1 Law 4 All - Gator. Billy Angel

tail’s right arm. He walks back to Jimmy and pulls him aside. “This guy’s not going to talk. He’s connected. Besides he probably doesn’t know English. He’s Russian.”

      Jimmy steps off the Russian and notices the colored tattoos. “What do they mean?” Jimmy asks.

      “I can only identify one for sure, the bells. See the two little bells on his right shoulder. They mean he’s Russian mafia. He’s a thief who stole from a church.” Rick lectured.

      An unhappy Jimmy says, "No wonder he wouldn't talk. He's probably more afraid of his Russian boss than us."

      The Russian seizes on an escape opportunity. He gets up and runs to his car. Rick says, “Let him go. We don't have anything to charge him with. He's probably a low level errand boy. I took a picture of him for our files. And we have his fingerprints on the knife over there on the ground. He’s probably out of New York or Atlanta.” Rethinking that thought, he asserts, “I’ll bet even money that he’s out of Atlanta.”

      Jimmy smiles. “Do you want to join our Foundation’s video conference this afternoon at four pm?”

      Rick shakes his head no. “I have paperwork that needs catching up on. Have a fun video talk. Oh, let’s keep this incident to ourselves. We don’t need any ACLU jerks sticking their nose into our business.”

      Jimmy watches Rick drive off. He opens his cell phone’s mmN app. He picks the ‘serious’ icon and addresses the message to Mac and Carol. ‘Juan was right, watch your backs.’ He pressed send.

      Chapter 10

      A boyish-faced, blue-eyed Mac Streeter and an elderly statesman Ben Green were sitting at Original Joe’s bar. This tavern-eatery on San Francisco’s Union Street was Mac’s favorite hangout. He began telling Ben his Kitiona story. “One night Jimmy and I were talking baseball right here at the bar. This girl flashed by us and ran into the restaurant.”

      Ben asks, “Do you mean Kitiona?”

      Mac said, “Yes, Kitiona ran into the bar’s men’s room that very night a couple of years ago while I was peeing. That meeting hatched an adventure that led to the founding of the 1 Law 4 All Foundation. Jimmy, Juan, Carol and Kitiona were founding members of the Foundation.

      Mac hears a notification ‘bong’ from his cell phone. He opens the mmN app. “It’s from Jimmy,” he proclaims to Ben. “It says, ‘Juan was right, watch your backs’.”

      Ben was a 5’6”, 70 year old man of Irish descent. His semi-fitness only came after several years of dieting following his law career-ending heart attack. He shrugs in his frumpy manner, “What else is new? Ever since graduating from law school, your study club has been absorbed into the real world. It’s been fun and games ever since!”

      “Well, if our tough guy Jimmy sends an alert, we’d better listen,” Mac said looking around the bar.

      They finished their lunch on heightened alert. Mac asked him, “Are you joining us for the Foundation video conference this afternoon? You’re welcome to join me at my office.”

      “No, Bob wants to show me a new Nanotechnology breakthrough. He claims his buddy is experimenting with a Nano tracking device. Apparently, scientists have put dedicated Nano-particles on a patch disguised as a band-aid. Heat from the subject's arm, leg or sun generates enough micro current to send out a tracking signal from the bandage.”

      Mac smirks, "What will you guys think of next?"

      “You can fill me in later tonight. See you.” Ben stepped off the bar stool, mock-saluted Mac and strolled towards the exit. “I’ll get the next lunch,” he grinned.

      Mac paid the lunch bill. He walked to his new offices two blocks east of Joe’s in the International Legal Building. His heart beat a little quicker thinking of Kitiona’s Eurasian beauty and the wonderful month they had spent in her American Samoan home. He forgot all about checking to see if anyone was following him.

      Lurking several hundred feet behind him, a young, tattooed Russian woman matched his strides. Earlier from Brighton Beach, Hoza instructed her to watch Mac without any direct contact.

      Earlier in the day, in Washington DC, two other Foundation members Carol Finley and Kitiona Tuafa strolled along the second floor of the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City. This was Kitiona’s first visit to our nation’s capital. “We have nothing like this in American Samoa,” she marveled with wide eyes.

      Carol beamed with enthusiasm. “Wait until Mac sees you in your new wedding outfits.” They were shopping for Juan and Dom’s soon to be wedding. “We need a cocktail dress or two and shoes for those pretty Samoan feet.”

      The light hearted, Kitiona Tuafa at 5’1”, treasured her royal Samoan heritage that combined Samoan and Japanese blood lines. Her body developed into a shapely figure with long silky black hair adding to her stunning oriental beauty.

      They browsed through party dresses. Carol, with her five foot, eight inch, regularly exercised body, proclaimed “I’m jealous. They would have to paint that size 2, Adrianna Papell, Icy Lilac cocktail dress on me. It would rip at the seams if I tried it on.”

      Kitiona says, “At least the dress covers my full-back tattoo.” In fact, the imprinting of that tattoo saved her life. A U.S. Congresswoman orchestrated the fire that killed her immediate family the same night of her tattooing. Her striving for revenge fostered the formation of the ‘1 Law 4 All Foundation’.

      Carol said, “If I had your figure, I’d show off your elegant diamond-shape tattoo every time DC’s temperature hit 50 degrees or above!”

      Both their phones’ notification sounded. “It’s from Juan,” Carol noted. “I just spoke with him earlier today. I wonder what he wants now.”

      Kitiona facial expression became somber. She reads out loud, “He wants a video conference at 6pm tonight. The ‘serious’ icon means something’s up, especially considering the previous ‘watch our backs’ warning.”

      Kitiona quipped, “At least you’re not riding motorcycles this time.” She glanced into the mall’s crowd remembering the motorcycle chase across San Francisco’s Bay Bridge. A few years ago the same U.S. Congress woman hired a hitman to off her.

      Carol picked up on Kitiona’s paranoia. “This kills me but maybe we should put off shoe shopping until tomorrow. Then we’ll know what we’re up against. Let’s grab a snack at Panera’s in the mall and go back to my condo.”

      They each ate their New England, Clam Chowder and tossed salad discussing sling-back and open toe heels. Carol glanced out their booth’s window overlooking the mall’s walkway. She said to Kitiona, “Don’t be obvious but there’s a couple loitering across the way. They keep on taking sneaky peeks our way.”

      Kitiona disguised her inspecting them by holding up a fork of lettuce. “You mean the couple with the tattoos that kind of look foreign? They’re dressed like roughnecks!”

      Carol signaled yes. “Any ideas?”

      Chapter 11

      Annie called Juan from the highway north of Jacksonville. After several rings the call goes to voicemail. She voices, “Juan, call me, ASAP.”

      Juan had walked away from his cell phone to talk with Nancy. “During the video conference, please no disruptions except if it’s Dom.”

      Nancy thought about her overtime. Her Donna Paulson image would get a new blouse tonight, she thought. “No problem, Juan,” she happily chirped.

      Carol and Kitiona video linked with Juan first, five minutes before the scheduled time. Carol begins by complaining. "Are you trying to ruin Kitiona's perfectly wonderful shopping holiday? What's this, watch your back stuff? We were