“You’re sure that your job won’t interfere with us?” He felt her head shake up and down. “You know you’re my best friend, right, and I love you too?”
“Yes,” she answered hastily. It had been nine months that she had known her lover, but he had a meteoric impact on her emotionally with his unrelenting charm.
At the outset of their relationship, Antoine was very into Roxanne. She had a suave personality for a chick and had been enrolled in Temple University’s Criminal Justice program, and she had a job. A job that Antoine had not known anything about until the first time he had set foot into her bedroom. It was there that he saw a badge that sat on top of her DVD player. She confessed to being a Philadelphia PD Bench Warrant Unit officer. That presented a dangerous situation for the criminal thug. Despite his fears, he moved forward with a relationship, considering he had met Roxanne while he served time in a state penitentiary in Chester, Pennsylvania. While in a halfway house, he went awol, and her response was, “Of course,” when he asked could she hide him. He knew then that she was dick-whipped and addicted to his swagger. Question was, whether or not he was good enough for the niece of a former Philadelphia mayor with sights on a career as a crime scene investigator.
Roxanne pushed up on her tip-toes and pecked his forehead. “I gotta get to a Saturday class,” she said and pulled away from him.”
“Sure you do,” he replied and watched her ass shake to her closet. “Can I use the car today?”
“Hell no,” she said and then turned and looked at him like he was death. “Are you kidding me? My car was towed last night after you left it in Germantown and you think you’re going to drive my shit today? Boy...”
“I thought you loved me?” he asked, and brushed his hair in the mirror.
“Boy, please! Don’t even try that,” she said gliding panties over her thighs. She walked over to him to clip her bra. She loved his touch.
She began to walk away and he snatched her into his arms lovingly. He whispered, “I gotta get to an important meeting about a job at one. Can I please take the car?”
“No,” she replied quickly. She was not fooled by his touch. “Where’s this meeting? What job?”
“Downtown. Don’t know what kind of job. I gotta meet a friend to find out.”
“Take the el train at 60th Street. That will get you in town in ten minutes.”
“Be that way,” he said and gently pushed her away.
She continued to dress, and watched him dig into a Neiman’s bag.
“What’s in the bag? Something for me, I hope?”
“Not this time,” he confessed, and laid out the outfit on the bed like a kid.
“Oh, okay. Be that way.”
“What? I can’t use your car, you get’s no Neiman’s.” He warned her smiling.
“You’re a fucking trip. I can take one to the King of Prussia Mall to the Neiman’s if I had reliable transportation.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t think that you can handle any more of this,” he told her, pulling on his manhood.
“Boy, please! I gotta go.”
“Come kiss me,” he demanded with a sexy smirk on his face.
She walked over to him and gave him a salacious kiss and then said, “Don’t bring ya ass in here at four a.m. no damn more, Antoine. And definitely, not without my car.” She then released him and left the house.
Had she known how much cash he had earned the night before, he bet she wouldn’t care about the time that he came in. She would certainly just spend his money, all $34,800.00 of it, if she knew he had it.
CHAPTER 9
Antoine felt like a moron being there in front of the subway entrance at the corner of Broad and Chestnut Streets. He was on the side of the street with the Ritz Carlton Hotel. He was early because he wanted to watch his lunch date enter the hotel and identify who he was with. What if the police jumped out from every angle? He had a burner on his hip and planned to use it. He wanted to run away, but he also wanted to talk business. Expand his network. Or meet the perfect vic. After a ten minute wait, Antoine assumed that his host was a no-show, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was snatched down the subway stairs. Efforts to resist were futile and he was stripped of his weapon.
“Oh, this is pretty,” one of the men said. He held the gun in the air and smiled stupidly. “Our friend will see you now.”
Antoine was flabbergasted, but he walked up the subway steps and headed inside of the ritzy hotel.
The bar inside of the four-star Ritz Carlton Hotel swam in oak and mirrors. The James Bond Mission Impossible score was being played on the lobby piano by a University of the Arts student. The lights were dim and a large ginger bread house was at the head of the bar. It was an intimate setting. The ambiance very cleverly fooled Antoine into thinking that he was not in for an evil meeting.
Kareem watched his guest stroll in his direction. He walked slowly and looked pissed that the two men outside had purloined his weapon. Kareem had showcased his control of the situation, so that Antoine understood that it was Kareem who had mental and emotional custody of him. It probably had not hit him, but by the end of their encounter, he would be duly informed.
Antoine sat down and Kareem waved down an anorexic cocktail waitress. He asked his guest, “Can Suzie here get you a drink and entree?” without any other greeting.
“I’m good.”
“Suit yourself, I’ll have a Brandy.”
As soon as Suzie walked away, Antione asked, “Why am I here?”
“I’ll get to that. But wouldn’t it be nice to know who I am?”
“Fucking right,” Antoine barked in a hush tone.
“Be careful with the sarcasm,” Kareem said as Suzie dropped off his cocktail. He took a sip and then said, “I am FBI Kareem Browning.” He was lying through his teeth, but that’s what he did for a living.
Antoine Robertson sat at the bar and looked dumbly in the mirror behind the bottles of liquor. He looked pale and sucked up. Kareem had scared the thug out of him. He wondered if his shivering was noticed. Suddenly, Antoine questioned why he had met an unknown man at a bar in downtown. He was pissed that he had not just killed the man. He realized greed had him there. And the prospect of having another robbery victim. To his dismay, he was the victim.
Kareem had erased the smile from his face and saw a deep weariness in Antoine’s eyes. He looked at the man that had held him at gunpoint and said, “I should slap the shit out of you for two reasons: (1) your little stunt last night, and (2) for being dumb enough to meet a stranger. You’re a greedy little bitch and I’m going to be sure you get all that you came to get.” Kareem suppressed the idea of getting the assault charge, but he was ready to set things in motion to ruin the government’s case against his older brother Andre who was locked in a federal detention center pending trial. “Looks like I have the gun now. A mental one. You had no idea that you would race out into a street and become an innocent bystander of sinister debauchery and revenge.” To Suzie, Kareem said, “Hey hun, could you get my friend a water? His throat is dry.”
“Sure, no problem,” she said and left the table.
“What is it? You look dumbfounded,” Kareem said and frowned. His voice was grave and exuded power and confidence. “Perhaps something to do with my identity has rubbed you the wrong way sir.”
“No, not at all,” Antoine said and sipped his water. “You have no proof of what happened last night.”
Kareem chuckled and smiled. “You’re joking right? Last night is irrelevant. You’re missing a helluva game. Let’s start with the gun that my federal pals just took off your hip. Prints are being pulled from it as we chat. And, albeit I didn’t see it, I am sure it’s the same gun from last night. Besides, on the stand you would have had it.” Kareem wore a wicked smile and his head was sarcastically tilted to the side.
Kareem was putting on a show and working on a standing ovation. Kareem didn’t add that his best friend Marquis and cousi
n Rhonda were outside the hotel with his gun. The thought was laughable. I had my partners in crime strip you of your weapon and now I have you believing that I am a cop.
“Man, whatever.”
“Ah, sarcasm can’t save you. Let’s start with you being a convicted felon in possession of a gun in violation of United States Crimes Code, section 922G. You should select your kidnapping victims more carefully, and the blind meetings you attend more wisely.”
Antoine was displaced. He played with a table napkin and began to brood. He felt the moronic wrath of his stupidity. He sifted through his dumbness, and realized time was not on his side. He had a host of things he knew that he could do to the man before him, but how could he. Kudos on the location of the meeting. Certainly, he would not assault an agent in the lobby of one of the toniest hotel lobbies in the City of Philadelphia.
“What do you want? Money? I have plenty. The duffle bag was full of it last night.”
“I don’t want your dirty money. If you recall, I brought you here to offer you an opportunity to make money.”
“Come on, man. I fucked up!”
“That’s your problem,” he said, twisted his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. “I won’t be bribed. I take what I want. You see I have your gun!” He sipped his brandy.
“Why am I here?” Antoine asked. He wanted to get to the gist of the meeting. Why the fuck am I here?”
“I have brought you here to offer you a pardon for yesterday’s robbery and expungement of the robberies that you’re wanted for.” Antoine glared at the agent crazily. “Did I confuse you?”
“I am not wanted for any robberies.”
“Sure you are.” Kareem was fishing.
“I have no warrants for a robbery.” Antoine was sure of that thanks to Roxanne’s help.
“Besides the drug house from last night, there are a host of thugs that would love to get their hands on you for robbing them. I can also think of a few to pinpoint on you. You look like you could be the GQ Bandit. He’s still on the loose. He can be you whenever I feel like.”
“I get the point, man. What do you want?”
“What is the point? I ask because I really hope that you get it.”
“Okay, what’s the point?”
“I thought that you got it. That’s what I thought you said. You’re sitting there all stonedfaced as if you’re unfazed by this encounter. I am not fooled. I assure you that this is a game and you better follow every rule, or you’ll meet your maker,” Kareem promised, and then handed Antoine a folder. Antoine opened the folder and frowned. “That’s the new you.”
“The new who?”
“You!” Kareem replied and jammed a finger into Antoine’s forehead. “Learn the file and learn it well. You need to be properly prepared for your new life.”
“What life?”
“The one as a contract killer! Certainly, not the dismal one that you have now. You’ll see what life. You’re really a killer, right?” Kareem said and chuckled. “You have a few days to wrap up your Philadelphia affairs.”
“Local affairs? I am not leaving Philly!” Antoine confessed. Roxanne flashed across his mind.
“Suuureeee,” Kareem said sarcastically. “American Airlines flight 1875 leaving at 7:30 a.m. with you on it posing as Daymon Monroe. There’re three platinum credit cards inside the file, and I’ll have your ID tomorrow now that I have a good photo of you.”
“Man, you’re trippen.”
“Get to your destination and find a hotel, buy clothes, whores, whatever you want,” he said and then looked at a text that came through his new phone.
“And?” Antoine asked. He knew there was a catch.
“Be patiently awaiting my instructions.”
“Instructions?”
“Yes, there will be plenty!”
“And if I don’t follow them.”
“You’ll be playing a very dangerous game with your life.”
“Is that right?”
“Come on, why are we having this discussion? Why have things spiraled to this point?”
“Because you had the audacity to try to play me with this man.”
Kareem sat there with a dumb smirk on his face. He was not playing any games and did not understand why Antoine thought that he was. “Listen, I get it,” Kareem said and tossed his hands in the air. See here’s your problem. There’s an app on the little iPhone of mine that you took that affords me and the police the opportunity to locate my phone. Your little West Philadelphia home is being searched as we speak. By the time this meeting is over, and it’s about to be, I will know all about you and then some. Now you play tough and get your ear bitten off if you wanna. If you’re not at that airport as planned, I can assure you that I will turn your life upside down!” Kareem said, and then stood. “Check please,” he said to Suzie, and then to Antoine, he said, “Take care of the check. You have money. I know. That text that came through my phone a moment ago was all about the 30 or so grand that you have hidden inside of your little fling’s sofa.” He paused and said, “You look dumbfounded. They left the phone, by the way. Look out for my call as I stated earlier. I have to go!”
CHAPTER 10
The lead story in Inmate/Agent Lucas McKenzey’s life was the mental breakdown of Andre Bezel. It was a glorious thing for him to be handcuffed and taken to the lieutenant’s office for questioning and be informed of the riot. McKenzey had a smile on his face as wide as the planet Earth as the lieutenant asked if he had any idea why Andre had flipped out and set a riot into motion. What baffled them most was that the entire jail decided to participate. McKenzey, while an inmate, was a veteran DEA agent with an extensive military background. He did ask them if they trailed the money. Perhaps Andre had sent every inmate letters or put money in all of their prison accounts. Maybe he had given all of their families money. McKenzey had no idea, but he would not put anything past them.
When he was returned to his cell, he sat back and recalled the time when Kareem Bezel deposited a half-million dollars into his personal account in an attempt to blackmail him. It didn’t work, as McKenzey didn’t want to be bought. He recalled the conversation like it was yesterday.
“Well let’s cut to the chase,” Kareem said. “I plan to go to the public with the information that I have on you—” McKenzey tried to speak, but Kareem wasn’t having that. He was taking the show to a dramatic climax. “I will pay you to disregard the information in exchange for the investigative notes and files from any policing agency regarding me or my brother. This quid pro quo comes with a million dollar bounty attached. Half now, and the otha half when you deliver. Or you can exchange tossed salad in prison with a man named Tiny who looks like Shaq, but.”
“Foreplay like this only leads to sex. I am not that egregious. However,”—he pulled out a tape recorder—“I could arrest you for this chicanery. But I won’t. I’d like it much better snatching you off a Bryant Park runway during fall fashion week.”
“I don’t mean to rape the thunder from your confidence, but you’re not in control. I know what you did to my father, bitch ass cracka!”
“Our business is done. Obviously my last statement eluded your high fashion IQ. I am a decorated officer and I have the connection complexion. Don’t-fuck-with-me.”
McKenzey sat in a cell and laughed at the kid’s tenaciousness. The agent had tried to play hardball, but it didn’t work. That very day, there were $500,000 in McKenzey’s personal checking account, and there was no way that he could have explained how it appeared there. Equally, he could not explain how it disappeared before he had the opportunity to use any of it. Kareem was a very conniving young man, and he planned to make him pay. The only question was how.
His masterful plan was disturbed by a loud incessant bang on his cell door.
“What the fuck,” he yelled and pulled his head from under the covers. “I ain’t deaf!” he said and jumped to his feet.
“I thought that you were sleeping,” Counselor McGinnis said. “I have
legal mail here for you. Come sign for it.”
“On a Sunday. Mail does not deliver on Sundays, so I guess you’ve been holding this.”
“Shut your cum hole, McKenzey, and be glad that you’re getting this at this point,” the counselor said and slid a log book under the door. “Sign next to your name.”
McKenzey grabbed the book and said, “I should flush this shit down the fucking toilet, missy. Your mother has a cum hole.”
“Your legal mail will follow and so will prosecution. That’s a federal log book, which is admissible in court.”
“I don’t need a fucking lesson in the way in which our legal system works.”
“It’s no longer ours; ergo, you’re on the green team. And in case you’ve forgotten, that’s the inmate team. Sign the fucking book so that I can get out of here.”
McKenzey signed the book, and then tossed it under the door in exchange for his legal mail. He hated that he was on the green team, and wanted out of prison so badly, but what could he do about it. Yes, he was corrupt, but he got the job done. He may have violated the constitutional rights of many people that he tossed in jail, but no one was innocent. Each and every man he arrested was a criminal. No one was set up or an innocent victim to his violations. What happened to them once the United States Attorney’s Office got involved was not his fault.
“Thanks, dip shit!”
“Your mother!” the counselor said and walked off.
McKenzey sat down on his bunk and stared at the letter from the United States Government. They had consistently sought to get him to rat out any federal agents that were involved with him, so that they could go after them. But he was not having that. He would die a soldier and would never give up anyone else because he was caught. United States Attorney Barnswell was assigned to bring the Bezel Brothers to justice and McKenzey did not like how he had started that process. For starters, Kareem Bezel belonged locked in a cage, far more than Andre Bezel. Kareem was the orchestrator of this madness and as long as he was able to roam free, he would be able to further arm himself and beat the system,if that was humanly possible.
Die Later Page 4
