Free The Plot Against Hip Hop by Nelson George Page A

souls who surrounded the MC. D watched as his peeps manned their positions, visible but unobtrusive, just as he preached at D Security meetings. He peered once again at Woodson, smiling, shaking hands, whispering to someone, and didn’t know what to think. The man was welcome to his opinions about Dwayne, hip hop, and every other damn thing. He didn’t dislike Woodson. He recalled him as a decent guy back in the day. One night in Denver, D had even played wingman for him, helping keep company with an obnoxious sista while Woodson wooed her better-looking friend.
    Still, he wondered, why would the man want a copy of something he’d just sneered at? As D watched Kanye getting settled in on a makeshift dais, a video game console behind him and a dozen Sharpies laid out before him, he decided that he wasn’t gonna give Woodson shit.

CHAPTER 14
    M ADE Y OU L OOK
    D hated interview rooms at police stations. He could feel the fear and manipulation of scores of investigations, like they were seeping from the walls. Still, he was happy to be there. He’d thought Fly Ty had forgotten him, but then the dapper DT had always been there for him.
    It was a good recording, except for the fact that the radio was on, playing Nas’s “Made You Look,” and cars were honking like crazy.
    “It sounds like they had this conversation by a tunnel at rush hour,” Fly Ty said quietly.
    D nodded, but said nothing. He was straining to hear the conversation. He didn’t recognize the man speaking, which pissed him off since he very much wanted to.
    “You want me to help you do some kind of book, huh?”
    “Yes. That’s what I do: write books.” It was Dwayne Robinson, sounding like he was close to begging.
    “That would be dangerous.”
    “I have the report,” Dwayne said. “I can use that. I don’t need your permission. I’m asking for your cooperation. You could help me expose the whole thing.”
    “I understand what you wanna do and why. I actually have no problem with it. But my coworker—I don’t think he’ll understand.”
    “Why aren’t you afraid?”
    The other man chuckled. “We’re all afraid of something.” Said like a sage. “I’m just not afraid of this.”
    “Okay. I’ll take you at your word. But your coworker feels different?”
    “Yes, he does. Me? I tried to remix things but you can only do that so much.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “As truthful as I can be, Dwayne. There’s no real value in exposing our activities. Only the truly determined conspiracy theorists are gonna pay attention. All these young people who buy today’s music and the concert tickets and the cologne—they are not gonna care. They got a million Southern rappers to hear and two million Southern dances to learn. The only thing you should be paying attention to is staying safe.”
    “You threatening me, Malik?”
    “No. I wouldn’t touch you. I respect you a great deal, Dwayne. I mean that. But I can’t protect you. You continue on this path and there could be consequences. Maybe you should call that bodyguard friend of yours, E.”
    “D? D Hunter?”
    “Yeah, make a deal with him for security. It could be money well spent.”
    “So your not gonna help me?”
    “No, but I’m not gonna stop you.”
    A car door opened, the noise of the big city filled the audio track, and then Dwayne could be heard saying, “Shit.” And the tape ended.
    “So,” Fly Ty said, “that was Dwayne Robinson?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Robinson called the other man Malik. That name ring a bell?”
    “I know some Maliks but they are young guys. This guy sounded at least forty. And you know something else? He sounded like a cop to me.”
    “Okay, Mr. Holmes,” Fly Ty said. “How’d you deduce that?”
    “Well, maybe not a cop, but some kind of government worker. There was something sneaky and bureaucratic in his voice. Am I wrong?”
    Fly Ty clicked the eject button on the cassette player and slipped the tape into a plastic bag. “I’ve