1 Law 4 All. Billy Angel

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      1 Law 4 All

      By Billy Angel

      Copyright 2012 Billy Angel,

      All rights reserved.

      Sunset Angel Productions, LLC

      Lahaina, Hawaii 96761

       www.sapllc.us

      Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

       http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1049-4

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

      Disclaimer

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All brand names and product names used in the book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders.

      Acknowledgements

      I would like to recognize my family for their contributions and considerations in helping make this book possible. Without their patience, my efforts would have been in vain.

      Prologue

      "Fire, Fire" were the cries on the streets. Flames exploded throughout the wood framed home. A sunset-red glowed above the quiet Samoan community.

      A horrified, 3am crowd, gathered around the burning home. The intense fire kept everyone at bay. Not even relatives or close friends of the Tuafa family could get closer than thirty feet.

      Questions bounced around the crowd. Anyone see Patea, Malie, Siali or Kitiona? Did anyone get out? How did this start? What can we do?

      By the time the volunteer fire fighters arrived, the home slowly smoldered as if saying, rest in peace. The smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. People's sobs and prayers whispered into the early morning haze. A feeling of hopelessness settled upon the crowd.

      As the fire fighters hosed down the house's glowing embers, two men watched from the street's shadows. They observed the crowd's reactions. They made sure that no one escaped the burning house. Confident that they had killed everyone in the house, they walked down the road to their rented car.

      They sped off, the younger man considering their night's work. He had silently crawled under the house and drilled holes in the floor of every room. He pumped pints of inflaming gel through the holes. This was to accelerate the fire from inside.

      The older man drenched the outside walls with fire gel, paying special attention to covering the doors and windows. He even poured what he had left on the motor scooter leaning against the outside wall.

      Then they both danced around the house throwing lit match books every several feet. As the house caught fire they raced into the shadows a hundred yards down the street.

      He and his partner had set a few fires in Europe. In the underworld circles they were known as the 'pyros'. They were for hire mercenaries with no baggage.

      A private, small plane was waiting for them when they arrived at the airport. "Going home in style," the younger man said.

      "This plane is only taking us to New Zealand. We have a flight from Auckland, back to Rome, cazzaro." The older man corrected him annoyed at the younger man's stupidity.

      After boarding, the older man made a call from the plane's satellite phone. When the person on the other end answered, the older man said, "Our vacation is over."

      The person on the other end knew what that meant. That was code for Patea Tuafa and his family are dead. "Good," he replied.

      The plane took off and headed east over the Pacific Ocean from American Samoa. The two men relaxed. The younger man started to size up the flight attendant. "Is she part of the package?" he asked the older man.

      "That's up to her." He had a get real tone in his voice while smiling at the flight attendant.

      Sandy, the flight attendant, was a member of the mile high club, several times over. If she wanted either one of these bozos, they were hers for the taking. But Sandy dismissed any mile high activities for now, at least with these guys.

      She walked down the aisle to them. "Would you like something to drink?"

      "Yes, vodka," one said. The other echoed, "me too."

      Sandy brought them each double vodkas on the rocks. Then, she insisted that they fasten their seat belts. "Sometimes it can get a bit bumpy up there," she said looking up for a moment.

      The pyro guys toasted, clicked glasses and knocked down their drinks. The younger man held up his glass indicating he wanted another.

      Sandy had her seat belt fastened in the jump seat. She said, "After we level off. That first one will do you fine in a few minutes."

      The plane taxed to the runway. The captain received clearance and the jet took off. The captain climbed to 5000 feet and held the plane level.

      Within several minutes the poison in the vodka drinks began taking effect. The two men thrashed around. In a few minutes more, they stopped moving and appeared frozen inside their seat belts.

      The attendant buzzed the pilot. He slowed the plane, dropped to 2000 feet. He switched to autopilot. He approached the attendant who unbuckled the two men. The bodies rolled out of their seats onto the floor. They dragged the two bodies to the back of the plane. They propped them on the cabin wall next to the exit door.

      The pilot and the attendant tethered themselves to the plane. They opened the exit door and rolled the bodies towards the open door. The vacuum produced by the open door, sucked both bodies out into the morning's blue abyss.

      The attendant closed the door. She looked at the pilot and coldly said, "fish bait."

      Chapter 1 Chances Are

      Original Joes is a San Francisco landmark restaurant. Several items on their Italian menu are imitated all over the West Coast. Tourists and locals alike frequent one of the last masculine bars in the City.

      Men are attracted to the mahogany trimmed bar area daily tended by good looking female bartenders. They keep their patrons happy every night until the 2am closing.

      Last call was like declaring the end of the night's adventure. Being famous kept the locals frequenting the joint. From night to night, they never knew what celebrity might venture into their lives.

      Mac and Jimmy frequented Joe's. Within the past year they had spotted movie stars, radio personalities and a variety of elected politicians from the very bar stools they were sitting on tonight. They scanned the bar area every few minutes in between sips of their drinks.

      They shared the second story flat in an apartment building near the corner of Jones and Ellis streets. Joes was, along with twenty or so other eating joints, within easy walking distance. One of the charms the City afforded its tenants walking access to all of life’s basic needs. There seemed to be a bar, a laundromat, mom and pop market and a drug dealer on most of the City’s corners.

      Italian food was basic need for Mac, not so much for Jimmy. Edinburgh Castle was more to Jimmy’s liking. The rustic, Ole English Pub atmosphere, and the dark, heavy flavored beer were part of Jimmy’s English-Irish heritage.

      Mac and Jimmy valued being flexible in food matters. Theirs was a relationship based on high school experiences, appreciation of openness, law