Alfie (A Love Story)
Act II
Alfie hopped toward the parked car, threw the bag inside, and jumped in- head first.
“DRIVE!!! DRIVE!!!”
The driver took off down the block. After regaining his bearings, Alfie looked back at the entrance of the building and saw the Suits filing out into the street.
The driver made a series of wild turns, swerving through the downtown Jersey City streets, until he came to an abrupt halt. They were in a park a few blocks away from the building.
“DRIVE! COME ON!”
The driver remained still.
“WE’RE GONNA DIE!”
The voice in Alfie’s ears returned and calmly tried to talk him through the situation.
Look in the bag and place the envelope marked with a ‘1’ on the passenger seat.
Alfie fumbled with the zipper and rummaged through the bag to find an envelope labeled ‘1’ and placed it on the front passenger seat.
The car started again. Alfie clutched the bag.
“Where are you taking me?”
“She’ll make everything clear to you when I get there.”
Realizing there wasn’t much more he could do at this point so he loosened his grip on the bag and tried to relax a bit.
What is this about? One minute I’m drinking coffee, minding my own business, the next I’m shooting a gun in the air in a crowded lobby. When they check the camera footage, I know they’ll ID me as the shooter, but maybe not. I had the mask on. What if they do? I’ll lose my job. I’m fcuked.
Alfie pulled the mask off and pushed the sunglasses back onto his face. The driver made another sharp turn. The back window shattered, and bits of glass rained onto the back of Alfie’s neck. The driver made another quick left. Alfie ducked into the gap between the front and back seat and shoved his head into his knees. The car made another hard turn and started to accelerate. One more hard turn.
Alfie looked up briefly and could see cars parked alongside the narrow street whiz by the window on the opposite side of the car. Another hard turn and Alfie slid across the bottom of the car, all the while keeping his head between his knees.
“We lost em’, and we’re almost at your drop off point, Mr. Johnson. Hold tight,”
Alfie stuck his thumb up in the air without coming out of his fetal posture.
The car stopped.
“This is as far as I go.”
Alfie unfolded and climbed into the back seat. He looked around. The driver had pulled into, what looked like, an underground parking garage. This didn’t help Alfie orientate himself.
“Where are we?” Alfie asked.
The driver didn’t answer. He was obviously in a hurry to get out of this situation he’d found himself in, opened one of the back doors, wrenched Alfie’s bag away, tossed it out of the car, and attempted to pull Alfie out as well. But Alfie was firmly entrenched in the backseat, and starting to curl back into a fetal position.
“Come on man,” the driver said exasperatedly, tugging at Alfie’s leg.
The driver’s tugging was more painful than a kick in the nuts, but Alfie wouldn’t budge.
Get out of the car, Mr. Johnson.
“No.”
Get out of the car, now.
“What the hell is going on? I’ve been shot at, chased down steps, I sprained my entire leg; I’ve been gassed. I want some answers before I go anywhere.”
Alfie had been leaning on the rear passenger door, because it was the furthest point on the seat from the irate driver, until it opened and he toppled back onto the ground. He was writhing, trying to get away, but who ever had him by the collar had a firm grasp.
He was dragged to the other side of the car. He saw the person accosting him pick up the bag and sling it across their shoulder, then handed the driver something, and the driver getting back into his car and leaving. Still kicking, screaming, and protesting, he got chucked into the backseat of a black SUV, along with the bag, and locked in.
The front driver’s door of the car opened and a tall, dark complexioned woman sat in the driver’s seat. She was slender, with discernible muscle definition. Her face was childishly attractive which contrasted her rough treatment of Alfie. The woman‘s charcoal black eyes narrowed on Alfie’s cowering figure. She snatched the bag that Alfie was clutching and said,
“When I say get out of the car, you get out of the fcuking car. Got it?”
“Let me go!”
Alfie screamed back as he repeatedly yanked on the door handle, in an effort to escape.
“If you break my door, I’m gonna finish breaking your leg.”
Alfie stopped.
“It was you this whole time? Who are you,” Alfie said in bewilderment, his anger subsiding a bit.
“Jefferson Jones, but everyone just calls me Jeff.”
“A woman named ‘Jeff’?”
“Is there a problem with my name?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to be here as much as I don’t want you here, but for now we’re stuck together.”
“Why?”
Jefferson sighed,
“Dumb luck, I guess,”
“What?”
“You didn’t find it strange that you were the only one at work today?”
“I got in early,”
“What do you think those Suits were looking for?”
“A good time?”
“Joke if you want to, but they were looking for this,” Jefferson said, shaking the bag in Alfie’s face,
“Finding a bag full of guns, gas, and money in an office building broom closet wasn’t weird to you?”
“You told me to find it,”
Jefferson rolled her eyes, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the parking garage.
“You still haven’t told me what I have to do with that bag,”
Jefferson pulled out of the parking garage and turned left.
“Nothing.”
“Well, then who were those guys in the suits?”
“Those ‘Suits’ were agents from the Princeton Project. They are the ones who cut the power and had your building evacuated.”
“Why?”
“So they could look for this,” Jefferson said, holding up the bag.
“What’s so special about the stuff in that bag? You asked if I noticed that no one else was at work, why?”
“Don’t worry about my bag, and ‘cause nobody was supposed to be there, obviously.”
“Is today Sunday? Or Labor Day? ”
“I tipped off Princeton that the bag was somewhere on the 30th floor. Your office. Somehow they got management to give everyone the day off.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I was gonna blow the place. I’d wired the office and expected to take out a bunch of agents in the process. That way I could sneak into the building during the chaos.”
“To get the bag.”
“Then I saw your stupid ass sitting at your desk.”
“So you send me to get your bag, instead, risking my life?”
“You wouldn’t have made it out the building without the damn bag.”
“What about the car in front of the building?”
“Uber driver.”
Jefferson made another series of turns and stopped at a light before she continued,
“I told him to pick you up in front of the building, get to a safe spot, and then get you to me. He does that, and there’s five grand in it for him. ½ at the first stop and, I paid him the other half when he got here.”
“Blimey,”
“You owe me five grand.”
Alfie fidgeted at the thought.
Jefferson continued,
“He almost got killed bringing you here, then your suspy ass freaks out in his back seat and won’t get out. He was pissed to say the least,”
She turned down another side street and muttered,
“I bet he’s gonna give me a ishtty rating to.”
“You’ve got your bag. What do you need me for? Let me go.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“I’m nobody. LET ME GO!”
“Not anymore.”
“LET ME OUT,” Alfie yelled, yanking on the door handle again.
Jefferson stopped the car and turned around.
“Look here, if you keep fcuking with my door, I’m gonna beat you… in front of all these people.”
Jefferson said pointing at the sidewalk and the people standing there waiting to cross the street.
“You can leave anytime you want. Good luck with those Princeton agents.”
“They don’t know me.”
“Sure they do,”
“How?”
“You gave them the slip pretty good. I’m sure they were pissed as hell. I can assure you, they know who you are by now. I’m also pretty sure they’ve informed the JCPD who was under the mask and shot up the lobby.”
Alfie’s shoulders hunched up again, his teeth started to grind, and his stomach began to hurt.
“Fcuk.”
“Yes. Fcuk is right. Now sit back and chill out,” Jefferson said pulling into another parking garage and stopping the car, “and stop fcuking wit’ my door. Don’t touch it. I’ll open it.”
She grabbed the bag from the front seat and walked around to the back door. Alfie swung his bad leg out and put all his weight on his good leg. Jefferson slung the bag over one shoulder, Alfie under the other, and helped him hobble to the elevator.
“Where are you taking me now?” Alfie asked, hopping into the elevator.
“To my place. And don’t touch my isht.”
Alfie leaned against the back wall of the elevator, relieved that the running and confusion had subsided a little bit, at least for now.
Am I an integral part of some type of conspiracy or did I just stumble my way into some criminal craziness. Maybe I’m like some type of sleeper, like a Manchurian Candidate or something.
Alfie looked over at Jefferson and asked, “Back there, you said I was ‘extremely valuable to you,’ what exactly did you mean?”
“Nothing. I lied. This is our floor, come on.”
