CHAPTER 60
The end of trial had a main attraction and that day the Bezel brothers were it. Kareem stood outside the courthouse going through a Q & A with reporters when his cell phone vibrated. He checked the text and remained stoic and unbothered by what he had read. He put his arm around his brother Andre and his attorney. He had been watching news broadcasts and learning along the way how to sell it to the next jury. All the world was a stage and they were all watching the loving brothers confessing their innocence on the property of the government. It was genius.
Roxanne had done it, and it didn’t take a considerable amount of cash to do it. The caveat of reporting her to her uncle, the former Philadelphia Mayor, and the shame that would be brought upon her family name convinced her to turn in her man. Besides, why would she go down as an accessory after the fact, or for harboring a fugitive.
Kareem was shaken up because so much of his plan was coming together. He felt that God was on his side. Can you believe that an earthquake extending from Virginia to New England forced Andre to be handcuffed in front of a Philadelphia jury? That had to be a purposeful act of God.
“So, what crimes do you have lined up?” a reporter yelled out, as an ambulance sped pass with an FDC prison vehicle following it.
“Check your wallet.” Kareem shot back and smiled.
“Ok, that’s enough for today,” Lemelle said and grabbed Kareem by the hand. “Let’s go Andre,” he said as they walked off.
CHAPTER 61
A limousine waited at the corner of 7th and Market Streets. Kareem and Andre hopped in. Andre was greeted by hugs from Tasha and Jean-Mary. It had been over a year since either of them had physically touched him. It was a beautiful thing and something that Tasha would cherish for life. She was glad to have her man back, and prayed that that mistrial was declared and she could have her son raised by his father.
The limo driver tapped the let down the window that separated him from his clients and asked, “Where too?”
“Just take us home. To the Wyneva Street address,” Kareem said.
“Yes, but we have to make a stop. I have to thank someone for today’s events,”
“Who is that?” Tasha asked.
“Ok, where at?” Kareem asked before Dre could answer her.
“Leah’s. It’s on South Street,” he said looking squarely at Kareem.
“Leah!” Tasha said and pulled away from Dre. “You’re kidding right? You get out of jail and the first place you want to go is to see that bitch.”
“Don’t be cursing in front of my grandmother,” Dre said and stared at Tasha hard.
“My ears are deaf. She has a point. You walk outta jail and the first thing you wanna do is go see some harlot. Totally out of line,” Jean-Mary said and folded her arms.
“Grandmom, it ain’t even like that. I just want to go and thank her.”
“Thank her for what?!” Tasha screamed.
“For helping me. I mean us,” he replied.
“I don’t know that bitch,” Tasha snapped.
“Neither do I,” Jean-Mary said. “Hmph.”
“How the hell she help you Dre? I’ve been up to that jail every damn week. How she helping you Dre? How?”
“She paid off the fucking judge. How else do you think I am here on bail? That was her in the courtroom the entire time. She’s Judge Martin’s deputy courtroom clerk.”
Jean-Mary looked at Kareem.
Kareem said, “Yes. Just before Dre was arrested he asked her to find a judge that we could buy. As luck would have it, our case was assigned to the judge that she has been a clerk for for some time.”
“This is very fucking interesting,” Tasha said. She was irked. Was she supposed to allow him to go see some bitch that he was having sex with on the side to thank her? “She and the judge have been paid and that is thank you enough for her services.”
“I second that,” Jean-Mary said and tapped the driver’s window. She told him, “We’re going to the house on Wyneva Street.”
CHAPTER 62
McKenzey laid in the hospital bed with a foot handcuffed to the bed and a CO parked in a chair outside his room. He was still out and nurses had drawn blood and attached him to an IV. He looked gorgeous and relaxed, but hospital staff had no idea why he had passed out. He had been stabilized in the ambulance.
The CO sat willy-nilly outside of the room as he was approached by a doctor. The doctor said, “Come,” as he walked into McKenzey’s room. He let the door close behind them.
The television had been on and watching McKenzey sleep when the doctor approached him and picked up his arm. He felt around for a pulse and there was one. It remained stable, but McKenzey remained in a coma. “Come closer,” the doctor said. “There is a pulse, but...”
The doctor jabbed a needle into the CO’s neck and pumped it full of propofol. The CO reached out and grabbed the doctor by his throat, but his efforts were futile. The doctor jabbed a knife into the CO’s stomach. He winced and grabbed his stomach, and the doctor grabbed his head and rammed it into the desk and the slammed him to the floor. The doctor then jumped back and looked at his watch.
“You should be asleep in three, two one...”
The doctor walked over to the door and locked it. Dragging the CO into the bathroom was a breeze. The doctor then walked over to McKenzey and put a vial of smelling salts under his nose.
He said, “Let’s get out of here buddy. We have unfinished business to tend. And it just got better. Andre has been released on bail right before my very eyes.”
CHAPTER 63
Christopher Rankins was an Atlantic City con man who made a living duplicating credit cards and getting cash advances at Atlantic City casinos. That was Barnswell’s newest case, one that he could care less about. And he couldn’t believe the audacity of being handed another case after what had happened to him in court earlier that day. For the office, it was business as usual. For Barnswell, he had unfinished business with Judge Martin and the Bezel brothers. He buzzed his legal researcher into the office and she appeared in seconds.
“I want Andre Bezel back in prison now. I need an emergency motion to reverse the judges bail order submitted to the Third Circuit immediately.” The researcher scribbled that into an iPad. “I want an FBI liaison in this office immediately to investigate the murder of my witness. I want them to trample all over the local PD and get me something to put that Kareem Bezel in jail with the brother.” He talked smoothly and calmly. No need to be angry; nothing was in his hands. He had no control. His office phone rang and he gripped it up. “Barnswell.”
“Hey, Barnswell. We have a problem,” the caller said.
“I don’t have any problems. Who might this be?”
“This is Rafiq Abdallah, the physician on duty at the Thomas Jefferson Hospital.”
Barnswell sat up. “Yes, may I help you?”
“I received a patient from the prison today. Ahhhh. Lucas McKenzey.”
“Okay,” Barnswell said and put the phone on speaker for his researcher to hear.
“Well, I contacted the prison after I received the results from his blood test. I am headed to the room as we speak.”
“I’m listening. What was gleaned from the blood test?” Barnswell asked. He was very much into the conversation. He hoped that McKenzey was not dying. He needed him. Needed him to rot in hell, but only after he testified for the government.
“Toxicology report makes it very clear that his blood was full of ketamine. A very high level.”
Barnswell was immediately signaling for his researcher to look up Ketamine. The iPad pulled up the results of a Google search and he passed the iPad to Barnswell.
Barnswell said, “Ketamine is primarily used for the induction and maintenance of general anesthesia, usually in combination with a sedative. He was put under.”
“Yes, and this guy was pumped with a lethal dosage of it. He’s still down as we speak,” Doctor Abdallah said as he walked through the corridors of the ho
spital toward McKenzey’s room.
“And that was introduced into the body at the prison?”
“Great conclusion,” the doctor said as he approached the door to McKenzey’s room. “I thought there was supposed to be a guard outside the door?” he asked, as he walked into the room. “Uh...Mr. Prosecutor, you really have a problem.”
“What’s that?” Barnswell was anxious.
“Your guard is gone and so is the prisoner,” he said, and pushed open the bathroom door. “Wait, I recant. The prisoner is gone, but your officer is dead in the bathroom.”
CHAPTER 64
The Bezel clan sat in the living room later that evening. They sipped hot green tea and nibbled on home made brownies, thanks to Jean-Mary. The television played in the background, but no one had been paying it much attention.
Dre had a million jail stories and he sat back and told them all to his family. He was so happy to be home and glad that the crazy act was over. “I can’t believe that I grabbed a handful of my own shit and threw it at a cell door. What the hell was I thinking?”
“You was thinking that you wanted to get the hell out of there,” Kareem said and everyone laughed. Kareem listened and knew that he had no plans on going to prison and he had to put his all into Bjorn Prodigy. His clothing line was headed by some of America’s finest fashionistas and he planned to keep the line thriving and fresh. But his commitment to the trial had kept him away from his passion and the only thing he did better than protecting his freedom.
Tasha had a fine home and she loved it, but now that Dre had been released, she desired to live in something new and fresh with her man. Yes, her man, and she was not sharing him. She loved him and had no intentions of reliving what he had put her through prior to going to jail. She was a victim of his ripping and running the streets and being a drug dealer, and she wasn’t going for that either this time around. Raising their son in a new time zone was what she really wanted.
Toi was speechless, and she wanted to be home in New York City. She loved the team, but was just not in the mood to sit around and listen to jail stories.
The evening was young and they were all visualizing life as being golden and grand. They were no doubt alert, as their worlds could have been turn upside down in so many ways at any given moment.
“All jokes aside, you all have to be on point. I know that ol’ Barney is looking for a way to get me back in jail.”
“Right,” Kareem said.
“I am still on board to go to jail for us all, but I would much rather flee the country with my girl and son and live the glamorous life in...”
“Monaco, babe.” Tasha chimed in.
“Let me find out you been researching, bitch,” Tasha said. “Hell take me, too.”
“Yes, I have researched. Monaco is right near Nice and only 32,000 people live there. And they have the Monte Carlo casinos for me to go and win some money to move on to Liechtenstein, or say, Marshall Islands. Yes, I have research out the ass and I want out of here.” She was looking dead at Dre and begging him with her eyes to get the balls to get out of there. She said, “Dre, I know you said a moment ago that you wanted to hold up your end of our team by going back to jail...”
“If I had too.”
“Well, you don’t, man. We, all of us, can get the hell out of here.”
“That is a charming idea and I wish that we could, but there’s no way that we can run as a whole family. We can just stay and face the music,” Kareem said, and jumped into their private affair.
Tasha stood up and threw her hands on her hips. “You’re not facing any damn music.”
Kareem could taste her venom.
“You’re out doing what you want to while my son’s father is in prison throwing shit at prison cell doors. What the fuck? I am tired of you thinking that you’re running shit.”
“You’re buggin’ and I am not going to argue with you. I have been doin’ just fine as the chief.”
“Chief, and what the fuck are we? You need to turn it the fuck down. I am about sick and tired of all this shit and I am about to take me and my son the fuck out of here.”
“Girl, you’re talking crazy,” Dre said and reached out to hold her.
“Don’t fucking touch me. I am sick of you kissing Kareem’s ass. Tired. T I R E D!” She rolled her eyes and twisted her lips. “If I could wind the clock back, I would not be in this twisted family.”
“News flash, you’re not in it,” Jean-Mary said coming from the kitchen. “Now all of a sudden you think you’re too good for the Bezel’s. Let me explain this as best that I can. What ya not going to do is disrespect my boys. They have worked to keep ya ass outta jail, and mine too. We all played a role in these here boy’s crimes. Let’s get a little respect,” Jean-Mary said as everyone noticed flashing red and blue lights outside the house.
“Damn they found a way to lock my ass up that fast?” Dre asked.
“Oh, God. Noooo,” Tasha said and grabbed Dre. This is crazy, man. Why is this happening to me?”
“Come here you two,” Jean-Mary said to Dre and Tasha. She held them and said, “You two also,” to Kareem and Toi.
“Me too grandmom?” Amir said.
“Awe, you too, baby,” Jean-Mary said and welcomed him to the group hug.
There was a loud incessant knock at the door, which went ignored. Jean-Mary’s home had floor to ceiling living room windows. The curtains were held back and overlapped so the police were able to look right into the living room. The window was open and Barnswell stepped in front of the window. It was open.
* * *
Barnswell looked at the happy family. How nice? He told the officer at the door, “Kick it open!”
Four seconds later, Jean-Mary’s door was open and lying on the ground. Was everyone in the home startled and in shock? Sure, but they were ready. Dre walked to the vestibule door which was swung open when the door slammed into it. There was Barnswell smiling at Dre who turned around and peacefully placed his hands behind his back.
Barnswell pushed passed him along with three officers. “We’re not here for you,” he said, and approached Kareem. “Kareem Bezel, you’re under arrest. Finally!”
“What the hell you mean?” Jean-Mary said and stood in front of him.
“For what?” Kareem asked.
“Title 18, section 751.”
“What the hell is that?” Kareem asked as he was handcuffed by a police officer.
“Whoever escapes or attempts to escape from the custody of the Attorney General or his authorized representative, or from any institution or facility in which he is confined by direction of the Attorney General, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than five years, or both.”
“What the hell are you trying to pull now?”
“I am trying to pull you to prison,” the police officer replied and pulled Kareem towards the door.
“I haven’t escaped from anywhere!”
“Oh,” Barnswell said. “I forgot a charge. Conspiracy to commit escape.” He smirked and said, “Don’t look coy. We found your little novel in McKenzey’s cell.”
CHAPTER 65
“Oh, this is nice. Dressing me like an old man.”
“You are an old man. Not really a disguise,” Justin whispered to McKenzey. “Welcome to Harvard Square.”
“I’m not welcome here,” McKenzey said and chuckled.
“Come on. This is our stop.”
The nefarious two exited the MBTA red line subway and strolled around the long ramp that led to the stairs. In typical tourist fashion, McKenzey pulled out a camera and snapped a photograph of the train station sign, which confirmed that he had just entered Cambridge, Massachusetts, the home of Harvard University. At that point, he had one job in life and that was to be an ordinary old man having retired to the Boston suburb.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a large crowd surrounding a Harvard student. The student was an employee of Trademark Tours, and about
to take the crowd on the tour. But first, she went through the crowd and asked where everyone was from. McKenzey and Justin stepped right into the crosshairs of the student who yelled at McKenzey, “And where are you from, pops?”
McKenzey chuckled and quickly said, “Amsterdam.” His smile was meant to be all-out laughter.
“Another foreign visitor,” the student said and moved onto the next person.
“Where have you brought me?” McKenzey asked Justin as they walked away from the Common Area and onto the street.
“To the best place to hide you for a bit. This lovely national manhunt...”
“That you created.”
“And you love, will be on far beyond the three days that it has thus far.”
“Three days, huh? I have a very vague memory of what happened and while I see that I am out, it’s dubious that you pulled this off alone and killed a man to do it.”
“No one else helped me and no one else knows, Mac. Trust me on that. My mission was to get you out and now my mission is to get them sons of bitches that have seemed to trap you into their web of lies and deception.”
They had walked off Harvard Square and made their way down Brattle Street and passed Brattle Square. They passed Harvard University’s Kennedy School of Government, and McKenzey smiled. He hated the government, and contemplated murdering a few students that had the audacity to study to be a part of the corrupt clan.
Twenty minutes later, they were in the lobby of The Charles Hotel. Justin checked them into the hotel that had hosted notables from Barbra Streisand to former President Bill Clinton and Senator Hillary Clinton, to Ben Affleck to even His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Another celebrity was headed to an elegant room, which overlooked the Charles River: Mr. Lucas McKenzey.
They reached the room and McKenzey watched Justin flop on a double bed perfectly made up and covered in a white down quilt with black squares at the bottom. All of the furniture was wrapped with wood, and a sexy living room furniture complimented the suite.
Die Later Page 15