Agent Patrick Simmons could not understand how it was possible that everything had gone to hell so quickly and catastrophically: first the murder of the shrink had been thwarted by the man in the suit, and some of his men had died, involved in the explosion of their car, then someone had sent an anonymous tip to the FBI, leading to the arrest of several other members of his criminal organization of corrupt cops, the HR. Luckily the boss was unknown, and therefore still at large, but it was obvious that it would take a lot of time to recover; Simmons also had a narrow escape, and he wanted to keep a low profile now.
Too bad, especially because their new business, the murders on commission, had started auspiciously for Simmons, though for reasons quite different from those that his friends (or accomplices?) would have expected.
The fact was that Simmons liked to see the terror in the eyes of others, while he hated those who, like the man in the suit, did not bend to its power, and the power of the organization to which he belonged; in particular, their first potential, and unfortunately later failed victim, Dr. Caroline Turing, was a person so inoffensive, nervous and frightened that he could not help to feel a desire of prevarication. So, a few weeks after the HR had received those destructive blows, he began quietly looking for her, not for the reward, but to vent on a helpless victim all the frustration for the misfortunes that had befallen. And as sometimes happens to those looking for something fiercely, research turned to obsession: Simmons wanted at any cost to find Turing and to kill her.
He had rented, unbeknownst to his family and his collaborators, a small apartment where he kept all the material on Turing, including many photos; anticipating the moment when he would have had her in his power, and picturing her begging him to let her live.
Every time he entered in those few square meters, he devoted approximately half the time to do research on the net, inquiring of all female psychologists in their thirties who had begun to run their business recently; so far he had not been successful, but Simmons continued to widen the examined territory.
The problem was that Turing had went dark, leaving no useful trace to follow: that damned man in the suit and his friends had done a good job. But Simmons was patient, and he kept trying, even if in the meantime the HR business was resumed, and so the enemies.
He had now been over a year, and this time the HR had suffered a blow from which it would never recover, since his boss, Alonzo Quinn, was finished with almost everyone in the organization. Simmons was probably the only one still free, and would remain free, since he had a good plan to leave the country, but could not leave without taking revenge on the two bastards who had dismantled the most powerful criminal organization in the history of New York City : the damned man in the jacket and Joss Carter.
And for an incredible stroke of luck he was about to succeed: holed up in a dark alley, he saw on the lit sidewalk the two very people he hated the most; quietly he began to approach them in the shadows with the gun ready to shoot.