38. Omar
Omar
The Associates met in the back room of a restaurant in Fort Greene that Kadeem's people had been using for sit-downs since Pops ran things.
Eight men around a table, most of them older, all of them connected to operations across Brooklyn and Queens.
They'd been the authority above the Baptiste family for two decades. Nothing moved without their approval.
Kadeem stood at the head of the table and laid it out.
He started with the financial trail. Devon's work, projected onto a screen Kadeem had set up against the back wall.
Shell companies, shared signatories, the money flow from Supreme's legitimate businesses down through Greyline Holdings into TK's street-level distribution.
He walked them through it layer by layer, pointing to the screen as each slide changed.
"This is Darnell Webb's signature." Kadeem tapped the projected image. "He signed as signatory on Greyline Holdings. He also signed as property manager on three of Supreme's real estate acquisitions. Same man, same signature, bridging both operations."
Andre Mitchell leaned forward, his reading glasses low on his nose. "How do we know Webb ain't freelancing? Could be a hired accountant working both sides without either one knowing."
"Because the money flow is directional," Kadeem replied. "Cash moves from Supreme's businesses into Greyline, down through two sister companies, into TK's supply chain. It doesn't go the other way. Supreme is funding TK, not sharing infrastructure with him."
"What's the volume?" Bishop asked.
"Devon, put up the transaction summary."
Devon clicked to the next slide. Six months of transaction data, color-coded, amounts highlighted. The room went quiet as the numbers registered.
"That's significant capital," Andre said slowly. "You're telling me Supreme been sitting across from us at territory meetings while simultaneously funding the man attacking our corners?"
"For at least three years."
Andre took off his glasses and set them on the table. "That's a declaration of war, Kadeem. You understand what you're asking us to authorize?"
"I understand exactly what I'm asking."
"Do you? Because if you're wrong about this, if Webb is just a freelance accountant, if the money flow has an innocent explanation, then we've started a war with the largest independent operation in Crown Heights based on spreadsheets."
"The spreadsheets are verified," Kadeem said evenly. "Devon's run every transaction against three independent sources. The intel from our source inside Supreme's household confirms the operational picture. TK called Supreme 'Unc' in private. They talked like family."
Bishop rubbed his chin. "This source. She reliable?"
"She is."
"And she came to you voluntarily?"
Kadeem glanced at me. "She had her own reasons to leave Supreme. We facilitated her exit and she shared what she knew. The arrangement is clean."
"A woman scorned," Andre said. "That's your primary intelligence source? A woman who left the man she's now helping you take down?"
"A woman who lived inside his operation for three years and memorized every account number, every guard rotation, every location schedule," Kadeem corrected.
"Every piece of intelligence she provided has been verified independently through our own surveillance.
This isn't hearsay. It's confirmed data. "
Andre looked at Bishop. Bishop looked at the screen. The room was still.
Stone spoke last.
He stood up from his chair at the far end of the table, his glasses on, his voice measured and professorial. He'd put together the presentation package that Kadeem had just delivered. Every slide, every financial summary, every cross-reference.
"Gentlemen," Stone began. "I've been advising this family since Malik ran this organization. I don't bring recommendations lightly and I don't push for action unless the evidence demands it."
He walked to the screen and pointed at the transaction summary. "Andre, you asked whether these spreadsheets could have an innocent explanation. Let me walk you through why they can't."
He traced the money flow with his finger.
"The capital enters Supreme's legitimate property business here.
Clean money, tax-reported. It moves through Greyline Holdings, which is registered in Delaware with no operating presence.
From Greyline it passes through two sister companies that exist only on paper.
The money that comes out the other end funds TK's street operation, his product supply, his runners, his security. "
Stone looked around the table. "This isn't a shared accountant.
This is a financial pipeline built specifically to fund attacks on our territory while keeping Supreme's hands clean.
He's been playing both sides of the table for three years.
Sitting with us in good faith while bankrolling the man who's been bleeding us on the streets. "
He paused. Let the silence do work.
"My recommendation is that we move quickly.
Supreme knows his woman is gone. He knows his leverage has been neutralized.
He'll be consolidating resources, preparing for something he doesn't yet understand the scope of.
Every day we wait gives him time to adapt.
" Stone looked at Kadeem. "I recommend we move by end of week.
Two-phase operation. Night one, we take his cash locations and disrupt his financial pipeline.
Night two, we take his main base and end the operation permanently. "
"You're recommending we take out Supreme himself?" Bishop asked.
"I'm recommending we dismantle his entire operation," Stone replied carefully.
"What happens to Supreme during that process is a tactical decision for the field commanders.
But gentlemen, let me be clear about what happens if we don't act.
Supreme rebuilds. TK rearms. The attacks on our territory resume.
And next time he'll know we have intelligence on his operation, which means he'll restructure everything and we'll be starting from zero. "
He sat down. The room was quiet.
Bishop said, "Vote."
It went around the table. Eight men. Eight votes. Unanimous.
Kadeem nodded. "We move."
The meeting broke up. The Associates left in pairs, spaced out, different exits. Kadeem, Stone, and I stayed in the back room.
"Two phases," Kadeem said, spreading a map of Brooklyn across the table. "Night one, we hit the two cash locations Asha identified. The one in Flatbush above the laundromat and the one in East New York near the expressway. Simultaneous. Fast. In and out before Supreme's people can regroup."
"I'll take Flatbush," I said. "James takes East New York."
"Devon runs comms from APEX," Kadeem continued. "He coordinates both teams, monitors Supreme's crew communications, flags anything that moves."
"And night two?" Stone asked.
"Night two is the main base." Kadeem tapped the map. "Crown Heights. Supreme's warehouse. That's where the product, the records, and the man himself will be."
"Who goes in?"
Kadeem looked at me. I looked back.
"Us," I said.
Stone leaned over the map. "I'd suggest hitting the Flatbush location first on night one.
It's the smaller operation, fewer guards, quicker to clear.
That gives your team momentum going into the East New York hit.
" He traced a route on the map. "And if you approach from the south side, you avoid the camera coverage on the main road. "
It was a good suggestion. Tactically sound. I nodded.
"What about during the operation?" Stone continued. "Asha and Nene. They need protection. If Supreme gets word that we're moving and sends people to find them before we can finish..."
"I'll post two of our own outside the apartment door," Kadeem said. "Men I've had since Pops. Nobody gets through without going through them first."
Stone nodded. "Smart. Keep the circle tight."
"And there's a minor storage facility in Canarsie connected to Supreme's secondary supply line," Kadeem added, marking it on the map. "Phase three cleanup. Morning after the warehouse raid, we send a team to clear it out before his people can move anything."
We went over the logistics for another hour. Timing, routes, equipment, contingencies. Devon joined by phone and confirmed the surveillance packages for both cash locations were in place. James was briefed separately and confirmed his team for East New York.
When we finished Stone shook Kadeem's hand, then mine. His grip was firm and his eyes were steady.
"This is the right call," he told us. "Your father would be proud of both of you."
He left. Kadeem and I stood over the map in the empty room.
"You ready?" Kadeem asked.
"Been ready."
"I mean for what comes after. Supreme goes down, that changes everything. The Associates are watching us. How we handle this determines what the Baptiste name means going forward."
"I understand."
"Good." Kadeem folded the map. "Go home. Be with Asha. Get some rest. We move in two days."
I drove back to Bed-Stuy. The streets were quiet, the city settling into the late hours. I parked outside the building, checked the block out of habit, went upstairs.
Asha was on the couch with Nene asleep beside her, the TV on low. She looked up when I came through the door.
"How'd it go?" she whispered.
"Unanimous. We move in two days."
She nodded slowly. Her hand was resting on Nene's shoulder. Nene didn't stir.
"It's almost over," I said.
"Almost." She looked at me. "You be careful out there."
"Always am."
I sat down in the chair across from them. Asha watched me for a moment, then turned back to the TV. Nene moved in her sleep, mumbled something, and went still again.
Two days. Two nights of operations. Then Supreme's empire comes down and the man himself with it.
I sat there in the dark apartment watching Asha watch the screen and I let myself think about what came after. A life without Supreme in it. A life where Asha didn't have to perform or pretend or run. A life where I could come home to her without checking the block first.
Two days.
We were ready.