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See first hand how an unrelated act by a drive-by shooting robs a child of his innocense. In the darkness the assassin stands with clenched fists as the events that touched this young boy are so similar to his own story. The assassins thirst for revenge, on behave of this boy, now expands to the purpertrators of this crime.
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The Story Teller - Tony Bertot
The Story Teller - Tony Bertot
Follow the rise of a crime family and the assassin they hire to take out a crime boss.
Follow the rise of a crime family as a single action propels them to the most powerful crime family in the United States.
Witness how a crime boss becomes more and more agitated by an assassin she hires. An assassin she cannot control, knows very little about, and yet is able to infiltrate her fortress with little effort.
July 2, 1964 (San Francisco)
It was a warm July morning as Shannon Murphy spread out the blanket on the beach running alongside San Francisco Bay. The soft, gray sand stretched north to the Golden Gate Bridge and to the south for several miles. Being a weekday, there were few people on the beach. Only the soft sounds of birds in the sky and the water hitting the beach filled the air.
Shannon had just put her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Jamie, down so that she could spread out the blanket and set up her lounge chair. Unbeknownst to her, Jamie had wandered off and was now next to the bay water. As Shannon laid the blanket down, she looked up. Not seeing Jamie, she turned around. As panic started to set in, she screamed, “Jamie, where are you?” She scanned the beach and then looked toward the water. There was Jamie, alongside the crest of the water some eighty-five feet away.
“No!” Shannon screamed and began to run toward Jamie as she saw her fall forward into the water.
A second after Jamie fell in, a stranger, who happened to be jogging by, grabbed the little one and carried her toward Shannon. It all happened so fast that her mind had not caught up with her beating heart until he placed Jamie in her arms. The stranger simply smiled and continued on his way. Jamie was crying, but was all right.
Shannon looked after the stranger, wanting to say something, but it was too late; he was gone.
Shannon thought, How strange, that smile on his face. No warmth, and disquieting in a way. Warmth or no warmth, God bless him.
The six-foot, lean jogger continued on his trek. His five mile run took him from the west side of San Francisco Bay, under the Golden Gate Bridge, to Lincoln Boulevard where he parked his car. He then drove back to his house on Oceanside Drive in Daly City, where he had a spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean. Here he was known to his neighbors and in the San Francisco area as Jack Ferrari, a successful real estate broker. However, to everyone else he was known as Nick Costello.
Upon entering his two-story home, one could see a clear view of the ocean through two windows that spanned almost the entire back wall. The room was furnished with a comfortable-looking sofa and a leather recliner, and against the wall was a brick fire place. To the right was an open kitchen with a polished marble island and to the left was the master bedroom. Behind the kitchen was a stairway leading up to other bedrooms, one of which was used as an office. The entire house was kept in a very neat and orderly manner. Some might call it the ideal bachelor pad.
However, the stranger had never had a visitor, and it was the solitude and openness he enjoyed the most.
After showering, Nick made his daily scheduled calls to three of six different numbers in the United States.
The first one was a Chicago number, the second was local, and the last was in New York City. There was no response from the first two numbers. However, the New York City number had been disconnected. This served as a message for him to call his contact in New York City for a job.
Within fifteen minutes Jack was out the door on his way to Cupertino, some forty miles away. He checked into the Cypress Hotel under the name of Nick Costello from Chicago. When he got to the front door of his room, he looked around to ensure no one was watching, put on some gloves, and entered the room. He walked over to the phone and made his phone call, which lasted only two and half minutes, and then left without touching or disturbing anything else in the room.
Ten minutes later, he was on his way back to Daly City where he packed his bags and made a cursory check of the entire house, ensuring he left nothing to chance just in case he never returned. As was his custom, he called his lawyer and accountant, David Spencer, to advise him he would be leaving town for a couple of weeks, and asked him to take care of things while he was away. Before leaving for the airport, Jack went into his bedroom closet and closed the door behind him.
Switching on the light, he moved the clothes hanging on the right to the left, exposing a safe. Opening the safe, he extracted three of the sixty-five thousand dollar sum. Next, he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, removing his driver’s license, social security card, and two credit cards. Then, he reached down and picked up a shoe lying on the floor of the closet and extracted a key hidden in its heel. Removing the shelf from the safe, he revealed a lock in the back panel of the safe. Using the key, he opened it and exposed six small stacks. Each stack contained a driver’s license, a social security card, two credit cards, and a couple of passports. He placed the items he removed from his wallet on the third stack and extracted an identical number of items from the fourth stack.
The stranger had entered the closet as Jack Ferrari and exited it as Tim Goldman.