After Jacky has gotten thier position, he smirked, his expression a mask of calculated intensity. With precision, he expertly handled the brakes, and the blacked-out Jeep Cherokee surged forward, its sleek design and powerful engine propelling it down the road. The speedometer climbed rapidly, drawing grave concern from Ben, Kadu, and Tellie.
"The young man" was all that mattered now; their mission paramount. Jacky's gaze darted between the GPS and the road, navigating the twisting streets with practiced ease.
After an hour-long journey, they cruised down the highway, their sleek black Jeep Cherokee blending into the traffic. As they approached the intersection, Jacky's expert hands navigated the turn with precision, swooping into the lane that would take them back to their starting point.
Ben, Kadu, and Tellie exchanged surprised glances. Their faces reflected a mix of confusion and concern, wondering why Jacky had made the sudden change in direction.
Jacky's eyes remained fixed on the road, his jaw set, as he expertly maneuvered the vehicle through the traffic.
As Tellie prepared to confront Jacky, she noticed him intently studying the GPS. Her concerns momentarily silenced, she watched as he expertly navigated the highway, exiting onto a side street.
The bustling business shopping street was alive with activity: hawkers touted their wares, shop owners attended to customers, and pedestrians navigated the crowded sidewalks. Motorcycles, keke (three-wheeled taxis), and cars etc., jostled for space.
Jacky floored it, effortlessly weaving through the chaos. Panic spread among onlookers as the sleek, expensive vehicle sped by. Hawkers scrambled to protect their goods, shop owners rushed to safety, and pedestrians dodged out of the way.
Some people ridiculed Jacky's aggressive driving with gestures and scornful expressions. Others watched in awe, reverence etched on their faces, impressed by the car's luxury and Jacky's exceptional driving skills.
As Jacky executed precision maneuvers, avoiding collisions with ease, relief washed over the faces of pedestrians, hawkers, shop owners, customers, and drivers who had feared them and thier vechile being hit or having their goods damaged. Vendors breathed sighs of relief as their wares remained intact, and shopkeepers relaxed, grateful their storefronts were unscathed.
The group sped through connected streets, executing intricate maneuvers, before emerging onto another street.
Jacky cruised into the upscale residential street, lined with high-end homes, sleek offices, and discreet businesses. The road stretched out before him, wide and unobstructed.
He floored it, the luxury vehicle's engine roaring to life.
Jacky motioned to Tellie, still recovering from the earlier high-speed drive. She gazed at the building, grasping Jacky's intention, and smirked. The duo's laughter drew an eye-roll from her.
As they approached a building, Jacky slowed down, opening Tellie's door with the automatic controls. He signaled her, and she understood the situation. Despite knowing the mission's urgency, she shook her head.
Kadu handed her a bag, and Tellie sprang into action. With athletic precision, she exited the still-moving car, executing a flawless jump and landing with a roll. Unfazed, she stood up.
The car sped away, leaving Tellie dusting herself off. A scathing glance followed, aimed at the retreating vehicle.
Passersby paused, drawn in by the dramatic exit. Tellie's expression shifted from annoyance to embarrassment.
She bowed her head, covering her face with her hand, and swiftly entered the building, ignoring the curious onlookers.
Now back to Jacky and the duo, they were cruising on the expressway, guided by the GPS. They had reached their target.
In the sleek Ferrari 811 Superfast, the uninjured woman driving, held a phone to her ear, recieving a call. Her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, her eyes locking onto Kielin. "Sir Kielin, your father is on the phone. He wants to speak with you," she announced, her tone laced with a hint of irritation.
As she handed the phone to the backseat, her expression betrayed her annoyance, her lips pursed slightly.
Kielin, lounging in the backseat, nonchalantly operating his phone, paused, noticing the offered phone. He collected it with a languid movement, without looking up, his focus shifting.
Upon recognizing the caller, Kielin straightened, composing himself, and settled into the chair, before answering, "Sir, I almost shit my pants today," his voice trembling with a mix of fear and relief.
Frankie's father sat comfortably, drugs scattered on his lap, as two young girls, likely exploited or coerced into prostitution, attended to him. A burly, tattooed man—Frankie's consigliere—entered, handing him a phone.
As Frankie's father relaxed into his chair, he fondled the girls, his belt open. One girl's head bent down into his trousers, his hand grasping her head, forcing her into submission. Moans escaped his lips as he kissed the other girl, opening her top, cupping her breast. The intense kiss silenced her.
The phone call interrupted the scene. Frankie's father answered, still receiving oral attention from the girls, taking turns, as he spoke to his son.
Frankie: "O boy, hwfa. I hope you no dey hurt!" He exclaimed, his voice laced with concern, but tempered with a calculated nonchalance, betraying a hint of paternal worry.
Kielin, lounging in indulgent luxury, chuckled, rubbing his nose, revealing the telltale signs of a cocaine habit. "Chill, Pops," he drawled.
The injured woman, anticipating his request, handed him his signature Cuban cigar - a massive, light-brown, premium behemoth. She lit the lighter, and Kielin savored the flame, inhaling deeply. He exhaled with a relaxed rasp, relief washing over him.
"Just had a close call, Pops," Kielin said, his tone dripping with confidence.