Lawless Measures_Vigilante_The Fight Continues

by Lyle O'Connor

  Lawless Measures

  VIGILANTE-THE FIGHT CONTINUES

  BOOK TWO IN THE PALATINI SERIES

  LYLE O’CONNOR

  The New Master of Crime Thrillers

  PO Box 221974 Anchorage, Alaska 99522-1974

  books@publicationconsultants.com—www.publicationconsultants.com

  ISBN 978-1-59433-493-1

  eISBN 978-1-59433-494-8

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2014945733

  Copyright 2014 Lyle O’Connor

  —First Edition—

  All rights reserved, including the right of

  reproduction in any form, or by any mechanical

  or electronic means including photocopying or

  recording, or by any information storage or

  retrieval system, in whole or in part in any

  form, and in any case not without the

  written permission of the author and publisher.

  Manufactured in the United States of America.

  Dedicated to all my children—

  Matthew

  Nicholas

  Bethany

  Justyn

  Brett

  Alexander

  Ryan

  Amanda

  Kaitlin

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Disclaimer

  Lawless Measures is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to Walter Allen Grant, author, and contributor who played a vital role in my development.

  Chapter 1

  Buffalo, New York

  September 2002

  I craved the arousal I felt as I lined up my shot. My trigger finger poised to unleash hell from my .223-caliber semi-auto AR-15. My weapon spoke twice, Shuup . . . Shuup, as the GemTech Halo Suppressor belched a puff of fiery smoke with each round. Struck in the back, center of mass, my target wobbled to the ground. Giuseppe “Pepe” Pelosi, aka the Pimp, laid face down in the alleyway. I watched for signs of movement, but the only observable motion was that of blood as it pooled around the body. I concluded my target was eliminated.

  * * * * *

  I vaguely remember my life before I became Walter Eloy Goe. It was out of necessity I became Walter—only a trusted few have learned my birth name. Years of struggling with dreams, nightmares, and ghostly apparitions prompted me to take action against the most vile of criminals. It was in 1996 I stepped over the proverbial line in a campaign of vigilantism. I’d figured myself in as a consequence when I saw predators serving little or no time for their heinous crimes. My contribution to justice caught the eye of a member of a secret society known as Palatini—I was invited into the society and knighted Scythian. Now I proudly crusade with the ancient knighthood—a society resurrected as an Order of freelance assassins. The society had picked up the gauntlet thrown down by its medieval predecessors. The original Palatini Knights were champions of the people, paragons of virtue, chivalrous, and all that heroic sounding stuff. Simply put, the new Palatini Knights didn’t call 911. We took care of business vigilante style. We espoused our Palatini oath and delivered a less imperiled world through our personal judgment. Our mission is one of guardianship of the people, for the people, and by the people.

  Not only was I proud to claim my allegiance to the Palatini, I was honored to be given “double tap” as my signature. I was willing, however, to add a few extra slugs for good measure when needed. In this present situation, it appeared two rounds were sufficient.

  Some people might view shooting Pepe in the back as a cowardly act, but I would disagree. It was an execution. Pepe was assassinated. There are no rules for murder, even a righteous murder. I didn’t care if he had no chance to defend himself. My one and only concern was that he was dead.

  Pepe hadn’t only been a pimp, and street hustler, but a soldier for the Abbandanza crime syndicate, nicknamed the Machine. I surmised he was of no great loss or importance as a person to Domenic Bacca, the ruthless Caporegime of the Buffalo and Niagara Falls faction. However, Pelosi did have a certain flair for the creation of finances. Pepe’s premature death would be disruptive to the syndicate business, but not devastating. More of Bacca’s soldiers had to die to shatter his illegal immigration stronghold. Their deaths had to resemble dominos falling in rapid succession to create the effective level of confusion I hoped to achieve. I had to move fast.

  Why was Society Palatini interested in the Abbandanza syndicate’s involvement in illegal immigration? They weren’t the run-of-the-mill coyotes. The pictures broadcast on television of foreigners huddled in box vans being snuck across United States’ southern border, was not the business the syndicate engaged in. Rather, they lured, tricked, or otherwise acquired underage girls with a belief they could obtain residency and nationality in America. Health, wealth, and happiness could be theirs for a small price. It was the answer to prayers for many third world inhabitants. But with the Machine there was no path to citizenship, only a lifetime of slavery.

  Pimp was more than a nickname for Pelosi; he was one of the syndicate’s facilitators. Anna Sasins, lead Palatini asset on this project, completed an extensive work-up on the crime family. As a result of her findings, Pepe was selected as a priority target to be eliminated. Why Pepe first? He made the “arrangements.” He was tasked with logistics for moving underage girls across the Canadian border between New York and Ontario. Taking him out early disrupted the flow of girls in and out of the country and presented a greater calamity to the entire criminal structure.

  The Abbandanza mobsters were involved at many levels of organized crime. They ran the gambit from gambling to cybercrime. However, the Palatini’s interest with the syndicate’s criminal venture was restricted to their underage sex rackets.

  Kidnapping and human trafficking were hallmarks of their illegal immigration enterprise. It was an all too common and lucrative practice. Illegal immigration was a political hot potato. Rather than trying to enforce existing immigration laws, Federal Law Enforcement looked the other way. What they didn’t see or know about didn’t require their involvement.

  Pepe, along with a couple of his minions, scratched out a scanty living on the streets of Buffalo’s Lower West Side, seemingly on the lowest rung of the family’s structure. His niche in the family business placed underage girls in “service” at whorehouses. There the young girls worked off their indebtedness to the Abbandanza’s Freedom Underground program. Realistically it was the lowest of the scams. Freedom was a goal never to be achieved. These girls were doomed to a life of prostitution.

  Capo Bacca was a stringent traditionalist. His rank and file structure followed the “old school” format Alfonso Abbandanza laid out decades before. Bacca’s main interests were in gambling, bookmaking, loansharking, and labor racketeering. That was where the real money came from, but he wasn’t opposed to making a dollar anywhere he could find it. The Machine reaped the dividends because of it.

  I considered Bacca a target for his invol
vement in the immigration racket, but Anna disagreed. “There is not a direct connection between Bacca and the actions of his underlings,” She said. She felt the real play for the immigration racket was in Toronto where she had concentrated her efforts. “I insist we remain aligned with the Society’s guidelines. We will take out only those directly responsible for kidnapping, and sex trafficking of underage girls.”

  “That approach is naïve. All we’re going to do is kill bottom feeders like Pelosi,” I said.

  As capo, Bacca called the shots. Nothing happened in his crew without his knowledge, and he profited from every decision, and the corresponding actions of people like Pepe. Therefore, he was guilty in my book. But, it seemed to be a waste of time to argue the point. It was Anna’s project, and she was ultimately responsible for the outcome. It was her call. I would kill as many, or as few as she wanted.

  I climbed down from the 4th floor perch atop Angelino’s apartment building where I’d made a clean shot. This was Pepe’s home turf. A place where he felt safe and secure. He started each day the same way, and walked the same alleys; he was a creature dedicated to habit. He’d been on his way, doing what Pepe did best, hustle. Fate changed his destiny. Or maybe it was Walter, who acting as a personal travel planner, sent Pepe straight to hell.

  The afternoon was just getting started. If I hurried, I had time to catch up to “Shady Slim” Surdo—number two on my target list.

  * * * * *

  Anna worked across the border in Canada. She’d been invited by a fellow reporter and friend, Cal Alonzo, to assist him with material he’d collected on the Abbandanza crime family. His intention wasn’t to fight crime with what he uncovered, but to write a book, and make some money. He tried to persuade Anna to join him in the research, but it was not to her liking until he mentioned the sex racket he’d uncovered. The racket of human trafficking of underage kids piqued her interest.

  While I was taking out the trash in the Gulf of Mexico, Anna had flown to Toronto to investigate Cal’s findings. I knew Anna was up to something while I was stalking Lou Cypher on the gulf side of Padre Island but at the time she hadn’t made it clear to me what she was up to. I assumed she was busy writing a human interest story not scoping out a Palatini project.

  According to Anna, Cal had been working an angle with the Abbandanza syndicate for more than three years. He befriended one of the Toronto soldiers and over the past year had become privy to some of the inner workings of the Mob. The data he provided was well documented, accurate, and concise. In Cal’s world, it meant “bestseller.” In the Palatini world, it meant body count. However, Anna had cautioned me to remember, Cal was a writer-reporter, not a Palatini. He had no knowledge of our Society’s existence or what we would do with his research. He could not be involved or trusted with the knowledge we were Palatini, and our purpose was to kill the people he was investigating.

  It was clear, Anna, was duly impressed with Cal’s infiltration. She had at her fingertips a compilation of Cal’s material on the Abbandanza crime family. Profiles on the organization’s rackets and individual member’s involvement were substantial. Not all the soldiers and associates were known, but a sufficient number of players were outlined to provide a good starting point. Anna continued to stay at Cal’s rented apartment in Corso Italia District of Toronto. To her, the opportunities to sift through his notes and get daily reports from Cal were invaluable.

  Cal had the inside track on the gang’s activity. His infiltration as a trusted friend of a respected soldier was priceless. Like many reporters, he also had police sources. He was able to see both sides of the coin at the same time, thus providing him with an accurate image of the Mob’s activity. I had not met Cal and probably never would, but I had a feeling of jealousy building. He had everything I wanted, Anna’s time, attention, and respect.

  Anna and I spoke daily on the phone, but it was a rehash of our current project, not about us. My new found loneliness was spurred on by the two days Anna and I spent together in Corsicana, Texas after the Cypher project was completed. Society Palatini Grand Master, Maximillian Karnage, had set a meeting between the three of us to discuss her new project. After the early afternoon meeting, Max departed, leaving Anna and me to occupy our time. We capitalized on the opportunity to explore our budding romance.

  My world was coming together perfectly. If our two days together was an indicator of things to come, I was primed. Anna was a creature of beauty. She was charming, charismatic, and a stone-cold killer. What was there not to love?

  Acting on a tip from a motel housekeeper, we dined at a steakhouse favored by the locals. The restaurant was cozy, dark wood throughout with tall paneled booths and shadowy lighting; an appropriate place for intimate relationships or planning a murder. I intended to steer clear of the latter. Since Anna and I kissed in Bellagio, I wanted to introduce her to the real me. I saw no chance of a healthy relationship between us if she didn’t know what was genuinely me and what was Walter. This was a problem. Who was I? Did the essence of the person I once was still exist or had I became Walter, totally? I didn’t know. Only time would tell—time with Anna.

  After dinner, Anna suggested a walk in the park. How classic, I thought, I don’t even have a gun with me. Maybe Anna brought her tactical folding knife she so skillfully displayed in Thailand. At least then I’d know we would be safe.

  We arrived at a large well maintained park off Bunert Road. There were no gates or signage to indicate the park closed at any particular time. It was unlike any park I’d known. The sun seemed to drift slowly into sunset providing a warm and comfortable atmosphere for our stroll. Anna slipped her hand into mine as we walked. It was deliberate and sensational. I felt an electrical impulse that lingered. How beautiful and intense the feeling.

  I was ecstatic, yet, confused and uncertain of myself. At the forefront of my thoughts were things I wanted to say to Anna. Although I was emotionally attracted to her, I feared it was mostly a one-way street. It wasn’t anything she had said or done, it was me. I was insecure and the absence of a meaningful romance these many long years left me ignorant in the ways of love. I could not shake the feeling of helplessness when it came to expressing to Anna the way I felt about her and what she meant to me. From deep inside me, the nagging question kept asking, was I capable of love? I desperately needed an answer—I wanted it to be an unconditional, yes.

  I maintained a gentle grasp on her hand as we moseyed across the verdurous ballpark matting. In the absence of sunlight, Anna’s eyes continued to sparkle as she looked into mine. We slowed to a stop and stood silent for a moment to look into each other’s face. Anna spoke first, “I want you in my life.” I gently pulled her close in response, until we touched at the waist. I assured her; I too wanted the same as she did. Her eyes shifted attention from my eyes to my lips. Her body began to move forward, and I responded likewise. Our lips met in a slow caress. My uncertainty and awkwardness vanished. This was right.

  Anna tilted her head back breaking contact with our kiss. It was too soon to end. I felt the power of desire released in my heart. No longer was it restrained by an emotional block of skepticism. My thoughts swirled, Anna quickly glanced into my face as if to see my expression to our kiss then leaned her body into mine. As our lips were about to touch, she gently brushed her tongue upon my upper lip. Following the response to that kiss, we embarked on passion itself.

  The rest of the evening we spent together like a couple of giddy young teens at the park. We held hands and occasionally walked side by side with arms wrapped around each other. On impulse, we would stop to kiss. It was joyful; I was on top of the world.

  We were delighted to have another day together before departing on our quest. On our last evening, Anna wanted to try an old Mexican style Cantina on the north end of town. After dinner, we talked in depth about our feelings and future. Throughout the night, we plumbed the depth of our relationship. In the morning, we expressed to each other our optimism for a speedy outcome with Abbandanz
a project. Her last words that day were inspiring, just you and me—I promise. I was going to hold her to it.

  Anna flew back to Toronto while I made a trip to Portland. I wasted no time preparing for the road trip to Buffalo. I packed my gear in the Avenger for what might be a lengthy stay and I was off.

  * * * * *

  I had been in position for about a month with targets acquired and no “go” order yet. The thought of a speedy outcome became a haunting. Anna wanted to take care of business, but delays occurred. Interruptions from Cal, unintentional, but without his knowledge of what we were doing, his actions complicated matters. Two of the girls under Bacca’s implied protectorate, slipped out of their accommodations at the urging of Cal, and into his lodging. This was great for Anna who rigorously grilled them. Each evening, Anna called to relate details from her conversations with the girls. It was all very exciting to get real time first hand insider information, but it created an ongoing delay.

  The girls, each barely nineteen-years-old, runaways, and kidnapped from the New York area when they were underage, were put “in service” by Pepe the pimp. Shady Slim had transported them to Toronto in exchange for a couple Asian immigrants the local Canadian crew was exploiting at the time. Anna was determined to help Cal before she started knocking down Toronto targets. She said transportation for the girls back into America had been secured, but it would be a few days before it happened. How that would occur I wasn’t privy to. Maybe I should have been.

  Anna, however, gave the “go” order to take out two of Bacca’s frontline soldiers and one “associate.” These predetermined targets were the “feeders” who were directly involved in the Toronto immigration racket. Anna felt the disruption in Buffalo might focus the attention of the family on possibilities of a rival syndicate turf war, or maybe start one. In the meanwhile, she would get the girls out of Toronto and back in the United States.