Abuse of Chikara (book 1) (32 page)

Bill was at a bar relaxing with a friend of his from the force. He was an Italian man named Alberto, who had joined the force a few months before the child molestation case. He was a young guy who admired Bill’s way of thinking. Bill had beaten the statutory rape case, but getting him put in prison was never the goal anyway. The master mind of this plot wanted to hurt his reputation, piss him off, and ruin his ability to seek power through political office. There went his dreams of one day running for president. He was no longer superintendent of the police or even on the force. The mayor had asked for his resignation. Of course, he would still get his benefits from years on the force. All was not lost. He still had large sums of money saved up from all his illegal activities over the years. Millions of dollars in offshore accounts, not to mention the businesses he owned that would almost be impossible to trace back to him.

He could go to another country and start over from scratch. There were places that people were not that morally uptight. Before he left he would take care of a few things first. That Dudley Do-Right looking bastard would have to be taken care of. After ruining his career, Quinton had added insult to injury. The man had painted his new home that he had moved into a month before the statutory rape case neon green with big purple letters saying “child molester lives here.” Of course, he had gotten the house repainted, but coming home and seeing that had really pissed him off. Quinton had to have had something to do with that. No vandals or random punks would have been so thorough with painting the entire home. No one in the area seemed to know anything about it or have seen any painting crews. Maybe Quinton did it himself. The man could move at superhuman speeds for short periods of time. He could have done it at night maybe. He would kill this bastard before leaving. The thing was he did not feel his quest for power was over actually. This could be a new beginning for him actually. As long as you understood how things worked in this world, you could always rise back up again to power.

Money and power made all things possible. This is what he was explaining to Alberto as they drank at the bar. If you have enough money or power, you can do anything you want. Take that hot bartender over there. The thick-ass blond chick. Go over and ask her to flash her breast. Show me that you can get her to do what you want. Alberto walks over to the woman and begins to flirt with her. He asks to see her breast. Of course, she curses at him and refuses. He walks back over to Bill who laughed and starts walking over to her. Watch a pro. “Excuse me, miss, I was wondering if I could see your breasts.”

“Look, I already told your stupid friend that you cannot see my breasts. Now leave me alone or I will have the bartender remove you.”

Bill goes into his pocket and pulls out a roll of money as thick as his fist. He proceeded to put down $300 in $20s on the counter.

“Now can I get a look at those miss?”

“Why of course you can, sir.”

She proceeds to undue her white shirt, removes her bra and lets two huge white firm melons hang out for 20 seconds before putting them away. The cash quickly disappears into her hands. She also leaves her phone number and address on a napkin for Bill, which disappears into his hands. He has no problem kicking it with a woman who only cares about money. Things work better when people are up front in relationships. He walks away and sits back at his table with Alberto. “See how I got her to do what I wanted and you could not. Charm and looks do not matter as much as money or material things in this world. People can say what they want, but money and prestige means more than almost anything. There is a saying a role model of mine growing up as a kid used to say. You should remember this. ‘Power flows to the one who knows how, desire is not enough.’”

They spend the rest of the night drinking and partying. Bill gets the hot bartender, and another thick white girl to come home with him, so he and Alberto can rock their worlds. He has no problem paying for it. All guys paid for it at some point, but did not realize it. If you took a woman to dinner or bought her gifts, then you were still paying for it. He knew of guys who would buy a woman jewelry or other costly gifts who did not seem to understand this. Yes, you had the romantic nonsense going on, but you were still paying for it. In any case, he would concentrate on entertaining these lovely young blond white chicks at his home now, and deal with Quinton’s nonsense tomorrow, or rather Big Al would.

Finally, it was time to off that Dudley Do-Right acting punk Quinton. With these experimental sniper’s rifles, they could take this fool out. Bill was planning to go into other rackets. Bill still had a lot of connections with the department and would have a lot of influence in who got picked as his successor. Big Al knew he was a virtual shoe in for the job, but he needed to get rid of Quinton. If this man was left alive, he would have to always be looking over his shoulder wondering when he would strike next. No doubt the man would find out who killed his grandmother and come for him. He would set his trap today. They had let it be known on the street where Big Al would be. No doubt Quinton would hear and come around looking for him at some point. The only thing to do now was wait. He had been busy robbing drug dealers and giving the drugs over to his chosen drug dealers, who split the profits with him 50-50. He 'd learned that little game from Bill. As fun and as lucrative as it was, he was ready for some action. The snipers were set up around the location so he was just waiting for Dudley Do-Right to get his black ass here.

It seems things were looking up for Quinton as of late. The Carpenter had some good news from the streets. It seems Bill’s new pet head thug was hiding out in a small house on the West Side of Chicago. He had the address and was headed out there right now. Driving there he thought of what he would do to Big Al. That bastard had killed his grandmother and some of his other relatives with her. He had always been very fond of his grandmother when he was growing up. He had stayed in touch with her before he underwent his change. He had sent her money anonymously up until the time that she was killed. His grandmother was a good person who would give another the shirt off her back. He remembered as a child sitting around with her watching Matlock, and in the Heat of the Night and All in the Family. She always had a quaint way of referring to herself in the third person. She would say granny does not like those old nasty horror films or grandma will cook you some food. He could not wait to get his hands on that dibble big Al. That was what they called police in Chicago these days. He could not believe that he used to be a one of those dibbles. Those corrupt, crooked animals abusing their power. He finally pulled up to the home, a small mostly white two-story house in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing out here in the way of stores, people or other homes. He got out of the car went up to the house, kicked the door in and searched the place.

This is what Big Al had been waiting for. Quinton did not know it, but they had security cameras and other equipment in a five-mile radius around this place. He had seen Quinton searching the home on cameras. He pulled up and put a few shots into the engine of Quinton’s car. Then put some shots into each tire. Soon Quinton came out the front door. Big Al stuck his head out of the driver side window. “Hey Quinton, did you hear the one about the old lady who got blasted in a drive by a few months ago?”

That did the trick. He pulled off and watched Quinton get into his own car that was going nowhere shot up like it was. Soon the dummy got out and started running after him like they had hoped. Bill had been studying the report of Quinton's battles. He did not think the man could keep up that super speed of his for long periods of time. He had to admit that Quinton was extremely fast. He was doing 80 miles per hour and the man was keeping up pretty well. This car had a souped up engine, which could go over 120 miles per hour. He’d speed up and slow down anytime he started to get to far out of Quinton’s sights. Big Al was somewhat impressed as Quinton ran at 80 miles per hour, but did not seem to be able to go over that amount of speed. At least not yet anyway. Maybe this guy would get even stronger if he was not dealt with now. This long drive would hopefully sap his strength and get him to move at speeds closer to an average human. He was heading back into the city towards the old Brach’s candy factory. That would be the place they would need him to be for their ambush. Quinton seemed to be slowing down a great deal. He made it to the old Brach’s factory a minute before Quinton did. He could see the black jackass blocks down the street catching his breath. It was like Bill thought. Quinton was superhuman, but still had limitations. He could only maintain moving at super speed for an hour or so before he got worn down. They might be able to handle him now with their prototype sniper’s rifles. This would normally be a problem, but the area had been evacuated because of a chemical fire at one of the factories in the area. The fumes were rough around here and showed no signs of abating . Luckily Big Al had a nice breathing mask. It was the perfect excuse for so many police to be out in force. Somebody had to maintain order and make sure all the innocent people were evacuated. He yelled at the top of his lungs for Quinton to follow him. “Come on pussy. Don’t go limp on me now. Your old grandma had more fight in her even after I blasted the Bengay out of her ass.”

This seemed to have the desired effect as Quinton started following him again with haste. However, he moved at a markedly slower speed than before. Big Al ran inside and went up another upper level to hide. He was no punk, but he had no chance fighting Dudley Do-Right in a close-up fight. A hunter did not fight a wild beast head-on. He used his smarts to outwit the animal. Man liked to think of himself as something special, but he was still just a mammal. Still just a highly advanced beast. Working on the force and being in the Army had prepared him well for dealing with wild animals in this concrete jungle. They had rigged up a few security cameras so he could monitor the entire factory from his control room.

Quinton did not even get off the ground floor before they let loose. He had guys covering every exit and entrance. The cool thing was they could shoot through the factory walls with their special prototype armor-piercing bullets. The snipers’ rifles also were fitted with special equipment that allowed them to see clearly through the factory walls . He had been playing with the scopes for some time now. You could set them to see through walls or even the layers of a person’s skin. No infrared junk either, they could look in to structures through the scope and it was like you were standing next to the person. They had already been instructed to fire when Quinton went inside.

He knew this had been a trap going in, but saw no other way to get Big Al. The man was all over the place and it could take months to find him again. They knew he was after them, so he would have to deal with some type of set up or trap no matter what. He was a bit surprised when a bullet came through the wall and pierced the top layers of skin on the right side of his stomach. He reached down and pulled the bullet out of the wound. The bullet had shattered upon impact and half of it was crushed. The wound would not cause immediate death, but too many of them might prove fatal. So Big Al’s boys had gotten hold of some stronger guns…maybe some military high-grade stuff.

Looking around he did not see anyone inside the factory that could have shot at him. More bullets came flying from different directions, piercing different parts of his body. He started running around dodging, zipping and zagging. He could not afford to stay in one place and become a target that would slowly get torn apart piece by piece. As he was maneuvering around he noticed that the bullets were definitely coming through the walls. It was definitely military grade stuff to be able to pierce the factory walls of stone and steel from a distance. While he was jumping around like a Mexican jumping bean, dodging the projectiles, he paid close attention to the exit holes left by the bullets. Judging by the trajectory of the bullets and where the holes were, someone was shooting at him from up at a higher trajectory than he was. Also, the number of bullets meant it had to be multiple people firing. He had to figure out a way to even the situation, and take the fight to the enemy. He jumped straight up into the air and touched the ceiling . He went straight down and smashed a gigantic hole through the ground until he hit the sewer.

Things had been going good so far for them. That Dudley Do-Right bastard was actually bloody. They had finally gotten him into a situation that was favorable to them. Bill would be pleased, but he was not just doing this for Bill. When and if he became superintendent after Bill moved onto bigger things, he did not want this guy around causing problems for him. If it had just been a problem with Bill then maybe they could have worked something out. Dudley Do-Right had taken to killing other officers though. Also, he doubted he would forget him gunning down his grandmother and young cousins. Of course, things did not continue to go well. Quinton had jumped into the air like a rocket and came crashing down like an anvil falling from space through the ground. They could see through things with their scopes true, but they still had to locate the target. That was why they had tried to get him into an area where everyone knew where he was at, and attack him fast and hopefully put him down quickly. He checked all the cameras and even used his special scope to peer around hoping to spot Quinton. Most likely the punk hit the sewers and ran off to lick his wounds. Maybe next time they would have to have some guys spread around the sewers or take other more extreme measures. It would be a lesson to remember for the next time Quinton tried to come after them. He would set up another trap a thousand times more elaborate. The punk had not lived up to expectations He was a bad dude except when confronted with people who had the ability to fight back. If the jackass did not resurface in a few minutes, he would call Bill and let him know about the situation. Poor guy could use a laugh after all the drama with the court case and being forced out of his job as superintendent.