Delivery

He had no idea what was going on around him, no clue why a dozen police cruisers were chasing after him. He was only biking around, fulfilling his role as a bicycle messenger. The police had no reason (that he knew of) to be chasing him. He would gladly stop, but he also had a package in his bag that needed to be delivered in the next five minutes. It would be close, he knew it, but he could manage it. So long as he didn't hit any red lights.

The package itself was going to a major investment firm from a private residence. Neither side of the delivery, the origin nor the recipient, had ever used his firm before. When he was originally told about the package by his dispatcher, he sighed. Since neither side had an account with his firm, it would be a cash call. He hated cash calls - something always went wrong.

But regardless, he accepted the call with a perfunctory acknowledgement, and rolled off to pick it up. The package origin was an apartment building in one of the city's seedier areas, but he didn't ask questions. The person sending it out seemed decent enough, not one of the crack-heads that dominated the area. Even gave an extra tip on top of the amount owed. Which was nice - another coffee between calls. But the courier had a strange feeling about the package itself. It's not that he could put his finger on it, but something felt off. Regardless, cash in hand and package in bag, he set off.

The trouble started about ten minutes later. First one cruiser, then two, then it seemed like they were popping out of the concrete. And he had to move quick. He knew a few shortcuts in the area ahead that would be guaranteed to shake the police. Through one plaza, then the next, he went a full two city blocks with only being on an actual road for no more than two seconds. He even locked his bike up one block over and ran along the financial district's underground concourse to the proper address. Back to street level inside the office tower, the tallest in the city, he popped into the right elevator just as the doors clicked shut behind him. He finally felt he could breathe.

Exiting on the forty-ninth floor, he turned toward the reception - and froze. Eight uniformed officers were waiting for him. Turning to them, he simply asked that he be able to deliver the package before he was arrested. The police dove for him, stopping short as he pulled the small package from his bag. Fear and a kind of grim acceptance fell over them as they stared bewildered at the bulky envelope in his hand. The courier had no clue what could've mitigated this response, until he heard a soft ticking sound. Staring around, trying to find the source, he soon joined the police in their fear upon realizing the source was in his hands.