Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Magic, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, MaleDom, Harem, Oral Sex,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Meet Mike, a good man in a bad position who must now make a choice.

"I really hadn't seen this coming! How could I have? Now what the hell do I do?" I thought to myself. "No witnesses! There weren't supposed to be any fucking witnesses!"

I had gone over the plan countless times in an effort to think of every possible way things might happen and had planned for every contingency; or so I had thought!

Maybe I'd better start from the beginning. I'm a thirty seven year old widower. My wife died a painful and drawn out death from ovarian cancer about four years ago. I was completely devastated by the whole thing. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, my joy in life. Then she was gone. I'd grown up as an only child of parents who'd been only children. No brothers or sisters, no aunts and uncles, no cousins, and no living grandparents for me to call family. Not only that, but my parents had waited to have me until quite late in their lives and were now gone as well; Dad from a heart attack about seven years ago and Mom in an auto accident two years later. It had all happened so fast! First Dad died, then Sarah was diagnosed with cancer, then Mom died, and finally my poor wife's body gave in to the ravaging disease and she was gone.

I'd met the love of my life while working on my Masters degree. She was still in her undergrad program but we shared one class where we'd met. Things started off with 'lust at first sight', at least on my part, but steadily grew into a friendship based on mutual respect and appreciation. Sarah was a beautiful person inside and out until the day that cancer robbed her from me and the many others who'd learned to love her.

Her family had always treated me as one of their own and when she died that hadn't changed. In life she had loved me completely as I had loved her. In death she had given me a place in her family and that family helped me deal with her loss. Her brother Rob had been such a godsend during that first year. I couldn't have made it without him!

I remember one night in particular, about a year after she passed on, when I'd been drinking heavily to drown my sorrow; but the booze hadn't been enough and I was contemplating suicide for the first time in my life. I had a Glock loaded and ready, sitting on the table next to the bottle of Jack Daniels.

Rob had stopped by the house unexpectedly with a pizza he planned on sharing with me; I think he hoped I'd watch the football game and get my mind off of my problems for a while. When I opened the door Rob just stepped in with the Pizza and a bag with a few cold ones inside and headed towards the couch in the living room. He noticed the Glock right away of course. There was no way he could have missed seeing it sitting there on the coffee table.

"Hey! What are you thinking Mike?" Rob asked with a look I'd never really seen before. He looked angry, sad, hurt, and truly and mightily pissed all at the same time! "I already lost Sarah! It'd kill me to lose you to Mike!"

It'd taken me a while to work up the nerve to do this in the first place and now I realized that he was probably going to try and stop me. My eyes darted to the gun and then to Rob. I remember thinking he might grab the gun and stop me from going through with it; but instead he just sat down and began to do the last thing I ever thought I'd see the big guy do. The tears just poured out of his eyes like water from a faucet as he kept on saying "I miss her to Mike! I miss her so much!"

Knowing that I wasn't feeling the pain alone began a sort of healing inside of me at that moment; but it was his next words that really opened my eyes to how important I was to him and the rest of Sarah's family. Even to this day, when I think of Rob's words it chokes me up a bit. "Promise me Mike! Promise me that if you decide to pick up that gun and use it, that you'll put a bullet in my brain first so I won't know about it and so I won't have to tell mom, dad, Sally, and Becky that you're gone too!"

All this time I'd tried to hold the pain inside - to be the big 'strong' man that I thought people expected me to be; but seeing him there and hearing his sincere words seemed to open up the flood gates on my emotions and they all began to pour forth. We both were crying and sobbing openly about our deep and personal pain - the loss of a dear wife and sister. For the first time I really began to talk about my pain and Rob did to. We shared our grief together and found it a bit easier to bear. We told each other memories of good times with Sarah, shared stories of special times and reminisced about her smiling face and joyful spirit - and somehow I found that I was alive again!

I guess the closest thing I'd ever seen to the relationship that had grown between my brother-in-law and myself was the kind that some soldiers had with each other after saving each others lives during battle while risking their own to do so. That's the way I felt about Rob! He put it all on the line for me when I needed someone to rescue me.

Yup! I'd started to live again. I cleaned up my act and got back on track with my life as best I could. I quit the heavy drinking and focused on my work and the family that cared about me. I spent time with Rob and his wife Sally about three times a week going so far as to join the bowling league they were so fond of. Sarah's younger sister Becky was doing very well at her sports and was on the University's Soccer team. I went to every game I could fit into my schedule and cheered her on. Sarah's parents would usually save a seat for me and we'd talk about anything and everything.

But that was then. Things changed just over six weeks ago.

Rob made a pretty good living as a home appraiser. He liked the work and especially liked the fact he could largely set his own hours. Sally had her own interior decorator business she ran out of a separate studio near their house. Between his work and hers you could be sure that there would be a digital or video camera with them just about all of the time.

The pair went on a bit of a joy ride one Saturday evening after dinner. Rob wanted to drive Sally past a beautiful house he'd seen during the week. It was near one he'd been sent to appraise. The summer sun would still be giving light for another hour or two and Sally was quite intrigued by Rob's description of the property so she had agreed.

The home was in a very nice area of town with simply gorgeous landscaping just about everywhere you looked and Sally picked up the video camera and began shooting. At one point she asked Rob to stop the car. Sally got out and slowly panned the camera from left to right. She first taped the east side of the street and then the west. Satisfied, she hopped back into the car and they drove home. Anyone knowing the two and their interests in landscaping, architecture, and interior design would understand that this was normal behavior for them.

The very next morning the couple were enjoying an after breakfast cup of coffee while watching the morning news. The top story was the overnight assassination of Judge Thomas Mathers. The Judge's car had been booby trapped with a car bomb that had exploded when the man turned the key in the ignition. An enormous amount of explosives had been used on this hit - someone really didn't like the Judge that much!

When the on the scene news coverage began, Sally and Rob were watching intently. Car bombings and murders, particularly that of a judges, were almost never heard of in their part of the country and this was quite a sensational story! The images started with an extremely large crater in what was left of the driveway. The area around the crater had been blackened as well. Fire fighters were on the scene trying to douse the now burning home the car had been parked in front of. When the camera pulled back both Sally and Rob gasped. This was the same house that Rob had showed her the evening before!

They watched for a bit longer until the story was over and then switched the television off. Sally pulled out the tape from the day before and put it in the video player. She had rewound it the night before so now she had to fast forward past several of Rob's taped home tours until she reached the footage she had shot. As the camera panned past the Judge's home a man wearing overalls could be seen walking down the drive and out to the street. Later in the tape when the camera was capturing the other side of the picturesque street, the man's face appeared again as a van drove in front of the camera. The van had the name of a well known plumbing outfit painted on the side. It didn't really seem that unusual or anything the day before, but now both Sally and Rob wondered about it. Why wasn't the plumber's van parked in the driveway? How come the plumber wasn't carrying anything back to the van with him?

In one of those rare and freaky twists of fate it turned out that Rob and Sally had shown up at just the right time and place to capture the assassin on video tape leaving the scene of the crime.

Until now Dominick Torricelli hadn't found a Judge who didn't have a price at which he could be bought. Usually it was money, though occasionally other forms of persuasion had to be brought into play. With Judge Mathers the Mafia boss hadn't had any success at all. Money didn't work and there were no close relations he could threaten to harm. This wasn't South America where you could wipe out a judge without even causing a stir. If you did the job here, you'd better do it right and make certain that you covered your tracks well.

He'd been able to reach the D.A.'s office and from past experience knew that the man would stay bought; but taking out a judge was likely to bring heat from outside the county and most likely the Attorney General or even federal authorities would get involved. Not good!

To make matters worse Judge Mathers had a reputation as a hardnosed judicator who liked to throw the book at offenders and the Mafioso boss vowed that the particular offender in question would serve no time. Lawrence Torricelli was a chip off the old block and the apple of his father's eye. He listened to his father and did his best to make him proud. No. Larry wasn't going to do anytime just for getting a little to enthusiastic in dressing down one of the many bitches his pimps were running for him. She was just a little coke whore anyway, Dominick thought to himself remembering the way she'd thrown herself into the blowjob she'd given him for a single line of the magical white powder they'd used to control her.

Besides the fact that she was just another whore, the little bitch had actually refused to follow her pimp's instructions in full view of the other girls he was running. When "Larry the Lech", as he was known on the street, heard about the little sluts attitude, it made him furious not only with the lousy bitch but with the pimp as well.

"The cunts do not run the show!" he'd told the man with venom in his voice. "You run the show! You're the one with a dick swinging between your legs aren't you? Or did you somehow turn into a pussy yourself?"

When Larry beat a bitch he would sometimes get into it a little too much from Dominick's point of view; but hell - if you can't be passionate about your work what can you be passionate about? Larry's massive hand gripped the little bitch's neck a bit too hard as he fucked her ass till she bled. He'd been too busy mixing his cum with her blood to notice something as unimportant as whether she was still able to breathe.

No doubt the knowledge of what happened when you defied one of Larry's pimps would actually improve the obedience of the other girls; so now, Larry hadn't really done anything wrong. You have to keep discipline in the ranks.

It was only bad luck that this case had been scheduled to be heard in Judge Mather's courtroom. Apparently some little whore bitch of a police woman had given the Judge some information behind her captain's back. When the Torch's man went to try to buy off the Judge, Mather's had told him to tell his boss that Larry would do life for murder.

"No doubt, the man has balls! It's a shame he's too dumb to keep 'em," the Torch said when he heard the Judge's reply to his offer.

You didn't screw with Dominick Torricelli more than once. The mafia don's reputation was one of his biggest assets and he refused to let the Judge harm it. The Judge had thrown down the gauntlet from Dominick's point of view; it was only fair that he reap the reward.

The hit had gone down clean. The truck that had been used hadn't even been reported as stolen. The plumber happened to O.D. while partying with some of Larry's whores. The company he worked for wasn't connected to the mob boss in any way. They'd been really careful to make it look as if the man had been by himself when he overdosed. The truck was back at the man's house before his body had been found.

The explosives used for the hit on the Judge were purchased from the Russian Mafia through a cutout. The expense was more than justified since explosive experts would most likely be called in to investigate and the Russian C-4 variant would really throw the investigation a curve.

It had been a perfect hit! Except for one tiny little thing - somebody had videotaped the enforcer at the scene of the crime.

If only they had known! If they had understood that by taking their tape to the D.A.'s office they were signing their own death warrants Rob and Sally could have avoided the whole mess. When Rob called the D.A.'s office to schedule an appointment he of course had to give the assistant some idea of what his business with the D.A. was. Once Rob mentioned that he had information on the Mather's murder he was immediately transferred to the D.A.'s office.

The D.A. talked with Rob at some length and seemed very pleased to learn of the videotape's existence. "So you can actually see the man's face as he leaves the driveway?"

"Yes," Rob told him.

"And you can see him again as he drives away in the van?" the D.A. asked.

"Yes. It's very clear."

"Excellent! I'll be sending several of my assistants to your home within the hour. We'll need to get your statements and the tape of course. Thank you so much for bringing this to our attention! Without this bit of information we might not have been able to bring this case to a successful conclusion. It's good people like you that make a difference in situations like this," the man told Rob.

Rob was happy to do his part and told the man so. It was only after he'd hung up the phone that something began to bother him a bit. Sally had been sitting in a nearby chair and had been trying to follow what was happening though she had only heard Rob's end of the phone conversation. Now she saw a puzzled look on his face.

"What's wrong Rob?"

"Maybe nothing. You were listening. Did I mention what kind of vehicle the man we caught on tape was riding in?" Rob asked.

"No. I'm pretty certain that you didn't."

"Did I say that he was dressed as a plumber?"

"No you didn't. What's all this about?"

"Somehow the D.A. knew both of those things and I don't remember telling him; but how could he know otherwise?" Rob wondered.

Suddenly Rob was gripped with a chilling thought. What if the D.A. knew about these things because he was somehow in on it?

"Sally please make a copy of the tape for me," he said with some urgency.

Sally moved to do as he asked while Rob went into his den and addressed a FEDEX envelope. Rob also took the time to write a hurried note and put it inside the envelope. Returning to the living room he took the tape that Sally handed to him and placed it inside the envelope.

"We need to get going right now honey," Rob told Sally as he gently guided her towards the door.

The two drove to the FEDEX drop off box nearest to their home and deposited the package in it. Rob hoped that he was wrong about the whole thing.

"At least now Mike will now if anything strange happens," he told Sally.

A few minutes after they pulled back into the house two men in a navy blue Tahoe pulled into their driveway. Both men were wearing suits and one was carrying a briefcase.

After stating that they had been sent by the D.A. and showing Rob their IDs before he'd even had a chance to ask, the two men had managed to ease Rob's concerns a bit and he invited them inside.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I'd like your permission to tape your statement if that's alright with you."

"By all means."

The man pulled out a small tape recorder from his briefcase as well as a notepad and pen. He asked questions that Rob thought were right in line with an investigation and seemed all business. After he had finished interviewing them about what they had seen he reached forward and switched off the tape recorder.

"Okay. Now I know this will seem redundant and I'll apologize ahead of time for asking; but would both of you take a few minutes and fill out a statement? I know you've already told me these things but you have to remember that I work for the county government and we bureaucrats try to be as anal as possible!" he said with a grin as he handed them each a form and pen.

The interview had been just what Rob would have expected from the D.A.'s office and once the man handed him the forms he felt sure that this was legit. After all most every government employee he had ever met was just a bit anal like the man said.

"Excuse me a moment," the man who had remained largely silent during the interview now spoke. "Would you mind if I used your bathroom?"

"Not at all. It's right down the hallway on the left," Sally told him.


The man did go down the hallway; but just after he was out of their sight he pulled out a digital camera and took a picture of the photos hanging in the hallway. Next he ducked into the little den and unlatched the window locks on both windows. Afterwards he actually did go to the bathroom and then return to the living room just as they were completing the paperwork.

"Alright then. If you could show us the tape I think that will just about wrap things up for now."

Sally picked up the remote, turned on the television, and started the tape. She had already wound it to the right spot.

"Oh yes! We should definitely be able to get an ID with images this clear. Listen I want to thank the both of you so much for providing us with this lead. It could mean the difference in solving this case," he told them.

I was just devastated the next day when I learned that there had been a gas leak and explosion in Rob and Sally's house. I was over at Rob's parents house trying to console them when the FEDEX man stopped by my house with a delivery; finding that no one was home he left a slip to let me know he'd dropped by. That night when I saw the slip I just took it inside and dropped it on the counter figuring I had more important things to worry about at the time.

With the funerals and other such business to attend to, it was more than a week later before I had time to think about the package again. I'd missed the FEDEX man enough times that he'd left a preprinted notice explaining how and where I could retrieve my package from the nearest FEDEX depot. I called the number and got the directions to the place. It wasn't too far from the grocery store and I hadn't been shopping for a while. I picked up a few things at the store and then stopped at the depot for the package.

R.A.E. Appraisals? At first the name didn't ring any bells; but when I looked at the address it all clicked into place. Robert Allen Evans. This was from Rob! I wondered what he would have sent me via FEDEX. Just seeing the name began to get me choked up. I quickly thanked the FEDEX clerk and just about ran back to my car. Once I was in the car I ripped the package open. Inside I found a note and a videotape. I began to read the note:

"Dear Mike,

I hope this is all paranoia on my part; but I'm a bit concerned that Sally and I have inadvertently gotten involved with something a little dangerous."

I couldn't read any further at the moment since the tears were obscuring my vision. Soon enough I pulled myself together and finished reading the note. What? They thought they might have caught Judge Mather's killer on videotape?

"Oh Rob! Yeah you really did step in it!" I thought.

Rob explained how the D.A. seemed to know specific details about what was on the tape without being told or having seen it and it made Rob just a bit frightened and unable to completely trust the man - so he sent a copy of the tape to me.

Shoving my emotions to the backburner so to speak I started the car and drove home as fast as I could without getting pulled over. I left the groceries in the car forgotten for the time being and loaded the tape into my VCR. It started in the middle of what must have been some of Rob's appraisal footage. I fast forwarded to the end of that and slowed things back to normal just as the next images started. I found myself looking at some street that Sally had taped. I could hear her voice pointing out a few of the various landscaping features she liked as well as making comments about one of the home's architecture. Then as she started with the other side of the street a van drove past. Shortly after that I was looking at blank tape.

I read Rob's note again. He mentioned a man dressed as a plumber and his van. He said the D.A. had known the man was dressed that way and driving a van without Rob ever having told him.

"That'd give me the willys to!" I thought. So how did the D.A. know?

Sarah and I had been married for about two years when we got the bad news about the cancer. We got married when she graduated with her four year degree. I already had finished my Masters the year before. It must have seemed odd to some of the girls her age when she took up with 'old guy' like me. I'd enlisted in the Army right after graduating high school and served two four year tours of duty before re-entering the civilian sector.

I was smart, aggressive, and intelligent. Both physically and mentally I had excelled at everything they'd sent my way. I was offered the opportunity to go to Ranger school and I jumped on it. I'd almost decided to make a career of it but my dad was starting to have some pretty severe health problems and I wanted to be there for him and my mom. Once my second tour ended I enrolled in the nearby University on the G.I. bill. I found that I was fascinated by computers and took to it like a duck to water. I moved through what was supposed to be four years of college in just over two earning a Bachelors degree in CompSci and a minor in accounting. When I decided to pursue a Masters degree in Forensic Criminology it just about blew everyone's minds.

I guess they were right to be a bit skeptical about the whole thing. Somehow I latched onto this crazy notion that I could be successful starting a detective type business investigating computer and financial crimes. That didn't materialize but I was able to get a pretty decent job working with computers designing really secure financial software for large financial institutions.

I never did end up looking or acting like the complete computer geek though. I kept up my physical conditioning and made regular visits to the firing range at my gun club.

They say the worst kind of mystery for a detective to solve is one that involves people close to him. At one time I had dreamed of being a sort of detective; but never with a case like this to deal with. Oh well! I guess I'll have to play the hand I've been dealt as best I can.

I had a lot of vacation time coming and although my boss was somewhat pissed when I told him I would be taking at least six weeks of it immediately I was pretty confident he'd get over it eventually. Both Sarah and I had life insurance policies naming the other as the beneficiary and when she died I had more than two hundred thousand dollars left after paying for the funeral and my share of the medical expenses. Having heard that real estate is almost always a good investment I used the money from the insurance settlement to pay off the mortgage on the house.

When you're a steadily employed middle aged man with home and cars paid for and earning a healthy six figure salary you generally can keep the bulk of your earnings growing quite well. Now it was time to use some of that rather large nest egg. I started by buying a fairly plain looking extended length blue panel van. The back end I outfitted with a cot on one side and a worktable and equipment rack on the other. Next on my list was some fairly expensive communications equipment that civilians aren't supposed to be able to get their hands on. I also purchased a rather large assortment of rather small spy gear: video cameras, laser microphones, miniature bugs, GPS trackers, and just about anything else I thought might help me gather the information I knew I'd need.

The D.A. turned out to be a lot easier to catch up to no good than I'd expected. He was using a wireless internet style router for his home computers and had failed to enable any of the security or encryption the device was capable of providing. The little router was hooked up to a cable internet modem and he always left his three computers up and running thinking that the act of "logging out" would protect him. I was able to capture his internet activity and discover the user id and password he logged into his bank account with.

Sure enough! He was in someone's pocket. You don't work for the county and have this much money sitting around in checking and savings accounts. I was also able to do a nice little reverse hack since the idiot used the same user id and password combination for his computer login. Once I got into his machine, I was able to locate an excel spreadsheet with account information for two different swiss bank accounts. Now what kind of District Attorney needs to keep money in offshore numbered accounts? A corrupt one of course!

Well now I had a starting point at least. During my surveillance of the schmuck I learned that he liked cigars, so I sent him a gift I was sure he wouldn't be able to ignore. It was a very expensive humidor with a built in hygrometer. I filled it with a variety of high end cigars. Of course, there was also a high end surveillance bug with a power booster built into the ensemble as well. I included a small thank you card upon which I had thanked him for "helping me with my recent video problem."

The messenger who delivered the humidor had barely got out of the building before the D.A. was punching a number on the keypad of his phone. I just love tone dialing. The bug was able to pickup the tones quite clearly and the digital software I was running the signal through identified each digit as soon as he pressed it. I was totally unprepared when he asked to speak to Mr. Torricelli! You didn't live in the area without hearing that name and a few associated rumors floating around.

Oh man Robert! You were right. You really did walk right into a mess. Now at this point a rational person would have stopped; but I wasn't feeling very rational at the moment and don't necessarily claim that label even now. What I was feeling was dangerously pissed at both Torricelli and the D.A. who thought it was okay to be on the payroll of the biggest mafia don around if rumors were true.

The D.A. thanked the don for his generosity and from the rest of the conversation I gathered that the don thought he was talking about the money he'd deposited into the Swiss accounts. "You earned it. It's been a pleasure doing business with you."

Well that was enough evidence for me. I wasn't out to convict the man; I was out for blood! The D.A.'s would be a good starting point. I intended to employ guerilla warfare tactics: Hit hard, hit when and where least expected, disappear without a trace, and do it over and over again.

There was no security at the parking garage for the county building. No cameras, no pass cards, and no guard. I pulled the van into a spot pretty close to the D.A.'s BMW, planted a bit of bait for him to find, and then waited. It seemed that he didn't expect a thing. Did the idiot think it was his birthday or something? Someone sends him close to a thousand dollars of cigars and related paraphernalia and now he just 'happens' to find two hundred dollar bills lying on the pavement next to his vehicle.

I took great joy shooting the tranquilizer dart into his big fat ass when he bent over to pick up the money.

That night was not a good one for the D.A. I knew what I had lost and I knew he had sold out and was partially responsible for taking it away from me. While he was out from the dart I drove to an old warehouse, opened the large sliding door, and pulled the van inside. After I'd slid the big door shut again I locked it up and went to check the other four doors.

About a week into my surveillance I had leased the warehouse under the name W. Mathers Industries and paid for it with a cashiers check delivered by courier. I was able to pull off the entire transaction without making a personal appearance. The keys were turned over to the courier who faithfully followed the instructions to send them in a small cardboard box by U.S. mail to a post office box. It was all pretty cloak and dagger; but I was trying to stay anonymous. The fact was that the post office box had belonged to Sally. I'd found the key for it in a desk when I'd had helped to sort through her paperwork. It was in her Maiden name oddly enough, though she'd obviously gone down to the post office to empty the box and to pay for its use.

Once I'd gotten the keys I had made a few preparations at the warehouse. First I installed a power generator and connected it up to provide power where I would need it. Next I brought a wooden chair and installed metal contact points at various locations on the chair. I wired the contact points to a set of switches so I could send electrical shocks to various locations on the body of the chairs occupant by the push of a button. I also added plastic wire ties at strategic points as well. Now that I had the lout here and sedated I began the unpleasant job of removing his clothing and strapping him into the chair. Once he was there, I fastened the plastic ties and added some electrodes to his forehead, his chest, his groin, and the bottoms of his feet.

I woke him up by hosing him down with water. I figured that not only would that wake him up; it would also help conduct the electricity to his skin. He awoke sputtering. As soon as he took in his surroundings and his predicament he began to threaten me telling me that if I knew what was good for me I'd let him go. He told me he had powerful friends who would kill me if I harmed a hair on his head.

I told him to shut his trap; but he didn't listen to a word I was saying. "I know how to get your attention," I said as I pressed the button that would send current into the electrodes connected to his scrotum and the tip of his pathetic excuse for a cock. I wasn't trying to be subtle and the current was high enough to leave burns perhaps; but I was able to get his attention and soon enough he was quite cooperative. I got a lot of information out of him before the bastard's heart gave away from the strain.

You're probably wondering what kind of person would do this to another individual. All I can say is I hope that you never have a reason to find out what it is like to sit in the chair or to be so angry and hurt your willing to press the buttons. Needless to say, I was willing.

I placed the body in a large rectangular shipping crate and packed dry ice around it. After sealing the box shut tight I used one of the overhead winch systems to lift the wooden box into the back of the van. Using my laptop and the little DeskJet printer I had brought for the purpose I printed a shipping label with the address the D.A. had given me for a restaurant Torricelli owned downtown and was known to frequent for breakfast. On the outside of the crate were the words "Open immediately: Fresh Shark Meat" as well as a phony slogan that read "We can catch anything! We'll get to you fast!" I made the shipper's label out to show "Deep Sea Specialties" as the shipper.

At about four in the morning I pulled into the alley behind the restaurant and left the crate on their loading dock.

Yes it was gross! Yes it was sick! But most importantly, yes it was effective! The Torricelli's, both father and son, were in the restaurant that morning when the screaming started. It wasn't that unusual to receive seafood shipped this way and in fact the restaurant did serve tuna, shark meat, and many other types of fish. When the staff opened the crate in preparation for moving the meat into the cooler, pandemonium broke loose.

I had walked into the place first thing when they opened and discretely placed two spy cams inside. I ordered a coffee and bagel to go and made a hasty exit. When all hell broke loose inside I also managed to plant GPS tracker units on two of Torricelli's cars. The feeds from inside the restaurant and the ones from the spy cams covering the restaurant's entrances allowed me to see how well my blow had hit and I taped all of it for later reference.

The psychological impact on the Torricelli's and their henchmen was pretty strong. Someone had hit one of their own and sent a calling card they couldn't ignore; but who? Why the D.A.? Before Torricelli could tell them otherwise the restaurant crew had already called the police and soon the place was crawling with cops and reporters. The don was not happy!

I figured if they'd gotten to the D.A. they probably owned half the police force as well; this ought to strain quite a few relationships! And really that was the major point of the whole exercise after all. Play with their minds. Let all of them think about the fact that they can be hit. Make them aware that someone is out to get them and at the same time make them distrust each other.

Score one for Rob and Sally!

I decided I'd let the tension build for a while so I gathered more information, and planned the next steps in my war against the Torch.

The GPS trackers I'd planted on the Torch's vehicles were probably one of the most ingenious implementations of the sophisticated global positioning technology I've ever seen. The tiny units were placed up high in the wheel well out of sight. Every thirty seconds the units would take a new reading of their position; if it had changed it was recorded in the unit's extensive memory. If the vehicle remained in the same position the unit would log how long it had remained stationary. All I had to do was drive past the car and the equipment in the van would use an encrypted wireless protocol to read the data from the unit's memory and clear its log.

I uploaded the routes into the map software I had purchased. Now I could see just where they'd stopped and how long. The Torch's habit of eating breakfast at his restaurant resumed about three days after I'd dropped of the frozen body of the D.A. As long as I drove by sometime during his breakfast hours I could grab the GPS information for a whole day in one shot. I hadn't risked retrieving the cameras from inside the restaurant even though their batteries were long since dead. The audio bugs were still functioning though.

On several of my morning drives past the restaurant I was noticing that in addition to the Torch's two Limos there were many of the same vehicles each morning. I kept studying images of the street captured by the cameras I had located on two buildings across street and down the block and saw a definite pattern. I used my considerable computer skills to hack my way into the Department of Motor Vehicles main database and looked up the registration of each of the vehicles that consistently showed up in the images. Four of the thirteen vehicles appeared to belong to people working at the restaurant. I had managed to add GPS trackers to each of the other nine and was now gathering data from them as well. I was beginning to learn the ins and outs of the Torricelli operation. After a few weeks of relative calm I knew it was time to strike again.

During my review of the videotape of the scene inside the restaurant the morning of my "special delivery", I noted each of the various people who talked with Dominick Torricelli. With the information from my surveillance, coupled with the license and registration information from the DMV's database, I was able to identify each of the Torch's associates and determine where they lived and in general what portion of his territory they were responsible for. I also discovered that two of the visitors from that morning were police detectives. It didn't take long to find out that they were at least as dirty as the D.A. had been. This gave me the opening I needed for the next skirmish in my self declared war on the Torch and his empire.

While Paul Nennelli was at his daily breakfast meet with the torch, I made a covert visit to his home. I'd already done a thorough recon of the enforcer's home on two prior occasions. He lived in an older three story brick home in a fairly nice area of town. The one point of weakness I had found while posing as a meter reader, was that the basement had an outside entrance with the classic style of double doors installed at an angle to allow the water to run off. Here the man had taken the time and money to put bars on his windows and install metal doors on the front and rear exits to his home but left the basement doors with only a simple paddle lock to secure them.

I had taken a picture of the lock on a prior visit and had gone to the hardware store to purchase one that looked identical to it. I sprayed the lock I bought with a light acid based solution and let it sit out on my back porch a few days to give it an aged appearance.

After parking the van a few blocks away I strapped on a workman's tool belt with an assortment of tools and pulled on a pair of rubber surgical gloves. I donned a loose fitting wind breaker and walked the short distance with my gloved hands hidden in its pockets. Now that I was at Nennelli's home, I made short work of the paddle lock with my bolt cutter and quickly pocketed the remains of the old lock. I was in the basement with the doors shut in no time flat having already made sure on my prior visit that the place had no alarm. The whole lax security thing at the house of a mafia enforcer kind of reminded me of the line about the painter's house - you can always find it easily by looking for the peeling paint.

The flashlight I unclipped from my tool belt provided ample lighting for my work. I made a quick circuit of each floor including the basement. I found what I was looking for in the drawer of a desk in a den on the first floor. A gun with a silencer mounted on the front along with two boxes of ammo. I took the gun and the ammo. Perfect! I made a very quick exit after making sure that everything else was back in its place and left the basement doors locked up just the way I'd found them.

Later that evening when Detective Walters arrived home for the night - I was waiting for him. One hard blow to the back of his skull with my homemade blackjack and he was down for the count. I removed his standard issue police weapon from its holster and checked its load. Next I used two plastic wire wraps to bind his hands behind his back and secure his ankles. I fired two shots from Nennelli's silenced weapon into the back of the dirty cop's skull and left the home through the back door.

I had two more stops to make yet before my evening's work would be complete. The first was to Detective Enger's place. Like Walters, Detective Enger's lived alone in a modest home out in the burbs. I had to be more careful this time since she was already home before I got there. I let myself in through the sliding glass door off of the kitchen. After a moment spent listening I heard the sound of her voice singing in the shower. The sound of the water covered any small incidental noises I might make so I was moving rather quickly through the house. The door of the bathroom was ajar and I spotted her nude form in the mirror. She was sitting up in the tub and reaching forward to shut off the water. I quickly stepped behind her and give her a double tap with Nennelli's gun to match those given to her now deceased partner Detective Walters.

My last trip was back to Nennelli's place. It was a Wednesday night. Every Wednesday evening was the same. Meet at Larry Torricelli's place for an evening of fun with some of Larry's whores. Nennelli never missed it. I went back in through the basement doors and put the gun and remaining ammo back in the drawer. Departing the house I left the basement locked up as usual with none the wiser concerning my visit.

Once again things were stirred up nicely. The next day after neither detective showed up to work and calls to their homes went unanswered the police chief sent a squad car to each house. Finding the detective's cars parked in their drives but getting no answer at the door the policemen called it in and asked for instructions. Once they entered the two homes and found the bodies things began to heat up rather quickly.

The hits were mafia style; but Torricelli disavowed any knowledge of the executions saying "Bill, why would I off two of our own? It doesn't make any sense for me to be involved in something like this. I don't kill cops who stay bought. It would be counter productive."

I waited a few more days before my next move. I was hiding in Nennelli's closet when he returned home on Saturday night. He was by himself as usual. I waited until he had been asleep for almost an hour with the lights out I donned the FLIR Night Vision Goggles and quietly exited the closet. I walked up to Nennelli's sleeping form and shot him in the head with Detective Walter's gun.

Even with the pillow I'd used in an attempt to muffle the blast it was still very loud. I'd closed my eyes right when I fired so that I wouldn't be blinded by the flash. Now I headed out of the place at top speed. Everything for my quick exit had been taken care of ahead of time and with the FLIR goggles I could see everything in my path quite clearly. I managed to make it out unseen; but lights were starting to come on in several nearby houses by the time I pulled away in my van.

I sent the police chief a note on a piece of personalized stationary I'd taken from Nennelli's desk. When the FEDEX man delivered it that morning the police chief extracted the note from the FEDEX package and dropped the envelope containing my bug on his desk. I was listening intently as he read the note:


I don't know what Paulie was thinking. I've done my best to make amends in my own way. I suggest you drop the issue now.


The swearing and angry flow of words and thoughts the chief began spouting out came through quite nicely on the recording I was making. I doubt if he'd have ever had the balls to say any of those things if Torricelli was in the room; oh well, no matter - I was willing to help him there. With a little careful re-mixing of his words I soon had a nice recording of him threatening to "off Torricelli and his entire dickless goon squad!" After packaging the recording up rather nicely in an audio file of Chief Wurtz's eloquent and heartfelt thoughts concerning the Torch and crew I prepared to make certain that it reached the Torch.

Now, thanks to the wonders of wireless networking and the ignorance of the police chief about how to secure his systems, I was able to make the message transmit from his PC. I sent it to Torricelli's email address from a PC inside of the police chief's house. Earlier during the week I infested Chief Wurtz's home computer by using a worm hidden inside of an innocuous looking email and now I had control of his PC without ever stepping foot into his house. I was quite pleased to find that he had not only the Torch's email address, but that of several of the Torch's enforcers as well. Isn't email great! With the push of a button you can send email to as many people as you'd like with no more effort than sending it to just one.

In short order things were heating up in the extreme. The Torch was calling in all of his troops on this one. I paid close attention to the place and time they were going to meet. All of them were going to be together in one place! Now this was what I'd been waiting for, a remote location with all of them in attendance. But why, I thought to myself, should Chief Wurtz and the other four corrupt policeman and three corrupt people from the D.A.s office be left out of the fun?

I sent a message by courier to Wurtz. This time the note was purported to have come from Larry Torricelli. In the note he explained that he thought his father was losing it. The note told Wurtz of planned hits against him and the other corrupt officials. Larry was apparently proposing a solution to the problem. If Wurtz would show up at the meet ahead of time and wait in ambush, Larry and his closest aids would turn on the Torch and his men. With Wurtz's extra fire power they could wipe out the Torch and Larry could take control of the show.

I didn't know what Wurtz's reaction to the note would be. He might choose to take it as legit and side with Larry. Or he might choose to leave town. And it was even possible that he might contact the Torch and share it with him. Exactly which reaction occurred really didn't matter that much. The note was gonna cause havoc no matter how Wurtz chose to react and that was its purpose.

They're little meet was scheduled to take place in a forest preserve about twenty minutes from town. The Torch wanted to get a handle on what was going on and talk with as many of his people face to face as he could at the same time. I'd been building towards this for some time now. I had an arsenal of remotely detonated bombs and mines to work with. I deployed them with careful thought to how they might be used and diagrammed their various placements and projected 'fields of fire' on a little map with numbers to represent what trigger buttons I would use to fire them from my little remote control console.

I built a sniper nest in one of the higher trees and camouflaged it to the best of my ability. I was encased in Kevlar with camo gear and weapons harness in place up in my little nest five hours before the proposed meet. When Wurtz and crew showed up an hour before the Torch's men were to arrive, they didn't even glance my way. He and the seven men he brought managed to find positions where they would not be seen from the ground; but I just noted their positions on my little map.

When it all finally went down, the Torch's men arrived all within a five minute interval. The Torch led them into the clearing and began to lay out his plan. Before he could get very far with it I decided to break up the happy little get together. I had secreted two very special remote control machine guns in a pile of rocks that three of Wurtz's men happened to be using for cover. With just the push of a button on my remote the weapon took out three of the Torch's little army of thirty or so men. Pandemonium broke loose. The Torch's men began to fire towards Wurtz's unfortunate three. I let loose with the other remote controlled gun taking out quite a few more. Wurtz and his crew began to fire for real and soon weapons fire was heading in almost every direction except up. It seemed that none of them thought to look up; but then again no fire had actually come from my direction anyway. I began to set off the various mines and bomblets when they were certain to do the most damage.

The whole seen was kind of gruesome in many ways. There was an awful lot of bullets, blood, gore, stones, dirt, dust, and schrapnel flying around down there. When it all settled down I waited a bit longer to see if there were any hidden survivors. Three men emerged from behind trees around the perimeter of my little battleground: A shell shocked Torch, a wounded Wurtz, and a remarkably untouched enforcer. The enforcer put a shot between Wurtz's eyes as soon as he spotted him. The Torch was still in shock, so I sighted my sniper rifle on the back of the enforcer's head. After he heard the noise, the Torch turned to see his enforcer standing their headless with blood pumping out of the stump of neck that remained. Next I turned my weapon on him. I shot him in the leg. When he fell to the ground and rolled to his side to grab the enforcer's gun, I shot him in the arm. Next I shot him in the groin. He called out "Why are you doing this? I have money! I can pay you! We can make a deal!"

"No deal Monty! That show was cancelled and yours is about to be as well."

"You don't like money? I could give you lots of it!" the panicked mafia don offered.

"Actually, I already have access to your money. So you can't offer it to me since it's mine now anyway. But this was never about money anyway scumbag! This is about revenge! Revenge for what you've done to so many; but mostly this is for Rob and Sally!" I told him as I squeezed the trigger sending a bullet into his brainpan.

I lowered my equipment from the tree and then climbed down myself. I was going from body to body as quickly as I could and firing a shot to the head for every corpse that still looked at all intact. I didn't waist time checking. I didn't want survivors in this group.

I grabbed my weapons bag and about a half dozen of the more interesting weapons I found on the dead. I'd set the automated software on my PC to complete the funds transfer from all of the dead men's Swiss bank accounts into the former District Attorneys account so I'd only need to work with one. Ironically most of the money transfers had probably already taken place before the Torch offered it to me.

I was halfway back to the van before I saw them. Two teenage girls cowering down on the ground near the outhouse. "Don't kill us Mister!" they pleaded.

I must have looked extremely pissed and my boots were leaving bloody foot prints from the gore I'd just waded through. All in all the two girls found the picture terrifying.

"Who are you?" I demanded in a gruff voice. Oh yeah I was pissed. So far I'd avoided any innocents in this messy war; but then again "there aren't supposed to be any fucking witnesses!"

When I got no answer I just turned on my heel and left. I was going to get out of here and take my chances. "I don't kill innocents!" I kept telling myself.

"Mister!" one of them shouted as she ran up to me.

"What in bloody hell do you want now?" I asked at the top of my lungs.

She fell to her knees looking first at the gun I was still holding in my hand and then up to my face and into my eyes like she was searching for something she might see there.

Wrapping her arms around my legs she began to plead with me "Take us with you Mister. Take us with you!"

So this brings me back to the beginning of my whole insane but true story. I'm now rich with money made in ways that truly disgust me. I've broken more laws in the name of Justice than I could count. I'd lost my wife, my parents, my brother-in-law and his wife, and now I had to make a clean break and start a new life; but "there were fucking witnesses!"

She must have seen the questions in my mind somehow; she could almost sense that I was really considering her plea. They'd both seen me, but it was nearing dusk and I was wearing camo gear. If I left them here the police would probably start on a manhunt using whatever description these girls gave. I certainly would have to find another vehicle though this one wasn't purchased in my name.

If I took them with me that would only delay my decision for a while, but I needed sometime to think and that would buy me some. She could tell I'd reached a decision, but she mistook my anger at the unexpected twist to be anger at her.

"We'll make it worth your while!"

"I asked you before and you didn't answer my question. Who are you? What are your names? What in God's name are you doing out her by yourselves? And for that matter, why in the hell would you want to go with someone you know is a killer?"

She paled at the onslaught of my barrage of questions. The other girl had come closer and now chose to speak. "My name is Dawn, and this is Patty. We ran away from the foster home about three weeks ago. We're out here because those animals you just eliminated made us come with them. I think the reason that Patty wants to go with you is that we don't have anywhere else to turn. Like she told you, we'll do the best we can to make it worth your while. They've made us fuck the most disgusting pigs you can imagine. We both swallow and take it up the ass. You can fuck us whenever you want; just don't make us do everyone else and don't pump us full of no shit drugs!"

"Why not just walk away from all of this and start again on your own? Why do you need to offer yourselves to me?" I asked in a much calmer voice.

"Because sooner or later we'd run into another pimp. Sooner or later we'd get caught up in all of this again anyway. At least this way we choose who we are giving ourselves to, instead of having someone else decide."

I decided it was time to switch gears. "Look ladies, I need to get out of here right now. You want to get away from the area as well. I'll agree to let you come with me now and we can talk about what happens later away from this mess. That'll give us all time to think things through and not make any rash or crazy decisions we might regret."

"Just one thing before we leave though," I told them. "You weren't here tonight. This didn't happen. You never saw me here. You don't know who these men were. And your memory of the night is just completely scrambled. Right?"

"You're the boss!" Dawn said.

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