Shielded from the hum of the traffic by his vehicle's impressive soundproofing as well as the CD player, Adam calmly went through a number of possible scenarios in case Laurie Montgomery fooled him and suddenly appeared, preferably alone. Of course, he would immediately step from the car with his borrowed Hotel Pierre towel and close the gap between himself and Miss Montgomery. At that point, he could not predict what would happen, as it would depend on what had transpired between the time he'd left the car and the time he got within striking distance of approximately arm's length. The variables included passersby, particularly if anyone showed any interest in his activities whatsoever. If all was copacetic, the towel would come out and he'd fire from three feet into the back of the head. He would then calmly return to the Range Rover and motor away driving directly to the Lincoln Tunnel. He had his belongings in the car, and his handlers would take care of Mr. Bramford's hotel charges. At least that's how it had happened on most of Adam's previous operations.
In the middle of his musings, Adam, who was continually aware of what was transpiring in his surroundings, noticed in his rearview mirror that the occupants of the blue van that had pulled up behind him were arguing to beat the band. What had caught his attention, besides their mouths going a mile a minute, was that each was rudely stabbing a finger at the other, interspersed with angry waves of dismissal. Since violent arguments were not common in public and because of his line of work, Adam was always sensitive to unexpected behavior. As he watched, the driver made what looked like the final wave of dismissal before opening his door. As the driver tried to climb out, the companion attempted to stop him by grabbing his arm. But it was to no avail. The driver easily shook himself free and alighted from the vehicle. The passenger responded by following suit and leaping out of the van as well.
Adam had watched this simulated silent movie in his rearview mirror, but suddenly he was aware that the driver had come alongside the Range Rover. Adam turned and stared at him. Adam did not like to be approached while on a mission. It made the possibility of recognition after the fact much more possible.
Adam noticed two things about the man. First, his extensive scarring from burns and his careful attention to his clothes, which seemed out of place in relation to the condition of the van. Adam's first thought was that the man was an Iraq veteran like himself. Adam had seen many people with similar burns during his long rehab. The driver then shocked Adam by rapping noisily against the Range Rover's window.
There were two choices: Either open the window or just drive away. Just driving away was the most rational, since the hit was now off even if Laurie were to come out, but as curious as Adam was, especially if the man was an Iraq veteran, he opened the window.
"There's no parking here, mister," Angelo snapped vehemently.
The van's passenger had joined the driver. He seemed equally angry, not at Adam but at the driver. He even ordered the driver back to the van, but the driver would have none of it.
"Did you hear me!" Angelo demanded, talking to Adam. Franco threw up his hands in disgust and returned to the van.
"Are you an Iraq vet?" Adam asked. After the totality of the experience in that nightmarish country and the long process of rehabilitation because of his leg, Adam felt a unique and immediate bonding with anyone who'd suffered similarly.
"What kind of question is that, you asshole?" Angelo hissed.
"I thought because of your burns you might have served," Adam said, controlling himself against taking offense from the man's rudeness.
"Are you making fun of me?" Angelo snarled.
"Quite the contrary. I thought you and I had something in common."
Angelo gave a short, derisive laugh. "Listen, fruitcake, I love your music, but I want you to move this trash heap of yours out of here. It's a no-parking area."
"I'm not parking at the moment, I'm standing."
"Okay, wise guy," Angelo growled. "Out of the vehicle."
Adam stared at the grotesque man ordering him out of the car. In such a confrontation, Adam had several advantages. First, he truly didn't care what happened to himself and in many ways wished he'd died with his buddies, and second, his martial arts training had been so intense, he reacted by pure reflex.
Once again Adam debated. The wise thing for everyone, including the nattily dressed apparent hoodlum and his companion, was for him to drive away, but the problem was that Adam had allowed himself to get angry, and it fused with all the anger he was actively suppressing.
Adam opened the door and slowly got out. Every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to uncoil.
Angelo stepped back. Although the blond stranger was more heavily built, Angelo felt he had the trump card. He was, as usual, packing his Walther, and he slipped his hand under the lapel of his jacket and grasped the gun. He wasn't going to shoot the man. He was just going to pistol-whip him once to get him the hell away from the area.
The nanosecond that Adam saw the direction of Angelo's hand movement, he sprang forward with lightning speed, sending a flurry of karate chops that took Angelo by complete and total surprise. The first hit his right forearm, producing an electriclike numbness to Angelo's hand, causing him to drop his weapon onto the pavement. The second and third landed on Angelo's head and the side of his neck, causing him to stumble backward but remain on his feet. The final blow was a kick to the chest that hurled him down to the wet pavement.
With equal speed, Adam snatched up Angelo's gun and quickly glanced through the van's windshield at the companion. Luckily, Franco didn't move, and for a beat he and Adam locked eyes. Adam was concerned he, too, might be armed.
Adam broke off, backed up, and quickly climbed back into the Range Rover. He started the engine, and then tossed Angelo's gun out into First Avenue where it was repeatedly run over. He then pulled from the curb and accelerated down First Avenue.
"HOLY SHIT," Arthur MacEwan cried. "Did you see that?"
"I never saw anybody move so quickly," Ted Polowski said. "It was unbelievable. And look at Angelo. He's having trouble getting up."
"There goes Franco. He's got the gun."
Arthur and Ted had followed Angelo and Franco into Manhattan, and when the two had pulled up behind the silver Range Rover and parked, Arthur and Ted had gone around the block and pulled over to the curb at a hydrant on 30th Street. From there, they had a good view of the blue van, and they settled in for what they thought might be a long wait. But it turned out not to be the case. Almost immediately, a white van pulled up behind the blue one, and Ted, who knew most of the Lucia people, recognized Richie Herns as the driver. And then it was only a few minutes later that Angelo had bounded out of his vehicle to confront the guy in the Range Rover.
Still shaking his head over what he had just witnessed, Arthur called Carlo, who, along with Brennan, was having lunch with the boss, Louie. "You'll never believe what we just saw," he said excitedly. He then went on to describe the shellacking Angelo had just suffered from a guy in a Range Rover who Angelo had tried to pick a fight with. "You would not believe how fast this guy was," Arthur continued excitedly. "Angelo didn't stand a chance. Angelo even pulled a gun, but the guy knocked it out of his hand, then threw it out into the street. I'm telling you, it was unbelievable."