The Vulture

The Vulture

Gil Scott-Heron

Language: English

Pages: 244

ISBN: 1847678831

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A new edition of the first novel by the legendary musician and Godfather of Rap, a 1970s Harlem noir tale


Digging the rhythms of the street, where the biggest deal life has to offer is getting high, this hip, fast-moving thriller relates the strange story of the murder of a teenage boy called John Lee. The story is told in the words of four men who knew him when he was just another kid working after school, hanging out, waiting for something to happen. Just who did kill John Lee and why?

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heaven, Ogden, that if you send those troops down on those boys I’m through.’ ‘I have no choice,’ Calhoun said, rushing to the door to be sure that it was closed and locked. ‘That’s a lie!’ his wife objected. ‘That’s as much of a lie as anything else that’s gone on this week. There is a choice. You’ve always had some kind of choice. But you’re old. You don’t want to see. An’ now the choice is almost life or death.’ ‘I have my duty to …’ ‘Stop! God, I hate to think that I’m really hearin’ you

through the living room to the back bedroom, where I saw John’s clothes all over the bed. I was searching for almost ten nervous minutes before I found what I wanted. Inside his closet was a brown paper bag, stuffed under a tall stack of boxes full of old clothes and games and baseball gloves, Inside the bag was an entire cuff, twenty-four packets of pills. I stopped at the four packs labeled: ‘Immies. Ivy Hall. July 9.’ That was more or less exactly what I wanted. When John delivered the pills

the thing about death. It was at a time like that when I felt closest to him and farthest away. Close because I knew I had an answer, and far away because he didn’t really listen to me anymore. He came around when he was lonely and just couldn’t express what was on his mind within his clique. There had been a time when John Lee first started dealing when he would come to me and ask about highs he should try and for suggestions about combinations that would give him a good ride. Now, there was

hurry to leave. I heard the door slam out in the hall. He was gone. July 11, 1969 ‘Hello?’ ‘Yeah, Q. This is Lee.’ I heard the voice coming over slowly and with a hint of danger. ‘Where were you on about the night of January 3 and the morning of January 4?’ he asked. ‘When? How the hell would I know?’ ‘Think hard. That was the night Isidro was killed.’ ‘I don’t remember,’ I said after a pause. ‘Well, suppose I told you that while you were getting the beer last night I was looking around

People who might have known what John was doing?’ Mr Lee seemed to be lost in thought. ‘Spade,’ he said. ‘That’s a boy who lives in the projects. His name is Eddie Shannon. Junior Jones, who lives on 19th Street.’ ‘Do you know Shannon’s address?’ ‘No.’ ‘And Jones?’ ‘His real name is Theodore. They just call him Junior.’ Thomas wrote hurriedly. ‘And Ivan Quinn.’ ‘Who?’ ‘Ivan Quinn. He’s a student at Columbia.’ O’Malley cut in, ‘These three know about …’ ‘I don’t know if they knew!’ Mr

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