A Father's Wrath (8 page)

As soon as he saw Joe, the man asked, “What the
fuck you lookin’ at, faggot?”

He was already going up for conspiracy to
commit murder, so he didn’t see any harm in adding an assault
charge. Without a word, Joe head-butted the big ugly
man.

The man stepped back, holding his face as blood
dripped onto the hard tile floor.

The first guard smacked Joe in the lower back
with his baton.

Joe gasped, almost losing his
balance.

“You wanna miss your court
appearance?”

The pain was so bad Joe couldn’t
speak.

The second guard moved the ugly man away from
Joe. “We better keep these two animals separated.”

After going through a series of locked doors
and long hallways, they ended up in the building that housed the
courts. Joe knew this place well from when he was a cop and also
from when he was a lawyer working for the district
attorney.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting in a
cage, Joe noticed everyone stand.

A morbidly obese woman with red dyed hair and
caked-on make-up approached the bench and sat down. This was only
an arraignment, but Joe had a bad feeling already.

The judge typed on her phone for about fifteen
minutes while the people from the district attorney’s office
shuffled through files and whispered back and forth to each other.
It was this type of nonsense that had made Joe believe he could do
more good as a cop than as a prosecutor.

Finally, after checking her manicure, the judge
called the first case.

Joe was happy to be going first. He knew what
it was like to spend all day in court. He wondered if this was a
one-time miracle or if his luck was changing for the
better.

Joe approached the bench alone. He couldn’t
afford a high-powered genius attorney, and he knew he could do a
better job than some public defender, so he decided to represent
himself.

The judge had a high-pitched, nasally, annoying
voice. “Joseph Martello.” She looked away from the file and read
something on her phone.

Joe waited as she texted.

She placed her phone down on the bench, looked
at the file, and said, “Joseph Martello. Charges are: conspiracy to
commit murder. How do you plead?” She glanced at her phone
again.

Joe chuckled, “You can’t be
serious.”

The woman adjusted herself in her seat. “Excuse
me?”

“Nothing. Not guilty . . . your
honor.”

“No, no, wait a minute. You have something else
to say, officer . . . counselor . . . or should I say,
inmate?”

“Yeah. I have something to say. You and your
corrupt system are a disgrace to this country and our constitution.
You sit up there on your pedestal with your hair, your make-up, and
your expensive jewelry. You’re nothing but a fat fucking slob and
this judicial system is a farce. A disgrace!”

“Bailiff!”

Two court officers grabbed Joe and began to
escort him back to the cage.

Joe didn’t fight. He knew there would be plenty
of time for that later.

Another bailiff entered and handed the judge a
document.

After reading it, the judge asked, “Is this a
joke?”

“No your honor.”

“Take him.”

The bailiff escorted Joe out of the cage and
said, “You are to appear in another court.”

“Why?”

“I’m just the messenger.”

The bailiff led Joe down the hall and into an
elevator. While they went up two floors, Joe wondered what was
going on. He wondered if it had to do with Richie. He hoped that
they caught McCoy with the money from the bribe, but he knew that
was a long shot.

They got out of the elevator and proceeded to
an office.

Inside the expensive office sat a short fat
balding man in a judge’s robe. Bookshelves lined two walls while a
painting of another old man in a judge’s robe hung from the wall
behind the desk. Joe wondered who the old man in the painting
was.

Next to the judge sat a tall man with thick
white hair, pale blue eyes, and a charcoal gray Brooks Brothers
suit. The man was Joe’s uncle, Congressman Timothy
Scott.

As soon as Joe saw his uncle, he lowered his
head in shame.

Uncle Timothy stood and hugged Joe. “I’m glad
to see you’re okay. I know what those animals do to cops in
there.”

The judge stood and shook Joe’s hand. “Brian
McDonald.”

“Your honor.”

The judge took off his robe, revealing a shiny
blue suit. “We don’t have to be so formal in here. Call me
Brian.”

Joe glanced over at his uncle, then back at the
judge.

The judge said, “Your uncle and I go way back.
He explained the whole thing to me and I told him I’d be glad to
help. The DA was out of line charging you with conspiracy. The way
I see it, it was an error in judgment. The truth is, off the record
of course, if someone raped any of my grandchildren, I’d chop off
their cock and balls too.”

Joe didn’t know what to say. He looked at his
uncle.

Uncle Timothy said, “The conspiracy charges are
dropped. But the NYPD wanted you gone. There was nothing we could
do to save your job.”

The judge said, “Wouldn’t you rather be a
lawyer than a cop anyway, son? It must get cold out
there.”

“It does.”

Uncle Timothy asked, “You have kept your
license up to date, haven’t you?”

CHAPTER 25

On Thursday evening, Bradley sat in the back of
his limo while creeping along the Long Island Expressway after
another day at the office. The divider was up as it usually was on
his way home. Bradley liked to catch a power nap any time he could,
and the way home was usually the best time.

But Bradley hadn’t slept well for days. The
more he thought about what Lu had done to that poor boy, the more
he hated himself for helping Lu. But what was he supposed to do?
Give up all those years of hard work and sacrifice for just one
boy? A boy who was brutally raped.

Bradley knew about Joe Martello and his law
degree and relationship with Richie Carson, and he also knew that
no one could connect Joe Martello to himself, so he decided to send
Joe some information on Ko Sin Lu. At least the information may be
able to help Richie Carson at his trial.

Bradley had a second cell phone, an
unregistered prepaid phone that he used to for illegal
conversations and also, to call Olga.

He searched some European news articles, then
copied and pasted some of the contents, enough information to put
Joe Martello on the right track.

CHAPTER 26

After checking up on his mother last night, Joe
went straight to his own bed to sleep.

First thing in the morning, he cleaned his
house, did his grocery shopping, and then hit the gym for a quick
workout.

After a shower, he spent a couple hours trying
to read and organize the hundreds of documents in his father’s
case. He read until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more, then
he took a long nap.

Joe awoke that
evening to a beep on his phone. He knew from the sound that it was
an email. At first, he thought it was spam because he didn’t
recognize the email address, but then he read the subject
line:
pedophile escapes
justice.

Joe opened the email. There was no message,
only portions of news articles that were copied and pasted from
various websites.

Joe learned that Ko Sin Lu’s second cousin is
the president of the new government in their country, and Lu was
first appointed ambassador to Switzerland.

After being accused of molesting an
eight-year-old Polish boy, Lu hid behind diplomatic immunity and
went back to his country, but Switzerland didn’t want him there
anymore.

CHAPTER 27

On Friday morning, Bradley had a brunch meeting
with David and Wayne. They all ordered the same thing, eggs
benedict, and a screwdriver.

David spoke in a low voice, but not a whisper.
“Wayne, tell Bradley what the phone taps and email monitors came up
with.”

Wayne said, “Our friend, the cop, knows about
what happened in Switzerland.”

Bradley’s heart dropped. His hands began to
sweat. Is it possible they knew? He played it off, hoping, they
weren’t on to him. “That’s not so hard to find out for someone with
some computer skills.”

David said, “You’re right. But the thing is,
now that Mr. Carson is in jail. I think we can get to the mother.
Get her to take the money and sign the forms. And with her husband
in prison, he won’t be much of a threat anymore.”

Wayne added, “But that damn cop just won’t
leave well enough alone. We know he's gonna continue poking his
nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Bradley turned to David and asked, “So, what do
you suggest?”

David hesitated, then he said, “I’m going to
let Wayne handle it.”

Bradley shook his head. “I wish you would think
this through.”

“I did.” David drained his drink, then waved
for the waitress to come over.

When Bradley had
woken up that morning, he looked at the time and date on his phone
and realized that it was Friday the 13
^th
. He didn’t usually believe in
bad luck, but now, he was beginning to entertain the
idea.

David said, “I know how you feel, Bedford. But
this Martello kid is a problem waiting to happen. We can’t afford
any more problems now. It’s time for damage control.”

Bradley wished he could change their minds
about Martello, but he knew he couldn’t. He was just happy that
they weren’t on to him, or at least it didn’t seem so.

CHAPTER 28

That morning, Joe had slept late, then hit the
gym early. After going home for a protein drink and a shower, Joe
read his father’s files for about an hour, then took another nap.
He knew how easy it would be to get into such a comfortable
routine, but he also knew he would run out of money in no
time.

After cooking and eating dinner, Joe washed and
dried his clothes in the basement, then brought them upstairs to
the living room where he began folding them. Sade played on the
radio in the background.

The dogs in the backyard began barking like
crazy.

Just as Joe was about to go to the backyard to
see what they were barking at, he saw the shadow of a person
approaching his front door. He had never believed in anything
supernatural, but occasionally he seemed to have feelings about
things, maybe instincts. And now was one of those times—Joe knew
something was wrong.

Just as he was about to pick up his next pair
of briefs and fold them, he decided instead to take a look out the
front window.

Something slammed into the front
door.

Joe dashed to a metal can by the door with
umbrellas in it and pulled out a wooden baseball bat.

Something slammed into the door again—this time
smashing it open as wood splinters shot everywhere.

A man in a ski mask entered with an
MP-5.

Joe swung the bat and connected with the man’s
head.

The first man dropped.

A second man jumped over the first man’s
body.

Joe squatted and swung the bat, crushing the
second man’s ankles.

The man went down.

Joe smashed the second man’s head with the bat,
then raced up the stairs.

He’d turned in his service pistol, but still
had his own personal gun in the bedroom. He opened his underwear
drawer and retrieved his 9mm.

With the pistol fully loaded, cocked, and ready
to fire, Joe crept out of the bedroom and peeked over the
staircase.

The two men in ski masks were still on the
floor unconscious. Joe knew he should have grabbed their guns
instead of running upstairs for his own, but he didn’t think of
that until now.

He knew if he were watching a movie, he’d be
calling himself stupid for that, but in real life, things didn’t
always work out perfectly.

Just as he was about to make his way down the
stairs, Joe noticed another man in a ski mask creeping into the
living room from the kitchen.

Joe didn’t hear
his dogs barking anymore and he knew that man had to come in from
the backyard. He hoped
Yin
and
Yang
were still alive.

The third man approached the two bodies in the
living room.

Joe fired a shot, hitting the third man and
knocking him down.

The man turned and aimed his gun up the stairs
at Joe.

Joe fired three consecutive shots.

The sound of rapid machine gun fire got louder
as a fourth man in a ski mask fired into the living
room.