LaToya: Episode XXIV – Moment of Tension

 

We stared at each other for a long moment, then he stepped into the room, closed the door, and set his back against it. Saul Bolton sat down behind his desk, with his fingers touching the side of his jaw and his eyes brooding death.

“Find out who he is,” he ordered.

Hwang held out his left hand.

“Give me your wallet!” he shouted. “Now!”

I took out my wallet and handed it to him.

He found he couldn’t examine the contents of my wallet and keep me covered by the gun, so he lowered the gun. He also took his eyes off me as he examined my wallet. To me, those were stupid moves on his side. He was either a dumb bell or he was overconfident enough to do that. I hit him very hard on his jaw. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever hit a guy as hard as I hit Hwang. He went out like a light and I just managed to grab his gun before he hit the carpet.

I turned the gun on  Saul Bolton and smiled at him.

“This is turning out to be an exciting evening for both of us, correct?” I said.

“Get lost!” he snarled.

“Sure, I’m leaving,” I said, scooping up my wallet and backing to the door. “I will leave the gun with the guard at the gate. It is safer for me to hold it until I get clear of this club.”

He sat motionless, with his hands on the desk and his face as pale as a ghost.

I opened the door, edged into the hallway and walked quickly into the lobby.

Latasha was waiting for me.

“Where the hell have you been?” she said impatiently. “I almost went home without you.”

“You should do that immediately,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t got the time to explain why. But get someone at the customer service to call a cab for you. I have to go alone, and I haven’t got the time to pick up my hat either.”

I left her gaping after me, too surprised to even speak, as I went to the entrance and down the steps.

“Your car, sir?” the doorman asked sharply.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll collect it myself.”

I shoved past him and ran down the avenue to where I could see a row of cars. I don’t know how long it would take Saul Bolton to come into action, but the quicker I was past the security men at the gate, the safer it would be for me.

I located Medgar’s Chevrolet, gave the attendant five dollars, and got in. As I drove fast down the drive I took the gun from my pocket and tossed it through the open window into a clump of shrubs. I was remembering what Captain Donald had said about being caught with a gun on me without a gun permit. It was a good move on my part, because as my headlights picked out the main gates I saw they were shut.

The two security men, and a tall man in a slouch hat, with the physique that reminds one of a prizefighter, stood silent and still, waiting for me to arrive. Slowing down my speed, I blow my horn in the hope they would open the gates, but they didn’t.

The headlights of the car lit up the man in the slouch hat. He looks like a cop and his red, fat face was a mask of brutality. He should be about an inch or so over six feet tall. He looked every inch a very powerful man as he stood there with his hands in his trench coat pockets and his great legs apart. I wondered if this was Sergeant Luke Montgomery who, according to ex-Captain Nicholas Wilkens, was the toughest cop on the Alexandra police force. If he wasn’t, then I didn’t want to meet Sergeant Montgomery. This guy looks tough enough for me.

I pulled up.

The two security men moved forward, their hands resting on the butts of their guns. One came to the right side of my car while the other one came to the left side. They opened the doors of each side simultaneously.

“Keep your hands on the wheel!” the security man nearest me barked.

“What’s the problem?” I said, not moving so much as an eyelash. “What’s going on here?”

“Get him out,” the cop said in a husky voice.

The security man on the right side of the car now had his gun in his hand.

“Get out of the damned car,” he said, “and keep your hands still.”

I got out of the car.

“You guys are making a mistake?” I said. “I’m a temporary member of this…”

“Shut your damn mouth or I will shut it for you!” the cop snarled. “Check his car,” he went on to one of the security men; to the other, he said, “Take him inside.”

The security man with the gun jabbed my spine.

“Come on, move it,” he said.

I walked around the car and into the lodge by the gates. They brought me into a large room with a desk, a rack of riffles of various types, two chairs, and a fireplace.

The cop followed me in and looked me over as if I was something he scraped off his booth. Taking out a police badge from his pocket, he flashed it  and said, “Who the hell are you?”

 “My name is Emeka Okeke,” I said. “What’s going on?”

 He held out a hand as wide as a notebook.

 “Wallet,” he said.

 I gave him my wallet.

 He took it over to the desk and brought out the contents. Shoving his hat to the back of his head, he sat down at the desk and went through my papers slowly and with police thoroughness. After he had gone through everything, he shoved the lot back to me. I guess he was disappointed that he didn’t found what he was looking for: there really wasn’t much in my wallet except my business cards, my driver’s license, some money, and a list of my expenses I had jotted down on an odd scrap paper.

He sat there staring at me as I returned the papers and money to my wallet. I was very uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me. After putting the wallet back into my pocket, I looked up and met his granite had eyes.

 “Are you satisfied, sergeant?” I said.

 “You have a fresh mouth for an African immigrant,” he said, biting off each word as if he hated them. “Are you a peeper?”

“I don’t know what that mean,” I replied. “I am a writer.”

Taking out one of my business cards, I put it down in front of him.

“Haven’t you heard of the Baltimore Star? The police force is our friend,” I said.

 “That’s what I’m gonna find out soon,” he said, heaving his bulk out of the chair and coming around the desk.

His height and size made me feel like a midget. The second security man came in at this moment and shook his head at Sergeant Montgomery.

The sergeant stared at me.

“Give me the rod,” he said and held out his hand.

“What rod?” I asked blankly. “What’s a rod? You totally lost me here.”

His coarse brutal face hardened  even more and his eyes gleamed.

“Raise your hands,” he barked.

I obeyed him and lifted up my arms, and he ran his hands over me quickly and expertly. He was very rough with it and I felt as if I was being patted by a sledge hammer.

“Where did you dump the damn thing?” he snarled.

“Dump what?” I asked, trying to keep the blank expression on my face. “You got it all mixed up sergeant.”

Reaching out his huge hand, he took hold of my shirt front, gave me a little shake that nearly broke my neck and barked, “Where did you dump the rod?”

I kept still as he breathed garlic and whisky fumes in my face. I was very sure he would start some rough stuff if I gave him the slightest excuse; and I will be the greatest fool if I think I could handle him.

“I haven’t a gun, if that’s what you mean,” I said.

He lifted his left hand and gave me a slap that felt like being hit with a baseball bat. I almost hit him back, but I controlled myself with great difficulty. Perhaps if he had been on his own, I would have hit him back. I told myself I won’t have a chance with him here because the other two guys might step in and hold me while worked over me. Besides, I had my green card on the line.

“Go on – hit me!” he shouted  into my face. “What are you waiting for?”

“Because I don’t want to hit you,” I said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

He gave me another violent shake that nearly dislocated my shoulder and then let go of me.

“What the hell are you doing in Alexandra?” he snarled.

“I’m just having a look around,” I said. “Just trying to pick up material for a news story. Now, that’s not against the law, is it?”

He hunched his huge shoulders as he glared at me.

“What material?”

“Anything that is news worthy,” I said. “And I don’t see why you should have problem with that. As a writer, I have the right to visit any town to gather background materials for a news story without being harassed by cops.”

A look of anger and disgust came over his face.

“We don’t like peepers in Alexandra,” he said. “You are warned, and I won’t tell you a second time. Now get out and keep away from Golden Triangle club. Understand?”

“No problem, sergeant,” I said. “I understand.”

“Get lost!,” he snarled. “Now!”

I went to the door.

What happened next was the most humiliating thing I had ever experienced in my life. I half expected it, but I didn’t think a guy of Sergeant Montgomery’s size could move so fast. Before I could dodge, he lashed out at me with his great boot, which violently connected with my legs somehow, lifted me out of the hut and set me sprawling on hands and knees in the drive.

Sergeant Montgomery came out slowly and stood looking at me, his teeth showing in a snarling grin.

“Write about that, you punk,” he said. “And I have more for you to write about if I see you near this place again.”

I would have killed him! Oh my God! I should have killed him if I had a gun! At that point I  wasn’t  caring anymore if I got into trouble that would prevent me from getting the Green Card. I would have killed him!

I got slowly and painfully to my feet as the two security men opened the gate. Sergeant Montgomery swung his great boot and gave the fender of the car a kick that dented it and flaked off the paint.

“Get this coffin out of my sight too,” he said.

 I was shaking with rage as I got in the car and drove away. My body was still shaking when I got back to the hotel.

 

 

 

END OF EPISODE 24

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 25, which  will be published here next Sunday.