Laugh Now

by Rahiem Brooks

  “Careful. I’ll hit a cripple.”

  “Fuck you.” Kareem screamed, as Toi helped him up. “If you hurt my grandmother you asshole, I will kill you, I promise you that.”

  Nurses dashed down the corridor after hearing the commotion. One of them in teal scrubs told him, “Mr. Bezel, you need to be in bed resting. You’re under strict doctor order, and you’re scheduled for surgery. You need to rest.”

  Kareem was put back into his bed, and was fuming. His shooter was in the hospital room and was in full control. Kareem wanted to howl and transform into a werewolf. Where was Dre when he needed him? He had to get out of there. The way things looked, his only way out was to be admitted into the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, New York.

  With Kareem snuggled in his bed, three other agents rushed into his room. There was not anything more desperate than a bunch of incompetent agents abusing someone’s Fourth Amendment right. He stared at the villainous agents—two men and a token woman—and realized that he may need to dig deep to fend off the unprincipled clan. Kareem was sure that McKenzey and company had carefully selected several crooked clones from a clever stock of agents, from which to take the Bezel’s down. Kareem hoped that the other three was not as indecorous as McKenzey.

  “You came all the way up to New York just to arrest lil’ ol’ moi?” Kareem asked with a mocking disbelief.

  “Oh, Mr. Bezel. It’ll be an honor to haul you off right now to MDC, but you’re not under arrest,” one of the agents said.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t be going today, but I assure you faster than you can heal, your new doctor will be a Navy Reservist at the federal jail,” Agent Melvin Tyler said.

  “What a criminal bomb shell?” Kareem said, disgustedly and rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “I guess that I should raise the white flag and announce my cease fire.”

  “This is just the first of many cease fires,” Agent Tyler told him. “We have investigations for embezzlement, drug trafficking...”

  “Murder for hire, conspiracy,” Agent Bollaski added.

  “Credit card fraud, bank fraud, racketeering, you name it, we have you on it,” Agent Tyler said.

  “And I have a lawyer to get me off it,” Kareem said calmingly. He had no idea if his next words would be effective, but he had to make them appear convincing. “Trust me on this, McKenzey, you’ll regret shooting me.”

  “Kareem...Kareem...Kareem,” McKenzey rambled shaking his head. “Are we going to go there, again? We’ve been over this once before, and trust me; you will not trigger an approved audit of my behaviors.” The look on McKenzey’s face was unconquerable, as he leaned over his once invincible foe and whispered, “By the way, thanks for the...uh...half million. I’m already looking for a new home in an expensive foreign zip.”

  Kareem opened his mouth to speak.

  “Don’t think of ever disrespecting my senior officer. If you weren’t hurt, I’d be all over your scrawny ass myself,” the sour-faced female Agent Small told him. “You’re like an incurable disease.”

  “She speaks,” Kareem said, grinning. He started to launch a verbal attack on her, but he was cut off again.

  “Watch it, bitch!” Toi interjected. “Why the fuck your bull dagging ass keep cutting him off.”

  “Get her out of here,” Agent Bollaki yelled wrathfully. Agent Tyler grabbed Toi by the arm and ushered her to the door.

  “You can’t kick me out. He is not under arrest. Get your hands off me you son-of-a-bitch.” Toi screamed, and tried to resist his grip. “Kareem,” she yelled. “I’m calling, Dre.”

  “Good. We’ve been looking for him.”

  Medical staff witnessed the commotion. “Okay guys, that is enough.” The room door was being held open by a doctor who entered the room. With his soft mousey voice, he told the agents, “He needs to undergo surgery. You’ll need to be gone before he returns, so that he can recover.” The doctor checked the brake on the bed and prepared to sit his patient into the wheelchair.

  “He’s been receptive to our questions thus far,” said McKenzey.

  “Hell, we will be right here waiting for him to return,” the female agent said. She had a lot of mouth and a nasty disposition.

  “I’m sure that he has a conscious spirit. However, his arm and shoulder needs to be addressed and he does not need police anxiety as he recoups,” the doctor said. “If you’d give him three days before you return that’ll be great. Or, I could have a court order to blockade your access to him for a few months.”

  CHAPTER 71

  “Doc, where are we going?” Kareem asked. The elevator passed floors 4, 3, 2, and headed towards the lobby. That alarmed Kareem. He had little knowledge of the hospital. Something was strangely wrong. His brain swirled with a rush of questions and concerns.

  He remembered that before they entered the elevator, the doctor stopped anyone else from entering it. He then inserted a key into the elevator, preventing it from stopping at any other levels. Kareem was not happy with the doctor’s doggerel.

  The hospital elevator doors parted, and the wheelchair rolled out into the corridor. The sign plastered on the wall had an arrow pointing to the left. Next to the arrow were the words: LOBBY/EXIT. The wheelchair turned left. Kareem panicked. Never had a hospital corridor seemed so empty and quiet.

  Kareem gathered his mettle, and said, “I have no idea what the fuck you’re doing, but when we pass the lobby, I’ll scream, if you don’t tell me where we are going.” Kareem was scared that he was being kidnapped by a McKenzey operative. He had a half-frown on his face.

  “If you utter one word, we won’t”—the doctor paused and removed the voice-changing device from his throat, then continued in his deeper, familiar tone—“we won’t leave!”

  “Marquis,” Kareem whispered excitedly.

  “Shhh! Damn, we have to make it to the exit before the agents decide to put a man on your operating room.”

  “How’d you pull this off?” Kareem asked. He was in utter disbelief.

  “Your arm is fucked up, but is your brain dead?” Marquis asked, trivially, wheeling past the hospital reception area. He had the audacity to nod to security, and wished them a good morning.

  They rolled right out the door to a line of cars parked to one side of the hospital. Marquis loaded Kareem into a red and black BMW Z3, under the pouring rain.

  ***

  Toi could not believe what she had been told. The doctor took Kareem away. What the fuck! Is that a joke? She knew that McKenzey was responsible. He had sent a man to kidnap and torture Kareem. What do I do now? She ran behind the officers who drove away as she stood there on the pavement by herself, being rained on. She sobbed fiercely. Where do I go?

  What would I do without Kareem? I’m having a baby, for Christ-sakes. Why did he have to do the things that he did? He’s too smart for his own good. And everyone desires him to be my perfect man. I should have moved on. Wait! I tried that. He turned out to be an agent trying to get Kareem. Somebody help me!

  Toi gathered her composure just as the hospital nurse in the teal scrub handed her a business envelope and walked away without a word. Toi was perplexed and opened the envelope eagerly. She walked away from the hospital and read the note. Midway through it, she smiled, folded it and moved into action.

  CHAPTER 72

  Speeding down Lexington Avenue, Marquis violated a host of traffic laws. He narrowly escaped a murder charge as a scantily clad woman carrying a Bloomingdale’s shopping bag dove hard onto the curb. Cops and federal agents were in pursuit of the shrewd pair. McKenzey was obnoxiously impressed at the foxy gambit.

  They had gotten more attention than necessary. Marquis’ eyes stayed glued on the road. Kareem kept looking behind them. He had an unnecessary eye on their exposed pursuers.

  Turning onto a one lane street, Kareem found them behind a UPS truck holding up traffic delivering a package. Kareem became frustrated. He looked behind them and saw a black sedan directly behind them. They could
n’t back up. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn. Marquis turned to his pal and shrugged his shoulder as he turned the wheel, directing the car into the entrance of a parking garage.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Kareem asked his voice full of panic. “Take the curb!”

  Marquis ignored his panic. He had things under control. The car spiraled to the top of the garage, and McKenzey slithered behind them. They crawled deeper into the garage and Kareem grew displeased with Marquis’ actions.

  The top level of the garage was empty, but there was nowhere to go. Kareem was pissed. “Why the fuck run, if you don’t have a plan?” He screamed. He was so upset with Marquis for tobogganing them into another hostile conflict, while McKenzey having shot him was fresh.

  D-Block’s CD thumped in the background, creating a dangerous atmosphere. The police men sat forty-feet behind them in the otherwise empty top level of the garage. One of their voices came over a bullhorn filling the Z3. “Give it up boys. Turn the car engine off and place the car keys on the roof of the car.”

  Marquis turned down the music and Kareem said, “Now what, dickhead! I told you not to come in here. How many fucking times have you seen someone get away in this scenario?” He screamed in disgust. After all the work they had put in, they now faced arrest, or death. And worse, he had no idea where Jean-Mary was. Kareem wanted to beat Marquis the fuck up.

  Marquis was placid, though. “Kareem you’ve always led the way. You have no idea how much I respect you, applaud you—”

  “Gentleman! This is DEA Agent Lucas McKenzey. I implore you to step out of the vehicle with our hands up. You have families. Please do not make any false moves. I’d hate to see this turned into news.”

  Marquis ignored the agent and continued to praise his best friend. “Despite being older than you, I envy you, and equally respect you. And maybe, I’m even a little jealous. Most importantly, I love you, dawg.” Marquis pause and looked ahead of them, then back at Kareem. He again looked ahead, and then back at Kareem.

  Kareem caught on and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Why the fuck not?”

  CHAPTER 73

  The BMW-Z3 roared across the garage, reaching fifty miles per hour. It crashed through the weak barrier and soared through the air. Marquis was glad that he was able to hit the barrier at the precise point that he had rigged. They floated three seconds, six-feet across an alley before the car plowed into the neighboring garage.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” McKenzey said crazily as he pulled his hair and looked in amazement. He grabbed the walkie-talkie from the NYPD officer that was closes to him and radioed the back up cars. He alerted them that the fugitives were in the opposite garage. “Cut him off.” He yelled, turning his car around.

  “We’re entering the garage now. They’re not going anywhere, I promise you that,” one of the NYPD cars responded with confidence.

  “Proceed with caution. They may be armed and dangerous,” McKenzey said, with a visual of BG and Avery on his mind.

  ***

  “What the fuck do you mean you can’t find them?” McKenzey ranted to NYPD officer Javier Adderly, the first officer on the scene.

  Ten officers ran wildly through the garage trying to locate the fugitives. Three minutes had passed, and they were nowhere to be found. Neither was the Z3.

  “They vanished, sir,” Adderly screamed into his walkie- talkie. His stiff gelled crew cut was limp from sweat.

  “That’s impossible. Z3’s don’t fucking vanish. Check every car, inside and underneath. Force every driver to lift their hood and open their trunk. No one leaves even if they are clean. Interview everyone.”

  McKenzey parked his cruiser. He jumped out and greeted NYPD Sergeant Wu. “I need your men to search every car. These two cannot leave this garage. Have them take posts around the perimeter. And for a few blocks until I get the tunnels and bridges closed. Nothing leaves out of Manhattan.”

  The cops searched feverishly, car by car, and stopped every car owner. McKenzey had no idea where they hid, but he was sure that they could not have left the garage. They had to be in someone’s car, but where was the Z3. They checked every stairwell, in the cash booth, and atop the elevators. There was no sign of them. To make matters worse, McKenzey had no idea who the doctor was. Who tipped the impersonator to rescue Kareem? Where was Dre? His mind raced uncontrollably.

  “Attention. I have two silhouettes under a blue sedan. Looks like a Camry. I’m approaching it, with caution,” Officer Adderly said.

  “Where are you?” McKenzey asked.

  “Level 3.” Officer Adderly had his arms fully extended, as his right hand held gripped his left wrist for a steady shot. He approached the car when one of the figures twitched. He panicked and yelled, “Freeze. Don’t move.” Dear God, please do not let them move.

  Other officers and McKenzey arrived on the third level ready to go. They were all cautious, though. McKenzey knew all to well that Kareem was full of surprises and he would put nothing past him. Even though Adderly had controlled the scene, McKenzey took charge.

  “Look, Kareem. It’s over. There’s two dozen police, that’s 24 guns out here. Do you want that to mean anything? Come on, pal. Do it for Jean-Mary.”

  “We give up and are going to come out. Don’t kill us,” a voice screamed out from under the car.

  “Okay boys. Any tricks and you will lose. The odds are seriously stacked against you,” McKenzey assured his suspects.

  The NYPD and DEA agents took over, positioned throughout the garage to avoid a sniper-style truce.

  Sgt. Wu screamed out, “One of you crawl out now and remain faced down.”

  A lanky figure snaked from under the Camry. He laid face down in the middle of the driveway. McKenzey was impressed that they had changed from their hospital garments so quickly. He liked that they were determined to persevere.

  “Okay. Now you, number two. Same thing, crawling, remember. No sudden movements, and faced down.”

  He too complied.

  “One of guys is going to come and cuff you two. He’ll be unarmed, so do not think about grabbing his weapon.”

  Three men approached the pair. One had his gun drawn and the other two cuffed the men. That went smoothly. With the men hand cuffed, McKenzey and company rolled up on them and pulled them to their feet. McKenzey was flabbergasted as he looked at two teenaged boys, not Kareem and his unidentified perp.

  “Why the hell are you under a car?” McKenzey asked furiously. He would have killed them if he were alone.

  “We thought that you were looking for us because we ran away from home,” a thirteen-year-old said, shaking his head, scared of all the guns drawn on him.

  “Did you see a BMW Z3? Red?” McKenzey asked.

  “Yes! I saw the driver toss a mask over there,” one of the boys said pointing.

  “Yeah, the car rolled up into the cargo area of a UPS truck, like Kit from Knight Rider.”

  CHAPTER 74

  The Elmhurst section of Queens was filled to the brim with NYPD, DEA, and the FBI. McKenzey stood behind the barrier surrounding a UPS truck. Even though the truck appeared empty, McKenzey warned the officers not to approach the vehicle until the bomb squad had cleared the area for police scrutiny. Channel-9 news circled the scene from the air for an exclusive shot of the proceedings.

  McKenzey looked on as the FBI Special Agent Assistant Director in charge of the New York office approached the scene. The Bezels had made capturing them course enough, but this stunt was vulgar and needed the attention of the big wigs. Director Mason Dillard was a slim, morbid-looking man. The bespectacled agent approached McKenzey, who realized he was about to receive one of the most daunting humiliations a cop could get: a reprimand from the top brass.

  The Bezels had truly strengthened McKenzey’s loathsome opinion of them. He should have taken then down, rather than allow them to obscenely exploit the agency for its incompetence.

  Dilliard stood face-to-face with McKenzey. He removed his glasses and stared down
the subordinate. “Right now, I know you’re shitting in your pants. Hating their ferocious punch of perseverance and determination to hold onto their freedom another day. I bet you’re as amazed as I am at how they have an aggressive skill in coaxing your egoism. Your bullshit—which, I have saw tapes—has drained the morals and righteousness and nobility out of the agency’s existence.”

  “Sir, with all—”

  “I urge not to speak. Anything you say just may eventually be used against you. Capturing these clowns is the only language that I’d like to hear from you. And I never want you in my fucking city again!” Dilliard paused and took a deep breath, staring hard into McKenzey’s eyes. “I hope you understand that my last name is not Bezel,” he said and walked away.

  McKenzey watched Dilliard’s back and wanted to shoot a bullet through it. McKenzey felt the dark glare’s from his team. They wondered if there was any ethical coherence in McKenzey’s blood. All of Kareem’s words—“he shot me”— and Dilliard’s words—“I’ve seen the tapes”—flashed through their minds.

  The bomb squad robot rolled away from the truck, a cold wind of thoughts battered McKenzey’s mind, frustrating him. The robot could not have departed an instant too soon. The amount of dreadful suspense turned out to be the most excruciating moment of his life. The robot’s intelligence revealed that the truck was clean. Agents surrounded the trucks with their guns drawn as McKenzey raised the cargo door of the truck nearest him. There was a note hanging on the back wall of the truck, along with a laptop. The note read: So long sucka. See you in Mexico!

  Suddenly the idea of them being at the airport dawned on the cops, and that was a hazard. McKenzey looked at Sgt. Wu and raced off to his car. McKenzey’s task force followed their leader to the airport.