Chapter 2
Then
Victor Rado was sitting in McCauley's, an Irish pub of some ill repute. He was occupying his usual position, end of the bar farthest from the door, first stool around the corner. There was a shot glass in front of him, alongside a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. The bottle had been completely full earlier.
Tommy Dorsey was behind the bar. Yes, he was well aware that he had the same name as a bandleader from the 1940's. He had seen Rado far more often lately than he would have liked. Ever since the incident years ago when the folks he had been driving for had been killed, Rado had been in a slow, but steady, downward spiral. It was a wonder that it had not affected his physique as of yet, the man's SEAL training kept him working out and not damaging his body to a severe degree. But Rado's spirit was all but broken.
"Vic, you gotta stop this, man," Tommy said. For the millionth time. "What happened to the Coles was not your damn fault. When you going to give yourself a break, huh?"
"Tell you what, Tommy. When you tell me how to bring those folks back, when I don't hear that kid screaming anymore… then I'll give myself a break." It was a conversation the two men had at least once every other day. Living off his Navy pension, Rado had been a fixture in the pub for many years. It seemed the only places he knew anymore were McCauley's, Mighty Mike's Gym, and the small apartment in which he lived. On that day, though, everything changed.
A man walked into the pub… stumbled, really. He seemed frightened, looking behind him as he entered. He had a shock of pure white hair, but an otherwise unremarkable appearance. The man took a seat at the bar, ordered a shot of whiskey. He sat hunched over, muttering to himself. Rado and Dorsey exchanged glances, but shrugged, leaving the man to himself. McCauley's was that kind of place. Rado poured himself another shot, tossed it back.
The door opened and two men entered. They were dressed in identical black overcoats, sunglasses, and flat top, military style haircuts. Dorsey looked at Rado and mouthed the word. "Spooks?" Rado just nodded. "Good afternoon, gents, how can I help you today?" the bartender asked. The flat tops ignored him and walked over to the hunched over man and took up positions to either side of him. When they each grabbed an arm, Rado decided that he had to get involved.
Standing up, Rado walked over and confronted the flat tops. "I don't know what you two think you're doing, but you either produce some I.D. or let that man go." Rado was a large man, standing 6 feet even and weighing in at 275 solid pounds of muscle. Age and a lifetime of training had left him with a well conditioned body, and being out of practice had only diminished his skills slightly. When one of the flat tops turned, Rado tensed, ready for whatever was coming next.
"Back off." The flat top's voice was flat and monotone.
"Make me, Ah-nold."
The flat top swung a back fist at Rado, who blocked it and grabbed the man's arm, twisting it into a hammer lock and taking the flat top to the floor. The other flat top pulled a wicked looking handgun out from under his trench and leveled it at Rado. "Freeze." Same monotone, same flatness. Rado drove his elbow into the first flat top's throat and swept the second's legs out from under him in the same motion. The gun popped out of the flat top's hand and landed on the bar.
"All right hold it!" Dorsey had the handgun and aimed it at the flat tops. They got to their feet, backed off and kept their hands visible. "Vic, I got 'em. You're clear." Rado got to his feet, looking around. The flat tops' target was no longer in the bar. Marcy, the waitress, saw what Rado was looking for and pointed at the door. Rado ran for it, bursting out into the daylight. The white haired man ran out into the street, not noticing the large delivery truck bearing down upon him. Without hesitation, Rado ran into the street, knocking the man out of the truck's path. Unfortunately, he was not able to dodge the truck himself.
It hit him. Knocked him a full 20 feet before he came to rest. He did not move.
The white haired man was the first one to Rado's side. "Thank you. Allow me to make repairs." He passed his hand over Rado's still form, then got up and walked away. Rado lifted his head just in time to see the white haired man disappear in a blink of light. When the first bystanders reached the scene, they were shocked to see that Rado had no injuries at all. There was not a scratch on him.