Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (13 page)

CHAPTER 24

Directly across the street was a rented black four-door sedan. The occupants were two rather large men wearing sunglasses. It was now past 10:00 p.m. Up close, though no one was trying very hard to look in, neither appeared to have much of a neck.

They had been there for three hours—an hour and a half before the kid arrived. There was something very familiar about the bald-headed kid and the way he carried himself. Like they had both seen him somewhere before.

The cab let off its single passenger. Both men in the black sedan looked at each other. It was the judge. The judge from Newark who tried to have them thrown out of the courtroom for just sitting and observing.

Boris picked up his cell phone. He needed to talk to Mr. C.

Immediately.

***

Alexey did not answer his phone. He was out with his daughter finishing dinner and had promised her there would be no interruptions for business. As a show of good faith his cell phone now sat in Vicky’s purse. The purse was on the chair next to her and she could not hear or feel the vibrating cell. Vicky had ordered an outrageous dessert and was enjoying every minute of it.

Alexey had managed to put present business, meaning what his two favorite employees were doing, aside for a few hours. He did not expect to hear from them till the middle of the next day. He too, did not realize his cell did not stop vibrating. Whoever it was, was not about to give up. The caller knew his boss was never without his phone, especially on a Friday evening.

***

They were lying in bed talking about nothing when the doorbell rang. Antonio panicked. Bernice was confused. It was 10:15. Who could possibly be at her front door at this time of night? She slipped on a yellow satin bathrobe and answered the door.

Antonio stood behind the bedroom door and peeked out to see who it was.

“Wally, what the hell are you doing here? Why didn’t you call? This is very embarrassing. I am entertaining company.”

The judge looked at her unbrushed hair, lack of makeup, and what she was wearing; or almost wearing.

“In your God damn bathrobe?” he shouted.

Wally dropped his overnight bag, took three quick steps, and yanked open the bedroom door.

Antonio took one look and screamed. “Judge Kolkolski, what are you doing here?”

Wally stood back. He recognized the voice but not the face. The twenty-some-year-old had a towel wrapped around his waist. He was petrified. And he was totally bald.

“Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?”

Antonio said nothing. He was too afraid to speak.

Then the thought flashed through his mind, Bernice was the judge’s ex-wife. All of a sudden it all made sense.

Oh my God, I’ve been having sex with Judge Kolkolski’s ex-wife. I’m a dead man walking.

***

Bruno was totally frustrated but had sense enough to record everything on his new cell phone. Not ten minutes after he entered the residence, the judge was out the door. He was lucky he didn’t take it off the hinges due to the force of slamming it shut. He began walking as fast as he could with his cell phone held to his ear.

Viktor and Bruno sat there, waiting. Was the bald-headed kid coming out next?

“It’s him. I’m sure of it. He shaved his head, but I would bet a bowl of cold borscht it’s him.”

Who?”

“The kid from the trial. The one who raped Victoria and walked, all because of the judge. What the hell is going on? It makes no sense.”

Boris nodded. He was going nowhere. He would sit across from the house till doomsday, but he would get the little shit on film.

***

“How did you know his name? What’s going on? Who the hell are you?”

Bernice had tightened her bathrobe. She was feeling very uncomfortable. She had no idea who was standing in front of him. All she knew was he looked like he had seen a ghost. A very live and angry ghost.

Antonio did not answer. He dressed in record time and bolted for the door. He needed to go home; he needed to think.

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Don’t bother. Ever.”

Boris had quickly moved from his car and was now less than ten feet from the front door. He had replaced the cell phone with a far more sophisticated piece of equipment from the trunk. It was the very latest spy cam with a powerful directional mike. It was pointed at the partially open window and was recording every single word.

Anthony—all of a sudden he was Anthony again—was running out the door and almost bumped into what appeared to be a giant oak tree with a camera in his hand.

“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing?”

Then Anthony remembered. It was one of the goons in the back of the courtroom. The one that worked for Vicky’s father. Now he was positive his life was over. He began to run and did not stop till he was safely back in his bungalow.

He locked the door and put a chair in front of it. Not that it would do much good. Or stop a bullet.

Anthony locked himself in the bathroom and began to cry.

Why me? Why didn’t she tell me she was a virgin? I would have been better off in prison. At least I would know I was safe and when I would go out. I could live the rest of my life without looking over my shoulder every five seconds. Shit.

***

Boris downloaded everything and sent it on to Mr. C.

“I think we can go back to the hotel. Don’t expect any more action here tonight. Looks like the judge spoiled their little party.”

Viktor nodded.

“Da.”

***

It was early the next morning that Alexey picked up his cell phone. There were at least a half dozen urgent messages from Boris. Alexey, not known for sleeping late, called him before reading the last few or watching the video.

“Well, Boss, whatta ya want us to do? Come home?”

Alexey said nothing.

“You did hear what I told you last night; you did watch the video, didn’t you?”

“I’ll call you right back, Boris.”

Alexey looked at the messages. He looked at the video taken on the new high speed spy cam that had been transferred to the cell phone, twice. After ten minutes he looked at it a third time—just to make sure. He still didn’t understand the connection, but he was sure he had all he needed for now. The rest would be worked out later.

He picked up the cell.

“Da, you are right, it is time to come home.” Then he added, “The two of you should buy some new casual clothes and spend a few days at the hotel as a reward. You have earned it.”

Boris replied, “If it’s all the same to you, Boss, we would much prefer to come back to New Jersey. It’s much safer.”

Alexey smiled.

“Da.”

CHAPTER 25

Boris and Viktor were on the last flight of the day from MIA to EWR, Newark International Liberty Airport. They had first class seats. They had asked for premium vodka to relax themselves. The senior flight attendant smiled and gave them the best she had. Her feet were hurting her. This was her third flight of the day and she couldn’t wait to get home and rest her abundant ass in a soft couch. The vodka was hardly premium. Not even close. They each ordered three mini bottles. The flight would take two hours, fifty-three minutes.

Had they arrived seven hours earlier, there would have been a good chance they would have run into a still very shaken young man also heading back home. Perhaps on the same flight. He had managed to get one of the last seats in economy. The middle of the second last row. He couldn’t have cared less. All he wanted was to get the hell out of Miami.

Anthony,
I am no longer Antonio,
had not slept all night. He kept thinking of the judge, what he would do when he found out who was sleeping with his wife—ex-wife—and the goon holding the camera with a mounted mike on top. He had to have recorded every last word.

By now it had probably gone viral.

Why didn’t she tell me her ex was a judge? Why didn’t I ask her last name?

A stiff dick does not ask a whole lot of questions.

“Mama, it’s me. Anthony. I’ll be home in a few hours. Yes, I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it later. Yes, of course I’d love chicken parmesan. Maybe a lemon cannoli? And Mama, please don’t mention to anyone I’m back. I love you too.”

Fortunately their home had a front and back door. Anthony decided it was best if he walked past his block to the next street and cut through the backyard. No sense in advertising where he was.

The black four-door sedan would not be looking for him for at least the next few days. They still didn’t know he skipped Miami.

Yet.

Anthony, in his haste, had forgotten the airlines kept records, and those records included photo IDs of all their passengers. It took less than a day for Alexey to know the flight, the seat number, and the names of the two people who had sat on either side of him on the flight back.

Two phone calls from Area Code 202, Washington, D.C. with the false phone ID of Homeland Security were all that was needed. The hacker had a list of questions and forwarded them on to Alexey. The passengers were only too willing to cooperate, especially when they were told their three hour seatmate was on the No Fly list.

They both confirmed what Alexey had already guessed. Anthony was scared out of his mind; he jumped every time anyone headed to the restrooms. He did little talking except to say he was a college student, was visiting a friend in Miami Beach, and was now going home. He did not mention who the friend was, whether it was male or female, or where he lived. It was almost as if he was afraid to get off the plane. Neither remembered seeing him at the luggage carousel.

He fled to Miami. Somehow the judge found out he was banging his ex-old lady and went there to confront him. Why would he care? There was a verbal fight, the judge leaves, and the next day, little lover boy heads back home. Why? Why? Why?

The odds the kid did not know it was the judge’s ex he was screwing had to be a hundred to one. More like a thousand or even ten thousand to one. The fact was, it was closer to five and half million to one.

Alexey made it a point to have an associate interview what’s-her-name—Bernice Kolkolski. No sense taking any chances. He already knew what he had to do. All he needed was the how and when. Then he would be happy. For Alexey and his precious daughter, justice would then be served.

***

“Whatta you crazy? How would I know? How could I know? He was sitting by himself, I was lonely, he smiled, I smiled, and the next thing you know, he’s over at my place fucking my brains out. I don’t usually ask for references, if he had a record, or if he ever appeared before my ex.”

Bernice was not overly concerned. The guy seemed polite; he certainly wasn’t a cop, and promised her five hundred for information. No funny stuff. Information only. She would have a conversation with the devil himself for five hundred an hour.

“Why would I ask his last name? It wasn’t a job interview; it was a roll in the hay. By the way, the kid has stamina. I’ll give him that. He sure as hell pleased this old lady. He could be in porno movies if he wanted to. I’m sorta sorry he’s gone. It could have been fun.”

“What? No, Wally never recognized him. He had no fucking idea. That photo you showed me, he had a full head of hair. No, Wally was pissed at me, not the kid. He thought he could retire, forget about the misery he caused me the past dozen years, and just move in like it never happened.”

When Bernice was asked about Teddy, she clammed up. She didn’t want to talk about it except to say Wally did everything he could. The DA told him he was way out of his jurisdiction and to head home.

“Why the fuck do you care what happened to my son almost twelve, thirteen years ago. That’s ancient history.”

The gentleman thanked Bernice for her cooperation, handed her five crisp new Franklins, and left. He would have his report done and sent within the hour.

Case closed as far as he was concerned.

I’m going to buy me some new threads and party my ass off tonight.

***

So maybe it was a coincidence. Who cares? Now there is a motive. That’s all those dumb fuckin’ cops look for—motive.

The plan was beginning to come together. There were still a whole bunch of pieces missing, but Alexey had time. If nothing else, he had plenty of time.

It was Viktor who had been assigned to watch the courthouse. He saw Judge Kolkolski walking his usual route at 8:20 Monday morning. He did not appear to be in a very receptive mood. He spoke to no one.

Judge K bypassed the electronic scanning device and proceeded directly to his chambers.

Hmmm, judges do not have to be searched or go through any kind of security. I’ll have to report that to Mr. C.

Viktor hung around for a few minutes. Even court clerks, reporters, anyone connected with the court had to go through security.

Just not judges.

***

Superior Court Judge Walter A. Kolkolski was sitting on his fine leather high-backed chair behind his six foot tall wooden desk in his chambers by 8:45 in the morning. He didn’t have a damn thing to do. His emotions went from boredom to frustration to anger in a matter of just a few minutes.

Without thinking, he got up and marched to the chambers of the chief judge.

The look of horror was obvious as the secretary attempted to block Judge Kolkolski from entering the Chief Justice’s private chambers.

“I’m sorry, Judge Kolkolski, Judge Saltmeyer is busy. He’s in conference. You can’t barge in there.”

“Just you watch me.”