Die Later

by Rahiem Brooks

  “You know what, fuck you!”

  “What the hell has gotten into you this time, Toi?” Kareem asked. He was driving through the tunnel and there was no way that he could pull over to really look deep into her eyes. He knew her. He knew that there was something troubling her. Her mechanism for dealing with the woes of life was to lash out on him. He had learned to deal with her bipolar behavior, but didn’t understand why she was that way. He typically went above and beyond to cater to her, love her, romance her, wine and dine her. How could a woman that had so much, work so hard to lose her high school sweetheart?

  CHAPTER 15

  Words rolled off his finger tips easily as he made last minute changes to the manuscript that would set his pal free. It was 4 a.m., his daytime. He worked best when everyone else was asleep. His enemies were sleeping on him. Which was a very bad idea. Justin was an adroit, thin man with looks that have killed. He looked like death and paid for sex. Some women survived his S&M; some did not. For the others, he would see them on the other side when God took him home. Or the devil, whichever preferred his presence to terrorize the area in his afterlife. For the men, it was just as simple. He was out to destroy and humiliate them. And some he guaranteed the same fate as a Jeffrey Dahmer victim.

  He had written a 47,000-word novella with two paragraphs of instructions for Secret Service Agent McKenzey to get out of that prison and back into the groove of exacting revenge on the Bezel Brothers. Justin Ashburn had read and researched all about the brothers and was ready to serve, conquer and kick them back to the hood where they had come from. He particularly wanted to taste the flesh of Kareem, the ring leader.

  The plan was a simple and sexy one, just like Justin liked his boys and girls. Meet, greet, strike, and then kill. The difference was, he wanted to make a public spectacle out of the Bezel Brothers, and only time could announce if he would get his wish. It was no easy thing when your opponent seemed to be a step ahead of you at every turn. Perhaps, Justin would use the element of surprise to rain on Kareem’s parade. Maybe even baffle him.

  Justin looked at his printer as the final draft of his manuscript spat out. He had to read it back in triple spaced pages while verifying that all elements were accounted for and that the clues within the book pointed McKenzey accurately to his fate: the first escape from the Philadelphia Federal Detention Center. It was the greatest risk that Justin or McKenzey would ever take in their lives. Not even killing three women in one night up in Meriwhether County, Georgia for absolutely no reason measured up to the great escape.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Upper East Side of Manhattan was where Kareem Bezel called home with LaToya Eala. He lived at the intersection of Madison Avenue and 86th Street on a lovely tree-lined street. The area was home to P.S. 6, the number one ranked public school in New York City and number two in New York State. There was no doubt that the twins would be attending there. He had access to the Madison Avenue subways which gave him easy access to his midtown office, where he continued to design some of the most fashion-forward streetwear in the fashion business. Kareem found a parking space and parked. Toi hopped right out of the car and did not wait for him to open the door.

  “Don’t be an ass, Toi. Why do you continue to...You know what, never mind. It’s nearly five a.m. and I have better things to deal with.”

  “More important than me?” It was such a dizzy question and a very loaded one.

  If his look could have killed, she’d be dead right there on 86th Street like a bullet had pierced her brain and mangled it. Kareem passed on offering her a reply and headed up the stairs to his brownstone. He was somewhat glad to get out of the high rise apartment that he lived in. There were too many ill memories, and had he stayed, Toi may have found herself thrown through a window.

  He opened the front door and was greeted by a home full of passion and unparalleled attention to every detail—timeless grandeur in a first home. Sharing the affluent space was a giant Siamese cat named Goldie.

  The entire home was inspired by the Louis XV style of French decor, and many pieces were bought at a Sotheby’s auction. Many hard surfaces were covered in richly veined marble and inlay work in exotic woods, mother-of-pearl and ivory. Raheem even had iPads in every bedroom to control everything from the TV to the lights. And to top all of that, if that was at all possible, 24-carat gold-plated Sherle Wagner designed sinks and fixtures were in all 3 1/2 baths of the four bedroom home.

  Kareem went directly to his bedroom and fell into the luxury of the bed. He kicked his sneakers off and his shirt went next. If this bitch slams another door. He stood up and stretched. God give me the strength to do this for the sake of my babies. After undressing and throwing on pajama bottoms, he turned on the TV and caught a small dose of the CNN News before he rolled over to sleep. Toi was nowhere in sight and he was pissed. He was so angry he had trouble falling asleep. He hated to go to sleep mad at Toi, but finally he did.

  CHAPTER 17

  United States Attorney Carson Mason Brock led the United States Attorney's Office for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, one of the largest in the country with 130 Assistant United States Attorneys (AUSAs) on staff. The USAO is located at 615 Chestnut Street in downtown Philadelphia, one block from the Federal Courthouse and overlooking the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall. The office is divided into two divisions: Criminal and Civil, with the division chiefs reporting to First Assistant United States Attorney Dancy E. Larson.

  Criminal Chief Paul F. Lynch led the criminal division, which consists of 93 Assistant United States Attorneys. For management purposes, the criminal division is divided into eight teams. Attorneys in the criminal division are assigned to teams and the team leader serves as an administrative head of the team. The criminal assistants are generalists within all areas of criminal law. The Financial Institution Fraud Section was responsible for prosecuting a broad spectrum of bank fraud acts and schemes designed to profit persons both inside and outside an institution. The Section also investigated/prosecuted crimes in other related areas. Prosecutions supervised by the Financial Institution Fraud Section include: bank fraud, credit card fraud, counterfeit currency, food stamp fraud, money laundering, immigration and passport fraud, communications fraud and identity theft. The chief of the Financial Institution Fraud unit was Richard Barnswell, and he was the one responsible for the bring-down of Andre Bezel.

  AUSA Barnswell sat in his office Monday morning preparing for his Wednesday showdown. He prepared a last minute jury voir dire questionnaire so that he could assist in picking a jury that was prepared to send Andre to a penitentiary for the remainder of his sad little life. While the Narcotics and OCDETF Section prosecuted violations of federal narcotics laws including the illegal trafficking of cocaine, crack, heroin, methamphetamine and other controlled substances, Barnswell was in charge of the Bezel brothers’ prosecution. His assistant was Thomas Baptiste, Chief of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs Section, and he would present the drug charges to the jury. But this was Barnswell’s baby, and he planned to rock it to sleep or kill it, whichever was necessary to get the job done.

  Just after 7:15 a.m. Barnswell’s personal legal secretary walked into his office without permission. Sarah Monroe usually exhibited well cultured ivy-league behavior, but this act screamed urgent. She violently tossed a defense motion onto his desk, and proffered him an evil smile. She said, “A combined motion to suppress and a change of plea motion.”

  “Oh, wow. He’s pleading guilty,” Barnwell said, and then added, “I wondered why you just barged in here. He must have known what was in store. But I am not dealing.”

  “No sir. I barged in because he’s decided that he wants to plead not guilty by reason of insanity.”

  “Get the fuck outta here. Oops, pardon me,” Barnswell said and snatched up the defense motion. He stood and looked out of the window at the Liberty Bell. Let freedom fucking ring. “Two things. Set up a meeting with the entire in-house team assigned to this. Every DEA and Secret Service
agent outside as well. Also, get Attorney Larry Greenburg on the line. Tell him that I’d like to see him for lunch today at noon. And please make a reservation for us. Somewhere shabby. Thanks Sarah.”

  “I’m right on top of that boss.”

  This has to be a joke. Was Greenburg kidding? OMG, he has to be. Barnswell planned to get to the bottom of that motion instantly. And if they wanted to fight round for round, he was ready to win each of them.

  CHAPTER 18

  Tasha and Amir sat in Jean-Mary’s living room and played Deal or No Deal on Amir’s laptop. It was a birthday gift and he knew how to work it expertly. Tasha worked diligently to assure that he was just as bright and clever as his father. She had no desire for him to be a criminal, but she wanted him to be just as street- and book-smart as Andre. She had been weaned off being a ghetto hood rat and disapproved of most of the lifestyle associated with that, and wanted her baby far away from it. But it was those street-smart elements that made her the woman that she was. How else could she have been effective dodging the rain drops and rumors that a tornado was en route?

  Jean-Mary was in the kitchen burning it down. She had bacon baking in the conventional oven and was whipping up a batch of her signature French toast. She added a splash of milk and vanilla and that really did something to the eggs and bread. Amir raced into the kitchen and asked, “Mama, can I have a lollipop?”

  “Boy no,” Tasha yelled from the living room. “You have not eaten and you know better. Do you want bad teeth?”

  “No, mom,” he said bouncing in the air.

  “He’s a little hyper,” Jean-Mary said.

  “Yes, he can sense that there is a problem. It’s not like we don’t spend the night here at all, Mama. But with the news and Andre being on it and then our meeting, he knows something is up.”

  “Come here smart guy,” Jean-Mary said and pulled him in close to her bosom. He smiled and said, “I’m a big boy Mama, and I’m going to protect my mommy and you too with my powers that my daddy gave me. Daddy said I was the man while he was gone and I better do everything to keep you safe. So,” he said and ran out the kitchen and returned with a bat. “If a bad guy comes in here and tries to take you again, I’m going to beat him up, Mama. Ok?” He was dead serious and when she did not answer fast enough, he asked again, “Ok?”

  “Yes, ok, Amir,” Jean-Mary said and spun her wheel chair around to the conventional oven. She then added, “Now sit down here and eat this breakfast big boy.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “Bezel, let’s go cuff up.” officer Braxton barked and banged his cuffs on the isolation cell window.

  Andre was not feeling that. Cuff up for what? He remained still with his face hidden in his hands as if the knock on the cell wasn’t loud enough. As if he had suddenly become deaf. Where was he going that he had to back up to the cell door and place his hands behind his back and then through the porthole to be cuffed prior to the door opening? That was dead unless he saw a ranking officer. One cell extraction was enough. Despite the fact that he had poured baby oil and lotion all over his cell floor, which created a bit of a problem for the officers that rushed in, he was scared. Correctional officers had the propensity to kill and perhaps by accident. Andre had no desire to become a statistic.

  “Fuck dat. Where am I going? I gave you a nasty time to get me in here, so know that this is not going to be simple to pull me outta here and tackle me to cuff me. I am fine here in the isolation cell.” Dre was a tad scared as he did not know what was going to happen. He was a normal man and feared the unknown, as he should have.

  “You’re going back to your cell,” the CO said to him and then knocked on the door with his cuffs. “Come on and cuff up. I don’t have time to play with you, Bezel.”

  “Well, leave then. I’m sleeping and not going back to that shit hole.” He chuckled at the irony.

  The CO Braxton remained stone-faced, although he too enjoyed the joke. He had a funky job which was as neat as that of a Hollywood film maker. He had always thought that he would become rich if he recorded the real-like drama that transpired in the detention center: the petty fights amongst inmates, the staff being caught having sex with both male and female inmates, gay, lesbian and heterosexual. Real prison was full of life, stories and drama that could not be captured in a HBO series.

  Oz did not have anything on the Philadelphia Federal Detention Center. At best, Oz had embellished on one area of prison politics: in-house raps. They may or may not occur, but not how Oz portrayed them. The primary reason was because society had progressed and homosexuality was as acceptable as being black in America. Gay men did not cause the phobia that they had in the days before the millennium. Officer Braxton would love the opportunity to show women what their men were up to in prison. It sickened him to see men attend personal visits and kiss their women and their children and then hit it back to the cell block and kiss on the punks they were housed with. What was even more striking was that the other inmates had a “what happens on the block, stays on the block” philosophy.

  “Bezel, let’s go!”

  “Fuck you, Andre spat and jumped to his feet. He walked over to the door and snatched off his hospital gown. He stood there asshole naked and wrapped the gown around his neck. “I’ll strangle myself if you try to walk me back to that cell. I am not going back there. I will kill myself.”

  “Is that your final answer? That is a direct threat on your life and I will hate to have you on suicide watch.”

  “Fuck outta here, Braxton. I ain’t suicidal.”

  “After that comment,.it seems like you are. I think we need to get you on a liquid diet and toss you to the 7th floor for a full psych evaluation.”

  “Man, kiss my ass. I wish the fuck you would, man. That’ll be the day.”

  “Just say over my dead body and I can make that happen too.”

  “Kiss my ass!” Kareem said and lay back down on the concrete slab. He knew that the joke was on the staff if they continued to play his game and he was not the least bit pressed. What for?

  “Ok, Bezel, have it your way.”

  “Burger King bitch!” Andre said and smiled. “Now go get somebody with some fucking clout around here to give me some goddamn answers.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Kareem awoke about 11 a.m. and pulled the covers back for the blinding sunlight to assault him violently. It was cool thanks to the cooling system, but the sun had a way of overpowering the system. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV to ESPN. He caught up with the latest NFL news and then pulled out his laptop.

  Every morning, Kareem was sent a detailed sales report for his thriving clothing line. Sales were being made in four countries and he was ahead of each board an normally spent two days out of the week in one of the foreign countries. But with the trial starting in two days, he had delegated that responsibility to someone else. He had created a new position: Secretary of State. It was their job to run the New York office and report to Milan, Moscow, Beijing and Paris. Of course, he was there to answer any questions and to solve any problems, but he had a detailed company plan and structure and anyone could have run the company using the detailed map.

  Kareem brushed his teeth and then bounced down to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal. On the refrigerator was a picture with two tiny foot prints from the baby girl that Toi had miscarried. That was a hard thing to deal with, but they handled it and well. Stress had killed their first offspring and it seemed that Toi was on the path to killing another one. In a way, he blamed her.

  “Toi,” he called out. He missed her despite their constant friction. When they were one and happy, they were cool. Then there were times when they were just way off, but he loved her the same. She was the yin and he the yang. That had not changed.

  He grabbed his bowl of cereal and slipped on his house shoes and went to look around the house for her.

  Family room. No Toi.

  Game room. No Toi.

  Basement. No Toi.

  Back Yard.
No Toi.

  Call to Toi’s cell phone. No answer.

  Um, that’s strange, Kareem thought and frowned. He actually missed her and wanted to hold her. Where the hell was she? Why would she leave without talking to him? Communication was something that they had no problem with. Especially since they knew that the stakes were high now that they had seemingly defeated a crooked federal agent.

  Kareem went back to the kitchen and tried Toi’s cell phone from the house phone. He’d bet that was the first time that he had made a call with the house phone, because he used his cell phone for everything, and the house phone was for decoration and emergencies. She did not answer. He dropped the phone on the hook and then placed his bowl into the dishwasher.

  Kareem missed her but was too pissed at her at the same time. The same things that made him love her made him dislike her as well. It was that mix that killed him. He walked back towards the bedroom, and decided to peak outside the front door for a second. The strangest feeling came over him and he yelled like a madman.

  “Noooooo! No. No. Please God. No. I’ll do anything. Just please say no.” he begged and pleaded. There were a few drops of blood on the floor in front of the door. And the chain was on the door too.

  Kareem raced to the back door and that too had the chain on it. How the fuck is that? What the fuck? he thought and called 9-1-1. He was confused and had no idea what was about to happen. But if Toi was hurt, missing, or otherwise not normal, things would get real steamy.

  When the police was on the line Kareem explained his observations and was given the run around. That changed when he explained who he was and what the potential danger that his baby mother and high school sweetheart could be in.

  I am so sorry Toi for anything that I may have done to you. Please let you be in perfect condition. Oh, God. Why? Don’t do this to me!