C5 A Good Samaritan

Not long after that, Harvey went to see the music professor he had made an acquaintance with to discuss meeting up with a female student of his at Miami State University and going to a piano concerto at Carnegie Hall while he was off duty. He didn't want to drive or walk because he wanted to become familiar with streets, bus stops, and subways to be a better police officer. Harvey was happy to be having a much-needed day and also for not wearing his uniform.

His shirt was undone to display his brawny chest, and he was wearing a little chain that dangled over his navel. He wore dark, antique slacks. He had slicked back his hair. As he walked toward the subway, the other women on the street took notice of his attractive appearance and stylish attire. Some of them gave him seductive winks or smiles.

Harvey had the impression that he could have danced to "Staying Alive" just like the opening sequence of Saturday Night Fever. He was eager to meet the professor, a Jewish man in his 60s by the name of Ezra Goldstein. His professor claimed the girl was of Harvey's age, of mixed white and black ancestry, and she looked stunning. Harvey grumbled to Professor Goldstein that he didn't detail the girl's appearance any further and used the word "thin" to describe the girl's physique. Goldstein, though, believed that all young girls were "thin," and Harvey was aware that not all girls were built equally.

Please, no. Some had seductive curves, some did not, some had an hourglass body, some had larger breasts, and some had nicer looks. The Professor was so traditional that he made no effort to express genuine interest in the girl's physical appearance. Harvey reasoned that his professor assumed they would be more interested in the opera and symphony. While Harvey appreciated the arts, he desired a mate who would also satiate his sexual needs. Coming from a bygone era when men wore hats and women didn't smoke or wear slacks, his overall opinion was, "men would always be men and dames would always be dames," thus Professor found it difficult to understand the current youth.

Harvey assumed Professor Goldstein was referring to the 1940s. The Professor had known some well-known opera singers and performers who frequently attended the Metropolitan Opera. He was an elderly, frail man with white hair who could only cling to his memories. His wife had smoked herself to death and died of lung cancer. Due to Harvey's persistent warnings against it, he had successfully given up smoking himself.

Harvey entered the metro and sat down next to a fairly large, obese woman who was clutching an infant who wouldn't stop sobbing. Harvey wasn't normally bothered by baby cries, but today he felt a little uneasy. His jitters were tense. He wasn't sure whether the air was filled with his growing excitement and impatience for meeting this girl or something else, something more ominous and covert. On the opposite end, a different girl sat next to him. He did not bother to turn to face her. Even though it was ludicrous (he couldn't stop peeking at her from time to time), something about her seemed strangely familiar. She had long blonde hair that cascaded down her back. Even the way she inhaled and exhaled, as well as the way she twitched her gorgeous fingers.

The metro train stopped while Harvey was assessing her. A ruckus started as people stood up to leave and the doors opened. A man in all black, looking like a felon or a convict and had just left a hospital or jail, barged in while brandishing a gun. His voice was stern and loud, and his eyes were dark, "Everyone stays in place. I'm taking this compartment along with a few hostages, and we'll wait till my little pals arrive."

Right away, Harvey's instincts as a cop took over. He understood that this man was a threat; he was unmistakably a terrorist, and his "mates" were also terrorists who had come to hijack the metro station. After standing up, Harvey gave the man a direct look.

"I see, buddy. You don't have this on your mind, do you?"

The gunman shouted, "Just shut the fuck up, motherfucker."

"This will end right now and right now," Harvey stated calmly. "No one will get hurt. I'm with the Miami Police Department. I'll call back up and put you behind bars. Drop the gun. Set it aside."

The man hollered, "Fuck you, rookie," as his eyes roved about.

The felon's gaze instantly shifted to the stunning blonde sitting next to the obese mother holding the infant. He instantly pounced at her and grabbed her in an aggressive hold. He held her arms behind her back while placing his hands around her neck. The young girl yelled. Harvey's unexpected fit of righteous rage came close to a snarl.

The gunman warned, "This girl is gonna die. Now just fuckin' listen to me, or else you're going to pay for this girl's death."

The girl was whimpering in terror as he held the gun to her head.

Everyone on board the train had their eyes fixed on Harvey, immobilized in their horror. In the same composed tone, Harvey said again, "Put down your gun."

The man commanded, "Shut up."

His voice had an odd intensity to it and sounded almost frail. Soon, he started to shake, and he started to cry quietly. Harvey was staring him down and moving slowly toward him; he did not avert his gaze from him. The man instantly changed from the one who had just barged in as Harvey reached for a revolver. The gunman immediately dropped his gun. He then stood still. He was wailing and helpless, much like a lost child.

Free from his hold, the blonde female leaped toward Harvey and took a position behind him.

"You're not a terrorist, are you? And aren't there any buddies coming?" Harvey questioned. "Furthermore, was this not a highjack?"

"No man. These were... I was... I need help." The man sobbed.

"Uh-huh. Drugs? Mental problems? Are you a refugee?" Harvey inquired back.

"What will you do with me, I ask?" The man was frightened to death.

"You agree to accompany me, right? You're under arrest." Harvey recognized the blonde who was now glaring at him and feigning a smile. She was the Canadian woman with whom he had danced at the club on Saturday and who had orally pleasured him that night.

She continued, her grin widening, "Thank you officer for saving my life."

Harvey was spellbound. He had no idea he would run into her again, much less that he would find himself in this predicament. Since everyone was looking at him, he felt he couldn't remain silent for too long without being embarrassed. He adopted his police voice and responded, "My job, ma'am."

As time went on, Harvey came to accept that he had two voices. One was his relaxed, off-duty voice, where he could be himself, and the other was his more somber, serious cop voice, which was always executive-sounding and no-nonsense type. He was relieved when the girl stopped speaking. This time, he knew he would never see her again as she detrained and headed into the maze of Miami City.