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By the time it was one o’clock, the Mayor had more problems than he had earlier, but still had no answers. Things had gotten worse with the fires that morning, and those in the news media had been listening to the police and fire department on scramblers. They were aware of the fires, and just add them to their already long list of questions.
Because of the new fires, the Mayor started the news conference fifteen minutes late, and was immediately bombarded with questions before he could even start on his prepared remarks. The reporters had all been in touch with their sources in the fire and police departments in addition to the coroner’s office. They were aware of who had died, and what they did. Their lead questions were:
“What is going on and is it a turf war?
“What caused the explosions, and were the fires related?”
The Mayor was doing his best to not reveal that the city government had no idea of what was going on by trying to deflect their questions by changing topics, and he had succeeded to a certain extent when news broke of the explosion in Mechanicsville. The reporters knew about it first, as they still had people listening on the scanners. The Mayor only learned about it when the Police Chief’s assistant came out to inform him of it, and interrupted his speech. The Mayor seemed to shrink in on himself as his shoulders fell, and he had a forlorned look on his face.
“We don’t know,” he finally admitted in a tired voice. “We don’t know who is doing this or why. We don’t know what kind of explosives he or they are using, as the bomb sniffing dogs won’t go into the sites,” he admitted in a weak voice.
“Why?” came the demand from the reporters.
“We have no idea. Just as we have no idea why he or they hung those people from the street lights last night, or why the various houses were burned down,” he admitted.
“Basically, you know nothing more than we do about who or what is causing all of this then,” one of the well-known Television news reporters stated as the cameras focused on him.
“No, we are still trying to determine why this has happened, and who is responsible,” the Mayor admitted in defeat. The news conference broke up then as the reporters left to make finishing statements to their various stations.
I awoke a half hour before sunset on Saturday, the 18th of July. The moon had set an hour before that, but it would have made no difference in any event as Monday was the new moon, and it wouldn’t have provided enough light to make a difference.
What I wanted was a good hot meal and preferably not one that I made myself by opening a few cans. Money certainly wasn’t a consideration, as I had stuffed much of the loose money at the two drug houses I had burned down the previous night into my pockets. Clothing and appearance would be a problem though. A glamour could solve those problems, but not the way that I smelled after several weeks without a shower. That was something that would definitely be noticed in polite company.
There were, however, spells that could cure a part of that at least. On removing my clothing, I used a cleaning spell on them and another on myself to remove the dirt and accumulated crud. A quick check of the premises where I was staying revealed a small and very dried out bar of soap, plus the water had been turned off as well as the electricity and the gas.
Still, I could draw water from the mains to bathe with, and while it would be cold water, this was July, so it shouldn’t be too cold. The Lord only knew how many cold showers I had taken while in the field in Special Operations. Drawing water into the tub which still had a rubber stopper, I washed up and rinsed off. There wasn’t any problem with drying off as the building was still hot from the daytime sun. Thus prepared, I set out to locate a good restaurant following dressing. There are a number of excellent restaurants in the Peachtree Center area of downtown Atlanta, and that was where I was going anyway.
A transfer spell took me to the correct area, and watching those passing by from a break between two buildings soon revealed the person who I would use to fashion my glamour after. Once cast, a short walk brought me to a restaurant that looked good and I entered. In a short time, I was seated and had ordered a meal. The service was good, and the food was all right if not great, but at least I hadn’t needed to prepare it myself. There was no problem paying in cash, and I left the waiter a good tip. It wasn’t really my money after all.
All of this had taken time, so it was dark by the time I emerged from the restaurant. A short walk down the street, and I located another break between two buildings that I could slip into to drop the glamour and transfer to the building where Rickey Pontoliano had his offices on the twelfth floor. Unfortunately, this particular space wasn’t empty like the previous one. There were a couple of homeless drunks sitting in there drinking directly from a bottle. A quick freeze spell kept them from saying anything or seeing me change when I dropped the glamour.
This did present a bit of a problem, as I didn’t want them to see me when I had changed or when I transferred to Rickey’s offices. As if by Magic, I suddenly remembered one of the old drunks that I had seen in my travels. He was apparently famous among the local homeless as being a great moocher, and I changed my glamour to appear to be him before canceling the freeze spell.
“Hey, don’t finish that, save some for me,” I said in an imitation of his gravelly voice. The two drunks instantly hid the bottle between them, and staggering to their feet, hurried off between the two buildings and away from me. On dropping the new glamour, I transferred to the twelfth floor of the office building where Rickey had his offices, appearing there in the utility closet.
Turning on the light in there, I checked on the various systems, and found all of them operating as intended. I had considered turning off the system that opened the elevator doors on this floor, but it was early yet, and others might still be arriving, so I left it on for now. I did shut down the alarm system, but left the telephone system and the others on for now.
Following casting an invisibility spell, I carefully opened the door to the utility closet and moved out into the main hallway. Rickey operated an advertising agency to cover his mob activities and dealings. There were a number of offices that obviously dealt with the advertising business, and these were mainly close to the elevator.
The executive offices were located further down the main hall and were much fancier than the rather plain working offices where the real business was carried out. On checking several of the executive offices the previous night, I had noticed the signs on the doors with titles like: Treasurer, VP for Radio and Television, VP of Printed Advertising, and a third one was VP of Billboard Advertising. Each office held two or three desks, making it appear that Rickey had all of his senior lieutenants on the payroll of the advertising company.
It was a very convenient way to pay them and make it appear totally legal. From the total lack of paperwork or any other type of work, it appeared that these were not working positions in the advertising agency, but were more like just honorary positions, while these individuals did their work elsewhere.
The office at the end of the hallway with the lights on was that of Rickey himself, I knew from my previous visit that it was large and lavish. There was even a small room with a bed in it. It smelled a lot of sex and sweat when I was here previously. All of the other offices were presently empty, except for the lone guard in the reception area near the elevators. Everyone appeared to be in the office at the far end of the hall. Since it was early yet, I decided to wait a while for any late arrivals and returned to one of the vice president’s offices, locked the door, and sat on the comfortable sofa there to relax for a time after canceling the invisibility spell.
A short time later, I was glad that I had waited, as four men got off the elevator and headed down the hall towards the occupied office at its end.
“Those in Decatur don’t know shit,” one of them said loudly, apparently in answer to a question from one of the others.
“Me and Bernie leaned on them heavily and didn’t learn anything. They’re scared though ... real scared. They’re scared that whatever or whoever is doing this will come after them next,” he finished, as they passed the office that I was in.
“Yeah, me and Al checked out the Marietta and Roswell areas. They don’t know shit either, but are worried where they’ll get their drugs from now, since their source has dried up,” a second man, the original questioner apparently, told the first man as they neared the end office.
“Looks like we’re the last to arrive,” I heard man number one say as they entered Rickey’s office, but I couldn’t hear the response. It appeared that it was time to get the show on the road.
Returning to the utility closet, I deactivated the circuit for the elevator doors on this floor, the telephone system, and checked to be sure that the alarm system was still deactivated. The lights, heat, and air conditioning systems remained on as did the water system, but not the fire alarm and sprinkler system. On exiting the utility closet, I cast a freeze spell on the guard in the reception area, as I didn’t need an unfriendly behind me to cause trouble.
Approaching the end office, I could hear the first man from the hall speaking and stopped to listen.
“I’m telling you, Rickey, that the others don’t know anything more than we do, but they are worried and scared. We need to do something, or they are going to lose confidence in us and the mob in general. Then what will you do?” the speaker finished and fell silent.
“Not only that,” another man started after a few seconds, “but the Dons up north are going to be asking questions. You don’t want them to lose confidence in you and think that you can’t control things down here. You know how they make changes,” he finished in a chilled voice.
“Yes, I know, you idiot, where do you think I grew up?” a voice said, that I had to believe belonged to none other than Rickey Pontoliano. He too sounded a little worried.
“What are we going to do?” asked the voice of the second man from the hall conversation.
“I don’t know! I can’t believe there isn’t even a whisper of what is going on, out on the street. Did you lean on all of those clowns?” Rickey demanded.
“Yeah, we leaned on them heavily, all we got was fear and requests for protection. They are really scared, and I don’t mean just the street people. The bosses and their men are scared too, and most of them are pretty tough bastards,” man number one told his boss.
“You’re sure the cops don’t know nothing?” Rickey asked.
“No, they don’t know shit, and they’re all on twelve hour shifts and have every car they can get running out on patrol looking for trouble. From what a couple of them told me, so do the cops in the other jurisdictions around Atlanta from Jonesboro to Marietta and Roswell, and from East Point to Stone Mountain. That includes the Fulton County and DeKalb County police as well as those in Cobb and Gwinnett counties. They think they have the area covered tight enough that nothing else will happen,” a different voice told him.
“Let’s wait and see if anything happens tonight. If it’s quiet, maybe all of this will blow over, and we can all relax,” Rickey told them.
“It ain’t going to blow over for a while, Rickey,” the voice of the number two guy from the hall conversation told him. “There are openings at the top of all of the trades, and there is going to be a war to see who comes out at the top. We should make sure that it’s people who are loyal to us,” he finished. This was when I stepped into the room, as it was just the opening in the conversation that I had been waiting for.
“The trouble is none of you will be here to see who comes out on top,” I told then as I stepped into the lighted area of Rickey Pontolino’a private office. All of those in there turned to look at me in shock. I had already cast the spell to keep their guns from working, and had a freeze spell ready that only required a single word to activate it.
“Who the hell are you, and how the hell did you get in here?” Rickey bellowed in shock and surprise.
“You said the right word ... HELL. Marius’s cook called me the Devil, and I’m the one responsible for the hangings, the explosions, and the fires, and now I’m here for all of you,” I finished with a grin.
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