Chapter Thirteen
Culdero threw his disguise into one of the trash cans in the apartment complex's large parking lot, so that he looked nothing like the fellow who had wandered to Gerard's door, picked the lock, and thrown a grenade in.
Gerard was weak. Culdero knew he was panicking, and was attempting flight. He had to be eliminated.
The fact that only one person had seen Culdero during his brief minutes in the complex assured him that although it would be considered his work, there was no proof he had killed Gerard. He had thought he'd have to sneak into the apartment, but once the door was opened, seeing Gerard in his chair looking to his side—at whom, Culdero did not know—made things much easier. A simple, well aimed toss, and the job was done. If someone else was maimed or killed, at this point, Culdero didn't care. Things were beginning to spiral a little out of control, and protecting himself, no matter who suffered as a result, was his foremost priority.
Culdero now had other plans to make. Gerard had tapped the room in Agent Maxwell's hospital room. How easy it was to penetrate a hospital. He dressed as an orderly, asked at the front desk which room Mr. Maxwell was in, and in a minute had tapped the room.
By doing that, Culdero had learned the name of Bill's friend—Ralph Hinkley. Maxwell's superior had conveniently mentioned it. Ralph and Pam Hinkley were openly listed in the phone book—Culdero now knew their address. He knew where Bill Maxwell lay, incapacitated.
He had heard rumors from contacts in Europe—those in charge of other syndicates were hearing of his actions here, and were considering him to be…a dolt. Too many bombs in a country not used to them. Too aggressive a plan to start up a full criminal empire. They did not have confidence in his ability to be successful.
This hurt Culdero as much as if someone sliced off a thumb.
He would prove them wrong. Thinking about it rationally, he realized he had been too active in Southern California. His disdain of vow-breaking Americans was too overt; he should have let those lowlifes live, as much as he saw them as worms to be crushed.
He would finish up his business here by killing the Agent and his partner; he could never allow previous targets to live. That pride of his simply could not allow it. After, he would move to New York City, where he would work more subtly, and prove his competence to all.
He still had five criminal allies, with Gerard being gone. For money, they would continue their loyalty to him. And he paid out very good money to one of them to also dress like a hospital orderly.