Chapter 80
The unrelenting rain from an unsuspected late spring storm pelted Mr. Dobbs’s bearded face as he ran for the shelter of The Metropolitan Museum of Art. A scattering of German and French tourists flocked together with Mr. Dobbs like wet geese inside the museum's atrium.
Obscenities in several languages were bestowed upon the local weather reporter for her inept ability to predict a large rainstorm. Mr. Dobbs chuckled at the rain soaked tourist as they wrangle out their polo shirt and wring the rain out their hair like wet dogs. Mr. Dobbs has endured much worse conditions in the rain forest of Brazil and dust storms in the Middle East while he served as a navy seal.
Streaming fragment of blinding sunlight streaked down from the god’s domain as dark clouds parted and revealed a deep blue sky. Mr. Dobbs joined the enthusiastic yet apprehensive tourist as they flocked down the museum stairs toward Fifth Avenue.
Mr. Dobbs chuckled as unsympathetic taxi drivers doused naïve tourist with a deluge of water that accumulated along Fifth Avenue. Slowly, Mr. Dobbs maneuvered between lost tourist and streets clogged with traffic as he continued his voyage up to eighty-fifth Street. Mr. Dobbs final destination was the home of Julio Vargas.
The redcap doorman at Mr. Verge’s apartment building put a nail in Mr. Dobbs’s plans to capture and torture Julio. The years of training Mr. Dobbs received as a CIA assassin taught him that there was always another way into a fortress, no matter how well guarded.
Necessity is the mother’s milk of creative, Mr. Dobbs’s Mother always told him. And she was right; Mr. Dobbs finally realized that all he needed was a disguise to gain excess into Mr. Verge’s home. The perfect disguise was right in front of him. A UPS driver just drove up in a large brown truck. Mr. Dobbs quickly, crossed the street and intercept the unsuspecting deliveryman and tossed him into the back of the truck.
Mr. Dobbs was a professional who only killed when he is either paid to do so or under extreme situations. Fortunately for the drive this was not one of those extreme predicaments. Mr. Dobbs placed the driver in a choke-hold and rendered him unconscious in two minutes. James Dobbs stripped the UPS driver then removed his own still wet clothes. The uniform was a perfect cover that would enable Mr. Dobbs to gain access to Mr. Vargas’s apartment unnoticed. Though the plan was well crafted, the size of the drive uniform wasn’t. The tight fitting shirt left little room for Mr. Dobbs large hairy chest. Though the uniform felt tight, Mr. Dobbs was still confident in his plan. Mr. Dobbs grabbed some packages and a cart and rapidly crossed 86th street.
“Deliveries are around the back,” the doorman insisted as Mr. Dobbs walked into the lobby.
Mr. Dobbs fraudulently insisted, “If I could just deliver these few package, all I need is a signature.”
“Around the back buddy; no exceptions.” Mr. Dobbs contemplated killing the doorman for forcing him to alternate his plans again. “Come on man, just give me a break.”
“You heard me,” the doorman gruff in a thick Queens Accent.
Just as Mr. Dobbs felt he was finally defeated, the chime of the elevator alerted Mr. Dobbs to his target, Julio Vargas. Mr. Dobbs’s piercing blue eyes gaze beyond the vindictive doorman to see Mr. Vargas steps out of the elevator and open his mailbox.
“Move it buddy,” the doorman demanded. Mr. Dobbs ignored the belligerent doorman as he observed Mr. Vargas close the mailbox and walk towards a back door of the lobby.
“Garage,” Mr. Dobbs whispered to himself. Without a word, Mr. Dobbs dropped the packages in front of the aerate doorman and ran towards eighty-six streets.
The gates to the garage started to close as Mr. Dobbs slipped under the metal bars and ran into the dark garage. Mr. Dobbs scrambled to the far side of the garage towards his next victim. The sparsely lit underground garage made it cumbersome for Mr. Dobbs to searched for Mr. Vargas.
The stretching tires alerted Mr. Dobbs towards his mark as a black SUV barreled toward him. In the driver’s seat was Julio Vargas. Instincts kicked in as Mr. Dobbs recoiled behind a ford Impala and threw a grenade toward his victim. The smoke and blinding light of the flash grenade burst on the windshield of the SUV. The blinded driver swerved and hit a 1969 Ford Shelby.
Mr. Vargas’s head shattered against the front windshield of his SUV. Blood trickles down Julio Vargas’s face as the Shelby’s alarm bellowed throughout the garage. The former CIA agent had to work fast. James grabbed his victim and pulled him out of the SUV. With his victim in tow, Mr. Dobbs ran toward the elevator. With some luck James Dobbs might be able to torture Mr Vegas and find his target.
Fortunately for Mr. Dobbs, the elevator and the hallway were clear as he dragged Mr. Julio Vargas, semi concourses body, into his apartment. Mr. Dobbs figured he has about ten minutes to torture Mr. Vargas with a needle full of hyoscine Pentothal.