Mr. Black led me down a spiral, granite staircase surrounded by granite walls with more ornate carvings on them.  When we reached the bottom, he opened a section of the wall on his right to reveal a retinal scanning device.I watched as a wide beam of light swept over his right eye.  A portion of the wall immediately slid away.

We walked down a long hallway as the entrance closed shut behind us.  To our left and right were plate glass windows that ran the length of the hallway.  Through one of the windows, I spotted two Adinkrahene agents, both black, sitting in cubicles hovering over computer terminals.  Three other black agents—two males, one female—sat at a table in the back of the room chatting with the holographic projections of two, black female colleagues. I was amazed at how close the holograms resembled their flesh and blood originals.

Mr. Black stopped, affording me the time I needed to look around.

“This here is one of our operation centers.”  He pointed at the two black agents staring at the computer monitors.  “From here, and our bases in Africa, Europe, the Middle East and Australia, we discreetly manipulate the flow of currency.  The two men over there are hackers, probably the best in the business.  Never knew a computer system they couldn’t gain access to.”

Mr. Black directed my attention to the holographic conferencing session.  “They’re finalizing plans for a new sting in the United Kingdom.”  A slight pause.  “Adinkrahene’s reach expands the globe, my friend.  The money that we have leveraged to date from international corporations with ties to the slave trade will exceed fourteen trillion dollars by the end of twenty twelve.”

“What will those funds be used for?” I asked.

“Reparations, of course.”

“To whom?”

“You. Me.People who look like us. But we won’t be depositing monies into individual banking accounts, or cutting individual checks. No. We’re going to use it to revitalize communities of color in America first. And because Africa is the cradle of civilization, we will open a separate account to gain control of some of its most sought after resources.”

“But why? Hasn’t the American government done enough to atone for white peoples’ sins?”

Mr. Black head snapped toward me as a smirk appeared on his dark face.

“You and I both know it hasn’t. Yes, its most progressive citizens—of all hues—did rally together in two thousand and eight to elect the first black president.  But the conservative ones, the ones with the most racist of views, are intent on making Herbert Newsom a one-term president.”

He continued. “None of the white presidents that preceded Newsom ever apologized for slavery, or Jim Crow.  They create reservations for Native Americans, and allow them to operate casinos on protected land.  They offered sanctuary to the Jewish survivors of the Holocaust.  But they tried to wipe the black race’s pain away with desegregation measures. That’s not good enough for me, Jonathan. They owe us more than that. If they’re not going to pay up, we have no choice but to take what is owed to us. ”

“But aren’t you concerned about getting caught?”

“No. I’m not.  Not when I consider the ancestors who endured twenty or more lashes from metal-tipped whips. Not when I flick through the annals of American history and see photographs of our ancestors hanging by their necks from trees.  No, I’m not concerned, Jonathan.If anything, I’m more determined than ever to right an injustice that has gone unchecked.”

Mr. Black folded his arms. “Most people, when they’re talking politics, think the game is about the interplay between Republicans, Democrats and Independents, Conservatives, Liberals and Progressives. They’re wrong.  The political bodies that matter are clustered closer to the color line, white versus black and everything in between.  The Corporate Cabal would want us to believe that white is pure, incorruptible. Black the complete opposite—impure, corrupt.  That’s how they keep us in bondage, Jonathan.  Adinkrahene is here to show members of the Black Diaspora how to break free of their shackles once and for all.”

He unfolded his arms, sliding his hands into the pockets of his shorts.  I leaned against the plate glass wall, stroking my goatee with my right hand as I processed his words.I had to give the man credit; he was a doer not a talker.  But I cringed at the thought of being locked up for being associated with an organization that takes from the rich and gives to the poor.  Like everyone else, I rooted for Robin Hood and his merry band of thieves, but serving a prison sentence wasn’t that appealing to me.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked, pushing away from the wall to stand upright with my arms crossed.

“Help us bring Kyle Shuler crimes out into the open,” Mr. Black replied.  “We received confirmation about a year and a half ago that he was the one who murdered Mary Giles. An initiation rite devised by his father, Watson Shuler, to usher him and two of his friends—Roscoe Baker and Cleat McMullin—into the Cabal.Kyle and Roscoe were eighteen, Cleat seventeen.”

“Who was the source?”

“Cleat McMullin. One of our agents on assignment at the Adam’s County Correctional Center, in Jackson, got him to talk. Must have had a heart-to-heart meeting with Jesus.  Told Agent Miles everything.  Said Shuler slit Ms. Mary’s throat.”

Mr. Black continued, saying, “I understand your reluctance, Jonathan.I too had to think twice when Herbert Newsom invited me into the fold more than twenty years ago.”

My mouth dropped.

“President Newsom has ties to Adinkrahene?”

“Yes. He came up with the new design for the RMS. I perfected it. As the former President and CEO of Legacy Bank and Trust, the Adinkrahene Council of Elders knew he was the right person to coordinate this effort.  The man is a financial genius.  And believe me when I say this; Herbert Newsom is the first African-American president because the Adinkrahene Syndicate fully supported his candidacy.”

Mr. Black chuckled as he watched me shake my head in disbelief.

He continued, “I know it’s a lot to process.  But what do you think? You still in?’

“Sure,” I replied with some reluctance. “I’m a child of The Movement. Feels good knowing there are still brothers out there fighting the good fight.”

He patted me on the back. “No doubt, young blood.” He then extended his arm toward a door on the other side of the hallway. “No doubt.”

We entered a circular-shaped room that was reminiscent of a library, decorated with antique chairs and tables.Antique book shelves with classical and contemporary titles hugged the walls. Paintings of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela and Frederick Douglass were perched high on these same walls.  I noticed other casually dressed Blacks—both male and female— sitting at the tables sprinkled throughout the spacious room.  And to my right, I saw a mahogany door with a glass window and the words “Computer Lab” on it.

“This is our reading room,” Mr. Black said as we approached an older, bespectacled, black female siting at an oval-shaped desk.  “We have gone to great lengths to preserve anything written about or by the four men you see hanging on these walls, as well as other African and African-American authors both past and present.”  He slapped the top of the checkout counter.  “And this here is Ms. Ruth Jackson, our historian slash librarian.”

Ms. Jackson stood.

“Hello, Cornelius,” she said. She extended her hand to me. “And hello to you, Mr. Fraiser.”

I shook and released her hand, surprised that someone I’ve never met knew my name.

She continued. “I’ve been following your career for quite some time.  Your new book is pretty popular around here.  I’d be surprised if we still have a copy on the shelf.  Had to order ten more just to meet agent demand.”

“Music to my ears,” I quipped.

Mr. Black interjected, “Ruth isn’t telling you everything, Jonathan  .Selina had a lot to do with your being here today, but Ms. Jackson here endorsed the idea.”

“We just thought he would be an asset to the Shuler sting, Cornelius.With his being a member of the Congressional press pool, Senator Shuler won’t expect a thing.”

“And that’s why I love you, Ruth,” Mr. Black replied.

Mr. Black then left me in Ms. Jackson’s capable hands. Ms. Jackson and I retreated to one of the adjacent conference rooms, and she brought me up to speed on Adinkrahene history, occasionally directing my attention to the images of Civil Rights heroes and sheroes on the LCD screens lining the far wall.

According to Ms. Jackson, the Adinkrahene Syndicate first came to prominence in 1932, at the height of The Great Depression and the subsequent second World War. It was the brainchild of Rufus T. Hancock, a Tuskegee airman. Hancock loved America, but he hated the way he and other black military personnel were being treated by the United States government, and ultimately the white military generals they answered to.  When he and other Tuskegee airmen returned to America after their tours, they didn’t receive ticker tape parades. They were nothing like the white soldiers and airmen that they fought with; therefore, they were denied entry into White America’s good ole’ boy network, which often resulted in access to better educational and vocational opportunities.

But Hancock wasn’t one to complain about the inequities in American society.  Yes, he thought it was wrong for one group to think it was better than all the others, but an unpublished excerpt from Frederick Douglass’s slave narratives opened his eyes to grander possibilities for members of the Black Disapora.

According to Ms. Jackson, this excerpt referenced an encounter that Douglass, Hancock’s boyhood hero, had with a green-skinned Satarian named Daygon.  Daygon, a human loyalist, took Douglass to his world through something called the Intergalactic Connector. While on Sataria, or the planet contemporary humans call Mars, Douglass was introduced to beings that lived underground but were light years ahead of humanity in the technology department.  He also learned from Daygon that the Satarian race was created by Satan for the sole purpose of one day subjugating God’s creation, the human race. However, subjugating humanity would not be an easy undertaking, as the Satarian people were known to die within days upon being exposed to the direct descendants of Eden, the black race.

Ms. Jackson said Daygon told Douglass that God created the man Adam in his image from the Garden of Eden’s dark sands.  God subsequently created the woman Eve from one of Adam’s ribs. Because God created the first man and woman from Eden’s dark sands, their skin color was black, not white.And because they were first and not last, they received the distinct honor of being called God’s chosen people. It should be noted that the Garden of Eden was situated somewhere in the jungles of Africa.

Douglass wrote that Daygon died within hours of their return to Earth due to his extensive exposure to him. But not before Daygon admonished Douglass to write these things down so the direct descendants of Eden would one day read his words, and then strive to understand and fulfill their collective purpose.

The first Adinkrahene Council consisted of Hancock and one African-American representative each from the other three military branches—Army, Navy and Marines. Former NAACP President W.E.B. Dubois served as an advisor to the Council, and played an instrumental role in laying the groundwork for the organization’s first reparations management system.

Initially, the RMS was thought to be a legitimate vehicle for recouping what was owed to African Americans past and present.  Again, our people had endured 400 years of institutionalized slavery and oppression. It placed a dollar amount on the debt that the United States government owed African Americans. But United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt expressed an unwillingness to distribute cash payments to African Americans.  He thought the cash payment measure would be unfair to Americans who were still reeling from The Great Depression.  What Hancock and his colleagues didn’t know was President Roosevelt was receiving pressure from Corporate Cabal leaders to end his secret negotiations with NAACP leaders.

DuBois ended his relationship with Adinkrahene when Hancock decided to compete with Chicago’s Al Capone for control of alcohol sales during the Prohibition era. DuBois still had faith President Roosevelt would come to his senses and make a good faith effort to put African Americans on equal footing with Caucasian Americans. Of course, Hancock knew this would never happen. So, for two years, he siphoned off half a billion dollars from Capone’s empire before Capone knew he was being robbed.

When Capone realized he was being played for a sucker by “the blacks,” he ordered that Rufus T. Hancock be taken out. Hancock’s side business was in banking, so this position made it easier for him to siphon funds from the accounts he managed for Capone.Unfortunately, the golden era of the Adinkrahene Syndicate ended in 1954, when Rufus T. Hancock’s bruised, bloodied and mutilated body was found hidden under some trash bags in a Chicago alley.

Adinkrahene faded into the shadows in the years following Hancock’s death. But one of Hancock’s disciples, 38-year-old Bryson Black, resurrected the organization eleven years later, in 1965. His son Cornelius was eighteen, his daughter Condelezza—or Condi— fifteen. His wife was blues songstress India Mason Black, who wooed black audiences during performances at New York’s Cotton Club and Apollo Theater during the 1950s.

Like Hancock, Bryson wanted to hear apologies from sitting United States presidents, as well as the state governors whose economies were built on the backs of African Americans. He also wanted them to pay these same African Americans for their uncompensated labor and that of their deceased ancestors. Because he knew the wait time would be long and drawn out, he and the three other Council members at the time decided to introduce cocaine, and more potent brands of marijuana, into American markets.

Bryson purchased his supplies from the Mexican Drug Cartel, and made his product available to gang leaders in Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, Dallas, Boston and New York. Americans of all hues would purchase these drugs from street dealers. But the unintended consequence was the adverse impact their activities had on members of the Black Diaspora. A disproportionate amount of these members became users and peddlers. And if and when the peddlers got caught by the authorities, they were the first to be arrested, prosecuted, convicted and incarcerated. The Corporate Cabal seemingly perpetuated this inequitable treatment because they thought white lives were more precious than minority ones. Modern-day thought leaders like Michelle Alexander called the mass incarceration of African Americans the New Jim Crow.

Bryson Black went on a killing spree in 1968 after learning that Martin Luther King, Jr. had been assassinated. He loved Dr. King, making a point to always be in the house when Dr. King spoke at one of the New York churches. He had also encouraged Cornelius and Condi to be mindful of Dr. King’s words. “He has given us the blueprint for a more equitable America,” he once told them.

The NYPD thought they had a serial killer on their hands because the perpetrator had used a knife to carve MLK on his victims’ foreheads. When all of the forensic evidence pointed to Bryson Black, the NYPD moved in to arrest him at his Long Island-based dry cleaning business. But rather than allow himself to be arrested, Bryson retreated to a back room to retrieve his military-grade machine gun. Multiple squad cars had come to screeching halts in front of the building, and officers stood outside with their pistols drawn. Bryson opened fire, pelting the officers with a barrage of bullets. Bryson Black was ultimately shot dead that day, but not before he took three NYPD officers with him.

Herbert Newsom inherited the Adinkrahene mantel two years later, vowing to fulfill the organization’s mandate using methods rooted in strategy and science. He led the Adinkrahene Reparations Management Syndicate for 23 years. In 1991, he handed the Adinkrahene reins to his protégé Cornelius Black. Cornelius was 45. A year later, Newsom became an Illinois senator.After only one four-year term, he decided to take his skill sets to Washington, DC, where he served three terms in the United States Senate.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Jackson,” I said as I joined Mr. Black in front of the elevator.

“No problem, Jonathan. Just remember, my door is always open. If you have questions, or just need information, don’t hesitate to stop by.”

“I will. Take care.”

The elevator doors slid open, and we exited.We then entered a gymnasium replete with a regulation-sized basketball court. On the far court, six Adinkrahene brothers played a friendly three-on-three basketball game. The other half was occupied by several sitting Adinkrahene brothers and sisters dressed in matching Dri-Fit shorts, shirts and sneakers. Small Adinkrahene symbols were prominently displayed on the front of their shirts. Two other similarly dressed agents with head gear sparred in the center of the mat.

I watched as one of the sparring agents, a female adorned with head gear, jumped high into the air to kick a similarly dressed agent in the chest.The other agent, a large male, flew backwards, bouncing at least two feet across the mat.

The gymnasium erupted with jeers and cheers.

The female agent removed her head gear as her dispatched foe sat upright on the mat. When she turned toward Mr. Black and me, I was shocked to see Selina.

“You ready for this, J?” she asked.

All eyes turned to me.

“Question is,” I replied, “are you ready for me?”

I assumed a sparring stance— my feet spread wide, hands inches from my face.I then heard chuckles from the crowd of Adinkrahene agents. Selina could do no more than shake her head and smile.

© Jeffery A. Faulkerson 2014. All rights reserved.

Note: Any formatting errors are due to AALBC.com, not the from the source material provided by the author.