The Range Rover was eerily quiet as the driver cautiously drove north on Pulaski Avenue. He bypassed dozens of policeman headed to the crime scene. They had no idea that the robber had committed a second crime—carjacking and kidnapping—and drove by them. The driver drove methodically. He was forced to match his survival instinct against his street smarts. His night was suddenly derailed and his vision of a Sunday night in Atlantic City at the 40/40 Club looked grainy.
The driver glanced into the rearview mirror and golden eyes stared at strong cheekbones and a wavy flow of hair. Women appreciated his charm, and the animal in the back seat was taking advantage of that. He had a show-stopping smile, but he was stone-faced as he watched red and blue lights fade behind him. At Manheim Street, Antoine demanded that the driver turn left. Undoubtedly, he did it. He was no dummy. His captor had been in the back seat less than a minute, but it seemed like hours. He surmised that the man was in a desperate situation that he needed out of before arrest occurred, or something more obnoxious.
“Left or right?” the driver asked, as he approached Wissahickon Avenue. The Social Security Administration building was in front of him, so he could not proceed straight.
“Swing a left and hop on the E-way,” the thug instructed and waved the Rueger in the air. He kept his index finger planted firmly on the trigger, as if the driver gave a damn.
The driver was extremely aware of the dangers to his health had he not obeyed. He also knew that the man needed him.
A lot!
“Where are you taking me to?” the driver asked, and he desperately wanted to know. He sounded and was probably perceived to be timid and passive. He was neither. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a sinister sparkle in his captor’s eyes that evidenced little, or no, commonsense.
“Just drive!” Antoine said. His voice was grim and dark. Killer.
The driver slipped in with the other traffic onto I-76 at Fox Street. To his horror, traffic became gridlocked just after driving one mile to the City Avenue exit. “Fuck, an accident,” the driver said out loud and his visions of getting the gun toting ingrate to his final destination vanished. There he was doing a meteoric zero miles per hour with a caged animal in his back seat. He had to bust a move because the silence was extremely loud.
Antoine deemed the jam a very dangerous liability.
The driver cleared a lump in his throat and prepped to talk his way from up under the gun. That was the most moving moment in his life. To the kidnapper, he cordially said, “You’re running from the cops, huh?” He let that sink in and then added, “I can dig it. Been there before.”
“Cut the shit.” Antoine hissed. “I’m having a very bad fucking night.”
“I’m having a blast, being held at gunpoint in a traffic jam and shit,” the driver replied as he turned to face the man. He wore a smirk on his face.
The buffoon jumped up and slammed the Rueger into the driver’s side. He pressed it hard, even though the man was his accomplice.
“Go ahead and kill me. There’s no less than fifty sets of eyes on us. You’ll get very far on foot,” the man said mockingly. “You need me. Act like it!” He didn’t add pussy. He knew well that the criminal would not have shot him for that disrespectful line. Not at that point. It was best that he gathered all of the courage that he could to prevent that clown from sending him to meet his maker.
“Oh! You think you a tough guy?”
“Naw, I am a street nigga, though. Don’t let the smoothness fool you, my dude. Believe me, I am not the enemy. I am glad that you got away. Now get that gun out of my side.” The driver hoped that everything that he said registered. He prayed that he had a criminal in the back of his ride with a small dosage of deductive reasoning.
“You have a lot of balls to talk to me like that,” the gunman said to the driver as he pulled his gun back and slid back into his hole. “You make a good point, but I will kill you if you disrespect me again, between now and me carjacking you.”
“You want my fucking ride?” the driver asked, and snatched the key out of the ignition. He swung the car door open and hit the button to open the back hatch. He hopped out of the driver side, and said, “Take it!” He punctuated his statement by slamming the door shut. At the back of the truck, he pulled the hatch open. He was pissed and prepared to take that show on the road as the director. “You got a gun, running from the cops. To me that translates to you being a dealer or a robber. By the look of the duffle bag, I am thinking the latter. I can put you onto some serious cash, no gun required. But with that gun on me, that ain’t likely.”
Antoine looked at the driver shockingly. Inwardly he could not believe the audacity. To the driver’s dismay, Antoine did not budge. Not even blink. Just a crazy stare. Could he have contemplated shooting him in the face? The driver had no idea, so helped the driver helped the kidnapper along. He said, “You can’t kill me, man. Well, you could, but you shouldn’t. For one, I am a criminal just as much as you, or else I would be screaming for my life. Secondly, you have to no escape plan, sorta the same way you were prior to jumping into my ride.”
Antoine sat on the floor and conferred with his self for a moment. His train of thought was derailed by car horns blaring from vehicles behind them. The accident had been cleared and traffic began to crawl.
“How do I know that I can trust you?” Antoine asked, as he was ready to crawl.
“You don’t but I am standing here and not strolling away causing you to really have to think. Nor am I running from car to car and screaming bloody murder. Now what’s it going to be?”
“Get in. You’re drawing.” Antoine warned the driver, but he did not care.
“I am drawing? You hopped in my car after putting a gun in my face and forced me to drive you to God knows where. You’re drawing! I am not getting in the wheel with the gun.”
“What?”
“Toss the gun into the Schuykill River, hop in the front seat, and then we can leave.”
“Get the fuck outta here! What kind of dumb shit are you on?”
“Either the gun goes or I walk.”
“Walk!” Defiant.
The driver with equal defiance walked against the traffic without a care in the world.
“Hey!” Antoine yelled, he had had a second thought.
The driver ignored him and kept walking.
“Yo!”
The man turned around and found the kidnapper standing outside the truck. He had the driver’s son’s book bag in his hand and motioned that the gun was inside. He then swerved around a sixteen-wheeler and reached the edge of the bridge. There was a concrete wall and a six-foot gate topped with barb wire. He tossed the bag over and then jogged back to the truck and hopped into the passenger seat.
He stuck his head out of the window and then yelled, “The gun’s gone. Come back.” He pleaded.
Mark smiled with his back to the goon. Before he turned around, he threw on his “I-mean-business” mug and walked back to his car. He was cautious as if he hadn’t bought the car. With car horns assaulting him from every angle, he hopped into the driver seat and pulled off. To his dismay, the passenger wore an angry mask and pouted. It was hilarious to the driver. Held me at gun point and now he’s pissed. Some fucking nerve!
They drove about 100-feet before the kidnapper reclined his seat all the way back. Who was he hiding from? He was three miles from the original crime scene where the police were at, no doubt conducting a pulse pounding man hunt.
“What they call you, dude?” the driver asked him. He was entitled to know, he thought.
“Come on with the thousand questions. What the fuck kinda dollar are you tryinna turn me on to?”
“A job!” the driver said, and surmised that he had him.
“Job! Man I am doing my job right now. I ain’t looking to build a retirement pension. Fuck outta here.”
“Well, how’s that working out for you?” the driver asked as if he was looking to know about his workout regimen.
“You’re a real fucking smart ass. Just drive.”
“I am.”
“Look, shut the fuck up and get me downtown to the Clothes Pin sculpture across from City Hall. I can find my way from there.”
The driver was sure that he could. That was the central location of the SEPTA public bus/train system. The driver drove the rest of the way and formulated how he could convince the clown to get on his team. He had been masterminding a very elaborate scheme and needed a few guinea pigs to act in his criminal production. The ignorant asshole beside him would be the perfect actor. Ten minutes later they exited the expressway and headed down 15th Street. They passed Race, Arch, and Cherry Street before they reached JFK Boulevard and then Market Street. The driver pulled behind a bank of cabs.
“I guess this is your stop?”
“Naw yours,” Antoine said and pulled out his gun. “Hand over the wallet and cell phone, nut!”
“No problem.”
“You’re a smart ass. You’re lucky we’re downtown or I would have flatlined yo ass.”
“Your choice. Not mine.”
“Hand me the shit, pussy!”
The driver handed it over and Antoine opened the car door. He looked in the wallet and took out the car owner’s license. “You try any heroic shit, it’s a rap, Mr. Kareem Bezel. You’ll never make it back to Manhattan,” Antoine said and slammed the car door shut.
Kareem jumped out of the car and approached Antoine, as he pulled the duffle bag out of the car.
“You try any heroic shit and it’s over.” Hard stare.
Kareem was a bona fide hero and he really had no plans for things to be over. He proffered a goofy smile, and said, “Dig this. What I said on the bridge was not a game, or a ploy to earn my freedom. You got $500 in my wallet. There’re plenty of tellys close by. Check into one for the night. Let a load off and tomorrow afternoon meet me at the bar in the Ritz Carlton.” Kareem looked at the duffle bag and guessed that money or drugs or both were inside.
“You know what a hotel around here costs. Besides why should I trust you?”
“Because right now, you need me. I could be yelling for that officer right there and I am not. I did not tell you which hotel to go to because I don’t care. All I want is to shoot something your way tomorrow. It’s a grand opportunity.”
“Man, I’m good.”
“Look, you have my cell. I will call it tomorrow to confirm at 11:30 a.m. Is that cool?” Kareem asked very nicely.
Antoine thought a second and then said, “Call and I will let you know. But I swear, if you’re setting me up and tracking this phone,you will die and it will be painful!” He picked up his bag and then slowly disappeared down the spiral staircase that led to the subway system.