The Ganja Trade E-Book

Suzann Dodd

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Although the names are disguised and some events changed, this is a story of how the trade in Marijuana developed.   The early steps and the expansion into places unexpected, which became profitable. In this book, which follows The Clay Game, I focus on the characters, their interaction, and how they remain 'under the radar'.

Leseprobe

Suzann Dodd

The Ganja Trade

Part II of the Clay Game

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG80331 Munich

How it Began

Using the name, Jody O’Shan, dressed as the millionairess, she entered the Pearse Street Garda Station. She spoke to the polite and deferential Superintendent Patrick McMenamin. She explained she was writing a thesis for her sociology class on Gangs in Dublin.

He warned her how dangerous it would be for her, an attractive young woman, to visit the various hangouts of these gangs. She took his warning seriously and asked him to tell her about them.

Feeling almost honoured she would defer to him, he spoke of the Westies, the Celtic Mafia, then of the Hundreds and it’s off shoot the Fifteen.. He was a bit enamoured of the leader of the Fifteen, a man called Riff Clancy, whose history he knew.

Born in a Brothel at some indeterminate date, taken by the church as a child, given a name and placed into an orphanage, he escaped and returned to the streets. He had been arrested when he was allegedly fourteen and sent to a juvenile detention facility then released at the end of his term into the custody of a woman who gave one name, but is known as Pinky Rose, the madam of a rather select brothel, where Riff Clancy currently had the task of assessing talent.

Clancy was shot by a rival gang, was in the hospital and became addicted to morphine. Subsequently, he was arrested as an adult and sent to prison where he had been until last year, when he was released and returned to his ‘job’.

The way the Superintendent spoke, with a sense of awe? admiration? piqued her and she questioned him about this Riff Clancy.

“After all he’s experienced in his short life, ye would be expecting a soured psychopath, but he’s quite a charming and cheerful lad, well beloved by the community. I’ve spoken to him a number of times and he’s always been the type of chap I’d like to share a pint with..”

This is why the woman, who was masquerading as Jody O’Shan, selected Riff Clancy and his gang as the first to be brought into the net of a Texan gang called The Rebels.

As Jody O’Shan, she had lived for a few years in a house owned by the mother of Jody. A house across a stream near the Elegy Ranch, which was occupied by the Rebels.

This gang, located just outside of Dallas, was led by Jahn Garrett. He was a quiet calm young man, handsome in an easy way. Understanding the need for expansion, as his gang and their associates only operated in Dallas.

They considered trying Dublin simply because as the O’Shan family owned a mansion called Scimitar Castle. A few miles from Dublin, the Castle was convenient, further, Ireland was not important, it would be a useful testing ground.

New York, Chicago, even London could be important, but Dublin was just convenient.

This is why the woman using Jody O’Shan’s identity went to Jack’s Pub, where the Fifteen hung out. This is why, dressed as an old lady, she would sip a cup of tea. over hearing conversations, and making assessments.

As the Superintendent said, Riff was cheerful, charming, easy to laugh, a pleasant chap.

The second time she came to the Pub, again dressed as an old lady, she felt he noticed her. Why, how, no answer, but he did. As he followed as she began  her slow measure to the door, she felt his interest. He was no more than five steps behind as she went through the door, ducked. so he could not see her through the glass for a few seconds.  She took those seconds,  and ran a few steps towards the dock, then turned into an alley.

She turned again, behind Jack’s Pub,  jumped into a basement passage, stripped her dress and wig, dropped her stick, and moved towards the street which ran east to west. She climbed a fence, then another, so as to come out a block down with Jack’s Pub behind her.

She saw a bus, climbed on, rode a few stops, then off, into a cab, which took her back to where she had parked the car, in Pinky Rose’s large parking area.

Once inside her car she unpinned her hair, swirling it around her, feeling a bit clever, then drove to Scimitar Castle, side minding Riff’s ability.

She had a special sense which had protected her all her life, a sense to feel interest, danger, when things began to be a bit off. Only once, drowning in anguish at her brother’s conviction, did she let her emotions distract her.  Riff seemed to possess that ‘sense’.

As she reached the Castle and verified she was safe, she went to the empty stable and lit a ganja spliff.

She had dressed as an old woman, hobbled on a stick, as she sat in the small booth behind the large one Riff occupied. She had listened and kept herself motionless. How he ‘felt’ her, how he knew something about her was 'off’ was worthy of respect.

After that encounter, she avoided Jack’s Pub as she moved around Dublin, dressed as a boy, practicing a rough Irish accent.

As she was small and thin, perceptive and capable of reading body language, she was not suspected. Dressed in layers of old baggy things with a dirty face, she was one of a dozen street boys. Easily wandering into places that were ‘owned’ by other gangs, rivals, enemies of the Fifteen, listening to bits and pieces.

When Jahn Garrett and the Rebels arrived, she had them ride towards Jack’s Pub. She had a feeling something would happen. She’d heard stray rumours during her walkabouts. It was almost orchestrated that Riff would be the victim of a shooting.

She knew she’d betray that she was not Jody O’Shan when she removed the bullet from his back. Although Jahn knew she was an imposter, this would expose her to the other members of the gang. She wanted to do this. She’d been dull Jody for almost three years, wearing that life as a too small pair of shoes.

Almost a day after the operation, Riff was returned to Crescent Street by the Rebels, who would do the recruiting. She would stay home alone.  It was a few days later Riff Clancy came through a window of the Castle while the Rebels were occupied.

She’d seen heard movements, saw him immediately and asked: “You want to die?” holding a gun.

Without the slightest fear he’d answered; “No thank ye, I’ve already been shot this week.”

Picking up on his irrelevant way of dealing with life, she’d tossed:

“Would you prefer stabbing?”

“Oh, aye, leave a fine scar, though ye’d have portion of blood to wipe up.”

After a bit more banter he had asked what was going on. After her volley he’d replied;

“... although I be one who enjoys the foreplay I would like to reach the culmination in a brief moment.”

She offered him coffee as if it was the most natural thing for someone to break into a house and then sit for tea. Subsequently he asked; “Why’d ye pick me?”

When she flicked it away, he cut;

“I know ye was in Jack’s pub, guised as an old lady, spying away. First, himself admits he wasn’t conscious o the activity, but on second viewing I did appreciate and when ye left, I did follow, but ye disappeared. Which is odd as an old lady could not out walk himself. So I knew that me suspicion was proven. So why?”

She told him.

Then they spoke of ganja and went for a smoke in the stables, and he’d asked her name. Although he had heard the name ‘Jody O’Shan’ he knew she was not.

He was a lot smarter, a lot more alert than one would give him credit for and this impressed her.

They spoke deep and real, not biographies or events. It was the kind of conversation neither had ever had. They knew each other to the very soul, becoming that close so quickly.

She was afraid of it, afraid getting too close to him. The only people she had ever been close to were in Jamaica. Thinking of Jamaica she thought to go home. She could travel back on Jody O’Shan’s papers, then get new ones in another name, another nationality.

She thought of seeing her brother who was in prison, of her step father who had been a doctor until unlicensed, but ran a ‘clinic’ for those who couldn’t go to a hospital. It was he who had taught her how to remove bullets.

During the next week she met Riff again, and then again. There was no romance, no boy and girl, for she didn’t want that. 

When the Rebels left Ireland for Texas she went to Brooklyn, New York, to get documents in the name of Barbara Miller, then flew to Jamaica. She visited her brother in prison, made contacts in Rockfort, then went to the Parish of St. Thomas to view, first hand, how ganja was flown to America.

Completing her task, as Barbara Miller she went to America, landing at JFK. She went to Brooklyn, made a link with the major drug importer, Herbie, then phoned Jahn, in Texas, and set up a deal.