Last Laugh Page 5

“I’m a bad guy, and right now I can’t show you where I live. It’s just for now, sweetheart,” he said and opened the car door. “I have to be cautious. You can be a killer.” He gave her a coy smile and exited the car.

  I’m not, but I am a sharpshooter, top of my class, she thought, while offering him a smile. She grabbed her cell from the dash board and put in her security code. “Hurry up back,” she said as she went into her contacts.

  “I got you,” he replied and walked toward an apartment complex across the street from the gas station.

  When he was out of ear shot, Yolanda called her federal handler, Jason Malvoy. He answered and she very quickly briefed him on what had happened.

  “I’m proud of you,” Agent Jason Malvoy said to her. “This is what making the grade is all about.”

  “Well, thank you, sir,” she said and blushed. It was hard being a black woman on the force, and even harder to be an undercover. She had worked her way from the Philadelphia PD, to a Yale law degree, and now she was ready to rid the world of drug dealers. It wasn’t all business for her, though. It was mostly personal. Five years earlier her drug addicted mother had died from a drug overdose and it was learned that her mother had HIV from shooting up heroine. The undercover agent wanted revenge and the avenue to get it was by arresting dealers. “So what do you propose that I do?” she asked just as Rock was opening the car door.

  “Be the best undercover agent and crack that case,” he said.

  “Ok, mom,” she said. “I love you and I promise to do my best.” She then tossed her cell phone back on the dash board.

  “That was nice,” Rock commented as he counted a large wad of money. “You must have a great relationship with your mom.”

  “You have no idea,” she said, and pulled the car out of the parking space. “So where are we headed?”

  He handed her $300. “I need to run some errands. Could you drive me to a few places and then I promise to take to you dinner. A very nice dinner?”

  She pretended to be in deep thought, before she said, “Sure,” and held up the money that he had given her. “I think I can work for you under these conditions.”

  16

  PHILADELPHIA, PENN’S LANDING

  McKenzey was at his sartorial best as he sat by the water at Penn’s Landing. He had spared no cost to transition into the perfect woman for his return to Philadelphia. He wore a Chanel tweed suit, loafers, and even a recently bought poodle all of which worked perfect for his plan to cause a lot of trouble in the town that he worked in for over 17 years. There he was at the pier admiring the water, and working on a name. He looked like a fragile, scared woman out for the day, and he was.

  He found an area by the water and pulled out a cheap cell phone that he had just bought before he purchased the dog. He dialed up a friend and waited for a reply.

  “Mabel, it’s me,” he said and let the caller register who she was speaking with. “I am in town and I need your help with a project.”

  “Oh, really,” she said. He imagined her smile.

  “Yes, it’s a kidnapping job.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Yes, yes. I am back, just when they thought that I had truly disappeared.”

  “It’s been a while, babe, but I doubt they’ve forgotten about you.” He heard her laughter.

  “Well, my renewed pressure applied to them will be of no surprise then,” he told his pal and laughed, an emotional feature that he barely activated.

  Mabel was one of McKenzey’s craziest criminals. He was assigned to investigate her and her husband, but found that she was more of a criminal genius than just the wife of a drug dealer. She orchestrated the kidnappings of other prominent dealers and McKenzey sat and played classical music in his nondescript car as he watched them all play out. When he caught her at the Neiman Marcus department store spending her stolen money with several dozen photographs of her crimes, it was easy to persuade her to be on his team. He gave her the names of the DEA’s most wanted drug dealers and together they had taken a lot of money, and she stayed out of jail.

  “So, where are we meeting?”

  “Great question. I am behind you,” he told her and waited for her to turn around.

  “You devil you,” she said and chuckled. “You make a lovely woman.”

  She walked towards him as McKenzey tossed the phone into the river. It was time to get to the business of kidnapping one, Kareem Bezel.

  17

  PHILADELPHIA, JEAN-MARY’S HOME

  Amir was in his room on the bed coloring in a book with his television turned off. Toi had taken his game systems and radio, and placed him on punishment for the school yard fight despite him being provoked and bullied. Jean-Mary approached his bedroom door, looked at him through the door and smirked. He was entertaining himself and didn’t need a TV or games to do it. She liked that. He was just like his father, Kareem, when it came to being creative.

  “How’s it going?” she asked him from the doorway.

  Amir jumped up, crossed the room and hopped into her arms. He had a huge smile on his face.

  “I am so glad that you’re home, grandmom. I am on punishment.”

  “Bad boy,” she said and let him down. “What did you do?” She knew but wanted to hear his reply.

  “Nothing, some boy hit me, and I hit him back just like I was taught. But my mom said that I had a chance to walk away and I never did. I called her, so she knows what happened.”

  “Well, she’s right, Amir. Fighting in school is just not good, and you should not be hitting people.”

  “But, grandmom, he hit me. He was trying to punk me.”

  “Punk you?” she asked and frowned. She could not believe that he had said that. She didn’t know that he talked like that. She had tried to protect him from certain behaviors and street talk was high on the list, although she could not control what he learned when he left the house. She wanted him to be a boy. A little boy. She was not a fan of teaching boys that they were the man of the house as children. It was just a bad practice to her. He was a boy, not a man, and it was that simple for her. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he was bullying me. He thought that I wasn’t going to fight back and I begged him to leave me alone. He kept it up so I hit and kicked him. I wasn’t being bad, grandmom. I promise you.”

  She let that sink in and then put her hands on her hips. She had a sassy stance and looked at him with a smile plastered on her face. “Let me explain this, Amir. You will always be picked on by someone in life. It happens in elementary school and it happens in corporate America. It’s the way of the world. Sure you defended yourself, but you were suspended. Now you cannot go to school for three days. So, no more perfect attendance award. And now you have a bad school record. You do more harm to yourself when you fight as opposed to trying to get away from the nonsense.”

  “Grandmom, you want me to run?” Amir frowned, there was no way that he would run from anyone at school.

  “Not run, but figure out a better way before you fight, and get suspended,” she paused and then said, “You got that?”

  “Yes, grandmom, but...”

  “No, buts. Now let me go and ask your mom about letting you off punishment.”

  He ran to her and yelled, “Thank you...thank you,” as he gave her a hug.

  18

  NORRISTOWN, DARRYL’S HOME

  Darryl entered his home engaged in a conversation with his boss. He explained why he had left work without notice, passing along a very lame excuse. Of course, he couldn’t say that he was seduced, tied up, and left for dead in a gay bath house.

  “Yes, I am going to have some soup and get under the quilt and relax,” Darryl said into the phone, as he dropped his briefcase on the sofa. “I’ll be fine, and I will be in tomorrow no matter how I feel. Yes, I will have the motion to supersede on your desk by the close of business. See you tomorrow.”

  Darryl hung the phone up and fell onto the sofa. He sank deeply into the leather and then jumped r
ight back up.

  “What the hell are you doing in my home?” he asked the woman as she exited the kitchen. “Who are you?”

  McKenzey pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Darryl. “Let’s be clear here. I have no intentions on harming you, but I need your cooperation to do that.” He used his sinister female voice.

  Darryl opened the envelope and then flipped through the photos. One by one, he relived his moment at the bathhouse in the room with the monster that stood before him.

  “Again, who are you? And what do you want? I don’t have much money, but whatever it takes I want this and you to go away immediately.” Darryl walked towards his bar and looked at the selection. He needed something heavy to knock him out.

  “Well,” McKenzey said in his authentic voice. “I am the very man that you just had a lovely time with.”

  “Dear God,” Darryl said and looked into the mirror above the bar. His dark-skinned complexion was whitening right before his brown eyes. He was a slim, muscular guy, but he seemed to shrink by the second, as he poured a shot of vodka into a shot glass.

  “Yes, you’re in the presence of God,” McKenzey said and smiled. He leaned his head to the side, as he said, “Here, take this,” and then handed him another envelope.

  Darry apprehensively took it, and observed that McKenzey was wearing woman’s gloves to protect against leaving any fingerprints on any surfaces in the prosecutor’s home. He flipped through the photos and news clippings that had been printed moments ago according to the line at the bottom of the paper. Darryl was confused. How the hell did he get access to my computer to use the printer?

  “So, you’re the missing DEA Lucas McKenzey?”

  “Wanted,” McKenzey chuckled. “Not missing.”

  “So you’re targeting me or something. What’s going on? Why are you bothering me? It would seem that I am on your team since I am prosecuting Kareem Bezel for breaking you out.”

  “Well, no. I was not targeting you, but since I stumbled across you, I have decided to use you in my plan, my very wicked plan to get revenge on the Bezel Brothers. Your prosecution won’t be successful, and you know that. They really need to pay, and I am the man to do it, right?”

  Darryl had a seat on the sofa and continued to look at the photos. He hated himself at that moment. All he wanted to do was sneak into the bath house for a quick afternoon romp, have fun and get through the rest of the day in a great mood. Now he was somehow wrapped in someone’s twisted plot to exact revenge on the brothers that he was assigned to prosecute. Life could not get any worse for him.

  “You could not image my jubilance when I learned that you were the lead prosecutor on the Kareem Bezel case. You’re all set to prosecute him for helping break me out of federal prison.” McKenzey paused and walked around the sofa and sat next to Darryl. He placed his hand on his new friend’s knee and said, “I assure you. Kareem Bezel is innocent.”

  19

  PHILADELPHIA, HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS

  Kareem took his margin of error with a grain of salt. He knew what he had gotten into and was prepared to deal with it. His problem, though, was that his prison issues affected his family, and he didn’t like that. He could not help them, nor could he protect them from anything. He really hated realizing that perhaps he had to get a grip if just for them to be protected. Since he was on his criminal mission he had ruined their lives and he was finally realizing that.

  I am letting this fucking time do me, he thought, and then pounded the bunk. Why am I doing this to myself and my family? I am smarter than this. I have a thriving company that has managed to stay above water while I have been in jail on this bogus case. The hustler in me had me passing drugs and in a riot. On the streets, I’d be in jail for the way I beat the shit out of that clown. What the hell am I doing?

  He got up and looked into the scratched up mirror and found a corner that he could see his face. His eyes had bags under them from not being able to sleep. When he sat back on the bunk, a CO approached his cell window and tapped on it.

  “Night rec,” the CO said offering Kareem his one-hour recreation.

  “Yeah, let me get that,” Kareem said and stood to hop into his orange jumper and shower sandals. He was not allowed to have any sneakers while housed on the segregation unit.

  After backing up to the door, Kareem pushed his hands through the tray slot, and heard the CO pull out his handcuffs. The CO placed them on Kareem’s wrists and tightened them so tightly that they pinched his skin.

  “What the fuck, idiot,” Kareem barked at the man. He turned around and looked the CO square into his eyes. “I know my shit bleeding, pussy. You’re only fucking with me because I am in cuffs.”

  “No,” the CO said and shook his head. “I am fucking with you because you’re fucking with my livelihood.”

  “Your livelihood. I don’t even know you, cuz.”

  “As a matter of fact, you know my wife.”

  “Your wife?” Kareem said puzzled.

  “Yes, the librarian that employed you and gave you a shot to roam around this jail is my wife.”

  “So. I ain’t fuckin ya wife, yo.”

  “Sure you did. That’s why she’s been suspended. Your bullshit has her under investigation. Do you know what that means?” The CO stood with his hands at his side and his fists balled up. He wanted to kill Kareem with his bare hands.

  “Man, that’s bullshit. I don’t have control of them doing that. Take these cuffs off me now. What the fuck? I feel the blood running down my hands.”

  “Back up to the door.” The CO un-cuffed Kareem and said, “Dig this, I don’t know what you’ve been telling security here, but you better stop lying on my wife, or I promise that I will find a way to kill you right in this very cell. You got that?” He tossed his cuffs in his pocket.

  “Yeah, I got it,” Kareem said and looked at his wrists. “What we going to do about my wrists, man?” He was being coy and weak. He needed the CO to trust him.

  “I am going to walk back down the tier, and then I will be back to escort you to the nurse’s office.”

  20

  PHILADELPHIA, CAMDEN, NJ

  Just over the Ben Franklin Bridge, which connected Philadelphia, PA and Camden, NJ, Dre had an apartment in Camden’s only high rise projects. The apartment overlooked the bridge, making it easy for him to spy on who was coming in and out of Camden. That included a team of Philadelphia federal agents looking to arrest him. He had paid a woman’s rent to live in another apartment in a much nicer area while he occupied her Section 8 apartment that she paid $16 a month for rent. He was barely there, but it was the perfect place to store his drugs and conduct meetings with other dealers. He had eyes to inform him of any police activity at the building and if he was ever there, he had men that assured if police set up to invade the apartment he would set it on fire and be out of the apartment long before they reached the 18th floor where he was.

  Dre stood in the window smoking a blunt and looking out the window at the Philadelphia skyline. He loved the view, but had begun to hate the city. In the distance he saw the Federal Detention Center, the place where he was housed and didn’t want to go back. But he was going to throw stones at the place by kidnapping his brother before he was housed back there.

  21

  PHILADELPHIA, HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS

  The prison nursing area was quiet that night. No one was there for being stabbed or having an infection acquired in the prison due to the unsanitary conditions. For Kareem’s safety, no other inmates were allowed in the area. He was having his hands cleaned and wrapped with bandages.

  I can’t believe this asshole messed up my wrists like this. I have to make him pay for this. Fuck dat. My dad ain’t raise no bitch. He looked down at the nurse as the nurse poured peroxide over his wounds. I bet this shit is going to become scars What if people begin to think I was suicidal, slicing my wrists in an effort to check out of this world? This makes no sense. They’re going to kill me in here. I have to get ba
ck to the feds and get out of here.

  “This is fucked up isn’t?” Kareem asked the nurse. She looked at him and curled her lips. He assumed that she agreed, so he continued, “You don’t have to say shit.”

  She wrapped bandaging on his wrists using gauze and tape. “I know you can’t open your pretty little mouth because this is your livelihood, but you know what they’re doing to me is wrong. You need to report this.” He was using his most soothing and friendliest tone to convince her. “I’ll pay you $10,000 to report this to the news anonymously.”

  Wowing her was his plan. He hoped that it worked, because he needed someone in the jail on his team. He thought the law librarian would have been there. After all, he had been breaking her off a cut of his proceeds from trafficking the drugs throughout the jail. She was fully aware of what was going on and perhaps her husband knew that. Just maybe, that was why her husband attacked me. Trusting him, the dumb bitch probably went home and confessed to him during pillow talk.

  “Okay, turn around, and let me cuff you,” the CO said, “you’re done here.”

  Kareem sat there. “I am not done. I have a few more questions for the nursing staff. Don’t you see that we’re talking?” He turned to the nurse. “As I was saying before this clown got in my way.”

  The CO moved and reached out to snatch Kareem off the chair.

  That back fired.

  Kareem grabbed the CO’s arm, gripped his wrist and then snapped it. The CO screamed and dropped to the floor and Kareem kicked him in the face. He then commenced to stump the CO out on the ground. He chanted a new profane word after each kick. In the distance, Kareem heard the loud clanging of keys hitting the officers’ hips as they ran to the nurse’s station. No doubt the goon squad was coming for him, but he didn’t care. He was ready for war with them anyway. Besides, knowing that after whooping a few of their asses, they’d get him out of there.

  Kareem backed away from the CO that was on the ground bleeding, and then he spat on him. “That’s for my wrists you dumb bitch.” Backing away from him, Kareem put his back up against the wall and held his hands in the air. He was ready for war.