With the Sinclairs and their friends, he prayed they wouldn’t be too late to put an end to their tyranny and reign of crime.
“Let’s not waste more time.” Ivanon watched Billy with an expectant gleam in his eyes. “Since you called the meeting, I assume you concluded the contract?”
Billy’s response was to fling a set of photographs on the table that slithered to the center, spread out in a gregarious fan.
“Ah! A clean chest shot, right in the center.” Ivanon picked up a picture and stared at it with shining eyes. “Absolute perfection.”
Yale, Kezzler, and Mask Fuck, as Billy now referred to the leather mask wearing fourth party, each picked up a photo and studied it.
“When did this happen?” Kezzler asked as he studied one after the other picture. It was evident that he was looking for discrepancies and the frown dragging his brows in one line was proof that he didn’t trust Billy. Which in itself wasn’t surprising. He was a crook himself and expected everyone around him to be equally corrupt.
“This morning, which is why I’m late.” Billy gestured at the large television monitor against the wall. “The report was on the news on my way over. You should find it on CNN by now.” He shrugged. “Feel free to verify it with your contacts in the MPDC or the FBI. I believe they are involved as well.”
“What the fuck for?” Yale’s head snapped up to stare at Billy.
“I was told to ensure it was evident she was assassinated to send a message.” His gaze seared Kezzler. “Or did I misunderstand your instruction?”
“You fucking know you didn’t.” His grumbling voice sounded petulant as he shifted uncomfortably under the three men’s gazes.
“I did what was expected of me and it shouldn’t be a surprise that the FBI is now involved.” Billy allowed a grin to flash across his face. “Nor that they immediately made the connection you wanted them to.” His smile widened as Kezzler shrunk deeper into the chair. Mighty Alan Kezzler had acted on his own accord—at least to an extent and it was solidly backfiring on him. “According to the radio news report I listened to, CNN scheduled an interview with Judge Xavier Sinclair in …” He glanced at his watch and looked pointedly at the screen. “Now actually.”
Kezzler grabbed the remote and switched on the television. “What channel is CNN?” He fiddled with the remote, his eyes frantic. It was evident he needed verification to ensure he redeemed himself for the error in judgment he’d made. “Ah, there it is.”
“Good morning, I’m George Wilson for CNN,” the reporter said as he looked upward. “A horrendous act was conducted in one of the penthouse apartments of the Residence Inn Hotel in Washington DC. Taylor Banks, the attorney in the controversial property legislation against Kezzler Partners Property Developers, was killed this morning. Murdered, in cold blood. Reports from the FBI indicate that they suspect an assassination. Our sources managed to obtain a photograph of the crime scene. Unfortunately, it’s too graphic to air but can be viewed on our website. The ME wasn’t prepared to offer any details except that the bullet was one of high velocity. From further speculation, it seems the assassin took the shot from an apartment across the street.” The reporter pointed to a building slightly to the left of the hotel. “Chief judge of the Supreme Court, Xavier Sinclair, who is presiding over the case, is here to speak with us. It is rumored that Miss Bank’s murder is directly associated with the case and if that is found to be true, property mogul, Alan Kezzler, has much to explain.”
“Fuck,” Kezzler slammed his fist on the desk. “How the hell did they come to that conclusion?”
“Exactly how everyone else would, you stupid asshole,” Yale sneered. “What the fuck did you expect by having her assassinated? We wanted her out of the way, not open an entire new can of worms we do not have the time to deal with now.” He held up his hand as Kezzler started to talk. “Shut up, I need to hear this.”
“Judge Sinclair, thank you for taking the time to talk with us. How do you feel about this heinous act?”
“Any act of violence is abhorrent, murder even more so and I trust justice will prevail.”
“There is a rumor that her murder is directly associated with the trial you’re presiding over in the case between Sarah Caxton and Kezzler Partners Property Developers.”
“I do not pay attention to rumors, Mr. Wilson.”
“We also heard that she received numerous threats over the course of the trial to convince Mrs. Caxton to withdraw the charges. This shows a direct correlation between the accused party and the outcome of the trial. Will there be an extension of the ruling because of her death?”
“There is no reason to extend it. The case had been presented in full and I have all the information to make an informed ruling.”
“May I ask, Judge Sinclair, why are you presiding over this case? Our sources revealed that you took the case of your own accord. It’s not the kind of trial you normally oversee.”
“I became involved due to signs of manipulation of the legal system. That is something I won’t stand for. At the same time, I need to make it clear that my finding will be based on the facts presented to me and not with any preconceived prejudice against either party.”
“We can’t help to speculate whether Miss Bank’s death was a warning to you and how you should rule in this case.”
Kezzler clasped his hands in front of him as Judge Sinclair looked directly into the camera.
“I won’t be coerced, blackmailed, or threatened in any way or form. My decision is based on facts and will stand firm.”
“It sounds as if you’ve come to a conclusion of your finding.”
“I have. The court date for the ruling will be conveyed to the parties by the end of day.”
“Thank you for your time, Judge Sinclair.” The reporter shook his hand and he walked away. “We’re going to see if we can talk to the senior FBI agent in charge as well.”
“Switch off the damn thing.” Yale jumped up and paced in front of the room. “You totally fucked this up, Alan. If he’s made his decision, it means the court date will be soon.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Fuck!”
“It means we need to get everyone out of here and shut this place down,” Ivanon interjected.
“No, we don’t.” Kezzler leaned forward eagerly. He looked between the stoic faces in the room. He knew he had to find a way to redeem himself. “Even if Sinclair rules in Caxton’s favor, there are protocols to follow, it doesn’t just happen with a snap of a judge’s fingers. The restaurant is on the properties in contention, yes, but it’s a separate entity and registered under different ownership, therefore it can’t just be handed over or closed down. I deliberately did it that way. We might lose the land but the restaurant …” he shrugged, “I believe it’ll remain open and under our control.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t trust the American justice system, especially since Xavier Sinclair is already suspicious.” Ivanon’s fingers rapped a furious tune on the table. “How is the progress on the new access tunnels?”
“The teams have started digging but it’s a slow process. Look, Ivanon, I don’t believe it’s necessary. We’ve got time and—”