Despite the Roxanne protest, Antoine was at the Philadelphia International Airport regional rail line station stop. He exited the train,, watched planes whirl above him, and feared leaving very shortly. That would have been his first time on a flight and he was petrified, but he was going with the plan. For some strange reason, he wanted to prove that he was worthy and he wanted to make the money that he stood to make, although he had no idea how much money was at stake.
Like an idiot, he made his way off the train platform and then up an escalator. He had a carryon bag with a few things and made his way to the bridge that connected to the departures area of the airport. He went down a flight of stairs and proceeded to a kiosk to print his boarding pass. He did and looked at the boarding pass. Antoine could not believe that he was about to use an alias and a fake ID to board a flight. Was he insane? He had not known much about airport security, and only vaguely recalled stories about air marshals being aboard flights and roaming the airport freely and undercover, but he was going ahead with his plan. What else could happen to him? He would much rather have to deal with the law as opposed to Kareem Bezel. He had no idea what that man was capable of. He surmised that news accounts gave some of the details, but not many of them. For instance, the news had no idea what was happening to Antoine at the hands of Kareem.
Kareem pulled out his faux Prada wallet and opened it up. He peaked at his name on the ID and his face and frowned. What the hell am I doing? This ain’t about money. I am looking for something else. How am I going to pull off being Daymon Monroe? At that point he was looking at his bona fides and assuring that they were all in order. Everything matched and was on point as he didn’t have an escape plan to get away from that crime, and he certainly was not going to hijack a person at the airport.
What he felt was weird and interesting at the same time. It was easy to hijack Kareem, as he was black and not likely to matter. On the flip side, there was no way that he was hijacking a white man at an international airport and they turned out to be a dignitary from a foreign city. Hell to the no. Many thugs would sell a kilo of cocaine to an undercover DEA agent and risk life in jail for that act, but they wouldn’t throw on an expensive suit, go into a bank with a stolen check, and steal $25,000 from banks worth millions. That was an interesting fact that mind boggled Antoine, as he inched his way in the security line.
The TSA officers milled about and made Antoine uncomfortable, but not enough to turn around. He was going through with his mission, whatever it was and that was that, he thought, as he opened his wallet and flashed his ID to the TSA agent.
“Take your ID out of the wallet,” the agent said and then added, “Also take your laptop out of the bag and place it in a bin and send it through the scanner.”
“My ID is stuck in my wallet,” Antoine said, in the hopes that the agent just glanced at his ID.
The agent went behind the counter and found a box that had been labeled: CONTRABAND. He pulled out a razor, and said, “We can cut it out, or you can step out of line and head back into the city to Penn DOT for a new one. But what you’re not doing is boarding a flight with me physically holding the ID.”
Antoine thought a moment and as he brood he irritated the agent.
“Step out of the line,” the agent said and handed Antoine his things off the conveyor belt. “Take it to the back and have the ID out, or don’t bother. Next!”
Man, if I pull this shit out and I get booked, I’mma be pissed. What am I doing this for? Antoine did step to the end of the line and called Kareem.