The Snow Angel by Michael Graham

administrator in the country had the guts to take on the BLF. The politically-correct, safe people to go after were all on the radical right. White guys.
    After three minutes, Karanga appeared at the door in a black jump suit. He also wore two automatic pistols and an ammunition bandolier.A smirk crept across his face when he recognized Bell. Then he smiled widely, displaying two gold teeth.
    The smile exuded arrogance. Beneath the graying goatee, this was still the same Tyrone Jones whom Bell had arrested for drug dealing two decades before. He had abandoned his given name in prison, denouncing it as a “slave name.”
    â€œLong time, Brother Bell,” said Karanga. He did not extend his hand.
    â€œYou’ve come up in the world, Tyrone.”
    â€œMalik. It’s Malik.”
    â€œMalik. Like I said, you’ve come up in the world.”
    â€œHey, I was a chump in my youth.” Karanga’s smile faded. “What are you doing here?”
    Bell pulled out a picture of Darryl Childress. “This little boy got kidnapped about twenty-four hours ago. Salt-and-pepper team, a white dude and a black dude. We think they might have been friends in the joint—maybe even married.”
    â€œWe heard about it.”
    â€œYou did?”
    â€œThe Eastside Crips been showing the little motherfucker’s picture all over town. Can you dig that? They even stopped doing business.” He laughed. “That means the crime rate oughta be going down.”
    That news startled Bell. Karanga studied his reaction, then laughed again. “Don’t you think that’s funny, Crips working with the po-lice? It would make a great sitcom.”
    â€œSo what do
you
hear?” Bell asked. “Your people ever heard about such a team?”
    â€œWe don’t pay attention to that shit.”
    â€œWell, then, can you reach into the prisons for us, shake loose some information?” He gestured imploringly at his old adversary. “Malik, we really need to know.”
    â€œIf it was biracial, you can bet the white guy was running things.”
    â€œDoes that mean you have heard something?”
    â€œDon’t go putting words in my mouth. I don’t
know
shit. I was just—
speculating!”
    Bell stared at the aging thug.
Fuck this shit.
“Malik, I saved your life one time. You remember that?”
    â€œNo. That was Tyrone Jones you saved.”
    â€If I hadn’t tipped off Tyrone Jones, there wouldn’t be a Malik Karanga.”
    Karanga looked up at the security camera. “I wondered how long it would take, you calling in that particular marker.”
    â€œIf I hadn’t warned you about that hit, you’da been in the ground fifteen years now.”
    â€œSo I owe you, is that it?”
    â€œDon’t fuck with me,
Malik!
The street rules haven’t changed, just because you’ve seen the light.” Bell felt his gut churning. He fought to control himself. “For Christ’s sake, this is an innocent little child! A black child!”
    â€œBell, you got a lot of balls coming here. That saving-my-life shit is old business. You’re the motherfucker who
cost
me eight years of my life.”
    â€œYou did that to yourself. Nobody forced you to take down that liquor store.”
    Karanga considered that. “Let me see the picture,” he said.
    Bell handed over the photograph. Karanga examined it. “Interracial family, from what I hear.”
    â€œWhat difference does it make?” Bell asked.
    â€œRich kid, right? Which parent is black?”
    â€œThe mother.”
    â€œThe mother. Usually it’s the other way around.” Karanga sneered. “You know something, Dee-tective Bell, it wouldn’t bother me a bit if they blew the little half-breed away.”With that, he ripped the photograph in half.
    Bell lost control. With his huge left hand, he seized Karanga’s throat and started squeezing. With his