Vengeance Is Personal (A Colton James Novel, Book 2)

by Thomas DePrima

  We sat there without speaking for about five minutes before Philbin entered. That was the cue for Osborne and Snow to leave.

  "Back again, I see," Philbin said. "You just can't stop murdering people, can you?"

  "You've got me all figured out, eh Philbin?"

  "I know you like to kill."

  "Don't start, Philbin."

  Philbin grimaced before saying, "Okay, tell me your story. What happened in your co-op building garage?"

  I related the story in excruciating detail from the moment I stepped out of the elevator on the garage level until the two NYPD officers showed up. When I was done, I leaned back in the chair and stared at Philbin. I knew what was coming. He would try to confuse me by asking questions with facts I had given him after slightly altering them in the hope he could catch me in a lie.

  "So you've never seen either of these two men before?"

  "As I told you, I had only seen them once before. That was in Binghamton."

  "Oh, yeah. You saw them in the church at your friend's funeral."

  "Nooo. I saw them at the graveside ceremony and burial."

  "Oh, yeah, right. And you didn't know who they were?"

  "I figured them to be part of Delcona's mob."

  "Why would Delcona send men to watch you?"

  "I originally thought they were there to tail me back to Manhattan to learn where I was staying. But I never saw anyone tailing me— and I was looking hard."

  "When did you learn their names?"

  "I didn't. I still don't know them."

  "But you called one Weasel and the other Ox."

  "Those are just names I made up based on their physical appearances. As I told you, I don't know their real names."

  "But you believed they were part of Delcona's mob?"

  "Yes."

  "And you think they were there to kidnap you and take you to him?"

  "They said their boss wanted to talk with me."

  "And you assumed that to be Delcona?"

  "Of course."

  "Why 'of course?'"

  "I killed two of his 'boys.' I'm sure you remember that incident. Any talk with Delcona would probably end with me being dead."

  Philbin stood up and circled the table twice while I just sat calmly. I imagined he was racking his brain to find a way to trip me up. So far he hadn't been able to cast any doubt on the truthfulness of my deposition. But that was the difficulty when questioning someone who was innocent and hadn't tried to conceal anything.

  Philbin finally stopped walking when he reached a point across the table from me and said, "I'm surprised you didn't shoot the man who was hiding in the trunk of the car."

  "Why should I? He wasn't a threat and he wasn't hiding. He was an innocent bystander whose car had been carjacked, probably so Weasel and Ox could gain entrance to the below-ground garage. Townsend wasn't associated with them at all. He lives in my co-op building."

  "But you didn't know that while he was locked in the trunk of his car, did you?"

  Philbin was grasping at straws now, trying to find something that would make me angry enough to slip up. He was wasting his time, and he should have known it. Perhaps he did, but he had a job to do.

  "Are you about through trying to make me lose my temper?"

  Philbin glared at me, then grinned. "Wait here," he said as he headed for the door.

  I took a deep breath and relaxed. I assumed the interrogation was over. If I was right, I might make my flight to Greece after all. It would all depend on the NYPD. If they decided there had been the slightest bit of wrongdoing on my part, they could decide to charge me with something. But as far as I could see, the only thing I was guilty of was littering the garage with spent brass cartridges. And since it was on private property, of which I was a part-owner, I didn't think they could make a charge like that stick. But if paying the fine for littering got me on the plane today, I'd pay it in a heartbeat. I needed to get away from people who wanted me dead.

  Philbin kept me waiting in the interrogation room for more than half an hour, but I knew he had to report to senior level managers and wait until they decided what action to take, if any. When he returned, he said, "You lucked out again. NYPD has decided there was no wrongdoing on your part and won't be filing any charges."

  "Are we done here?" I asked as I started to stand.

  "Yes. By the way, you were wrong about those two you killed being from Delcona's mob."

  I stopped moving before I had completely straightened up and looked at Philbin, then slowly finished straightening up. "Then who were they?"

  "They were allegedly part of a gang controlled by Igor Samethovsky, better known as Fast Sammy. Any idea why he'd want you dead?"

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "None."

  "Then perhaps he really did just want to talk to you."

  "When the invitation comes at gunpoint, it's called kidnapping. Perhaps his outfit was involved in the art theft case I just wrapped up and he was looking for revenge, after gloating a little that he was about to end my career."

  ~

  After retrieving my suitcases from the locker room, I left the building and hailed a cab to take me to the airport. The traffic was just as miserable as it always was in any major city during mid-day, but I still believed I could make my flight out. I sat back and lost myself in my thoughts.

  I knew from the news reports that Fast Sammy allegedly owned a considerable number of illegal card parlors in New York City. That, in and of itself, had nothing to do with me or my investigations. It's possible that one of the skips I'd helped recover had convinced Fast Sammy to take me down. It was even possible that Fast Sammy had taken a part in the recent art theft. Someone had to have arranged for that shipping container at Newark to be modified and then get it onboard the right plane with the two thieves and the phony art cases inside.

  But what seemed like the most likely scenario is that Fast Sammy had learned of, or heard rumors about, the gizmo's existence. Such a prize would be worth the elaborate scheme to take down an FBI Special Agent. Or perhaps he just wanted to ensure that Delcona never got his hands on it. With the gizmo, Delcona could control all crime activity in the country. Hell, he could control all organized crime on the planet. Anyone who refused to bow down to him would find their illegal drug shipments being confiscated, their planned thefts foiled, and all of their operations under police scrutiny. His being in control of all crime in the world might even be worse than politicians getting their hands on the gizmo. Well, no, probably not.

  Without the ability to whip out the gizmo and begin investigating Fast Sammy's illegal activities, I was powerless at the moment. So I turned my attention to the recent attempt to kidnap me. The plan had centered around my being in the garage at the correct time. And that could only have been known if Fast Sammy had someone inside the car dealership who had known of the appointment. In fact, the call may even have been arranged by Fast Sammy or someone in his organization. And I had called a number that was given to me without first verifying that it came from the dealership. The dealership might know nothing about the arranged appointment. The call could have gone to a cell phone owned by Fast Sammy's operation. If so, it had probably been smashed and thrown in the garbage after the plan failed, so it would be untraceable now.

  Since I was powerless at the moment to do anything about the most recent attack on my life, my ruminations just increased my frustration with each passing city block. I finally turned my thoughts to other events and found myself thinking about all of the loose ends I had left in my investigations and recoveries. Some of those loose ends had to be people who would love to see me dead. As my personal fortune had grown, the personal fortunes of the people who had lost their ill-gotten goods had shrunk. That was a powerful motive for revenge, and I'm sure some of them wished to exact the maximum.

  Perhaps, as I had mused in San Francisco, it was time to call it a day and cease my crime-fighting activities. I had repaid the mortgage
on the co-op and had no other debts. And I had a girlfriend with an inherited fortune containing so many zeros at the end of the number that it was dizzying. But that would make me no better than Marcus, and I never wanted that to happen.

  ~

  Despite the midday traffic, we made it to the airport with plenty of time for me to catch my flight out. I checked my bags and then went to stand in line at the metal detector station. I held up my FBI identification so the TSA security person manning the metal detector could see it before I entered the device and set off alarms. He walked over, looked at my credentials, and then invited me to step around the detector. I thanked him and continued up the hallway towards my gate.

  From that point until I passed out of the customs area at Athens airport, I should be safe from armed attack. So during my leisurely stroll to the gate, I stopped to pick up a book at a small concession stand. Then it was just a matter of sitting and reading my book like so many other travelers until it was time for the plane to begin boarding passengers. But before I opened the book I called Mia and informed her I was at the airport and waiting for my plane to board. I confirmed that the flight information I had given her yesterday was the same. We then spent about ten minutes talking and ended the call with our usual intimate words of affection.

  ~

  Unlike the bumpy ride from San Francisco, the flight over the Atlantic was calm. It did get a little bumpy at times when we reached Europe, but most of the turbulence over land was minor. Overall, it was a great way to begin my vacation. I had already made up my mind that if Saul called, I wasn't going to return his calls until after Mia and I returned from Fiji. I still had an obligation to respond immediately, but the mortgage was paid in full, so I wasn't worried if he wanted to cancel the retainer agreement. I didn't know if I would continue in law enforcement or recovery work, but I did know that I wasn't going to delay my vacation plans a second time and disappoint Mia.

  I had managed to get some sleep during the flight so I felt well rested when the plane arrived in Athens. After getting my bags, I walked to the customs stations. I recognized one of the inspectors as the customs man who had checked my bags and credentials during my last entry into Athens, so I joined the line of people waiting to be checked by him. I thought that since he had cleared me once there might be less interrogation of my travel plans and reasons for concealed weapons a second time, if he remembered me.

  When it was my turn, the customs inspector looked up as I handed over my passport and gun permit papers. I saw recognition in his eyes and perhaps even a slight smile.

  "Welcome back to Greece, Special Agent James."

  "Thank you," I said with a smile. "I'm happy to be back."

  "Your destination here is the same?"

  "Yes, Thasos Island."

  "And are you carrying only the same weapons as on your previous visit?"

  "Yes, sir, that's correct."

  After a glance at my passport and a perfunctory look at the contents of my luggage, he said, "I wish you an enjoyable stay."

  "Thank you."

  As he handed me my papers, he said, "I read about your recovery of the priceless paintings belonging to the Milan museum. Very well done."

  "Thank you. The paintings are once again available for the general public to see, marvel at, and enjoy."

  As I passed out of the customs area, there was a young man waiting with a sign that read 'James.'

  "I'm Colton James," I said to him. "Are you from the air-taxi service?"

  "Yes, sir. May I take your bags?"

  "We'll each take one."

  "This way to the cart, sir."

  A few minutes later, my bags and I were securely aboard the electric cart that would transport us to the waiting air-taxi. My young driver wasted no time and spared no ohms as he whisked us through the terminal and across the airport grounds like an experienced hack driver.

  As he pulled up next to a helicopter and carefully set my luggage on the ground, I handed him a twenty. His face lit up with a smile as he thanked me. Then, in a mild squealing of tires, he was gone. The air-taxi pilot hurried out of the hanger and loaded my bags into the helicopter's luggage area, then invited me to climb aboard. I sat back to relax and enjoy the ride.

  ~

  With each passing mile in the hour-long ride, I grew more relaxed. I was thinking of my beautiful destination, the friendly family with whom I would stay, and the beautiful woman anxiously awaiting my arrival.

  But as we neared the compound, I grew concerned. There wasn't a hint of activity anywhere on the grounds. The last time I had come to the compound, there had been at least a dozen people visible inside the walls. I reached under my left arm and momentarily wrapped my hand around the handle of my Glock. It gave me a reassuring feeling that I was ready in case there was trouble. Of course, Mia would have called to warn me of problems, if she'd been able.

  The pilot expertly set the helicopter down and shut down all systems before jumping out to remove my luggage from the storage area. I followed, while keeping a wary eye out for any signs of danger.

  When my luggage was sitting at the very edge of the landing pad, well away from the helicopter's spinning blades, I handed the pilot a hundred dollar bill. He smiled as widely as the cart driver at the airport, then climbed back aboard the aircraft and started the engine.

  As the air-taxi lifted off the pad, I was left alone with my feelings of dread. I made a decision to leave my bags where they were and approach the entrance to the compound in the same way I approached my co-op door when I wasn't expecting someone— that is to say, with my Glock drawn.

  Suddenly, Mia appeared at the corner of the compound walls and began running towards me, but I could tell she wasn't afraid or anxious. I felt all of the tenseness immediately wash from my body, and I let the smile on my face reflect the joy I saw on hers.

  ~ finis ~

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