Road to Omalos Prologue

One year earlier . . .
Miami, Florida

RETALIATION LOOMED IN the lightlessness. The golden opportunity to strike was about to be realized—a time to level the playing field, to effect redress and satisfaction. The old Sicilian proverb, Revenge is a dish best served cold, would once again play itself out. Emotional detachment was ideal for the distribution of punishment. After methodical and painstaking planning, and then waiting for the precise set of circumstances, the time had arrived to avenge a hideous wrong.

Sounds from an approaching vehicle heightened animal instincts in the four men, and they poised internally for battle. Shrubbery planted near the perimeter of the horseshoe-shaped drive provided close cover and allowed for strategic vantage points to better eyeball the target. Semi-automatic pistols being slid back into firing position interrupted the hush of the evening.

Rigid outstretched arms crisscrossed at chest level for balance, and legs stood unbending with feet positioned as far apart as necessary to enable an even distribution of weight. The moment neared to eliminate evil beyond redemption. Leather-gloved hands fiercely gripped devices capable of firing one cartridge with every pull of the trigger. As each man grasped his pair of weapons—one in his right hand, the other in his left—sweat dripped from skin pores. Like lionesses hunting in a group, the prey would soon be surrounded.

Trepidation abounded tenfold.

A sleek black extended limousine rolled into sight after inching its way along the lengthy driveway toward the elegant house situated so majestically on the private property. Just then, a powerful motion light simultaneously activated like a flash, hurling nearly blinding light outward onto the asphalt road.

The foursome, dressed completely in black, wore black hoods with holes cut out for the eyes and a larger hole for the nose and mouth. Each grasped a pair of black oxide finish, single-action .45 caliber Kimber firearms, complete with luminous tritium sights for precision shooting in low-light conditions and threaded screw-on silencers attached to the extended gun barrels, ready and able to suppress the sound of impending gunfire. Both hunters and weapons blended sufficiently into the darkness of the nighttime sky so as to go completely unnoticed.

As usual, the element of surprise would work its magic.

The car came to a full stop as it neared the garages, and the chauffeur opened the driver’s side door and exited the vehicle. He walked around to the back passenger door, gently pulled it open, and extended a hand to assist his boss. As the two began the short walk from the luxurious automobile to the mansion’s front door, the passenger stopped suddenly and unexpectedly, mid-step, hesitating for a mere split second. His guard dogs did not bark. This shocking realization produced a fleeting moment of horror as he realized what was about to happen.

In an instant, a rainstorm of cylindrical, pointed metal bullets filled the air, seemingly from all directions, pelting and penetrating the flesh of both men again and again until neither breathed the breath of life. Without skipping a beat, the shooters ejected the empty magazines, stuffed them into their pockets, and rearmed the guns.

Streams of red liquid pooled around the crumpled bodies of the victims and began to run onto the driveway. Fast and fatal, the hit was finished. The irrepressible smell of death caused one of the shooters to bend over, hold his stomach, and force back vomit.

Taking out the driver had been an unfortunate but necessary evil to ensure no witness to the crime. The passenger, the intended object of the strike, would victimize society no longer. The plan of the vigilante had been executed without a hitch.

Pistols drawn, the four quickly searched inside the limousine for other passengers, but found no one. Then, without delay, they vanished into the shadows of midnight.

One hour later, two well-dressed gentlemen boarded commercial airliners—one headed to Tennessee, another to Arizona. The third drove north toward a city on the east coast of Florida. The fourth man lit a cigar and poured a brandy at his home in Miami Beach. The following day each would return to a most respectable life and profession.