Falco the Dark Angel

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Chapter 2: ABDUCTION

The black Escalade with the black out windows was parked in the next block down from 13657 N. Monroe St., Bay City, Michigan. Brock, Knoxie, Bigsy and Courtney sat waiting patiently for their opportunity.

After several days of recon they had learned the pattern of the house. Each morning the husband, Dan, would drive the kids to school, one to nursery school and the other to a public school. Each afternoon Julie would pick them up, and bring them home. Since she always entered and exited through the garage with a roll up door they concluded it would be risky, but possible to grab her in the garage if someone ran into the garage as she drove it in.

Abducting her with the children in tow would be too complex. Dealing with kids would be a mistake. The best solution was to grab her while she was alone. Bigsy had tried to coax her into opening her front door, but she had responded through an intercom from her home office. Apparently she had a web cam watching the front door and thus probably other entrances to the house.

They did notice that she occasionally would run an errand in the middle of the day before she picked up her girls. It was decided that this was the best chance for a clean grab.

So they waited for their opportunity to appear. Every day they would show up at nine and wait until three. Then back to the motel.

They’d been at it for a solid week. They’d take turns watching Julie through binoculars.

“This might be our chance coming,” Knoxie said looking through the binoculars. “She’s getting up and moving out of the office. It’s 1pm and she leaves to get her kids at 2:30. Wait a minute. She picked up her purse. This is going down now.”

They watched and waited. Brock was breathing hard. His hard look hardened. His grip on the armrest increased.

They watched as the garage door rolled up and her Prius backed up into the street and drove forward.

“Let’s go,” Brock says. “But take it easy. Don’t get too close. Let’s find out where’s she going and try to catch her alone.”

“Roger that brother,” Knoxie said.

The Escalade pulled away from the curb and began to follow the Prius always careful to keep 2 blocks behind.

The Prius took a left turn on Center Avenue, and a right on N. Lincoln Avenue, a right on Columbus Avenue, drove all the way down to Cass Avenue, turned left and arrived at Tuthill Brothers Food Market. She pulled into the lot, parked and walked inside.

The Escalade slowly pulled into the lot and parked near Julie’s Prius.

“Bigsy. I want you to distract her. When her back’s turned, I’ll take her,” Brock said. “Knoxie. Stay in the car and get ready to go once we have her inside. Let’s go.”

Brock and Bigsy got out of the car. Bigsy stayed in the Escalade’s shadow while Brock moved over next to a dumpster and waited. The automatic door whirred open and out came a dark haired Hispanic woman with a child in the shopping cart seat. She pushed the cart over to a Chevy HHR, loaded her groceries into the back, put her boy into the back seat child-safe seat, got in and drove off.

The door whirred again and this time it was Julie pushing a cart toward the Prius. As she got close Bigsy emerged from the Escalade’s shadow and said “Excuse me Mrs. Stone, I was wondering if…”

At that point Brock came up from behind her, shoved a rag into her mouth and dropped a knapsack over her head, bear hugged her, pulling her off the ground and walked her toward the Escalade. Julie attempted to scream, but was thwarted by the gag which Brock held firmly in place. The back door opened. Brock threw her in and slammed the door shut and got into the front seat. “Drive.”

Knoxie took off. He turned right out of the parking lot

Julie pulled the gag out of her mouth, screaming hysterically and lifted the knapsack off her head but Brock slapped her hard, coming into the back seat.

“Go better for you if you calm down.” He then pulled out a pair of flex cuffs, cuffed her wrists behind her back and fastened them tight. “If you promise to be quiet I won’t put this back in,” he said threatening her with the gag. She nodded her head in agreement. He then returned to the front seat.

Courtney reached out and stroked her shoulder from the middle row. “It’s not so bad. Just calm down. There’re things we want to know. That’s all. We find out. We let you go.

The phone rings at Dan Stone’s desk. It’s 4pm. He picks it up.

“Mr. Stone. Your wife hasn’t picked up your daughter. She’s very upset. I think you need to pick her up.”

“What do you mean she hasn’t picked her up?”

“Just the way it sounds. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to keep Susan indefinitely.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just confused. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up the phone and dialed the nursery school.

“Hi this is Dan Stone. By any chance has my wife picked up Lucy?”

“No Mr. Stone. Lucy’s here in our office waiting to be picked up.”

“I’ll be right by.”

Dan grabs his briefcase and with a sense of urgency approaches his boss and tells him “I’ve got to go. My girls. My wife.” He stifled a tear.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Dan,” Norbert, his supervisor said.

“I’ve got to go.”

Dan practically ran to the elevator, reflecting on how slow the damn thing ran. When it finally reached the ground floor, he exploded out the door, into the parking deck and into his car, peeling out of the lot and off to get his girls.

Knoxie worked his way through town, finally turning left on 7th taking the bridge over the Saginaw River all the way to the cloverleaf entrance to the 75 South back to Detroit.

“Do you know who I am?” Brock asked Julie. She shook her head no.

“Maybe you remember my brother Chris. Chris Sikonalski.”

“Yes. I do. We dated about 6 months before I met my husband.”

“Do you know what happened to Chris?”

“No. He just never called again. He disappeared. What happened to him?”

“He was murdered.”

Julie gasped and held her hand up to her mouth. “I had no idea. Why are you kidnapping me?”

“I’m betting whoever did this is going to be very interested in finding you. When he finds you, we find him.”

“Why don’t you go to the police?”

“We did. The cops don’t care. I care.”

Dan Stone had his girls in their car seats in the back seat as he sped back to their home. He hit the garage door opener as he pulled into the driveway. Julie’s car was gone.

“Where’s Mommy?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t know. We’re going to try to find out.”

He got out of the car and opened the back door to help the girls get out of their car seats, brought them into the house.

“Why don’t you girls go out in the back yard and play for a while. Daddy’s going to try to find out where Mommy is.”

They looked at his face with a forlorn look, slowly turned and walked out into the back yard.

Dan pulled out his cell phone and dialed the Bay City Police Department.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring. “Bay City Police. How may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to make a missing persons report.”

“Who’s missing and how long have they been missing?”

“My wife, Julie Stone. Just a few hours ago. She was supposed to pick up our girls at school around 3pm and she never showed up. She’s just disappeared.”

“Look Mr. Stone. We can’t report anyone missing before 72 hours. We usually find that the person comes back sooner than that. Did you guys have a fight?”

“No! You’ve got to be kidding me! This is completely out of character for her! Her car is gone as well. Can I report it stolen?”

“What kind of car is it?”

“It’s a 2011 Prius. It’s white. The license plate is personalized. It’s IBLG4U.”

“I’ll put out a note to our officers to look out for a car that matches that description. In the meantime, cool you jets. She’s probably coming back soon. Anything else I can help you with?”

“I guess not, if that’s the best you can do. I’ll see if I can find any clues around here. Thank you officer.”

“Give her a chance. She’s probably on her way home now.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Goodbye Mr. Stone.”


Dan called her cell phone again and it went straight to voicemail, just like the last ten times. He was feeling really panicked. He went into her office and started looking at all the surfaces, desperate to find a clue. Seeing nothing he woke up her laptop which brought up the log in page. He typed in her password and the home page came up. He launched her browser and brought up her recent history. Mostly pretty normal stuff related to arts and entertainment. He clicked on show all history for the last 7 days and began to scroll down the list. Three nights ago there were searches for missing persons. One of them had a curious name: falco.com.

He selected the website and up it came.







He noticed the link to an email address.

He next launched her email account, typed the password and entered. He clicked on the sent folder and it opened. And there it was. Three nights ago at 2:47am there was an email to . He clicked it and Julie’s email came up.

I have a dear friend who disappeared ten years ago. I am wondering if you can help find him. Please let me know.


Julie Stone

Dan read her email and wondered. Three days ago she sends an email to a missing person specialist and now she’s missing. He wondered if there could be a connection. He went back to Falco’s home page and clicked the email link and wrote:

My name is Dan Stone. Three nights ago my wife Julie sent an email to you asking about a friend that disappeared ten years ago. Now she’s gone missing. This is a strange coincidence. Were you working on anything for her?

Dan Stone

Dan went into the kitchen to prepare a meal for the girls. Julie had made a big batch of macaroni and cheese two days ago. He pulled it out of the refrigerator and began to dish it up when his land line rang. He looked at the phone. Caller ID said UNKNOWN.

He picked it up.


“Dan Stone?”

“Yes. Who’s this?”


“How did you get this number?”

’Never mind that. How long has Julie been missing?”

“I leave at 8 and take the girls to school and then go to work. Julie picks them up at 3. So I guess any time between 8 and 3. I tried to file a missing persons report. They won’t do it until she’s been missing 72 hours.”

“The police are like that. They have rules. I don’t.”

“Can you help me find her?”


At 3:55pm the black Escalade pulled into the driveway of MADISON MANUFACTURING and parked near the entrance. Brock and Knoxie get out followed by Courtney and Bigsy.

“Come on out darlin,” Brock says, gesturing Julie up and out.

She gets up and is trapped by the second row seats. “My hands are tied behind my back. How do I get this seat out of the way?”

Brock flipped the seat release lever and it popped forward. Julie squeezed forward to the second row and out the back door, Brock grasping her arm.

“Let’s bring her upstairs.”

The group strode through the wrecked and filthy first floor machine shop and up the stairs to the third floor. They walked in. Brenda was on the couch with Mouse and Shank. Sitting across from them was Creep, Dred and Gangsta Jeff. They were passing a bong around.

“Hey Boss! Long time no see!” said Brenda.

“A little bit of recon and we brought back a prize.”

Julie looked disheveled and emotionally burned out. The group looked at her as though they knew something bad was about to happen and they were going to enjoy it.

“Let’s make a little movie,” Brock said and led the group into one of the third floor executive offices.

Raymond Chang was pissed. He couldn’t believe that all his hard work had been destroyed and stolen by that scumbag Sikonalski. He resolved to pay him back and then some.

OK. Sikonalski had spared him for his drug contacts in the Far East. He had agreed to do that. There was a business opportunity for him there, but he wanted to cut Sikonalski out of that deal and work with the higher ups in the mob.

He dialed up Jerry Jaworski. The call went to voicemail.

“Jerry. It’s Raymond. Call me. It’s important.” He hung up.

Two minutes later his phone rang. “Raymond,” he answered.

“Jerry. What up cuz?”

“You need to get over here. I got some bad shit I need to cook up and I need your help.”

“Be there in 20.”


Raymond was boiling in a pot of rage and revenge for what they had done to his friends and to him personally. And then they cut him loose like he was a harmless punk. He was going to show them how stupid they were. He dialed a number.

“This is Franklin.”

“Hey Mack. Raymond Chang. I want to organize a hit on the motherfuckers who hit us and murdered your sister. Are you in?”

Franklin Mack seethed in anger and hate. Blinded by Cindy’s suffering.

“I’m in.”

“Get over here in an hour.”

Franklin next dialed up William Mosely. Mosely had grown up with Marcus Carter and had been an important street force for their operation both in distribution and retribution.


“Bill. Raymond Chang here. I want to help organize a hit on the motherfuckers who took Marcus out. Are you in?”


“Be here in an hour.”

Raymond next dialed up Wardell Reed, street warrior and buddy of Marcus and William.


“Dell. Raymond Chang. I want to fuck up the Sikonalski gang. Are you in.”

“What do you think?”

“Be here in an hour.”

Lastly he dialed up Rick Griffith a tight partner of Brad Jensen.


“Rick. Raymond Chang here. I want to organize a hit on the Sikonalski Gang. Settle some scores. Interested?”

“More than you could possibly know.”

“Be over here in an hour.”

“See you.”

Within the hour Franklin Mack, William Mosely, Wardell Reed and Rick Griffith were gathered in the apartment of Raymond Chang. Jerry Jaworski was already there.

Raymond had laid out some blow and a bong and threw down some weed.

“What’s the plan Raymond?” said Franklin Mack. “I want to cut their balls off for what they did to Cindy.”

“I thought about it. I thought how satisfying it would be to directly assault those cocksuckers. But then I realized it would be no good.”

“What do you mean no good?” Mosely said.

“We got this deal going. Sikonalski’s bosses want my contacts in the east. I said I’d help them. I still want to burn down those motherfuckers for what they did to our friends and the money they stole. I just don’t want them to connect it to us. And they will if we do the job.”

“What do you have in mind?” Wardell Reed said.

“Spread the word on the street. There’s 25K for a hit on the Sikonalskis. Find some gang bangers with no connection to us. We’ll pay them or kill them when the job’s done.”

“I like it Raymond,” Mosely said.

“I’d still like to be there, ripping their guts out,” said Franklin.

“I know how you must feel. I was there and heard her screams. I want those fuckers as dead as you do. This is a chess game. It’s gotta be we win, they lose. You’ll have your revenge. Only it will have to be vicarious.”


“Alright. It’s agreed. Go out and recruit some animals to do a savage’s job.”

“I got just the crew in mind,” Reed said.

After putting the girls to bed after dinner, Dan Stone had his laptop open and was typing into a Microsoft Word document everything he knew about his wife, her personal history and proclivities grasping desperately to find some connection that might make sense of this nightmare when an alert tone from his Outlook account rang. He clicked on Outlook and saw the new email. It was from Wandls Higbl. He opened it. It said click on link for a surprise. He clicked and was redirected to a video file that started to load. He clicked play.

The image was pointed at the floor and a pair of shoes and slowly panned up to reveal first a barefoot woman who was gagged, her hands fastened behind her back with welts on her face and dark streaks running down her cheeks. It was Julie!

There was a man behind her with a large knife. It looked military. He was pressing it into her cheek and lowering in down to her neck. She was whimpering, tears running down her cheeks.

A voice began singing. “Oh Danny Boy, the fates are finally calling, calling you here to witness her demise.” The singing stopped.

“Danny. We have something you want. We want you. We’ll tell you when and where. No cops.” It faded to black.

He was frightened and angry and alone. He clicked to forward the email and sent it to Falco.

Wardell Reed drove his car over down East Warren Avenue and parked just outside Perrien Park and rolled down his windows.

A group of four blacks ranging in age from 13 to 23 came up on him.

“Hey Dell! Got any shit you want us to move for you?” said Venom, about 17 years old.

“Always got shit for you.” He tossed them a couple of bags of dope. “I got a business opportunity for the right crew. We need a bunch of baddass motherfuckers do a hit on some pieces of shit who ripped off some friends and cut a bitch in half. They wasted pussy man! That should never happen!”

“What do you think Little Evil?” the 23 year old known as Big Evil said to the 13 year old.

He had a hollow look to him, as though any empathy had been removed from his soul.

“I think this man’s found his crew. What’s the deal?”

’Kill these motherfuckers and you get $10,000.”

“$10,000’s chump change punk. I want $25,000.”

“$15,000. It’s as high as I can go.”

“What you think Venom?” he said to the 20 year old.

“I think the man’s lyin to you,” Shadow said.

“OK. I want $20,000 and you can go prison fuck yourself in the ass. My niggers’ll do it for you.”

“Let me make a phone call,” Reed said. He pretended to make a call. He made their demands clear and feigned to hang up.

“OK bitches. You got your deal. $20,000.”

“What’s the set up?”

“It’s an abandoned factory. MADISON MANUFACTURING. There’re some cocksuckers in there who need killing. $20K. Take four of you that’s $5K for a few minutes of work.”

’How do we know you pay us when we done?”

“C’mon? This is Dell talking here. I ever stiff you for the shit you move for me?”

“No. But this ain’t shit we moving. This be cappin motherfuckers. Don’t pay us the cash, we find you. It ain’t pretty for your ass then.”

“You do this for me, we tighter than ever. Tell you what. Here’s $2K up front. Get some more guns and ammo and call me on my cell. We’ll make a plan. We gonna conquer.”

They all fist pumped him and high fived him and walked off.

Wardell dialed Chang. “I think we got our crew.”

Dell’s cell phone chirped. He answered. “Wardell.”

“Sup Dell. It’s Big Evil. We ready.”

“OK. Bring your crew to Perrien. I’ll pick you up and take you to them.”


Dell drove over to Perrien Park, parked and waited. After about ten minutes he saw the crew walking through the park to his car.

“Get in niggers.”

“Hey! I’m a blackatino,” Venom said. “Show a little respect.”

Dell laughed. “OK. Niggatino.”

The four got in. Big Evil up front. The other three in the back. Wardell then put the car into gear and took a left on Grandy Street, a left on Ferry, and right on Russell and a left on Piquette, right under the I75 and nearly to Hastings and parked. He got out, the others following suit, and walked to the rear of the car.

“OK. Show me your weapons.”

Big Evil pulled out two .45s and laid out 4 clips. Little Evil pulled out an Uzi Sub Machine Pistol. Venom had a Magnum and Shadow had a Glock 9.

“Keep all your shit. It’s all good. But I got some other shit you may want to use.”

Dell opened the trunk and lifted the tarp that covered his contribution to the arsenal. There was a fully auto AR-15 with 3 50-round clips and an Armsel Striker Shotgun with a 12-round revolving cylinder and a box of extra shells. He tossed an extra 50 round clip and a bag of shells on the table. “Go kill these motherfuckers.”

Big Evil grabbed the shotgun. Little Evil motioned for Shadow to grab the AR-15.

“Keep the Glock. That’s your back up.” Little Evil advised.

“OK. Here’s the plan. You work your way slowly through the parking lot and gain entrance to the ground floor. Work your way upstairs and cap these motherfuckers. Any questions?”

“Just one. Where are they?” Little Evil said. The others whooped in approval.

“Great. Go get em. Kill everyone you see.”

They nodded their heads in determination and headed into the parking lot of MADISON MANUFACTURING carrying their weapons.

“Shit! We got company,” Mouse exclaimed.

Brock looked down and sneered. “Looks like these bangers are here and hot for us. Everybody grab your weapons!”

Shadow took point and walked carefully to the entrance. Venom, Big Evil and Little Evil followed suit. Venom entered the first floor and looked around. The others followed and took cover behind support pillars and the huge metal dinosaur fragments of a dead era of manufacturing.

They all took cover as they heard the upstairs horde rushing down the stairwell when they burst into the room. Dred was first into the room with the Tromix 12-gauge Semi-Auto with the spotlight blazing. He scanned the ground floor. Gangsta Jeff was next with his MAC-10. Bigsy came in with a .357 Magnum. Shank ran down the hallway to the rear stairwell and worked his way silently down.

Venom lifted the AR-15 and fired off an extended burst in their general direction. They all dove for cover behind the ruined machines and support pillars as the bullets slammed harmlessly into the wall behind them, ricocheting off the machines.

Big Evil poked his head around the machine directly in front of the entrance and Bigsy fired off a round from his magnum which ricocheted off the machine as Big Evil fell back. He quickly jumped out and fired a shell to where he thought he saw the gun being fired from. The pellets slammed into the pillar Bigsy was hiding behind and into the wall.

“Shit! He’s got a 12-gauge! Fucker came a little too close for comfort! Dred? Little help?”

Dred moved to his right with the Tromix Automatic Shotgun raised, spotlight on. He caught a glimpse of Little Evil firing his Uzi in his direction. He fired off three rounds at Little Evil who jumped behind a machine.

Big Evil exposed himself and fired at Dred. Gangsta Jeff came up with his MAC-10 from the machine to the left of the stairwell and fired off 25 rounds at Big Evil who fell to the floor, dodging the fusillade. Bigsy fired his Magnum at Big Evil. It slammed into a machine just 4 inches from his head. He crawled behind the machine.

Shadow worked his way forward and got behind a machine closer to Gangsta and Bigsy and depressed the trigger emptying the magazine at them. They dove for cover, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off the machines and pillars.

Venom worked his way to the left side of the room and saw Dred peek out from behind one of the pillars as he pulled the trigger sending a powerful cartridge toward him. The bullet slammed into the wall behind Dred’s head. Dred quickly turned toward the spot where the shot had come and squeezed off a round. Venom had already ducked behind an obstacle.

Shank had worked his way downstairs from the back of the building and made his way to the front of the building behind the gang bangers. He silently crawled behind Big Evil, rose up and knifed him in the back. Big Evil fell, coughing up blood. Next Shank worked his way over to Venom and stabbed him in the neck angling the blade toward his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground. That left just Little Evil and Shadow. Jeff moved to his right, detected movement and fired off 50 rounds out of his MAC-10 in the general direction of the movement. He slapped in another 50 round clip and ran to his right. He saw Little Evil and Shadow unprotected and fired off another 50 as they turned toward him. Before they could get a shot off, multiple rounds hit them both with punishing force. They fell from the merciless fusillade in agony, the bullets had missed their vital organs.

Shank worked his way behind them. Bigsy sought cover behind a CNC machine directly in front of them. He stood up and calmly shot Shadow in the head. As Little Evil lifted his gun toward Bigsy to return fire, Shank rushed forward and plunged his knife into Little Evil’s neck angled down toward his heart and pierced it, killing him instantly.

I looked at the video Dan Stone had forwarded me. I felt the bloodlust rise in my spirit. The unholy power I possess began to grow exponentially. In the case of Julie I don’t need a picture or a personal item. I have her face permanently imprinted into my psyche. I conjured up her visage. As for a personal item. I remembered the last time we kissed. It was at Victor’s crazy after party. She had kissed me, stuck her tongue into my mouth and I returned the favor, wrapping my tongue around hers. It was a sublime moment. One for which I would do anything to repeat. And then it happened. My spirit rushed out of my apartment and sped through the grid of the city until I came upon a building: MADISON MANUFACTURING. I saw Julie. I saw the men who held her. I knew what to do. And it couldn’t wait.

I put on my harness with the 2 spring-loaded swords. I dropped my obsidian knife into its sheath. I put on my shoulder holsters and put 2 loaded .45s into them, donned my black trench coat and shades and headed down to the parking garage.

Officer Patrick Clark was patrolling his normal route in his squad car and was making a detour through one of the abandoned parts of the manufacturing district when he witnessed what looked like gunfire coming from the first floor of the MADISON MANUFACTURING building.

He turned on his radio and got the dispatcher. “I’ve got what looks like a firefight at MADISON MANUFACTURING at the corner of Hastings and Piquette. Probable major crime scene. Request assistance.

Knoxie had opened a window on the third floor and was aiming a sniper rifle at Officer Clark.

Brock said, “Cap the cop.”

Knoxie fired a powerful round that smashed through the windshield ripping through Clark’s right shoulder, knocking him to his right and below the dashboard.

“Did you get him,” Sikonalski said.

“I don’t see him. I think he’s gone.”

Clark, seething in agony, reached for his radio. “Officer down! Officer down! Request immediate backup at MADISON MANUFACTURING building at the intersection of Hastings and Piquette.”

Kowalski drove to the Broderick Tower, the location of Falco’s Civic. People had begun to move back into the place after having been abandoned in the 1980s. He parked his car and began to walk toward the building. As he reached the entrance to the parking garage an Aston Martin Vanquish pulled up to the exit. Kowalski looked inside. It was Falco!

The Aston Martin Vanquish peeled out of the parking lot and roared as the engine opened up and achieved a remarkable rate of speed as it zoomed into the darkness.

“Who is he? Fucking Batman?” said Kowalski.

He rushed to his car, but was too late to catch up with Falco.

Still, he started his engine and peeled off in chase of where he thought Falco had gone.

His radio chirped. Officer down. MADISON MANUFACTURING. Hastings and Piquette. Major crime scene. Need Help immediately. All officers in vicinity report.

Kowalski punched down the accelerator and rushed to the scene. He knew exactly where it was and he knew he had a decent chance of being the first cop on the scene.

I sped down the boulevard, bloodlust and hate churning in my veins. I contemplated the animals that had Julie and smiled to myself as I thought about what I would do to them. God I loved driving this car. 120 mph and it felt like it had barely warmed up. One of these days I was going to see what it was really capable of.

I called Dan. He picked up on the second ring.


“Dan. I’ve got a bead on Julie. I’m going for it.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should talk to them.”

“Forget it. I know what needs to be done with them. Julie’s coming home when I’m through.”

“Are you sure?”

“Never more certain.”

This was supposed to be a pleasure vehicle. But now rushing to the rescue and retribution of Julie’s abductors I felt more anger and hate than I knew possible. And I had marinated in plenty over the years. The angry growl of the engine as it changed gears, the squealing of the tires as it changed lanes and made turns. It was as though the car was a wild, vicious beast at my beck and call. And like a good and loyal servant, no matter how predatory its nature was, it would not be happy until it delivered me to my ultimate destination.

I drove the Vanquish until I came to the place I’d seen in my vision: MADISON MANUFACTURING. Julie was in there and I was going to see that she came out alive. I skidded to a stop and got out. In my vision I had seen Julie on the third floor. That was where I was headed.

Dred, Gangsta, Bigsy and Shank bounded up the stairs and burst into the executive lobby.

“Bad guys 4, Punks zero,” Bigsy exclaimed.

“I’m proud of the little guy,” Shank said. “Capped one of those motherfuckers himself. Me on the other hand,” he said as he pulled out his bloody knife, “took care of the other three. I gotta go clean this thing off,” he said as he walked down the hall to the bathroom next to the rear stairwell.

“Nice work boys!” Brock said. “We’re gonna have to dispose of the bodies. Then there’s that cop car out there.”

I walked to the front of the building, looked up and leapt up to the third floor and shattered the floor to ceiling plate glass window and stood on the ledge looking at my next victims.

“What the fuck!” Brock yelled. “Who are…? How the hell did you do that?”

“I’m your executioner.”

“Shoot him!”

They opened fire simultaneously at the spot I had vacated. I bounced off the ceiling and ripped the throat open of a white man with dreadlocks carrying a shotgun, while extending the spring loaded sword into my right hand I cut his head off and slit the throat of a short man holding a .357 Magnum as he was turning toward me. I then flew across the room at the man with a MAC-10 as he was turning in slow motion to me as I plunged my sword through his heart and extended my left hand sword. I turned and took in the room. There was a small man and two women backing up to a door. Probably a stairwell. There was a big man, six foot five I guessed holding two smoking .45s turning toward me and a stocky man about six foot two turning at me holding a Glock 9. As they prepared to open fire at me I leapt across the room behind the women and the short man and cut them all down. I heard a trigger starting to be pulled from behind me and leapt in the air just as the shotgun blast fired. I landed behind him and ripped his throat out with my teeth. His corpse fell to the floor. I beheaded him. As the last two in the room started turning toward me I flew at the wall to my right, bounced off it and landed behind the man with the Glock 9 and severed his head. I next retracted my swords and flew at the big man who was turning once again too late to get me, and grasped him by the throat and squeezed hard, sinking my fingernails into his flesh.

“Where is she?” I demanded. My eyes aglow, the blood dripping from my teeth down my chin. He was trembling in fear. Good, I thought. No sense in prolonging the inevitable. I sank my teeth into his neck and spit out a hunk of his flesh and veins and drank deep as his heart pumped his blood down my throat as I drank my fill of this vile creature’s life.

Kowalski pulled into the lot and looked on in amazement as he saw Falco leap from the ground and into the third floor shattering the plate glass window of MADISON MANUFACTURING.

He ran into the first floor and saw the dead gang bangers and cautiously moved across the room to the stairwell on the far left and started to walk up to the third floor. He heard automatic gunfire, shotgun blasts and the reporting of .45s. He slowly opened the door and ran right into a man with a 10-inch tactical knife pressed into the throat of a blonde woman, who looked disheveled, bruised and beaten.

“Back off fucker!” Shank said.

“I’m the guy with the gun. Drop the knife.”

“I’ll cut her!”

“Then I’ll kill you for sure.” Kowalski fired a round over Shank’s head.

“I warned you!”

Suddenly there was a rush of air. Julie’s hair blew off of her face. Kowalski felt pushed back by an unseen force. Then Falco appeared suddenly behind the man with the knife, pulled the knife arm down, away from Julie’s throat and snapped the man’s arm at the elbow, Julie falling forward. As she began to turn a sword ripped through the man’s torso and quickly retracted as he fell dead to the floor. Julie collapsed, weeping in relief. Falco knelt and touched her hand. She looked into his face. “Rick? Is it really you?”

“It is and it isn’t,” He turned to Kowalski. “Thank you.”

There was another rush of air and he was gone. They heard an engine turn over and the powerful engine of the Vanquish roared accompanied by the squeal of tires as the sound of the engine began to fade and disappear into the night and police sirens grew louder as the police and ambulance approached.

I parked the Vanquish in its spot in the parking garage of the Broderick Building and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. I disabled the security and entered my apartment and locked the door behind me. I went into the bathroom and washed off my face and looked at myself in the mirror. Tonight was both a success and a disaster. Julie was safe, but she knew I was alive (well, sort of). I had underestimated Kowalski. As I was driving out of the parking garage this evening I saw him walking toward my building from my left. As I peeled out I saw him run back to his car and start to give chase. I outran him utterly. Yet he still found me. Still he did help save Julie, and he could be trusted to take care of her and return her to Dan.

This place. This perfect place I had invested so much time, effort and money in, may now be compromised. Once they complete the crime scene investigation at MADISON MANUFACTURING Kowalski will know the identity of his serial killer and where he lives. I’m going to need a couple of more places I can rotate between.

My website was still usable. But it no longer protected my real name as Julie, and now Kowalski, knew that Rick Jason was alive (sort of).

I fired off an email to my real estate agent and told him to provide me with a choice of similarly situated properties I could purchase and develop in disparate parts of the city. I also wanted to consider some rural properties. Preferably remote locations. I hit send.

Kowalski drove Julie to a hotel they used for witnesses, parked, got out and walked over to the passenger side and opened the door for her.

“Please follow me. We use this hotel for witnesses we’re trying to protect. It’s safe. You can clean up, get something to eat and rest.”

She got out, taking his hand. He shut the door and they walked through the main entrance and up to the desk.

Kowalski thought about the tearful conversation she had with her husband. He did find it curious she had called Falco, Rick. But to her husband she called him Falco.

“I’ll call you in the morning. There are some details I’d like to ask you about. Don’t worry about the charges, though. It’s all on the Detroit Police Department. Back there at MADISON MANUFACTURING you called Falco, Rick. Why’s that?”

“Ten years ago I had a relationship with a man named Rick Jason. He disappeared. Ironically I contacted Falco to find Rick Jason. Now I learn that they are one and the same.”

“Thanks Mrs. Stone.” Kowalski extended his right hand and they exchanged a warm handshake.

“No Lieutenant Kowalski. Thank you!”

“Just doing my job. See you tomorrow. He turned and walked out of the hotel lobby, got into his car and drove off.

His phone rang..


“Frank. It’s Rafer. I’m at MADISON MANUFACTURING. I think you’d better get over here. It looks like your guy’s been busy.

“OK. See you in a few.”

Detectives Rafer Johnson and Tony Rodriguez drove up to MADISON MANUFACTURING near Hastings and Piquette and parked on the street. There were five black and whites with lightbars flashing multi-colored lights in the parking lot in front of the building. There was a black and white in the street with a hole blown through the windshield. They walked up to the car and looked inside. There was blood on the passenger side seat.

“This must be the officer’s car who was shot. I hope he’s going to be OK,” Rodriguez said.

They turned and walked toward the main entrance with crime scene tape all over the entrance. They pulled their badges out and showed them to the first officer they encountered.

“Detectives Johnson and Rodriguez. What’s your name officer?”

“Officer Robert Pecota.”

“Can you tell us who’s in charge?” Rodriguez said.

“That’d be Sergeant Franklin Perez.”

Johnson and Rodriguez smiled. “We know him. It’ll be a pleasure to see him again. Do you know where he is?”

“He could be anywhere in the building. I’d start on the first floor.”

“Thanks Officer Pecota.” Johnson said as he and Rodriguez walked toward the entrance. As they neared the entrance, Perez walked out. He recognized them immediately, smiled and offered his hand in greeting.

“Detectives Johnson and Rodriguez. Here to take over again? It’s a real pleasure to see you gents.”

“The pleasure is all ours Sergeant,” Johnson said as the men exchanged handshakes.

“Care to give us a walk through?”

“With pleasure. We’ve got a boatload of stiffs. Four on the first floor and ten on the third. Follow me.”

They followed Perez into the factory level and saw four corpses strewn about. They were all black, wearing gangster garb. Their weapons lay near where they fell. One of them looked like a kid.

“The kid and two others were killed with a knife. A really big knife. I think it’s upstairs. Somebody blew this other kid’s head nearly off with a high caliber handgun.”

“Any ideas about what went down?”

“From where I sit these guys came in to do a hit and were just outclassed. These were street punks. Drug dealers probably trying to graduate to a higher level of crime. Someone probably offered them big bucks to do a hit. Didn’t even make it upstairs.

“They had some serious shit with them. Street Sweeper Shotgun, an AR-15, probably fully auto based on some of the bullet holes in the concrete at the back of the room, little kid with an Uzi. The opposition reminds me of the weaponry we saw at the home invasion. Probable MAC-10, automatic shotgun. Most of the kills up close and personal. I’d say this was a one sided gang war. Upstairs is a different story.”

“Lead us up professor,” Johnson quipped.

Perez smiled and walked toward the central stairway and up to the third floor. Johnson took out his phone and rang up Kowalski on the way upstairs. After speaking to him he hung up.

When they arrived. Johnson and Rodriguez surveyed the scene of carnage.

“Holy shit! What the hell happened here?” Rodriguez queried.

“These killings are completely different. Most of them were killed with a sword or a large knife. Some of them look like they were killed by a wild animal. A lot of them were beheaded. The big guy over here looks like he’s been drained of blood.”

“You said three of the bangers were killed with a knife. Could it be the same guy?” Johnson asked

“Totally different wounds. Those vics look like somebody plunged in one of those military tactical knives with the sawteeth to rip their guts out as it’s withdrawn. The vics up here were cut by something extremely sharp and clean. What I don’t get is these guys had a serious amount of firepower at their disposal and somebody with a sword gets the better of them? From the looks of the room they fired a lot of ordnance and hit nothing but the walls and ceiling. It’s like an army of ninjas attacked them with a pack of rabid wolves. I’ve got no clue. Looks like CSI’s going to earn their money this time.”

“You said something about a knife.”

“It’s back here. Follow me.”

They walked down the hallway and turned right to the rear stairwell and came upon Shank’s corpse. His ten inch tactical knife lay on the floor next to his body. There was a gaping wound in his chest. His right arm snapped back at the elbow.

“Somebody with amazing strength did this to his arm. “

“And then shoved a sword into his back through his heart,” Rodriguez said.

“Who’s this Kowalski you called? You said this looked like his guy’s been busy.”

“Lieutenant Frank Kowalski. He’s in SID. He’s got a serial killer case he’s working on. Bodies beheaded, drained of blood. Thing is all the vics are scumbags, like these guys.”

“Well, well. How’re you ladies doing?” Lee Taylor asked, Detroit PD’s gang expert, as he walked up to his fellow policemen.

“Better than these stiffs. Any idea who they were?” Johnson asked.

“This is the late great Sikonolski gang. The probable perpetrators of the home invasion massacre of the other night.”

“Any idea who the vics were downstairs?” Rodriguez asked.

“No idea. Just some useless punks itchin to get to the finish line before their time.

“Whoever did this did us a big favor. No lawyers. No juries. No long stays on death row. No endless appeals. Oh yeah! Saved society a boatload of cash and saved a lot of lives to boot.”

Just then Kowalski entered through the back stairwell.

“Detectives Johnson and Rodriguez. How’s it going Lee? Can you introduce me to the officer.”

“Sergeant Franklin Perez. Meet Lieutenant Frank Kowalski, SID,” Johnson said.

Kowalski and Perez shook hands.

“Pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“Pleasure is all mine Lieutenant. The detectives tell me this looks like the work of one of your perps. Tell me about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. The city’s had a series of killings going back nearly ten years. Bodies beheaded, drained of blood. The primary thing the vics have in common is they were all scumbags and had it coming. We wanted to take them all down, but this guy got there first. You told me this looks like my guy. Can you show me?”

“Sure thing,” Johnson said and ushered Kowalski back to the lobby area to view the carnage.

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