A Father's Wrath (10 page)

Bradley closed the briefcase, then handed it to
Timothy. There was no turning back now. He waited for FBI agents to
pop out from the shadows, but no one did. He felt relieved when he
closed the trunk. They sealed the deal.

Timothy said, “Not to sound ungrateful, but I
hope I got more than McCoy, I am much more significant.”

“McCoy was only a one-time payment. For you and
me, I see a prosperous future.”

Timothy flashed his perfect smile once again,
then headed up the stairs.

Bradley got in the back of his limo and
exhaled. Not only was he not in jail, but now he had Congressman
Scott in his pocket. Things were looking up. He told his driver,
“Give me five minutes to have a drink and then we’ll
go.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Bradley poured a double shot of scotch on the
rocks and sipped it slowly. The alcohol numbed his overworked
nerves. He could feel his pulse decreasing as relaxation set in. He
planned on going on a nice long vacation after the whole mess was
over.

When the drink was finished, Bradley said,
“Okay, let’s call it a night.”

The driver started the car and headed up the
ramp.

The parking attendant waved at the driver as
they drove up to the second ramp that led to the street above.
Bradley took out his phone and texted his hot Russian mistress that
he was on his way. He couldn’t wait to see her long sexy legs and
natural big tits.

Outside, the sun was gone, replaced by
streetlights. It was rush hour. People on the sidewalks were
bustling to get to their cars, buses, and trains. Light snow
flurries landed on the windshield as the driver waited for
pedestrians to pass on the sidewalk.

When it was clear, the driver pulled out onto
the street. As he made his way toward the intersection, three black
Chevy Suburbans with tinted windows screeched to a stop, blocking
Bradley’s limo in.

FBI agents with their guns drawn jumped out of
the trucks and told Bradley to get out of the limo with his hands
above his head.

CHAPTER 31

While taking off his clothes and jewelry and
placing them into a plastic bin, Bradley continued hoping that this
was a dream that he’d be waking up from very soon.

A gargantuan guard placed a lid onto the bin
and pointed at a single file line of naked men. “Wait
there.”

Bradley covered his shrunken penis and waddled
over to the line of naked men, most of them black, but much younger
than Bradley. He just hoped they didn’t notice his fresh
manicure.

Over an hour passed before it was Bradley’s
turn to shower with three other men. The water was ice cold. He
tried to get in and out quick, but the guard was yelling for
everyone to scrub up good.

After his shower, another guard gave Bradley a
pair of green scrubs—pants and a top. Bradley put them on and
didn’t feel much more clothed than he did just a moment
earlier.

The guard pointed at another line of men, this
time wearing the same green scrubs. “Wait there ‘til the doctor
sees you.”

One hour passed before Bradley was near the
front of the line. His feet were tired from standing so long and he
had a chill that wouldn’t go away. He could feel it deep in his
bones and he knew he was going to get sick after this.

Finally, it was his turn. His hopes of this
being just a bad dream were crushed when he felt the sting of the
doctor’s needle. They took a blood test and injected some liquid
under the skin of his forearm for a TB test.

Bradley followed another guard to a giant
concrete room with metal bars on two sides. There were two concrete
benches, both of them were occupied, so Bradley stood in the middle
of the room among at least thirty other men packed like
sardines.

While standing for another two hours on his
swollen feet, Bradley kept thinking about how stupid he was to get
himself arrested. He had a feeling he could get out of it, but he
wondered if Yates would stick by him or turn their backs on
him.

The man next to Bradley slammed into him,
knocking him down.

Bradley looked up.

Two men were pounding on another man. Everyone
else was trying to get out of the way. Even though the third man
was on the ground, the first two kept kicking him in the body and
the face.

Bradley stood, but stayed out of the way. He
felt sick to his stomach when he saw two teeth floating in a puddle
of blood.

CHAPTER 32

After breakfast, Richie sat in the day room
with all the other criminals. He picked up a newspaper that one of
the guards had left.

The front page
showed Detective McCoy in handcuffs. The headline read,
Bribery
in the worst
degree
. Richie flipped to the story and
read about Congressman Scott and Bradley Bedford. The article also
said that Ko Sin Lu had molested a young Polish boy in Switzerland,
but got away with it because of diplomatic
immunity.

Richie felt relieved. Now the world would know
the truth. He hoped this new information would help his case, but
because he couldn’t afford a good lawyer, he wasn’t very
optimistic.

He flipped to the back of the paper and tried
to concentrate on the sports pages, but instead, he turned back to
the article he’d just read, and he read it again.

A guard called, “Carson! Richie!”

Richie stood.

The guard said, “You have a
visitor.”

Richie wasn’t expecting anyone.

CHAPTER 33

Joe sat down in front of the bulletproof glass
divider, and when Richie sat down on the other side, they both
picked up the phones on the wall. It felt good to be back on the
outside, but he felt for Richie.

Richie said, “I saw your name in the paper.
Thanks.”

“Thank my uncle. Without him, I’d probably be
your next cellmate.”

“I heard you got fired.”

“My career as a cop wasn’t going anywhere
anyway. I’m going back to practicing law.”

“Back to practicing law?”

“I went to law school after the core and worked
for the prosecutor for two years.”

Richie said, “Do I have to ask?
Why?”

“My father was a cop. He was murdered four
years ago. I guess I thought I could do more to help stop crime as
a cop than as a lawyer. But I guess the grass isn’t always as green
as it looks. Thank god my uncle always told me to keep my law
license up to date.”

“Did they find your father’s
killer?”

“No. The case is still open, but nothing’s
happening. Between me and you, I’m doing my own
investigation.”

“I hope you find him.”

“I will. But first I’m going to work on your
case.”

“You?”

“I’m better than a public defender. Don’t get
me wrong, you will do some time, but I’m hoping, with some sympathy
from the DA, to get the charges reduced to manslaughter in the
second degree. And then my goal is to get you the minimum, which
would be three years.”

Richie started to say something, “But
I—”

Joe interrupted, “It’s my fault you’re here,
and I’m gonna help you. At my expense.”

“It’s my own fault I’m here.”

It was nice of Richie to say that, but Joe
still felt partly responsible.

CHAPTER 34

After three full days in jail, Bradley was
happy to be getting out. Although a few people did extort some
candy and commissary money from him, he was just thankful no one
beat him up or raped him.

It was Friday morning and the first day of
spring. Bradley felt optimistic about winning his case and securing
his place in the company. He’d been in touch with David and David
had assured him that everything would work out.

When Bradley stepped out onto the busy
Manhattan sidewalk, he stopped for a moment and took a deep breath
while basking in the warm sunlight. The mounds of filthy snow and
ice were gone and the bustling streets and sidewalks were back to
normal.

His limousine pulled up and double-parked.
Bradley’s driver approached him on the sidewalk and said, “It’s
good to see you, sir.”

Bradley shook his hand and said, “It’s good to
see you, too.”

They stepped out into the street, where the
driver helped Bradley into the back of the limo, then circled
around and got in the driver’s seat.

Bradley enjoyed the feel of the leather seat
under his ass. All those cold metal and concrete benches in jail
had given him hemorrhoids.

He rolled down the divider as the limo pulled
out into traffic. “I have a lunch meeting with Mr.
Schultz.”

“Yes, sir. I have the address.”

“Let me know when we get there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bradley rolled up the divider, then poured
himself a double shot of scotch on the rocks. He sipped it while
watching the cars and people outside through his tinted windows.
The alcohol warmed his blood and relaxed his mind.

They pulled over on a busy midtown
street.

Bradley rolled down the divider.

The driver said, “This is the restaurant, sir.
I’ll park in the garage down the block, just call me when you need
me.”

Bradley got out of the car and saw Wayne on the
sidewalk. He approached him and asked, “Where’s David?”

“David couldn’t make it. He said to tell you
the meeting is cancelled.” Wayne turned around and began to stroll
down the sidewalk with the crowd.

Bradley stood there in front of the restaurant,
trying to figure out what was going on. He yelled, “Wayne!
Wayne!”

Just as he was about to run after Wayne, he
noticed a man on a cell phone, staring right at him. Bradley had a
bad feeling. He turned around and began walking while dialing his
driver on his cell phone. The phone went straight to voicemail.
“Shit.”

Bradley turned and saw the man with the cell
phone following him. He walked faster. He wanted to text his
driver, but he couldn’t do it without stopping, so he kept
moving.

While crossing the street, Bradley noticed the
man with the phone behind him, standing on the corner, not moving,
his eyes fixed on something.

When Bradley looked to see what the man was
looking at, he noticed another man on a cell phone coming his
way.

Everyone seemed to be talking on phones.
Bradley wondered if he was just being paranoid. But why would Wayne
just walk away like that? Why didn’t David call him if he had to
cancel?

On the other side of the street, Bradley
stopped and turned around. The man across the street was gone.
Bradley exhaled. He began to text his driver.

Someone bumped into Bradley and said, “Hey!
Watch it!”

When Bradley turned to look, he felt a stinging
sensation on the back of his neck. It felt like a bee
sting.

Bradley tried to finish his text message, but
the words became blurry. He tried to walk, but his feet felt heavy.
After a few seconds, he couldn’t even hold himself up anymore. He
fell to the ground as consciousness faded away.

CHAPTER 35

After checking on his mother, Joe headed to the
gym for an evening workout.

After a few warm up sets, then a few heavy sets
on the bench press, Joe was pumped. His muscles swelled and his
veins were bulging. The rock music that played over the speakers
wasn’t too much, just hard enough to add to the pump.

A middle-aged man wearing a sweat suit, sat
down on the incline bench next to Joe. He turned and said,
“Impressive.”

Joe thought the man was hitting on him, but he
wasn’t sure, so he wasn’t rude, he just nodded and said,
“Thanks.”

The man pointed at the tattoo on Joe’s shoulder
and said, “I see you were in the core.” Using his thumb, the man
pointed at himself. “Twenty-fourth amphibious. But that was a long
time ago. The name is Wayne Norman.”

Joe replied, “Joe Martello.”

They shook hands.

“I know who you are.”

“From the newspapers?”

“I’ve known about you for longer than that,
Joe. Tell me something . . . was it Bedford that told you about Lu
in Switzerland?”

Joe felt like crushing the man’s face with a
45lb. plate, marine or not. “I didn’t need any help. And I don’t
need any help taking care of you.”

“I don’t doubt it. That’s why I’d like to hire
you. I can use another good marine. My top level people are making
seven figure salaries.”

Joe wondered if this was the man who tried to
have him killed. There was no way to prove it, but he still wanted
to make a point, so he pulled the weight off one side of the
barbell and pushed the bar up, causing it to tip over. The weights
on the other side slid off the bar and crashed onto the floor, one
slamming on top of the next.