. Sighing deeply she stoically sat waiting for the prosecution to present yet another expert witness.

  “Your honor at this time,” the DA began again. “The state calls Dr. Kaitlyn Ross to the stand.”

  Hope frowned slightly as the woman took the stand and identified herself as a trauma psychiatrist.

  “Dr. Ross,” the DA began. “Can you tell us about the minor child of Carlo Cisneros, one Lauren Cisneros,” he asked as Hope frowned deeply and the pit of her stomach lurched.

  She’d been trying unsuccessfully to see her niece since the police turned her over to social services almost three months ago. Dr. Ross opened her mouth and began to describe the condition in which Lauren had been brought to her at the Erlanger Institute, a psychiatric hospital.

  “The child was completely incommunicative,” she told the packed courtroom.

  “Doctor,. you said was,” the DA spoke. “Has she since begun to communicate,” he asked as Dr. Ross nodded yes.

  “Lauren is a very traumatized young woman,” she told the DA as he asked her to elaborate.

  “From what we’ve been able to pull out of her through session and some hypnosis, she was a witness to her mother’s murder,” Dr. Ross explained as courtroom spectators began to whisper amongst themselves.

  The judge called for order as everyone once again settled down and the prosecutor asked Dr. Ross to continue.

  “It would also seem through these same methods as well as physical examination, and DNA retrieval, Lauren has been a victim of sexual abuse by her father for the last four years,” Dr. Ross replied as Hope cried out unable to contain herself, crying softly now as Roderick continued to hold her.

  Looking over at the defense table, Dr. Ross caught her breath as her eyes met Carlo’s. The black orbs watched her without emotion, cold, and deadly, as his mouth curled into an evil bloodthirsty smile.

  1

  Sitting in his cell at county, Carlo was going over the day’s testimony in his head. He really didn’t like Kaitlyn Ross or the fact that his sister Hope was trying to take his daughter from him. He wasn’t going to roll over and just play dead like they all seemed to believe. Carlo had plans for everyone involved in his confinement and Lauren being taken from him. He recalled the prosecutor and the monstrous picture he was trying to paint of his and Lauren’s relationship. He loved his daughte
r. They were perfectly fine together until all these strangers came along. Stop it Carlo, his sane mind screamed. You know what you did to her was wrong, it continued to torment. She’s your daughter, your child, you created her in her mother’s womb, his last shred of decency screamed aloud, filling his head with searing pain. Closing his eyes to block it, his mind betrayed him and made him do the thing he hated most. Carlo began to remember and to regret.

  His memories transported him back almost twenty years ago when he was 17 years old. Carlo grew up in a middle class home in the heart of the city. His parents Antonio and Piper Cisneros were everyday working people who paid their bills and stayed out of trouble. Carlo thought his parents had the perfect marriage and life was good. He and his sister Hope were close, being only four years apart in age. They did things together as a family, taking vacations, spending holidays, just a normal existence. He began to notice things were changing right after his 17th birthday. His parents began to argue more, especially about money. He found out from Hope that his father was being laid off from his job at the manufacturing plant, and so far had been unsuccessful in lining up a new job. Hope was basically Carlo’s lifeline to what went on in the family. She eavesdropped on their parents on a consistent basis, never missing a beat of what they tried to keep secret from herself and him. Carlo stopped spying and eavesdropping some years earlier when he’d stumbled upon them making love to each other. Even though he understood of the concept, he didn’t want to see his parents together like that.

  The world as he knew it however came to a screeching halt when he arrived home early that fateful Friday evening from shooting hoops with a few friends. Carlo walked into the house to find his mother hanging from a makeshift noose, on an exposed beam in their home, eyes bulging, tongue protruding grotesquely from her mouth, face darkened in death. The pained whimper caught his attention and Carlo turned to see his father struggling to maintain the precarious tiptoe stance he held on the wooden kitchen chair beneath his feet. Walking over to him he saw the pleading in his eyes that Carlo push the chair back under his feet, giving him solid footing once again. Surmising that his father killed his mother, and had intended to kill himself, Carlo continued to watch him, unmoved as the man continued to plead with his eyes, the fatigue beginning to show on his face. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself up much longer.

  “Why did you kill her,” Carlo asked softly still regarding his father.

  He felt nothing as he watched the man suffer. His emotion had left the room and all that remained was the shell still questioning his mother’s murderer.

  “She didn’t deserve that, she always stood by you,” he continued calmly, inching closer to the chair.

  As Carlo’s eyes connected with Antonio’s the defeat was apparent. The older man saw the malice in his son’s eyes and knew no help would come from this source. Without warning, Carlo kicked the chair away, his father’s body dropping, and his neck snapping with an audible pop. Carlo watched fascinated as Antonio’s body twitched and jerked, finally becoming still as his bodily functions released and the pungent smell of death permeated the air. Still watching the slightly swinging corpse now, Carlo felt nothing but rage, anger, and hate. Hope walked in at the moment and saw her parents, the hysterical screams escaping her mouth. Carlo turned without a word and walked over to her slapping her hard, knocking her to the floor.

  “Get yourself to-fucking-gether and call the police,” he growled, stepping over her and walking out of the door without another word.

  *****

  “Cisneros”, the jailer called out gruffly, mercifully bringing Carlo back to the present.

  “Yes,” Carlo replied calmly.

  “Visitor,” he returned as Carlo grunted and rose to his feet, allowing himself to be led to the visitor’s area, taking a seat and looking at the man sitting across from him.

  “Hello Carlo,” Roderick greeted him.

  Carlo nodded slightly but said nothing.

  “I came to appeal to you as one man to another, let Hope have custody of Lauren,” Roderick told him getting immediately to the point.

  “No one is taking my daughter from me,” Carlo replied coldly.

  Roderick sighed deeply, realizing the man was still completely delusional about his trial and his fate.

  “Hope is your sister Carlo,” Roderick tried to reason. “She would never take Lauren from you,” he added as Carlo’s eyes narrowed.

  “Have you been looking at my Lauren, you want to touch her, taste her maybe,” he accused as Roderick reeled in his anger.

  If there was one person on earth he wanted to beat the hell out of at that moment, it was Carlo Cisneros.

  “No, Carlo, Lauren is a child,” he iterated as Carlo sucked his teeth softly.

  “Lauren is all woman,” he replied lewdly as Roderick flexed his fist under the table.

  The man was complete scum in his book. He was only here out of his love for Hope.

  “Carlo, the state will place her in some foster home or other if you don’t sign,” Roderick began again, praying somewhere in the man’s demented mind he could latch onto some reasoning and common sense.

  Carlo sat up, leaning close to the glass that separated them and spoke again. “No one is taking my daughter, or putting her in any fuckin’ home,” he hissed angrily.

  Sighing deeply, realizing he was wasting his time, Roderick rose to leave.

  “Have you fucked Hope yet,” Carlo asked simply, his tone cold and ominous.

  “That’s none of your business,” Roderick replied looking into the emotionless eyes of the man staring at him.

  “She can’t have children,” he spat as if it were a disease he was explaining.

  “I can’t really understand why she’s with you, considering she really doesn’t like to fuck much anyway,” Carlo taunted.

  Roderick maintained his composure walking away as Carlo began to laugh aloud. He stopped laughing as soon as the man left his sight, the hardened hate filled glaze returning to his eyes. Why are you playing with Lauren’s life like this, his sanity pleaded. Stop punishing Hope for something that wasn’t her fault. Pushing the thought aside, he walked ahead of the jailer back to his cell, his mind still spinning, plans still being made.

  2

  They were once again in the courtroom and Carlo was half listening disinterestedly as the prosecution droned on and on. They were questioning Dr. Ross again about Lauren and the things they’d uncovered during her treatment. Carlo watched the women intently. He was truly developing quite an intense dislike of her. This bitch has told lie after lie about me, Carlo fumed in his mind never taking his glance away from the doctor. She was an unattractive woman in his estimation, hence lending itself to her seemed bitterness toward men. Probably likes pussy, he thought and smirked inwardly. Dr. Ross was slim, too slim for his tastes, with no curves. Her breasts were barely bumps on her chest, her nose long and pointed; her skin pale and translucent. The only semi attractive features about her were her forest green eyes.

  “Dr. Ross, in your opinion, what would you say is the prognosis for young Miss Cisneros,” the Prosecutor asked as Carlo finally reined his mind in and listened.

  The Doctor sighed softly before clearing her throat slightly and answering the question.

  “It will take years of intense therapy before that young woman can lead any semblance of a normal life,” Dr. Ross replied, her tone sympathetic.

  “Is Miss Cisneros violent,” the man asked, shifting gears.

  Dr. Ross frowned slightly. “No, Lauren is a traumatized victim of a madman, nothing more,” the doctor answered slightly offended at the inference.

  She’d taken quite a liking to the withdrawn young woman and didn’t appreciate the prosecutor’s insinuations.

  “I’m sorry Dr. Ross,” he replied quickly. “I was merely attempting to show the jury how deeply scarred the young woman was from her father’s abuse,” he clarified.

  Dr. Ross nodded slightly before speaking once more.


  “Lauren suffered traumatic physical and emotional abuse at the hands of Mr. Carlo Cisneros that has her screaming in her sleep on a nightly basis,” the doctor told the jury as several visibly frowned and other’s audibly gasped.

  “She’s taken to hurting herself when any edged objects are given to her,” Dr. Ross explained, her angry glance finally resting on Carlo, who simply watched her emotionless.

  “She has to be sedated regularly just to ensure her body and mind does not go into complete lapse,” she finished as Carlo gave her a grave look.

  Dr. Ross quickly returned her attention to the prosecutor. Even knowing the man was shackled at the defense table, she was petrified of his very aura.

  Carlo hated the bitch now. She had to die. Contrary to what everyone in this room seemed to think, Hangman Cisneros wasn’t washed up just yet. Smiling to himself at the thought, Carlo made a mental note to see Quenton when they took him back to his cell.

  “All right ladies and gentlemen,” the Judge began speaking as Carlo once again forced his attention on the trial.

  “We will dismiss for today and reconvene tomorrow morning at 9:30AM sharp,” he told them with a bang of his gavel.

  Everyone began to rise and leave the courtroom. The bailiff came and gathered Carlo, once again checking the shackles and leading him to the holding room to wait on the other inmates so they could all board the bus at the same time. As Carlo neared the doorway he paused long enough to glance at Dr. Ross, still seated on the front room, giving him a long once over. Carlo winked slyly at her and smiled, chuckling silently at the deep scowl she returned. At the bailiffs prompting they continued their journey and made it to the holding room where Carlo was placed inside with another inmate under the watchful eye of the armed Sheriff’s deputy and left to wait.