Exacting Revenge.

He wiped his nose in his sleeve as the verdict was read out. He didn't even stand. The lead juror stated what I feared was coming. The prosecutor told me that a worst case scenario was possible. I crumbled to the floor, hitting the side of my head off the wood in front of me. I bled, but a deeper darkness enveloped me. I was numb.

The next thing I remember was being lifted into an ambulance. My only remaining family member, Jessica, held my hand through muffled sobs. My twelve year old daughter was fast becoming a woman. My health suffered in the months after my wife and son had been brutally and savagely taken from us.

The stress of hospital bills, funerals and prosecuting one of the city's top officials all took their toll. That bastard, Brendan Houston, had driven home drunk and killed two members of my family. My wife, Imelda, survived on a life support machine for three weeks, but it was all in vain. My son, Jason, was killed instantly. He was six years full of innocence.

Brendan Houston was a city councillor, sitting on two of the five most lucrative executive boards in New Mexico. He was in his early fifties and was one slithery customer. He had never run for office as affairs and two failed marriages all but counted him out by top Republican brass. But he had uses and they had kept him on for more nefarious schemes. Houston was a cigar-smoking, back-slapping, scotch-drinking, plaid-sport-jacket wearing, red-cheeked asshole.

I knew I couldn't prove it, but I knew he was behind pushing my medical insurance beyond it's threshold. There were tests performed on my wife that weren't necessary, that pushed the bills beyond a certain point. I was then liable for the shortfall - money of which I couldn't spend to investigate and prosecute the bastard. I worked in the IT department of the hospital where my wife had died.

I could testify first hand that Houston was a dangerous man. Three nights before the trial started, one of his goons paid me a visit. My strength hasn't been what it used to be, and I could barely raise my wrists to defend myself. Even my bruised face in court didn't seem to make a difference to the jurors. A journalist friend told me six months later, that he suspected that two of the jurors had been bought. He had no proof of that action either.

On returning to work, I was informed that because of my ill attendance, I would have to re-apply for my old position. His influence was fast becoming a joke at this stage. But considering I was one that had suffered tremendous loss in the past year or so, my bosses threw the paperwork in the bin and reinstated me. If I had lost my job, I may have thrown in the towel. I would have had no means to pay bills, pay for school for Jessica - I owed my co-workers a huge debt of gratitude.

Almost two years had passed since then, and my level of anger toward that bastard still had not dissipated. Not only was I reminded of his sins whenever I saw his picture in the papers, but he seemed to be gaining further influence. He was now sitting on the Republican Committee for Presidential Nomination.

Now he had power outside the state. This asshole had to be stopped.

His downfall began when "on a night out with friends", he had a mild heart attack. I had heard that he was in the company of two hookers in a sleazy motel, off route I-96. And his attack wasn't mild - it near killed him.

His file actually passed over my desk as I input the list of patients up for stent, bypass and pacemaker heart surgery. I nearly fell off my chair when I saw his name.

This is where I decided I had to be the one to stop him. I had to kill Brendan Houston.

That morning's paper gave me the idea. It was the technology section of the Albuquerque Journal. I deemed it was fate's way of telling me to carry out karma.

I told no one of my plan. This would give plausible deniability for everyone if anyone suspected anything untoward. If I did this right, it would look like an accident.

I rented a flat in the city, paying cash and using an alias that only my former wife, Imelda, would figure out. It felt right to use the pseudonym, like she was playing a part. I paid in cash for three months rent upfront, including deposit. No one actually saw me come in or go out of the flat.

I purchased a small laptop, mobile phone and mobile Internet key and left it in the flat, later the following night. I placed them in a sealed plastic bag under a dingy looking bed, out of sight.

Back at work, the order was approved to process the health insurance information for Brendan Houston's new pacemaker. His slow-beating arrhythmia deemed that he needed the JP230 pacemaker.
Houston had the surgery, which went according to procedure. He was advised not to undergo any contact sports or strenuous physical activity for a period of a minimum of one month.

Once Jessica was asleep in bed, I would sneak out to my rented flat. This was where I could stop - but I didn't want to. The thrill of it excited me.

I downloaded dangerous malware software to my laptop. And then I sent it to one of the duty managers at the hospital under the guise of an email stating they had won money in a Sweepstakes competition. I then went home to sleep.

The following day my malicious email was opened. It caused chaos on our ageing internal system. Myself and another colleague were charged with fixing the problem. It was going to take some time, we explained. I accessed the one computer with all the information on installed pacemakers.

Knowing that Houston was at home recuperating from his surgery, I rang an escort agency. I sent him a present, wrapped in black silk and beige overcoat. I made sure that she told him that she was a present "from the party".

I sat outside in my car and opened my new laptop. I wore plastic gloves since opening the box. Giving them at least ten minutes to get acquainted, I watched their silhouettes dance amongst the shadows of the bedroom.

I entered the pass key for Houston's pacemaker.  I activated the short wave antenna on his pacemaker.

I didn't hesitate. I hit the enter key to "Deactivate."

I waited for three minutes until I heard the oncoming rush of ambulance siren. I drove to my flat and
dropped off the laptop. I started a slow fire and pulled the fire alarm as I exited. No one saw me enter or exit.

The next morning's front page headlines read:

"City councillor Brendan Houston has been found dead at his home in the city. Mr. Houston died from natural causes, having recently been the patient of heart surgery. He was a prominent member of the Republican Party and was recently elected onto the Committee for Presidential Nomination. According to an unconfirmed report, Mr. Houston recently had a pacemaker fitted and was undertaking strenuous activity with a friend at his home. The Police have unofficially deemed that this is a death by natural causes and that there are no suspicious elements to the case pending a full autopsy."

Now my family had closure.

A Feeling.

Madge couldn't believe her eyes. A former colleague was her new boss. The last time they had seen each other was a brief snog in the handicapped toilet - six years ago at the office Christmas party.

Her former equal had moved up the corporate ladder - Madge career hadn't. They were both on the same pay grade when they messed around. Now her new boss mingled with her co-workers, shaking hands and slapping backs.

The new boss proceeded on the rounds of the entire office, saying hello to everyone. Madge knew that her insignificant logistics corner would be last on the tour. It was a simple shake of the hand and "Nice to see you."

There seemed to be little realisation of their fumble in the dark, and if there was, her boss hid it well. However, something unexpected happened. As they shook hands, a shiver went down Madge's 39-year-old spine. Like an electric current.

As Madge stumbled back into her seat, nearly missing the chair, her boss looked back with concern.

"Are you okay?"

The simple question and mild embarrassment at her own awkwardness, could only muster a grunt in reply from Madge. Her boss looked on with soft eyes, pausing as if for effect.

"It's good to see your familiar face once again Madge."

Madge considered herself unlucky in love. She nearly got married nine years ago, but called it off at the last miinute. Something just didn't feel right.

For the rest of the day, Madge found herself staring off into space. She was always focused and achieved results, but the new boss's arrival had thrown her. During a moment of escapism, her stare wandered over to her new bosses' glass panelled office.

As Madge stared, the tiny blonde hairs on her arm stood to attention. Her palms became sweaty. She found herself biting the side of her bottom lip. The slam of a metal filing cabinet snapped her out of her daydream.

As 6pm neared, Madge got up to use the toilet before quitting time. Most of the office had already filtered home. As she sauntered down the hallway, her new bosses' door swung wide open. The new boss beckoned Madge inside. Madge straightened her skirt before entering.

"Close the door over Madge, would you? Thanks a million."

"Sure. What's up?"

"Take a seat. There's no need to be standing. Sure we're old friends. How long has it been? Five? Six years?"

"There or thereabouts. What did you want to see me about?"

"You really haven't changed one bit. I'm delighted to see you still with the company."

"Well, it does pay the bills!"

"Yes it certainly does. What I mean is, I'm glad to see you still here. We didn't part on the best of terms last time around. Let me make up for that last occasion."

"Oh! You don't waste time."

"Please don't take this the wrong way - I'm not trying to make you feel awkward here in any way. I just want to clear the air between us and eh, move on."

"Oh, okay. I would like that too."

"Good, good."

"But it is good to see a former cellmate doing well."

"Former cellmate - that's funny! Em, I'm nearly finished up here - are you?"

"Well I was just on my way to the bathroom before I head home to eat my dinner for one."

"You don't fancy a drink, do you? I've had one long day and would love to catch up with what's going on here."

"Yeah I suppose I could. But I don't know how to address you exactly. Is it boss or what do I call you?"

"It's Olive to you."

Are you Pink Fox?

Colm was having a bad day. His boss, Agatha, was on his case to finish the Clemson account before the end of the week and Colm didn't realistically seen that getting completed in time. They could have done it in time if they had the manpower in his office of two years ago. But cutbacks meant they had to make do with less, yet his bosses still wanted the same level of service and account completion.

Colm chewed on his moist chicken salad sandwich and washed it down with some bottled water. Coming to the park on his lunch break meant he could escape the humdrum life of grey walls and false partitions, for half an hour or so. It was worth the five minute walk to enjoy the sunshine and interaction with other people.

Colm sat on his usual bench watching the world go by. He often spotted fellow lunch goers on their own benches, chewing and digesting the split of the working day. It was just like any normal Wednesday.

Until she sat down beside him.

Dressed in a long beige overcoat, complete with over sized sunglasses and black hat more akin to a funeral rather than a sunny June day - she made Colm feel very self conscious with a flick of her long black hair. She turned to him and said in a clipped Russian or Eastern European accent

"Are you Pink Fox?"

Colm didn't know what to do. He wasn't wearing pink. Did he look like a fox? If anything he thought, I look more like a grey squirrel.

His inquisitive and playful brain told him to play along. He thought this could be a prank being played on him by his best mate Dessie. This had his mark all over it - especially the accent. She was good in the role. He sat upright and decided to play along.

"Maybe I am. Who are you?"

"Brown Donkey. Do you have the files?"

"Maybe I do, eh, Brown Donkey."

"Stop messing around! They could be watching us right now! We don't have much time!"

"That's very true. I have to get back to the office before they realise... that I'm not there!"

"When did you leave the office?"

"About twenty minutes ago. Do you have the money?"

"It is in here, as requested, in used non-sequential one hundred dollar bills. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, eh, Brown Donkey."

"You seem nervous - should I be?"

Colm took his time to sip some water and calm his nerves. Was this real?

He had a flash drive in his pocket with notes on the Clemson account. He pulled out the memory stick and slid it toward her, all the time looking around to see if anyone was indeed, watching them.

Brown Donkey pulled out a brown manila envelope and slid her switch toward Colm. He could see the colour of green edging out of the side of the envelope. There was a lot of green.

"Everything is on this - yes?"

"Everything I have."

"I won't be disappointed then?"

"I hope not."

Sweat pooled at the end of Colm's shirt. He didn't want to move forward to reveal how nervous he actually was. Brown Donkey walked away hurriedly, keeping her head down.

What had just happened?

Within ten seconds, Colm lay face down on the path in front of him.