Chapter 8

On Sunday morning there was another meeting, but in a conference room at city hall, as the meeting had grown too large for the Mayor’s office. Those in attendance were the same as those at Saturday’s meeting plus additional assistants and technical personnel. The police Precinct Commander was different also, his precinct included the Peachtree Center area. All of those present looked grim.

“How bad is it?” the Mayor asked to begin the meeting. He had bags under his eyes and looked worn out and pale.

“What time did you leave?” the Fire Chief asked. He also looked tired and worn out.

“About three this morning,” the Mayor told him.

“We finally got control of the fires around 4:30 this morning. The ladder trucks could only reach the tenth floor. The crews that we sent up them had to break into the building through the windows. Most of the crews went up the stairs. It was a tough trip with all of their equipment on and dragging hoses with them, as we weren’t sure that the fire water system on the upper floors was still working. There was damage from the explosion as low as the ninth and tenth floors. They did find the night watchman from the twelfth floor on the tenth, but he was groggy and had no idea how he got there.

“The floors above and below the twelfth floor were on fire, and there was a lot of smoke in the stairwell, as it appeared that someone had propped the fire doors open on the eleventh and thirteenth floors. Luckily, there was still water on the tenth floor so we didn’t need all of that extra hose they had dragged up there.

“The door to twelve was locked on the inside, and they needed to break it down. The explosion had buckled it anyway. There was an unauthorized bar across the door that prevented it from being opened. It was just as well since everything that remained on the twelfth floor was on fire.

“The whole damn building will have to remain closed down until the structural engineers can check on its integrity. We aren’t sure if the upper half of the building is safe or not,” the Fire Chief finally wound down.

“We are going to need to check the buildings across the street from it for damage also,” the Fire Chief’s assistant added.

“There were eleven bodies hanging from the roof of the building, and one splattered all over the sidewalk in front of it. It’s something like a thirty story drop. We had to use a helicopter to get a SWAT Team onto the roof during the fire to secure it, since we had no idea if the perpetrator of all of this was still up there,” the Police Chief told the Mayor to begin his presentation.

“Was anyone there?” the Mayor asked, hopefully.

“No one,” the Chief told him. He was tired from being up again all night. “We flew the Crime Scene crew in once SWAT had control of the roof. The SWAT team helped pull the bodies back onto the roof. The victims had all been hanged – strangled like the pimps and the drug dealers. We still have no idea of who is behind this. With the explosion and the fire in Pontoliano’s ad agency, there won’t be any clues left there either.”

“You have to admit that whoever is behind this hasn’t shown any partiality. He or they have taken out nearly all of the leaders of crime in the city,” the Precinct Commander said with a smile.

“Does that mean that we’ll have peace for a while?” the Mayor asked, hopefully.

“For a short time, maybe. There are still a lot of criminals and lowlifes out there, but they are in hiding now and keeping a low profile till all of this blows over,” the Police Chief told those there before adding, “But vacancies now exist at the top of all of those gangs, and a lot of those out there will be wanting to fill them. There is going to be a war to see who comes out on top, you can count on it,” he finished.

“None of this has been good for the city, and the events of last night took place in the heart of the visitor and convention area. We won’t be able to sweep it under the rug. Too many visitors in those hotels in the Peachtree Center area saw what happened last night,” the Mayor said with a groan.

“That’s not all, Mr. Mayor,” the Precinct Commander added, “The Dons up north aren’t going to be happy about losing one of their own. They will have people down here shortly to do their own investigation of what happened. The people they send won’t be lawyers, but tough hoods who will lean on everyone they can to learn who is responsible. It will not be a good time for those questioned.”

The Mayor really looked haggard by now, as he could see his chances of being re-elected going down the drain with every new revelation.

“What can we do?” he asked in a weak voice.

“We can ask for more help from the governor, and possibly the FBI and the U.S. Marshals. There is no way to tell when this will end,” the Police Chief told him.

“I thought you said that all of the major criminals had been taken out?” the Mayor objected.

“They have, but WE don’t know who or what he or they will go after next,” the Police Chief had just finished saying when the door to the conference room opened and two men walked in. One was in civilian clothes and the other was in a military uniform.

“I’m Dr. Boudinot and this is Colonel Coley. We’re from Military Intelligence at the Pentagon, and we know who is the cause of all of your recent problems,” the civilian told those assembled there.

“Who?” immediately came from the lips of most of those present.

“The person responsible for all of the atrocities of the past few days is one Major Maximilian Hardtrick, a medically retired Special Operations officer. He is an expert in the use of explosives. He is under the delusion that his children were kidnapped and murdered, when in fact it was he who murdered the children,” Dr. Boudinot told them with a straight face. Colonel Coley hadn’t said anything up to this point but appeared very unhappy.

“Why haven’t you locked him up before this?” the Mayor demanded in an upset voice.

“We had him under observation, but didn’t have any proof until recently. Unfortunately, he managed to slip away from his house unobserved. It wasn’t until we went to arrest him that we even realized that he was gone. He was a very effective Special Operations leader until he was relieved of command when he became mentally deranged and killed a number of innocent civilians in Afghanistan. He was under psychiatric care for some time and was thought to be cured, but four years after being released, it appears that his mental problems have returned,” the doctor concluded.

“Do you have any recent pictures or a description of him,” the Chief of Police asked in an anxious voice.

“Yes, we have pictures and a description of him from when he was arrested last month for assault of a man he claimed had kidnapped his children,” Colonel Coley told them, finally speaking as he handed over the paperwork.

“Call a news conference. We need to get his picture and description out to the public as quickly as possible,” the Mayor said in an exuberant voice, as he could see his chance of re-election improving. None of those present noticed the snide look of satisfaction on Dr. Boudinot’s face at this or the frown on Colonel Coley’s face.

Awakening at about 0730 on Sunday morning, I quickly dressed and then stopped at a fast food place for breakfast before transferring to the town where I had been arrested over a month ago. A quick check of the police station there confirmed what I had seen there. Things were very quiet early on a Sunday morning, and I had no trouble locating the evidence storage room at the back of the station and then transferring inside it. While not overly large, as it was a small town, there was a nice space on the bottom shelves at the extreme rear of the room that were empty.

On ascertaining this, I transferred to the overpass area of the interstate where I had hidden my cart. By now it was overflowing with various containers of paper money and gold. It actually required several trips for me to transfer all of it to the evidence room. A quick obfuscation spell would prevent anyone from noticing it there if they came into the room.

By now it was almost 0900, and the shift change was in progress at the station. Being Sunday morning, there were extra officers on hand to handle the traffic around the many churches in town and around the early opening restaurants. On observing the handing out of assignments, I noticed that the two who had arrested me were present, and I listened carefully when they received their assignment. Quickly transferring outside, I awaited their appearance at their patrol car.

They soon arrived but didn’t see me, as I was invisible and sitting in the back of their vehicle. They got in and shortly pulled out of the station’s parking lot. They would be on patrol for nearly an hour and a half before going on church duty. This gave me plenty of time to work my revenge on them before they would be missed.

Their first stop was to pick up donuts and coffee at a doughnut store on the main highway going through town. They used the drive up lane at the doughnut store and then drove over to the post office parking lot to eat and relax for a time. The post office was behind several stores in a small strip mall, and was separated from it by some large vegetation and trees. I waited until they had the vehicle in park and it was hidden from sight by the heavy bushes before casting a partial freeze spell on them and revealing myself.

“I’m so glad that you boys are still working together,” I said startling them. That was when they discovered that they now had very limited movement – just enough to eat their doughnuts and drink some of their coffee, but not enough to reach their guns.

“How the hell did you get in our patrol car, and how come we didn’t see you?” the driver asked as his partner tried to reach the pistol on his belt but found that his hands couldn’t reach it.

“Rickey and his boys were very explicit when they outed you last night, and now it’s my turn to have the fun. You had yours last month, but I won’t need a shotgun or to even touch you,” I told them with a grin.

“We heard in the briefing that Rickey was dead. How could you have talked to him last night?” the second cop demanded.

“Yes, I know that he is dead because I’m the one who hanged him and all of his lieutenants, except for the one that I threw off the roof last night. They told me before I hung them,” I told them to gasps of shock and surprise.

“You, you’re the one causing all of the trouble,” the first cop said on recovering. Neither of them looked well on realizing this.

“That’s correct, and I hold the two of you directly responsible for my children’s kidnapping, torture, and deaths. You are the ones who arrested me and threw me in jail for nearly half a day, while allowing the kidnapper I had caught to go free. You are just as guilty as Rickey and his men were, and you are going to suffer for it,” I told them.