13

When that bastard Spitzer finally called, it had been thirteen years to the 
day. For all Carl knew, it might have been thirteen years to the exact moment. 
He was just finishing an afternoon jog in the park, when a man he'd never seen 
before came up from behind, offering him a cellphone. "Sir, I think you just 
dropped this." Before Carl could protest, the man had put the phone in his 
hand and disappeared.

The phone started ringing almost immediately. Carl pressed the green button 
and raised the unit to his ear. As per their earlier agreement, which Carl was 
starting to faintly remember, only four words were said. "Tonight. Yes or no?" 
Each felt to Carl like a gallon of cold water going down his spine. He mumbled 
an affirmative and heard the line go dead. Suddenly remembering the rest of 
Spitzer's protocol, Carl deposited the phone to the nearest trash can and left 
the park.




12

Sarah Harper had left work two hours early, at two pm. She exited the office 
building housing her husband's law firm at 2.02. At 2.05, while on a crosswalk,
she was hit by a speeding taxicab. According to the coroner's report, she 
passed away before the ambulance arrived, at twelve minutes past the hour.




11

When Carl got back to his office, he closed the shades and called his 
accountant. Mr. Bryant answered the phone personally, listened for a moment 
and then said: "Are you sure, Carl? We are talking eleven million dollars here,
after all. Yes. Yes. No, not at all. Yes, Carl. Right away. All the best to 
you, too. Bye." Carl had sounded a little off, but then, you never question 
the whims of wealthy clients, Mr. Bryant had learned from his father, also an 
accountant. So, he now opened the filing cabinet closest to his desk, pulled 
out an envelope he had filed nine years earlier, opened it and started 
following the instructions for the wire transfers.




10

The cab driver's name was Ray Carnes. He claimed to have been using proper 
turn signals, although this was later disputed by independent eyewitnesses. He 
was charged with vehicular manslaughter and sentenced by a jury of his peers 
to ten months in prison.




9

Carl knew he wouldn't get any work done, so he told his assistant to block 
incoming calls from all numbers, excpet one, and barricaded himself to his 
office. And waited. And waited. He looked longingly at the bottle of 
18-year-old scotch in it's cabinet, but refused to pick it up. He'd have to 
stay sober until after his business was finished. God, thirteen years without 
a single good night's sleep....

Carl was finally roused from his thoughts by his assistant coming in. "Sir, 
there was a call from that number, but all he said was 'nine'. Does that mean 
anything to you, sir?"

"Yes, thank you. You may go." Carl looked at his clock and started counting 
down the minutes until nine pm.




8

Sarah Yvette Harper was buried in a private ceremony three days after the 
accident. Including the minister, there were only eight people present.




7

For a brief interlude-type moment, I now invite you to witness a man, whose 
real name is not Aaron Spitzer. (Nor is it Nelson Doyle, Vance Mahon, Charles 
Nash or any of the other two dozen or so alter egos he frequently used.) His 
real name is not important to this narrative, however, so we'll stick to 
Spitzer.

Spitzer is a rich man. His expensive, hand tailored suit, his immaculate hair 
and his perfect teeth all attest to that. Most people, upon seeing this, 
thought to themselves "now here's a wealthy executive if I ever saw one". They 
are right, Mr. Spitzer does hold a rather high position in a big Wall Street 
law firm. But that was only part of the truth of Mr. Spitzer. Another part was 
his association in cases like Carl Harper's.

Another part can be established by seeing how he handles the eleven million 
dollars he's just been wired. Although the services he sells are highly 
specialized and the price tag can easily be explained as that high or even 
higher, Spitzer and his associates have found ways to perform the actual 
operations far cheaper. The extra seven million, we may now witness, he is 
dividing into five separate accounts. These he will, through various channels 
first launder and then anonymously donate to The Red Cross, Amnesty 
International, The World Wildlife Fund, Oxfam and The Salvation Army.

Mr. Spitzer has no trouble sleeping at night.




6

A private eye named Duane Greer was hiding in the bushes some 300 yards from 
the main gate when Ray Carnes was released from prison. Duane took six shots 
of Ray and his family, that once developed, he delivered to his client, Mr. 
Carl Harper. The murderer smiled, as if the nightmare was over. Carl knew 
better. The nightmare would never be over, his wife would never be coming 
back. He called Spitzer to arrange a meeting.




5

Promptly at nine, a black limo picked Carl up three blocks from his office. 
Once in the limo, Spitzer continued, as if he and Carl had been talking just 
nine seconds ago, instead of nine years:

"Now then, once we get to where we're going, you'll be wearing these gloves. 
We'll give you a handgun, one that you'll know how to use. It will have three 
bullets loaded. You will have exactly five minutes, in case you want to say 
something to him. If you fail to shoot him in that time, we will kill him 
ourselves. There's no turning back now, he's already seen and heard too much. 
You got all that? Good. Just remember, five minutes."




4

Roughly a decade after his release from prison, Ray Carnes disappeared on his 
way home from work. Another four years later, he was declared legally dead. 
His body was never found, so the police had little reason to suspect foul 
play. No formal charges of any kind were made against anyone in connection 
with the disappearance.




3

After it was all done, Carl returned to the limo. He had to drink three shots 
of hard liquor fast, before being deposited to an alley besides a hotel bar. 
Spitzer's associates had planted receipts in his suit pockets from the bar and 
bribed the bartender to remember serving a man matching Carl's description. 
Creating an alibi was part of the full service deal Mr. Spitzer and his 
associates provided.

Carl spent the rest of the evening in another bar, getting even drunker.




2

Nine years ago, Carl and Mr. Spitzer had met at a very exclusive uptown 
restaurant, where Spitzer had pitched the deal to Carl.

"Here's what we do. We get you and him in the same place at the same time. Him 
with his hands tied, you with yours holding a gun. You shoot and after that we 
make him disappear. We will have to wait a long time, to make sure you're not 
a suspect. And yes, we're expensive, but I guarantee, this is the best way to 
go about revenge, if you don't want to get caught. The specifics are in this 
envelope. I suggest you read and memorize them and then burn the paper. The 
next time we meet, will be when we pick you up. Oh, and more thing. We'll 
expect your payment in two parts. 20 percent up front, the rest when we're 
ready."

"Where do I sign?"




1

In the end, Carl only needed one word and one bullet. His cry of "Bastard!" 
was all but drowned by the deafening report of the handgun as he finally, 
after thirteen years, brought justice to the killer of his wife.




0

Carl Harper, a widower of thirteen years, jumped from the balcony of his 
penthouse apartment just one week after the disapparance of Ray Carnes, 
although no law enforcement officer ever made the connection between the two.