After my night of breaking and entering, I limited myself to more lawful endeavors. One thing I needed was an income. Another was privacy; my nocturnal comings and goings had almost been detected by Diana as she spent her fall break with us. So far though, the only ones to see through my disguise had been Mr Wickersham and Daisy.
Sergeant Winslow had been keeping a low profile as well. Despite my efforts, the plan to get Pogue to turn state's evidence had failed and failed miserably. Pogue and his mistress had returned from their Las Vegas junket, and were found dead the next morning at the base of the building where her penthouse had been.
"It isn't your fault White Owl," said Winslow. "Pogue had been targeted before you even got there. Your attempt was a last ditch effort to bring him in for safety. He insisted on the Vegas trip to make sure it was the right thing to do. My handlers lost him at the airport, and we arrived twenty minutes too late."
"Did...did you catch the killer?" I asked.
"No, we got nothing. The surveillance cameras were totaled and there was no trace of the video tapes." He shrugged his shoulders and I could see the leather shoulder holster Winslow wore. His face looked haggard and I knew that the Cafazzo issue was wearing him down.
"What can I do?" I had asked.
"Lay low, its probably best if we're not connected," he replied.
So I tried to lay low. But there was something magical, almost compelling that drew me out in an attempt to bring order and sanity to the night. Night after night I sought out trouble.
The first week, I managed to bring in three different drug dealers, along with their suppliers and large amounts of illegal cash. The evidence was laid neatly out for the police and the DA's office, and the criminals were usually laid out as well, though they were generally less organized and more restrained.
I'd set my sights on cleaning up the illegal gambling that Cafazzo ran in Blue's Landing across the river. The first night, I overturned a roulette wheel, scattering thousands of dollars across the floor. Several people dropped to their knees to grab a chance at redeeming their losses, while I caught the manager and two of his enforcers. Wrapping them tightly with the thick saran wrap in the kitchen, I dropped them off in front of the sheriff's office, along with a note explaining their crimes. (Though I'm certain the sheriff had a good idea of the crimes.)
Three weeks passed; and the local newspapers were clamoring. My crusade was both hailed and vilified in the local press, though I was still seen as something of an enigma. The general consensus was that I was an urban legend, some myth made up to bring hope to the community.
But the crime rate, at least from organized crime; was dropping.
I came home buoyed one Wednesday afternoon in late October. It was an Indian Summer day, warm and reminiscent of late August. I had been named Archaeologist in Residence at the Queen City Museum of Natural History, and would be starting in the middle of November. Papa was as proud as he could be, and he promised to help me find a place of my own.
"Ah, my family is moving away!" he cried. "Who will look after an old man?"
"You're not old Papa, and you certainly don't need looking after. And I'll still be here in the city if you need me. So will Alex." He laughed, and I saw a gleam in his dark eyes I hadn't seem much since Mama passed.
Still buoyed by my good fortune, I decided to make another strike on the Cafazzo empire. Friday night, I slipped out my bedroom window into the cool night. I flew toward the Heights, then out to Kostermann Hill, on the west side of town. As I entered the neighborhood of Lower Kostermann, I passed abandoned factories, low cost housing, and dark playgrounds. This was a neighborhood most didn't want to be in after the sunset, and most who lived here longed for the day they could move out.
Still there was a community in Lower Kostermann; one that was sincere and law abiding. It was through one of these people that I learned about Cafazzo's latest operation; a chop shop. My informant didn't tell me where it was, but it didn't take long for me to find the only building in a row of warehouses that was well lit. A large truck sat idling outside, the doors to the trailer wide open. I landed quietly on the roof of the trailer and crept forward to peer into the garage.
I saw four men rapidly taking cutting torches to several cars, piecing wheels, rims, engines and more. Several tires were stacked in one corner; several barrels were scattered all around as well. One man stood to the side of the door on the inside; in his hands he held a rifle.
I leaped from the front end of the trailer, flying upward , then turned to dive, breaking in through the door and to my right; grabbing the rifle from the relaxed grip of the startled sentry. "Didn't your mother tell you not to play with guns?" I chided. I swung the rifle butt at him, hitting him in the jaw and watching with satisfaction as he sagged to the floor. I threw the rifle into the open trailer then turned to face the gang of auto thieves approaching with wrenches, chains and one man even had a knife.
The man with the chain lunged. I grabbed the chain and pulled him close. His breath smelled of cigarette smoke and beer. Taking the chain, I bent his arm back behind him, then used my foot to hurl him into a support pylon. His head hit with a resounding clang, and he joined the sentry in sprawled silence.
Two more men attacked from either side. I felt one pair of arms wrapping itself around my legs, while a second pair grabbed at my waist. "Pull her down!" I heard as they caught me off balance and began to tackle me. I dropped to my knees and saw the final man looming above me with a heavy wrench in his hand. He brought the wrench down over my head and that was the last thing I remember seeing that Friday night.
I don't know how much time passed; but the next time I saw anything a dim glow was painting the sky outside. I was hanging upside down, and I could smell the strong stench of chlorine below me. Cracking open a bleary eye; I could see Giovanni Cafazzo, in an Armani suit leering back at me.
"So you're White Owl?" he asked. "You don't look so tough." His voice had a soft lilt, with a soft Italian accent.
I glanced into the water to see if my reflection was masked or not. Cafazzo caught the motion and laughed. "You're still masked, my dear. But believe me, if I wanted to know who you were, I'd know. There's nothing that goes on in this town I don't know about. There's precious little in this city I don't control. Except for you, and those two pesky cops. You know who I mean don't you? Linseed and Winslow?"
I tried hard to stifle my expressions, but I could only feel the cold tingle of fear, starting in my loins and moving like a freight train through my body. I shuddered.
"Your chains are made from a new ferroaluminum compound, White Owl. They're extremely durable and resiliant. And surprisingly light. But I think they'll keep you nicely for my purposes. You see, you've been interfering with my business. I give people entertainment, you wreck my casinos. People want to be happy, I provide the medium, and you arrrest my pushers and suppliers. My profits are in turmoil." He knelt and jabbed a walking stick into my chest and nose to accentuate his next words.
"And it's ALL...YOUR...FAULT!" he roared. "Well you've interfered for the last time. Let's just see how well an Owl floats." Cafazzo gestured to the man on the diving board and I felt myself plunge head first into the water. The water was like ice, and I almost gasped when it hit me. The chains pulled me in, then I felt the tug on my legs. I was pulled from the water sputtering.
My costume had contoured to my body, and the I learned white Nu Silk could become sheer with enough wetting. My costume clung tight around my breasts, and I could see Cafazzo's men getting eager as they watched me struggling against the chains.
"One...two...three," said Cafazzo and I dropped back into the water, this time feeling the chain curling on the base of the pool. I sunk helplessly, my hands fumbling in the pouches at the back of my belt. I glanced through the water, holding my breath tightly and watching as Cafazzo and his men stood over me, then departed as I slowed my movements.
When I could see no one else, I flexed my arms hard, feeling for one weak link in the chain. I felt the lock part instead and the chains broke free. I kicked from the bottom of the pool and gasped a ragged lungful of air as I parted the surface. I shivered as I climbed out, thankful for the modesty that convinced me to wear a thong beneath the leotard.
I stood wet for a moment, then found the security camera I had spotted moments before. The wiring on the camera was fairly obvious, and I was able to follow it back to the guard shack. It took a moment, but I convinced the guard to surrender the tape to me, then convinced him to take a nap. I studied the control panel for the house, and was surprised to learn that Giovanni Cafazzo had a camera in his own room.
The capo tutti de capos for Queen City slept alone, his third wife preferring her own home in St Matthews. Cafazzo slept on the second floor, with a balcony outside his room. I shut the monitors down, and heard the hullaballoo that followed my escape. I slipped out of the guardshack, and flew to the back of Cafazzo's house. His men were combing the area, with dogs and lights all over the yard. But they hadn't counted on someone like me. I stayed high on the roof near Cafazzo's bedroom, and no one thought to look there. As I waited, I saw Giovanni Cafazzo step out onto his balcony and look out over the yard.
I took a chance, and swooped down, grabbing the crime boss under his arms and swinging him skyward. "HEY! PUT ME DOWN!" he cried. Beneath us, his men pointed guns, only to have them swatted down.
Cafazzo had sworn vendetta and called me every name but a child of God but the time I landed in district four's headquarters. Sergeant Winslow was surprised, but as he was the night watch commander that night, he didn't have me arrested. However, the tape of Cafazzo's attempting to murder me was enough to hold him.
I got home shortly afterward and slipped into bed. When I woke up on Saturday morning, The news was about Cafazzo's arrest and release on bail, and the first recorded video of White Owl.
I was not delighted to hear about either surfacing.
Sergeant Winslow had been keeping a low profile as well. Despite my efforts, the plan to get Pogue to turn state's evidence had failed and failed miserably. Pogue and his mistress had returned from their Las Vegas junket, and were found dead the next morning at the base of the building where her penthouse had been.
"It isn't your fault White Owl," said Winslow. "Pogue had been targeted before you even got there. Your attempt was a last ditch effort to bring him in for safety. He insisted on the Vegas trip to make sure it was the right thing to do. My handlers lost him at the airport, and we arrived twenty minutes too late."
"Did...did you catch the killer?" I asked.
"No, we got nothing. The surveillance cameras were totaled and there was no trace of the video tapes." He shrugged his shoulders and I could see the leather shoulder holster Winslow wore. His face looked haggard and I knew that the Cafazzo issue was wearing him down.
"What can I do?" I had asked.
"Lay low, its probably best if we're not connected," he replied.
So I tried to lay low. But there was something magical, almost compelling that drew me out in an attempt to bring order and sanity to the night. Night after night I sought out trouble.
The first week, I managed to bring in three different drug dealers, along with their suppliers and large amounts of illegal cash. The evidence was laid neatly out for the police and the DA's office, and the criminals were usually laid out as well, though they were generally less organized and more restrained.
I'd set my sights on cleaning up the illegal gambling that Cafazzo ran in Blue's Landing across the river. The first night, I overturned a roulette wheel, scattering thousands of dollars across the floor. Several people dropped to their knees to grab a chance at redeeming their losses, while I caught the manager and two of his enforcers. Wrapping them tightly with the thick saran wrap in the kitchen, I dropped them off in front of the sheriff's office, along with a note explaining their crimes. (Though I'm certain the sheriff had a good idea of the crimes.)
Three weeks passed; and the local newspapers were clamoring. My crusade was both hailed and vilified in the local press, though I was still seen as something of an enigma. The general consensus was that I was an urban legend, some myth made up to bring hope to the community.
But the crime rate, at least from organized crime; was dropping.
I came home buoyed one Wednesday afternoon in late October. It was an Indian Summer day, warm and reminiscent of late August. I had been named Archaeologist in Residence at the Queen City Museum of Natural History, and would be starting in the middle of November. Papa was as proud as he could be, and he promised to help me find a place of my own.
"Ah, my family is moving away!" he cried. "Who will look after an old man?"
"You're not old Papa, and you certainly don't need looking after. And I'll still be here in the city if you need me. So will Alex." He laughed, and I saw a gleam in his dark eyes I hadn't seem much since Mama passed.
Still buoyed by my good fortune, I decided to make another strike on the Cafazzo empire. Friday night, I slipped out my bedroom window into the cool night. I flew toward the Heights, then out to Kostermann Hill, on the west side of town. As I entered the neighborhood of Lower Kostermann, I passed abandoned factories, low cost housing, and dark playgrounds. This was a neighborhood most didn't want to be in after the sunset, and most who lived here longed for the day they could move out.
Still there was a community in Lower Kostermann; one that was sincere and law abiding. It was through one of these people that I learned about Cafazzo's latest operation; a chop shop. My informant didn't tell me where it was, but it didn't take long for me to find the only building in a row of warehouses that was well lit. A large truck sat idling outside, the doors to the trailer wide open. I landed quietly on the roof of the trailer and crept forward to peer into the garage.
I saw four men rapidly taking cutting torches to several cars, piecing wheels, rims, engines and more. Several tires were stacked in one corner; several barrels were scattered all around as well. One man stood to the side of the door on the inside; in his hands he held a rifle.
I leaped from the front end of the trailer, flying upward , then turned to dive, breaking in through the door and to my right; grabbing the rifle from the relaxed grip of the startled sentry. "Didn't your mother tell you not to play with guns?" I chided. I swung the rifle butt at him, hitting him in the jaw and watching with satisfaction as he sagged to the floor. I threw the rifle into the open trailer then turned to face the gang of auto thieves approaching with wrenches, chains and one man even had a knife.
The man with the chain lunged. I grabbed the chain and pulled him close. His breath smelled of cigarette smoke and beer. Taking the chain, I bent his arm back behind him, then used my foot to hurl him into a support pylon. His head hit with a resounding clang, and he joined the sentry in sprawled silence.
Two more men attacked from either side. I felt one pair of arms wrapping itself around my legs, while a second pair grabbed at my waist. "Pull her down!" I heard as they caught me off balance and began to tackle me. I dropped to my knees and saw the final man looming above me with a heavy wrench in his hand. He brought the wrench down over my head and that was the last thing I remember seeing that Friday night.
I don't know how much time passed; but the next time I saw anything a dim glow was painting the sky outside. I was hanging upside down, and I could smell the strong stench of chlorine below me. Cracking open a bleary eye; I could see Giovanni Cafazzo, in an Armani suit leering back at me.
"So you're White Owl?" he asked. "You don't look so tough." His voice had a soft lilt, with a soft Italian accent.
I glanced into the water to see if my reflection was masked or not. Cafazzo caught the motion and laughed. "You're still masked, my dear. But believe me, if I wanted to know who you were, I'd know. There's nothing that goes on in this town I don't know about. There's precious little in this city I don't control. Except for you, and those two pesky cops. You know who I mean don't you? Linseed and Winslow?"
I tried hard to stifle my expressions, but I could only feel the cold tingle of fear, starting in my loins and moving like a freight train through my body. I shuddered.
"Your chains are made from a new ferroaluminum compound, White Owl. They're extremely durable and resiliant. And surprisingly light. But I think they'll keep you nicely for my purposes. You see, you've been interfering with my business. I give people entertainment, you wreck my casinos. People want to be happy, I provide the medium, and you arrrest my pushers and suppliers. My profits are in turmoil." He knelt and jabbed a walking stick into my chest and nose to accentuate his next words.
"And it's ALL...YOUR...FAULT!" he roared. "Well you've interfered for the last time. Let's just see how well an Owl floats." Cafazzo gestured to the man on the diving board and I felt myself plunge head first into the water. The water was like ice, and I almost gasped when it hit me. The chains pulled me in, then I felt the tug on my legs. I was pulled from the water sputtering.
My costume had contoured to my body, and the I learned white Nu Silk could become sheer with enough wetting. My costume clung tight around my breasts, and I could see Cafazzo's men getting eager as they watched me struggling against the chains.
"One...two...three," said Cafazzo and I dropped back into the water, this time feeling the chain curling on the base of the pool. I sunk helplessly, my hands fumbling in the pouches at the back of my belt. I glanced through the water, holding my breath tightly and watching as Cafazzo and his men stood over me, then departed as I slowed my movements.
When I could see no one else, I flexed my arms hard, feeling for one weak link in the chain. I felt the lock part instead and the chains broke free. I kicked from the bottom of the pool and gasped a ragged lungful of air as I parted the surface. I shivered as I climbed out, thankful for the modesty that convinced me to wear a thong beneath the leotard.
I stood wet for a moment, then found the security camera I had spotted moments before. The wiring on the camera was fairly obvious, and I was able to follow it back to the guard shack. It took a moment, but I convinced the guard to surrender the tape to me, then convinced him to take a nap. I studied the control panel for the house, and was surprised to learn that Giovanni Cafazzo had a camera in his own room.
The capo tutti de capos for Queen City slept alone, his third wife preferring her own home in St Matthews. Cafazzo slept on the second floor, with a balcony outside his room. I shut the monitors down, and heard the hullaballoo that followed my escape. I slipped out of the guardshack, and flew to the back of Cafazzo's house. His men were combing the area, with dogs and lights all over the yard. But they hadn't counted on someone like me. I stayed high on the roof near Cafazzo's bedroom, and no one thought to look there. As I waited, I saw Giovanni Cafazzo step out onto his balcony and look out over the yard.
I took a chance, and swooped down, grabbing the crime boss under his arms and swinging him skyward. "HEY! PUT ME DOWN!" he cried. Beneath us, his men pointed guns, only to have them swatted down.
Cafazzo had sworn vendetta and called me every name but a child of God but the time I landed in district four's headquarters. Sergeant Winslow was surprised, but as he was the night watch commander that night, he didn't have me arrested. However, the tape of Cafazzo's attempting to murder me was enough to hold him.
I got home shortly afterward and slipped into bed. When I woke up on Saturday morning, The news was about Cafazzo's arrest and release on bail, and the first recorded video of White Owl.
I was not delighted to hear about either surfacing.
No comments:
Post a Comment