Master of Plagues - D. B. Reynolds (superbooks4u TXT) 📗

cup of coffee awakening his senses.
The baliff held the most recent docket in his hand. “Your honor, the next case is the state of Illinois versus the Galloway Group.”
“Counsel, how does your client plead?” David looked out and asked the legal counsel.
“Your honor, lead representative with the Galloway Group pleads not guilty.”
“Counsel, please state your case.”
The lawyer representing the Galloway Group tuned his voice for clear speaking. “Your honor, my concern is to challenge the district court’s motion to indict my client for selling cigarettes to Illinois residents in violation of state laws, and for failing to report those sales in violation of federal laws.”
“Prosecution, how do you state your case?” David asked the eager attorney over at prosecution’s desk.
The prosecuting attorney sucked in long winds before he spoke. “Your honor, the court held that the defendant’s contacts with the state of Illinois were efficient to satisfy due process.”
“How does the prosecution uphold this evidence?”
“Your honor, the defendant maintained commercial websites through which customers could purchase cigarettes, calculate their shipping charges, in using bogus zip codes and account invoices.”
“And there is sufficient evidence to support this?”
“Yes, the state of Illinois claims arise out of the defendant’s contacts with organized crime figures as it has sold and shipped cigarettes to Illinois residents.”
“Has the defendant’s actions surrounding those sales triggered Illinois’s claims against it?”
“Yes, your honor.”
David looked back over at the defendant’s table. “Counsel, how do you respond to these allegations?”
“Your honor, I realize any exercised jurisdiction over my client is fair. But, my client setting up an expansive, sophisticated commercial venture online is not a crime.”
“Dealing with felony, organized crime individuals is a crime.”
“My client’s business is legitimate, and it conducts business nationwide with honest businessmen and businesswomen. Furthermore, the Galloway Group does business with forty-nine other states and ships to every state except for New York.”
“The Galloway Group purposely excluded New York from its customer pool since they knew they’d be subjected to the jurisdiction of honest merchants.”
David pounded his gavel from up on the bench. “Defending a lawsuit in the state of Illinois may prove to be a burden on the Galloway Group. Their physical business operations have a strong interest in providing a forum to resolve any disputes in the state itself. Therefore, this case is still in the early stages of litigation. There are relevant factors which weigh conclusively in the Galloway Group’s favor. This court is now adjourned.”
David pounded his gavel once again. He left the bench with his robe doing a dance of its own. Once inside his chambers, he faced mounds of paperwork. The duties of a chief judge were never finished. Several trials and jury selections in the coming weeks kept him quite busy. Instructing the juries and trial proceedings had him running from here-to-there.
Waiting for verdicts made his heart beat to its own rhythm. He reached into one of the oak cabinets and brought out a fifth of bourbon and a bottle of aspirins. Yes, his stress level rose to concerned heights. The phone inside his chambers rung.
David picked it up after swallowing down four aspirins along with a throatful of bourbon. “Yeah, this is David Nguyen.”
The court secretary squealed into the phone. “Your honor, there’s a Deputy Jim Ornstein here to see you.”
“Please, send him right in.”
David chewed a half-pack of mints before the knock sounded at his door. Deputy Ornstein had come to pay him an unexpected visit. Dropping in on him without notice sort of had him worried.
“Deputy, how are you?” David said, clobbering up Deputy Ornstein’s left hand with both of his hands.
“Fine, Judge Nguyen,” Ornstein responded, staring all around the decorated office. “See you graduated with honors from NYU Law School.”
“A little over six years ago. Those were some of the greatest years of my life.”
“Bet they were.”
“What can I do for you, Deputy?”
“West Humboldt Park is why I’m here. A whole lotta gang activity’s been going on in that neighborhood. Myself and the department don’t like it one bit.”
“What, you want me and the courts to do something about it?”
“Too many guns are getting in the hands of the wrong people. Those young people are out there dying like flies. Heck, we’ve been getting calls from people about bullets flying all through their windows and front and back doors.”
“Sure, I heard about that. They said something about gang members taking over entire neighborhoods in West Humboldt Park. Murderers is what they are, Deputy.”
“Anyway, I’ve got community activists and city council folks breathing down my neck. I think we should call a city wide meeting to help eradicate some of this street violence. Your presence at such a meeting might help. What’cha say, judge?”
“You’ve got my support.”
“Great. Say hello to the family for me.”
“Will do, deputy.”
Deputy Ornstein left the chambers and David snuck out his fifth of bourbon for another taste. Careful not to become intoxicated, he’d had his last drink for the day. David sat in his leather swivel chair and dozed off. Suddenly, the windows behind him rattled. The floor rocked like a mild earthquake. Howling winds whistled through the cracks of the door. This awoke David to full attention. The windows burst open. The funnel shape of a raging tornado invited itself inside the chambers. Yes, Major Joezer, the masterful tornado, had arrived inside the Dirksen Federal Building.
Papers flew off the polished oak desk and littered the walls and floor. Hail the size of both golfballs and basketballs crashed through the ceiling. The larger-sized hail popped him in both eyes. The smaller-sized chunks pounded into his scalp and forehead. His eyes swole up like he’d been beaten in a gang fight. Big red knots rose out of his scalp and forehead. Major Joezer’s tail lifted David off the ground and slammed him against the hard oak cabinets.
The powerful tornado’s tail snatched him around the ankles and turned him upside down. The pointed metal knobs on the cabinets stuck out far enough for King Joezer to slam David’s body into from behind. The knobs pierced him into his backside. The instant pain had him screaming and clutching himself from the rear.
David fought the turbulent forces with the little strength he had. “How’d a tornado get inside my office?”
“My master sent me in here,” Major Joezer answered back, strong winds blowing all through his mouth and ears.
“Who’s your master?”
“You know him very well.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Because of your evil infractions, my master has instructed me to plague you.”
“Plague me for what?” David asked, his puffy eyes closing tighter.
“Plague you because of your insensitivity towards others.”
“What insensitivity?”
“You must determine the answer to this riddle. My master has commissioned me to teach you a lesson that you’ll never forget.”
“You and your master can go to hell!”
“An unwise choice of words, David,” Major Joezer protested, the winds inside his tornado corridors growing stronger.
“I hate tornadoes to no bitter end. Tornadoes make me sick!”
“David, you too, will come crawling on your hands and knees to beg for the forgiveness of my master.”
“But, you still haven’t told me who your master is,” David requested, still suspended in mid-air with the damaging winds blowing out the follicles of his scalp and eyebrow hairs.
“Never mind. This plague will remind you that you hold an apologetic debt for my master.”
Major Joezer eased the power of the winds. David was dropped to the floor. The major swooped out the window and disappeared into the partly cloudy Chicago skies.
A court-appointed clerk knocked on David’s door. Uninvited, she walked into his chambers and couldn’t believe what she saw lying across the floor.
“Your honor!” the clerk cried, reaching down to help David off the floor.
He used both hands to brush his hair back and rub the knots on his forehead. “Goodness! I don’t know what happened here in my chambers.”
“Who punched you in the face, your honor?”
“I don’t know. These strange winds burst through the window and big hailstones rained from the ceiling.”
“Looks like you were in a fight or something.”
“Don’t think I’m crazy, but a tornado just ravaged my office.”
“Tornado?” the clerk repeated, now thinking the chief judge might’ve been insane in the brain. “But, there were no tornadoes anywhere near downtown Chicago, sir.”
“Believe me, this was a tornado. This one talked, too.”
“A talking tornado? As in speaking good English like you and I?”
“Yes, like you and I here talking to one another.”
“Sir, what did this tornado say?”
“Said something about its master sending it here inside my chambers to plague me.”
“Plague you? For what reasons, sir?”
“Your guess is just as good as mine’s.”
She observed the bruises across his face and on top of his head. “Would you like for me to call an ambulance?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
The clerk felt she had talked to a man who needed serious psychiatric evaluation. Tornadoes didn’t talk. David had enough liberty to figure out what really happened inside his chambers.


CHAPTER—35

CLASH OF THE PARTY CRASHERS

Megan Piccirillo-Pisano and her husband, Thomas Pisano, hosted a pool party at their lavish estate in the northwest Dallas suburb of Keller. Their children, Thomas Jr., and Melissa, were taken away by some of Thomas’ relatives visiting Dallas for the weekend. His two sisters were elated to snatch up their nephew