Chapter 79
After I murdered my old friend Sam Tucker, Albert and I started our long journey back to American. Out trip thus far was quite disappointing compared to our first class flight to Paris. The exquisite handmade suits and shoes that Mr. Kandinsky and I wore in Europe were replaced with a synthetic blend of cotton. I picked out the latest in euro tourist trashy fashion. A white polo shirt, a horrible green and black plaid sport jacket, a black pair of trousers, a white hat and sneakers. My new casual style made me look like I was a tourist from a homeless shelter.
Albert picked out a tight-fitting black wool sweater and stone washed jeans that was fashionable ripped at the knees. A cheap pair of penny loafer replaced Albert’s thousand dollars Patten leather shoes. We looked like cheap American tourists visiting Euro Disney.
Our disguises for our odyssey was almost complete except for my mode of transportation. My eighty-nine thousand dollars, one of a kind wheelchair was now part of the dump in south Kent. My new wheels was a scooter, the same type of scooters that eighty-four year old grandmother used to get around the house. My new three wheel scooter made me feel uncomfortable at best, but it was the perfect disguise.
Armed with two new fake British passports and a little plastic surgery, Albert and I board a DC 10 airplane to Iceland. The three- hour flight to Reykjavik, Iceland was intolerable, but necessary. From Iceland we switched out our British passports for two Canada passports and hopped a flight from Iceland to Newfoundland. As we arrived in north America we were greet by an unsuspected late spring snowstorm that covered Newfoundland with six inches of snow.
Through my considerable connection in the human smuggling trade, I hired a smuggler named Julio Vargas to secure our transportation back to America. Mr. Kandinsky and I were joined by eight illegal immigrants on our journey back to America. Mr Vargas packed us into a secret compartment built within a converted eighteen wheel truck. We reach our final destination, New York City in twenty-four hours.
When Mr. Kandinsky and I finally reached my penthouse on park avenue, we decided to trash the Euro look and reinvest in some new elaborate clothing. I chose a dark pinstripe suit from Marc Jacobs. Albert stayed casual with a dark sport jacket, a camel hair black v neck sweater and a pair of black leather shoes.
Our next stop was New Mexico national bank in Carlsbad New Mexico, but first I had to call my spy in the FBI.
A sinister smile emerged on my face as I called my spy within the FBI named Taylor. He arranged for two fake FBI identification bags, two fake passport and a pair of train tickets to New Mexico. It was during this call that Taylor informed me that Senator Anderson was still alive. Frustration erupted in my soul as I cursed senator Anderson. Anger swirled in my mind as I ponder how I was going to kill the senator. Taylor revealed to me that Jeff Anderson hired an assassin to kill me. According to FBI records the assassin’s name was Mr. James Dobbs, a former CIA agent that work exclusively for senator Anderson as a paid assassin. I arranged for Taylor to take care of Mr. Dobbs personally.