Chapter 2

so I was working out at my apartment when I got notice that I had an email, it had been a couple of weeks since the job in Hollywood and I was beginning to wonder when I would be getting more work.

The mail itself was simple.

Roberto Andolmovar. New York City 250

I whistled, I had a feeling something like this would happen. Roberto Andolmovar was a Columbian who ran drugs through New York harbor. He was like most Columbians utter ruthless in his business and handled his opposition and snitches with extreme prejudice. Which went over just fine if you were in Columbia, but in the United States he had finally gone to far in handing out underworld justice.

An accountant in his employ had made overtures to the justice department about cutting a deal with them, as you would expect word got back to Andolmovar. The next day the accountant had a Columbian necktie, his wife had been taken to a warehouse gang banged and strangled, and then his daughter had been found in various pieces in a New Jersey landfill.

If he had simply killed the accountant this wouldn't be an issue, but the deal with his wife and daughter had become national news. Now everyone was clamoring for the law to take him out, and someone wanted him dead, before the law could find a reason to take him to prison. The number at the end of the mail was my fee, $250,000.

Within an hour I had packed, got a plane ticket to New York, and found a hotel near where his office was. This had to be done quickly. The point was to send a message to everyone else. You can do what you want to your people, but do not do it publicly.

The next day I spent the day quietly watching Andolmovars day, he had an office in an upscale high rise. So I suck into the building opposite and looked for a meeting room where I could observe his work.

A few hundred dollar bills got security to leave me alone, and I was able to observe quietly for hours. He kept a regular routine, but sadly he had too much security for me to try and take him up close. When he left home I noticed His driver made sure to check the underside of the car, every time he took it out. His sports car had a remote start, so trying to place a bomb in it there would be a non starter.

Trying to shoot him through the window of his office was an iffy proposition at best. Glass deflects bullets and I'm sure he had enough brains to have plexi glass installed there.

So it was time to think outside the box. I spent some time hanging out in the high rise, and got a line on the people who worked their. During that time I observed him and saw how he treated the day to day help their and I got a feeling that I would be able to use that.

He was a rich Columbian gentleman and he treated the cleaning and maintenance people the way feudal lords treated serfs. Within two days I had gotten to know one of the cleaning ladies and a maintenance guy. It didn't take long to get them to agree to help me with a few details of my plan.

From there I got out a camera and a high powered lens and scoped his office out. His desk chair resembled a throne, and it was obviously quite comfortable.

A quick trip to a high end office supply store out of state got me a chair just like it. From there I spent some time at a machine shop taking it a part and making modifications.