16
The Avenger is about to strike.
Not for the Avenger the skin tight outfit with underwear on the outside, designed to show the world at large and in particular the female population, everything that he had to offer, instead the Avenger looked for all the world like a Stock Broker, in a dark suit and neatly trimmed beard and hair, and as such was able to mingle inconspicuously with the Wall Street crowd.
One of the things I missed out on in my youth was the comic books that people of my age devoured voraciously. I missed such superheroes as Superman and Batman, those caped crusaders who fought for truth, justice and the American way. The Avenger was the 'Capeless Crusader'.
The thing that these heroes had in common was that they had an identity behind which they could withdraw when duty wasn't calling. I was about to follow in their illustrious footsteps.
So that I can carry out my task and make sure that those responsible for this operation receive the justice that they deserve, I will have to allow everyone to believe that I was killed in the car explosion. I was aware that those closest to me, Sendi, Ruiz and Phoebe would suffer un-necessary grief in this belief, but there was nothing else for it.
What remained of the flaming red Porsche now sat surrounded by sheer chaos. It was now a blob of molten metal that had sunk into the charred remains of the bitumen road surface. There could be no human remains in this funeral pyre, not even a tooth. Anything flammable within a fifty foot radius was engulfed in flames, bodies lay on the pavement, some still, some writhing in pain. Some of the still bodies would soon join the writhing in pain bodies while others would remain still. Every window in that same fifty foot radius was shattered and those people standing behind the glass were now bleeding from multiple wounds.
Those people not affected by the carnage divided themselves into two groups, the helpers and the spectators. The helpers attempted to treat the wounded with what little equipment was available to them until the paramedics arrived, while the spectators got in the way. I decided that I form a third group of one, and get the hell away from the scene, after all if the person or persons that planted the bomb in the car saw me hanging around he or they would know that the mission had failed and have another attempt at killing me. Much as it hurt to leave the suffering behind me I simply had to.
I was getting good at leaving scenes undetected. It was made easy by the attention of the people at the scene being focused on the sirens and flashing lights that announced that the cavalry had arrived. I walked quickly and unobtrusively to the nearest subway station, I was just another tourist stupid enough to catch the subway instead of a cab.
I caught a commuter train to my old neighborhood. I would be able to lease a small apartment that will serve me well as a base of operations.
First of all I needed to secure my money. The way I had it figured, the bank, when it heard that I had been killed in a car bomb would freeze access to my safety deposit box and I wouldn't be able to access my funds. I caught a cab to the bank and taking the money from the box I walked a short distance to another bank and opened an account under my real name, I still carried papers that identified me as Wilbur Smith.
"Not the author Wilbur Smith?" The clerk asked as she filled my details into the computer.
"I'm an author and my name is Wilbur Smith," I said for the thirty thousandth time, "But I'm not that Wilbur Smith. He beat me to the punch so I have to write under a pseudonym."
"Oh." She lost interest completely.
Leaving the bank I walked to a letting agent and took out a lease on the smallest, least obtrusive apartment I could find and in this I stashed my few remaining possessions. I then went to a small gun shop and bought, without having to show ID, a Browning automatic complete with silencer, (He didn't even ask why I wanted that) and two spare magazines along with several boxes of ammunition. I then bought a computer and printer, I needed to access the records on the disk I had taken from Paulo's office to see if there was some way that I could use it to achieve my goals. I loaded all of this into my latest rental car, leased in my real name of course, and headed for my new home.
In New York Ruiz had been acting quickly. He used all of the resources at his disposal to make as many arrests as possible before the criminals had a chance to escape. Those arrested made their preliminary court appearances as soon as the paper work had been completed.
The judge was enjoying himself immensely, there were some prominent names among the steady stream of clients. He was taking it on himself to ensure that he gained the maximum publicity for himself. "Next!"
"Antonio Pellegrino!" A small dark man stood up.
"What is the charge?"
"Trafficking in Cocaine."
"How do you plead?" Judge Smithson asked the defendant.
"My client pleads 'not guilty'." A tall and distinguished man dressed in a dark suit stood at the defense table.
"Thank you Mr. La Bianchi." The judge showed no surprise at the appearance of the defense counsel who was well known as the reason that so many organized crime figures were not gracing the state's penitentiaries.
"The evidence?" He addressed the prosecutor in his own style of shorthand questioning. He was a firm believer in 'cutting to the chase' and eliminating any unnecessary legalistic 'bullshit'.
"Your honor, the defendant was apprehended in an operation that was the culmination of months of investigation. At the time of his arrest he had on his person a considerable quantity of cocaine. When a search was made of his home the police found equipment that could be used to cut, process and package the cocaine for distribution. The quantities seized, ten kilos were significantly more than that we would expect the defendant to have had for personal use. This amount constitutes trafficable quantities of cocaine and we will oppose bail in this matter. We will be able to prove beyond doubt that the defendant is part of a much bigger operation."
"Has bail been discussed?"
"As I just indicated the prosecution strongly opposes bail in this instance."
"Does the defense have any submissions in the matter of bail?"
"We are applying for bail. We feel that if our client was incarcerated pending the trial he will be significantly disadvantaged when it comes to mounting a defense."
"While I can't see any reason why he can't be released on bail, I feel that I should issue a warning to anyone else who contemplates the course of action that the defendant has embarked upon. I set bail at one million dollars." He banged the gavel on the bench.
"That is ridiculous! Where can my client possibly find that amount of money?"
"Not my problem. Next!"
It was a big day for the local media. Not only did the arrest of the DA grab the interest of the local population who had little idea that he was as corrupt as it now appeared, but the syndicates were clamoring for any news they could get.
This news was being overshadowed by the news that the well known crime writer Jason Feldham was thought to have been incinerated in an explosion that had totally destroyed his Porsche. The explosion had also caused considerable human and property damage, the extent of which was yet to be determined.
Ruiz rang Phoebe when the news broke that I had been blown up. "Listen, I have some bad news."
"What?"
"Jason is dead. Now get your things together, I'm picking you up in twenty minutes and we're going to drive to their house in Maine. I want to be the one to break the news to Sendi."
