Chapter 6 continues

     There, to Michael's shock and horror, he found upon the kitchen floor a man with a torn white shirt, on top of a woman, whose legs were forced, spread wide open, her arms held down at the wrists, as she kicked and screamed trying to get him out of her. The loudness of her voice concealed the sound of Michael's entrance into the little kitchen where he reached, instinctively, for a long, sharp butcher knife hanging from a magnetic strip along the wall to his right. With the quickness and precision of a surgeon Michael came up behind the rapist as his victim grew silent, in those brief seconds, as she watched wide eyed as the stranger took his left hand, grabbing a hank of her attackers hair, pulling his head back with great strength and force, Michael took the long knife in his right hand and instantly made a deep penetrating slice into the carotid artery, just behind the rapists left ear, and in a profound display of naked, brutal, ruthless power Michael constrained the knife deeply, painfully across, and into, the doomed man's throat, as hot, sticky blood spewed out from the long, thin crimson gash, his victim closed her eyes to the horror and gore feeling the warm, vile liquid, drip down over her face, lips, throat and bare breasts, as she felt the unknown attacker go limp with a hideous gurgling sound as he collapsed on top of her. Screaming, with her eyes closed tightly shut, the violated woman scurried back trying to get away, kicking with her legs to free herself from the blood soaked corpse.
      Michael threw the bloodstained knife down, where it slid, hidden, under on of the long metal prep tables, as he reached down pulling the corpse off of the terrified woman who had crawled to the back of the kitchen by the brick wall, where she curled up into little ball, trembling like a frightened rabbit, her hair, face and body drenched with the blood of a criminal. Michael walked slowly over towards her, his hands with open palms, a calmness and kindness in his eyes, saying in English, "It's okay, lady, he can't hurt you now." his voice sounding comforting to her, even though his heart was about to explode from the energy and excitement of what had just happened. Michael did not pause to stop and think about what he had just done, all he knew was he had to help this poor woman, who gazed at him with absolute terror in her black eyes; which peered up through a red mask of bloody death.
     Felina Sarafina de la Rosa Diaz sat there on the cold tile floor shivering uncontrollably as she opened her eyes staring out in shock and macabre wonder at the handsome, tall, blue-eyed stranger who had just saved her life. Felina's eyes gazed over at her assailant who had collapsed in a dead heap, the blood and life pooling from his body by the kitchen door all over the floor. Felina had no words, she could not speak, but she gave such a dreadful, disgusted look down at her half naked body, saturated in the blood of a criminal, Felina's handsome savior took great pity on her so he bent down and lifted her up off the floor, bringing her over to the dish washing sink.
     She was a  little wisp woman, an attractive full bosomed female, in her mid thirties, who could not be more than five feet tall, and she was as light as an armful of feathers. Michael knew the importance of washing the blood off her body as quickly as possible, to prevent any contamination, so he sat her on the edge of the deep steel sink and taking the nozzle, normally used to rinse dishes, Michael sprayed her down with the warm cleansing soap and water as she shook nervously as she used her hands to cup the water over her face, rinsing out any blood that may have dripped into her eyes. She said nothing as the stranger quickly helped to clean her up, he unbuckled the straps of her now ruined snakeskin, high heel shoes; which Michael tossed in the trash bin then he reached down washing off her bloodstained feet. Next he washed off the blood from his hands and forearms, Michael thought how unlike this was to a scrub sink in the operating room, then he could suddenly smell the blood, a fetid metallic odor he remembered from his days in surgery. With a regretful sigh, he went to find some clean bar towels to dry her body and cover her up with,this is when Felina took the nozzle of the long hose as she removed her tattered, torn skirt and used the warm water to rinse out the blood and semen from her body as she controlled her overwhelming urge to vomit as her body grew cold and every fiber of her being was as tense as wire.
     Michael turned and noticed her doing this, but said nothing as he realized the horror and significance of a woman who had been raped, that she had been violated INSIDE of her own body, that must be a very difficult memory to hold, and Michael went over to her with great sympathy and condolences in his expression as he tenderly wrapped her up in a few table cloths he had found in the linen closet. Felina took one of the tablecloths wrapping it around her long black mass of wet hair and she looked like a little shepherd girl who had lost her flock in a rainstorm. Felina gazed up at the handsome, blue-eyed American and with tears welling up in her expressive dark eyes she said to him in Spanish "Tenemos que llamar a la Policia."
     Now Michael was not fluent in Espanol, but he knew what Policia meant, then a terror, greater than killing a human being, on purpose, was being identified by the Argentine Police, whom Michael was sure would notify the F.B.I. and Michael could not let this happen. His eyes grew wide in fear and he turned to leave, shaking his head saying "I'm sorry, I can't let the police find me here!"
     "Wait! You can't just leave me here!" Felina pleaded to him in his native tongue. "I don't even know your name." she began to weep and moan, the weight of this terrible night, the defilement of her precious body, the blood and the horror. "Where are you going to now? Your tee shirt and jeans are splattered with blood!" Felina began crying and wailing like a wounded animal and with every tear drop she shed Michael's heart melted like wax over a flame and he turned back to her saying "Shh, everything is going to be okay."

Chapter 6 begins

     So it was Michael, along with the other travel weary passengers, touched down safely at the Ezeiza airport about a forty minute ride outside of downtown Buenos Aires. Michael was relieved and glad to be starting is life anew, as he exited the plane smiling at the wonderful staff who had taken care of him Michael said to himself 'Phase #2 complete'. All he need do now is get out of the terminal and hire an awaiting taxi. Of this Michael had no trouble as he breezed through customs and made his way down the escalator outside, where to his surprise he found it was a muggy 87 degrees, and sweltering. Michael quickly took off his long leather coat along with his cold weather accoutrement, for in leaving the frigid, bitter, North American Winter, here South of the Equator it was the middle of Summer. Of all his plans of emigrating to Argentina Michael had not factored in the weather and so he was most inappropriately dressed. Michael unbuttoned his suit jacket as he climbed into the back of a blissfully chilled taxi which had air conditioning.
    "Donde, Senor?" the old Argentine driver asked.
     Michael had been practicing a few phrases in Espanol on the plane, so he said confidently "Me llevara al Wilton hotel, por favor, Avenida da Calla." with a nod of is head the driver pulled away from the curb for the long drive north back to the city. This gave Michael a chance to take off his jacket and tie of which he crammed, along with his long coat into his carry on suitcase; which Michael would not let out of his sight. Trying to relax with an overwhelming excitement Michael watched as the sun set over the dark forests of cypress and pine trees, as the driver had a local radio station on, playing regional music that sounded a bit like country and western music, with a flamenco, folksy flair. The rhythms of the guitars help put Michael in a restful state of mind, and with a few longing, lingering thoughts of his hometown, Chicago, Michael was soon at a loss for words when they pulled up outside the city on the main highway. The city of Buenos Aires looked like Paris, or Vienna, among the newly fashioned, ultramodern sky scrapers in the massive city, there beside the vast and dark southern arm of the Atlantic Ocean, the centuries old buildings of European design were made of pink limestone and granite and were lit up by the fading sun in glowing coral and amethyst hues. Michael wondered what went on behind the giant carved wooden doors and wrought iron gates of some of the old palaces and homes of the former aristocracy of generations before. Michael had the overwhelming sense that the walls within the structures of this city, Buenos Aires, had many secrets to hide. Yet Michael had no idea whatsoever how right he could be. This city, in a strange way, reminded Michael of Chicago, in that it was a vast metropolitan area, with wooded parks and green spaces, with magnificent architecture, there beside a vast body of water, with a river running in an S, like snake, through the city, the Reachuelo, or 'Little River', this all helped to make Michael feel a bit less homesick, as this age old city seemed somehow familiar to him.
     His driver drove Michael through the Plaza de la Republica, a sort of Piccadilly Square, where a massive obelisk nearly 220 feet tall, a smaller version of the Washington Monument, stood in the center of the plaza turnabout surrounded by theaters, neon signs, night clubs, and bars. His driver explained the obelisk was erected in 1936, and some other facts Michael did not catch as the driver spoke too quickly for Michael to decipher. As the light of the new day faded into night Michael soon found himself being driven through the Ricoletta District down the Avenida Callao past embassies, museums, art galleries, boutiques and the old French Style mansions; which surrounded his hotel, a welcoming sight for sore eyes and aching back. Michael gathered up his suitcase, paid his driver, he only wanted to lie down, in a comfortable bed, for he had been seated for almost fourteen hours and it was almost 9 o'clock as Michael checked into his five star, opulent hotel. He was greeted by the nice man at the desk, who spoke to him English when he realized his hotel guest was having trouble with the Spanish language. Michael was relieved when the desk manager explained, the 'Portenos', as the Argentines called themselves, were very knowledgeable in several languages, Italian, German, English, etc.. So he spoke to him English as Michael went ahead and paid the $1,200 in cash for his seven day stay, for Michael wanted to live it up for a week before he settled down somewhere else, in the city.
     "I am very hungry and tired!" Michael said as he received his room key.
     "If you would like dinner, after you freshen up from your long journey, the kitchen closes in one hour."
     "Muchos Gracias." Michael said thinking he could take a quick shower and get a quick nap, then head back down to the restaurant for a late meal. However, when he laid down on the king size bed, after a long hot relaxing shower, Michael curled up under the soft silk sheets and closed his eyes for what was supposed to be twenty minute nap. Instead he woke up at 9:55 so he rushed to get dressed, throwing on a comfortable pair of jeans and a white v-neck, soft cotton, tee shirt and his Nike's, Michael hurried down the hall, taking the elevator back down to the lobby where he found the restaurant had closed and locked it's doors. With a sigh of distress he went to the concierge desk who informed him, this being a Tuesday, many of the shops and restaurants close early, as it is only Wednesdays, Thursdays, Friday's, and Saturday's when the city stays open until four a.m. Sunday through Tuesday is time to rest from all the drinking and tangoing. However the kind man did recommend Michael try a little authentic English Pub around the corner called, the Cock and Bull. So with a ravenous belly to contend with Michael left the hotel and wandered down to the old English style 'public house', where a sign hung out front; which had a painting of a red rooster sitting on the back of a black bull. Hoping for a sandwich or some fish and chips, Michael entered the bar. All was dark and quiet not a soul to be seen, no customers, no bartenders, no hostess, nor waitresses, nothing. They must have closed and forgot to lock up, he thought. Now suddenly as he turned to leave Michael heard a loud commotion coming from back in the kitchen, to his left. It sounded like a scuffle, heavy metal tables being dragged across the tile floor, then the sound of a struggle, when suddenly Michael heard a woman scream loudly, in a frightened, desperate tone, shouting in Spanish at her attacker. Michael felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as an icy wave coursed through his veins, quickly he turned, running back into the kitchen to offer his assistance to the woman who was screaming at the top of her lungs. Michael did not know what he would find when he threw open the kitchen door, but he had an overwhelming urge to see what the fuck was going on. So he summoned up the courage of a lion and went to see who needed his help.

     

End Chapter 5

     Michael slept all day long, arising around seven o'clock in the evening there in the little motel by the highway and the Waffle House. He took a long hot shower, still full from his enormous breakfast he laid back down on the bed watching some sitcoms on NBC. Michael fell asleep just before the local news, but not before he set the bedside alarm clock to wake him at 2:00 a.m.. Michael had slept for a good 16 hours over the past 24 hours and he felt rested but restless. Phase #2  had begun and he hurried to dress and ready himself, back in the same suit for his flight to South America. Michael secured his belongings as he waited for the taxi he had summoned. Michael switched off the light in the little motel room there in North Texas saying "Phase one, complete."
      Now the city of Irving is right next to the massive DFW International airport and Michael found himself at his terminal in only about twenty minutes. It was 4:15 a.m. just about two hours from his scheduled take off. Michael paid his driver and walked in to the building for a speedy check-in, where he showed his passport and paid for his ticket, then Michael went through security, where he was made to open up his carry on suitcase, just as the security team at O'Hare had made him do. So he, as in Chicago, showed the receipts for his small fortune in time pieces, explaining/lying he was a jeweler on a his way to deliver this shipment of watches personally. Being that he was well dressed, good looking and charming, his story/lie was effectual and most plausible. Two of the three members of the security staff were women so Michael was able to breeze through with a flashing smile and a little wink of his eye. All was going well for Dr. Cullen who would soon be on his way, he had secured his boarding pass, with one and a half hours left before departure. Michael did not think about this being his last time in America, his native land, nor did he stop to think about Chicago, or the trial, or his lawyer, nor did he even give thought to his partner in crime, Azir. No, Michael kept these thoughts away with visions of the furture and what might happen the next day when he would awake in a foreign land, where he had never been and knew no one. Michael recalled a short story he had read sometime ago, by Isak Dinesen called 'The Dreamers'; in which three men had been on a long, separate, desperate search, for the same woman, whom had broken all of their hearts in some terrible form and fashion. To one man she had been a beautiful prostitute in Rome, to another she was a rebel rallying, milliner from Lucerne, and to the other an angelic, devout pious young virgin in Madrid. She was in fact a wealthy woman, a world renowned young opera singer, traveling in different guises, creating a new life for herself, only always fleeing when she thought someone was too close to knowing her true indentity. So Michael thought he would be like Rosabella, making a new life, a new identity of his own design, he could be this jeweler from the United States. Michael had a rare opportunity not many people could afford, and that was to become another man, living a different life. Perhaps he would buy a little farm and take a wife. Of this Michael thought upon as a distraction from the reality and gravity of what he was about to do. For in fleeing the country he was about to be committing another felony; which if he was ever caught and brought back to justice, would add at least five more years to his prison sentence. Guilty. That is what the verdict would be, Michael knew it, his lawyer knew it , and the district attorneys and the federal prosecutors knew it.
    Michael grew anxious his heart racing a bit faster as the minutes approached to board the jumbo jet, it was the biggest plane Michael had ever seen as it sat parked down the jet way. Security came through again asking the typical pre-boarding questions 'did you pack your carry on yourself, are you bringing anything into the country for someone else, has your carry on been in your sight the entire time since you have been in the terminal, etc... Michael showed his passport opened up his luggage again and was relieved when the security agent moved on to the other passengers. Michael waited for the boarding announcement which soon followed as he presented his boarding pass and strolled down the jet way to the waiting aircraft and her bright eyed staff. Michael's fear of flying made him sweat and shake a little, the sound of the plane, the happy people speaking in Spanish, excited to get back to their home country. Michael had knots in his stomach and now he wished he had not drank so much coffee. Michael found his first class seat, next to the window and emergency exit, where he settled down for the 11 hour and 9 minute flight. He did his best to remain calm for the fifteen minutes or so, as all the passengers crowded into the fully booked morning flight to Buenos Aires. The attractive airline stewardess went through the pre-flight routine speaking only in Spanish, which Michael thought was strange as he had never traveled abroad so he asked  his stewardess, who explained they do this to welcome home their countrymen and to acclimate those who are unfamiliar with the language. Michael relaxed a bit before take-off with a glass of champagne, extremely happy he had paid extra to sit in the luxury of first class, something he had also never done before. His wide leather seat was comfortable and he had more than enough room to stretch out his 6ft. 1in. frame. He was surrounded by rich, well dressed, Latin men and women with gold and diamond rings and necklaces with small crucifix's, and medallions of their favored patron saint. All were showing warm, friendly smiles, partaking in polite conversation with one another, they all were relaxed having no fear of the plane crashing into the earth or disappearing in the Atlantic ocean. However Michael still had this nagging feeling in his mind, but as the jet plane roared down the runway, engines screaming, Michael and the 207 souls on board gently, and safely, lifted up off the ground, soaring up into ever brightening sky as the sun peeked up over the horizon bringing in a new day and Michael was on his way, traveling into the unknown, not possibly knowing what awaited. Yet if Michael Cullen could have seen into the future he would have never left the United States.

Chapter 5 continues

     Take-off and landing, Michael knew this was when the majority of planes crashes occurred. He stared out the small window from his seat over the wing feeling the rush of speed as the engines thrust at full throttle, the jet screamed down the runway, then swiftly the giant metal/mechanical bird gently lifted up off the ground. Michael gripped the armrests with white knuckles, is heart racing, as he felt the airplane become weightless as it soared up ever higher in to the overcast, grey skies. Michael stared down looking one last time at his beloved city, and this moment would prove to be a painful stab at his heart for the rest of his life, for the Fates were determined to make sure he never would return to the 'city in a garden', Chicago, and as he took one last look at the land, the woods, the schools, highways, lakes, houses and buildings, somewhere deep inside of what remained of his soul, Michael knew he would never come home again. However, his need to be free exceeded all reason, so he fled. Michael would do everything to leave America, along with a lifetime of memories, all of his friends, his home, his hopes, his dreams, and his favorite team, the Chicago Bulls, all he would sadly leave to start a new life in a different land. And Michael knew not what fresh hell would await him in Buenos Aires, but he would do anything to get away from spending the next ten years in a prison cell.
     The plane disappeared into the thick layer of clouds; which had obscured the sunrise, Michael sat in awe as they broke through the grey clouds where, up above, the brilliant shining sun blazed across the heavens reflecting pale pinks and amethyst on the white blanket of billowing clouds. The bright blue sky stretching on forever across the horizon where Michael observed the curvature of the earth, staring out at the spectacular display of nature Michael felt himself breathing a little easier, relaxing his 'death grip' from his seat as a gentle, deep, abiding peace filled his mind and body. All his thoughts and plans for the future, or memories from his trouble past, were non existent at this moment. Michael sat back gazing out the window, completely relaxed, he felt the numbing fingers of the whiskey, he had been given by the stewardess, creeping through his veins.
     "Sir." the green eyed stewardess nudged Michael, who had nodded off shortly after take off. "We need you to buckle up, we are about to land." she smiled cheerfully assisting him with the procedure giving him a little playful wink.
     "We're in Texas?" Michael asked puzzled for he thought he had just closed his eyes, if but for a brief moment.
     "Yes sir, Love Field, Dallas." she laughed a little saying "You were out like a light, you must not have slept very much last night." she said absolutely correct in her assumption "But it has been a pleasure to have you on my flight, I told you, you would be safe on board! You have a nice stay, here in Big D!"
     Michael sat up straight still amazed he had been dead asleep for the last three hours. Now when it came time to land and touchdown back on Terra Firma, the peace and ease of his mind, body and soul, departed from him like smoke in the wind, every fiber of his being became as tense as wire, a short sharp pain twisted up in his spine again, and he began to take in quick breaths as the plane roared down from the sky towards the runway, of the tiny airport built in the middle of an, ever growing, metropolitan city. Michael was sure they would drop out of the heavens and crash down onto one the many homes on Mockingbird Lane. However his panic and understandable trepidation was clearly unfounded as the captain brought the silver bird gently down to a safe and secure landing as the plane came back to Earth again.
      Now, our Michael was not a religious man and he had lost his connection with God many years ago, but this fact did not deter Mr. Michael Cullen from offering up a silent prayer of thanks to his Lord. The jet taxied up to the terminal and in a few minutes the passengers were all happily at the gate, taking their turn deplaning, as everyone was cheerfully thanked by the flight attendants along with the captain and her co-pilot.
     Relieved and happy back to be safely on the ground, Michael wheeled his carry on luggage out of the airport and out to the waiting line of taxi's, whereupon Michael took a short ride to a small, inexpensive, motel off of highway 183 in Irving. Michael checked into his room and settled down. Even though this was Texas, it was the middle of winter and it was cold! No snow or gale force winds off Lake Michigan, but it was cold and depressing just the same. So Michael cranked up the heating unit built into the window as he looked at his watch it was still only 10 o'clock in the morning and he, being very hungry, decided to go over and get some breakfast at the Waffle House, located in the parking lot of the motel. Michael changed out of his tailored suit and into a pair of comfortable jeans and a long sleeve, cable-knit sweater and a pair of Nike's, to get more comfortable now he made it to the Lone Star State. Michael breathed a sigh of relief knowing phase #1of his plan was complete, and phase #2 would begin tomorrow morning. So Michael hid his suitcase, full of expensive watches and the ten grand in cash under the bed. Michael switched on the television, turning up the volume, before he walked over to the southern restaurant, where he took a table facing the window, so Michael could keep an eye on the door to his room. What was served up to him that cold morning in Texas, by a sweet, rather large country girl, was a nice warm stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and maple syrup, a side of extra crisp pepper bacon, a thick and cheesy Denver omelet, a pile of greasy hash browns 'smothered and covered' and the best sausage gravy and biscuits Michael had ever tasted, all washed down with three cold glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice, followed by a cup of hot chocolate with extra whip cream and a dash of cinnamon.
     By the time he paid the check, Michael was so bloated from the food he had gorged himself upon, his jeans were not as loose fitting as when he first sat down, so he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. Walking slowly Michael fell back to his room, where collapsed on the bed, curling up under the covers still fully clothed, his shoes kicked off at the door. Michael drifted off to sleep in a food-coma-stupor, with the radio on tuned to a local alternative music station, as a song called Jeremy, by a band called Pearl Jam, softly played. Here Michael felt safe for the moment, so far away from the district attorney, and the criminal prosecutor in his case, but they were all completely unaware Dr.Cullen had fled the state. His court date was not until next week, no one knew he had left Illinois, no one knew he would flee the United States, and her jurisdiction. With all this on his mind Michael was able to get some rest knowing all he had to do was hide out until 6:30 in the a.m. until tomorrow and then his freedom would be just one short cab ride, and a long flight to Argentina, away.

Chapter 5 begins

     Warm and safe in his car, Michael drove down Lake Shore Drive, past the old Drake Hotel for the very last time, a flood of memories filling his mind as he went through the bitter cold night with very few drivers out on that early Thursday morning. Michael was a mix of emotions, he was anxious, excited, nervous and nauseous, and he just wanted this day to be over with. Michael tried to focus on his breathing, taking in deep calming breaths, as he drove west down the Kennedy Expressway. Now, when a patrol car pulled up behind him, Michael thought his heart would explode but the officers paid little attention to the red BMW and its driver, Michael was able to breathe a sigh of relief as he finally made it to O'Hare International Airport. Michael parked his car in the International parking lot as he retrieved his carry-on suitcase from the back seat then he tossed the keys to his prized automobile on the dashboard, and closed the unlocked door. Michael knew what he had to do, and that was to flee, but this fact did not make the act of doing so any less bearable. As he bundled up against the cold, frigid, Winter air Michael made his way to the terminal in the early hours of that dark January day. He was very relieved to be in the warmth of the building as he checked in and went through security, who did open up his suitcase and ask for receipts for the all the expensive watches to prove they were not stolen. Michael was extremely on edge but he appeared calm, cool and collected and was soon sent on his way to his gate with no further delay.
     Michael walked hurriedly, like a man with a purpose, as he tried to calm his thoughts and anxious breath as he waited in line for his boarding pass. Two women, in their fifties, stood in front of him, one was wearing Shalimar parfum; which Michael instantly recognized the scent, as this was the familiar smell of his mother's favorite perfume. Michael took in deep long breaths, his mind filled with somber thoughts, longing for the warmth and touch of his dearly departed mother. It was no more than five or ten minutes to get his boarding pass and have a seat at the long row of chairs, where Michael found himself sitting close to the older woman, just so he could be reminded of his loving mother's presence for a moment longer. So he lingered and waited for the boarding announcement and in doing so, Michael caught the eye of a small group of young, good looking women who began to look his way with silly grins upon their faces as they whispered about him to each other. Michael became very self conscious and he was terribly worried they had recognized his face from the newspapers or the report on WGN. He was just about to get up and go to the restroom when one of the young ladies came over with a devilish smile as she said to Michael "I remember you."
     "Is that a fact." he said quietly.
     "You were in that movie." she said her bright blue eyes filled with excitement. "Thelma and Louise."
     "No." Michael said with a laugh of relief.
     "Well you look just like that actor.., Brad Pitt."
      "No, I can assure you I am not an actor."
      "Well is he your brother? Because the resemblance is astonishing.., though you look a bit older." the stranger said flirting with Michael as her friends, who looked like SMU cheerleaders, all smiled and waved at him, giving little winks and blowing him kisses.
     Michael assured her he was an only child, and he was, in fact, flattered by the conversation and this helped distract his troubled mind from the terror of getting on the plane. The young woman continued asking Michael if he was going to Dallas for business or pleasure. He told her business. She asked what hotel he was staying at. He lied and said he was staying with a friend.
     "A Girlfriend?" she asked still in full flirtation mode.
     Michael did not want to answer anymore questions, even though she was young, attractive and charming she was quickly becoming annoying, so he lied to her further, saying. "No, not a girlfriend." her eyes beamed with the joy of this news then he broke her little heart when he added  "My fiancee."
     A short disappointed paused was followed by the disheartened young woman saying "Well, congratulations, she's a very lucky woman, have a nice flight to Texas, I hope you enjoy your stay." with that she went back to her group of friends, who quickly lost interest in Michael when they learned he was not who they thought he was. So he boarded the jet settling down for his quick flight down south, he did his best to calm his nerves and the stewardess, a lovely woman with long black shiny hair, and bright green eyes with thick black lashes, noticed her passenger's discomfort and distress in his ice blue eyes, so she did her best to help ease his flying anxiety by reassuring him in a calm soothing voice, stroking his hand. He confided in her the truth of his parents death aboard flight #191 and she knew all about the tragedy. So she explained to him "Sir, I can tell you since that accident occurred, the safety of our aircraft's have vastly improved. I have been flying for ten years, thousands of flights and I can reassure you we are perfectly safe." Michael's fear was quelled a bit by her words of comfort and years of service, so he tried not to think about the plane crashing to the ground as the jet sped down the runway lifting off the Earth traveling at 720 miles per hour.
    
     

End Chapter 4

     Michael had booked an early flight, scheduled for takeoff at 5:48, in the a.m. however, he was so distraught and worried Michael, of course, was unable to get any sleep. He had stood at his window for the better part of an hour just staring out at the view, enjoying it for the last time. It was a clear, cold Winter night, snow on the ground, bright stars up in the black endless sky, as many thoughts and memories came to Michael's mind as he looked out upon the full moon shining it's beams of pale white light down over the vast waters, casting a silvery shimmer over the waves. There Michael could see the lights of a distant ship out on the horizon, as the city of Chicago was lit up in the night, the quite streets, lonely and empty, as the citizens slumbered in the warmth and comfort of their beds. Michael was nervous on two fronts, the fear of being recognized and hauled back to jail for trying to flee the state, and the sheer terror of flying, for he had not flown in over 13 years. Trying not to think about that dreadful day his parents plane went down leaving only charred remains, Michael took 2 vicodin a few hours before his flight to help calm his nerves and ease his troubled mind.
     Then Michael set about packing one small suitcase with a few clothing items and the boxes of watches; of which he had all the receipts for, just in case airport security became suspicious. Then Michael took one brief last shower in his prized, high rise apartment, Michael was filled with much dread and remorse so he tried to focus his mind on the tasks at hand, thinking about his plan, phase by phase. Phase #1, get dressed and get to the airport. Michael methodically shaved, brushed his teeth and combed his hair, as if he were preparing for his own funeral, dressing up in his best merino wool black suit, a pair of cap toe Ferragamos, a white queen's broadcloth shirt, and a charcoal grey silk tie. He threw on a black cashmere scarf with charcoal grey fedora and a pair of lambskin gloves. Michael checked his watch as he placed the bundles of hundreds in his long black leather trench coat, along with his plane ticket and passport. His heart raced and a great tension twisted up between his shoulder blades, Michael was in so much mental anguish, a strange pain ran down the length of his spine, as if someone had reached inside his body, squeezing his spinal column as hard as they could, the pain was so intense Michael found it difficult to breathe at times.
     Now this part, phase #1, was the most difficult, the act of standing at his door, suitcase in hand, made Michael realize that this was it, no turning back even though he lacked the courage needed to stand up and be a man and take his punishment for his crimes, Michael did have the courage and determination to run. Yet before doing so Michael lingered for a minute or two longer, glancing around at his tastefully decorated, spacious apartment he had dreamed of for his whole life, now it was time to say goodbye, to his home, to his city, to everything he knew and loved, it seemed to Michael as if he were saying goodbye to a dear old friend. With one last look Michael paused, knowing what he was doing was right, for him anyway, for Michael knew 'Johnny Law' would not feel the same way. Michael switched off the light and said his goodbye as he turned and locked the door behind him. As he rode the elevator down to the parking garage Michael focused his frantic mind on phase # 2 to distract him from the pain and trepidation in his aching heart.
    

Chapter 4 continues

     Dr. Michael Cullen's preliminary trial hearing was scheduled for February 1, 1991 and he knew full well he would not be in the country to attend. He had spent a lonely Christmas and New Years Eve holed up in his high rise apartment, shutting himself off from the city and her people, sleeping all day, venturing out only at night for food and alcohol. He had also purchased a new Motorola 'Flip' cellular telephone, a new advanced item of space age technology, as he had stopped using his 'land line' with all the calls from reporters and disappointed friends and colleagues. When his former colleagues read about his criminal situation in the Sun, the Herald and theTribune, they were disheartened, and, what with the all the stories on the local news, add to that the investigative report that was running on WGN about the 'prescripton mill' he and Azir were running, Michael could find no solace, so he shut himself off from the world, as all pariahs should. So he gave his escape from the law much thought and through his deduction and reasoning he concluded the best place to hide would be Argentina, after all, if all those infamous Nazi's could hide out there for decades and never be brought to Justice, then why couldn't he? And Michael was absolutely correct in his assumption.
     So this was what he had planned to do: Michael would purchase a one way domestic flight from O'Hare down to Love Field, then he would book a one way flight out of the Dallas Fort Worth International Airport to the Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires. However, it was illegal to bring more than $10,000 in cash out of the country, so he, with the money he took back from his lawyer, went out and purchased over $200,000 in gold and platinum watches a total of 21 watches by Rolex, Tag Heuer, and Breitling. Michael would keep the money in his long leather trench coat and the expensive time pieces would be secure in his carry on luggage, if anyone asked at airport security he would say he was a jeweler on his way to a dealer in Highland Park and Up Town Dallas, a plausible lie. Now our Michael spoke only, un poco de Espanol, but he did know Greek and Latin from medical terminology, and he had dated a ravishing Italian exchange student back in college and had learned, un po' di Italiano, and Italian and Spanish are pretty much the same, in a way. Knowing he would have a ten hour flight from Texas to Argentina Michael purchased a Sony Walk Man and a set of Berlitz language cassette tapes, figuring he could use that time to study Spanish and Italian, for the vast majority of 'Portenos', as the people of Buenos Aires called themselves, were made up of mostly Italian, German, Swiss, and Spanish descendants.
     It was a good plan and Michael had the determination and temerity to carry it out, but the only problem with his plan was flying. He knew he had a better chance of fleeing the country departing out of DFW, he had a valid passport and no one knew anything about his crimes in Chicago. The problem was he was terrified of flying. After that horrific day in May, the 25th of 1979. Michael had refused to fly ever since the day his parents, along with 271 other souls, lost their lives that warm day, as flight #191 a DC-10 went into a roll shortly after take off when the jet lost the left engine, whereupon the fully loaded plane crashed and burst into flames about 8 miles away, on the beginning of a tragic Memorial Day weekend. Michael had tried so hard to put that day out of his mind for many years, but now he thought about that day, when he drove his parents to O'Hare, he had just turned 23 and had decided to forego the annual trip, so he did not go on vacation with his parents to Los Angeles, and his decision to stay in Chicago that summer with his Italian girlfriend saved his life.
     Michael's plan was set in motion and the night before he was to depart the city of his birth, the Chicago that he loved, with it's magnificent architecture, the relaxed environment, music, and the warm friendly people. Michael knew there was no other place like his majestic city anywhere on Earth! Michael knew deep in his heart once he left this 'garden in a city' he would never be able to return again to the shores of Lake Michigan, on pain of imprisonment. So, on his last night in the Windy City, Michael drove down to the south side to Bert's, to get the best deep dish pizza the world had ever tasted. It was even old, gray bearded Bert who handed Michael his pizza to go and as Michael departed the little pizzeria Michael felt a lump in his throat and he knew leaving this city would be the most difficult choice he would ever make in his life, but time was moving quickly and he had to go away. Michael was an intelligent, understanding, compassionate man, but he had no courage and could not, and would not, tolerate years of incarceration. So he set his mind on a new path and a new life, for he was determined keep his freedom at any cost, even if that meant leaving behind the city that he loved, Chicago, the city of his birth, the city of his rise, and the place of his meteoric fall. This was a bitter, jagged little pill to swallow, but Michael had ruined his life so he had to do everything within his power to create a new life for himself, somewhere far away, where no one would come looking for him. Time was moving fast and he must be on his way, so he could keep his freedom and his sanity.

Chapter 4 begins

     It was on the second day of December 1990, the sun had not yet begun to rise over the sleeping city of Chicago, it was not yet Winter but the city received a light dusting of snow and ice crystals, a little after midnight. Azir had still not come home. His wife had managed to sleep a little, as she tossed and turned worrying. Azir's wife was well aware of his indiscretions and transgressions throughout their seven year marriage, and she had learned to accept it, even though his affairs made her feel so pathetic. She found comfort and solace in the riches of life Azir was able to afford her, her big beautiful home, her Jaguar X-J 6 parked in her three car garage, the clothes and furs and jewelry, the vacations to Hawaii and Paris. Her acceptance was rooted in her long held belief that men were not capable of being monogamous, and why should they have to be, she surmised. So Azir's wife assumed her husband had fallen asleep at one of his young girlfriend's place, finding comfort in another bed. With a lonely sigh she got up out of her marital bed, going over to the thermostat, turning up the heat on this cold morning, it was still dark out and a little before 6:00 in the a.m. Just as she pulled up the goose down warm comforter up over her lean naked body, she closed her eyes trying to get one more hour of sleep before waking the children and making them a nice breakfast. Suddenly the telephone rang.
     Ia jumped a little, sitting straight up in bed, her heart racing, thinking it was her husband calling. "Azir?" Ia said as she snatched up the receiver.
     "Mrs. Naphtali, I am so sorry to be calling you so early in the morning." an unfamiliar man's voice came over the other end of the telephone line.
     "Who is this?" Ia asked a terrible sense of dread pouring into her body like ice water.
     "Oh, my apologies, my name is Walter Vega, your husband's attorney."
     "My husband has an attorney?"
     "Azir has had me on a retainer since he opened up his pain clinic.., that is why I am calling you Mrs.Naphtali." Mr.Vega explained.
     "I do not understand? Where is my husband?" Ia asked the panic rising in her voice.
     "Calm down ma'am, I can assure you, Azir is no physical danger.., however, he is in a very difficult legal situation." Mr.Vega gave this information a moment to be received by the frantic woman. "Your husband was taken into to custody yesterday at his pharmacy along with Dr.Michael Cullen and all the members of his staff."
     "What? What is happening Mr. Vega? Why was my husband arrested?"
     "It was all part of an, on going, D.E.A undercover operation. Your husband is accused of running a 'prescription mill', in abuse of his authority as a licensed pharmacologist. Azir and Michael will both appear for a bond hearing at 10:30 this morning, later today. The judge will set bond, and give us a date for a pre-trial hearing, at which point we will post bail and your husband could be home later, sometime this evening."
     "I..?" Ia paused, as this sudden realization left her shocked in stunned silence as her husbands attorney continued with more information.
     "Now these are very serious charges ,and it looks as though the Feds have a strong case against your husband and the good doctor. They could both, if convicted, spend up to ten years in a federal prison and owe hundreds of thousands in fines." the learned attorney paused clearing his throat for the most important and imperative part of the conversation. "Now, Mrs. Naphtali, about the bond hearing."
     "Yes?"
     "The bond could be as high as $1,000,000, but we only have to pay 10% of that amount to the bail bondsman."
     "$100,000.., we don't have that kind of money!" she replied flabbergasted.
     "Well.., I have been to see Azir and he informs that, you do." Mr. Vega said plainly.
     "Is that a fact?" she said in utter disbelief.
     "Your husband informs me there is a black duffel bag at the back of his closet, behind his winter coats, could you ma'am, go and look in his closet and see if what he has told me is true." he asked kindly.
     "One moment." Ia set the receiver down as she got up out of bed going over to her husband's closet, where she did, indeed, find a large black leather duffel bag hidden back behind the long wool coats. Now when she tried to pull the bag out, it was very heavy and difficult to carry, for she was weak, a slip of a girl weighing around 100 lbs. Ia, intrigued, tossed the heavy bag on top of the bed. Carefully she unzipped the bag and there, to her absolute shock and delight, she found hundreds of bundles of 100 dollar bills gathered together in increments of $10, 000. Ia began puling out bundle after bundle, finally dumping the entire contents of the bag all over the mattress. She could hear her husband's attorney's voice yelling through the receiver. She went over to the phone never once taking her wide, bright eyes off the huge pile of American currency. "Yes." she spoke into the phone.
     "Ia? Did you find the money?" he asked with a serious tone as if she were about to dismantle a nuclear war head.
     "I'll have to call you back." she said in a daze.
     "You don't have my phone number!" Mr. Vega shouted into the phone as she hung up on him.
     Ring, ring! It was Walter Vega calling again. Ia would not, and could not, be bothered by any one or anything ever again, so she went to the phone ripping the cord from the wall to silence the ever present ringing. Ia, still nude from her slumber, felt an arousing surge of energy rise up through her body like lava bubbling up from a volcano. She went to the foot of the bed and slowly crept up holding her slim, energy filled body over the great pile of cash, she knew there had to be well over a million dollars, and it was all hers! Ia by this point had even forgotten she was married to a cheating bastard, whom she secretly despised. Now just as she was about to lay herself upon the fortune she heard the familiar little voice of her youngest son crying out from down the hall "Mommy? Was that daddy on the phone."
     Ia snapped back to reality, jumping down off the bed as if she had just been caught with a lover. Throwing on her silk embroidered robe, she pulled the comforter over the money, then she skipped down the hall to her son's room, bringing him the great news that they would all need to get up and dressed and ready, for she was taking the boys back to Bombay to visit their grandparents. Ia made this happen, she took her boys and she, nor his sons, ever saw or spoke to Azir again. Azir was left to toil in prison for many long years, as for Michael he did not have a distraught wife who would betray him, and he was readily able to post bond with the help of his own lawyer, whom had been keeping his money safe for Michael in case of an emergency. As for the pre-trial hearing Michael was not about to sit around and wait, so he made a crucial decision that would alter his life forever, and that decision was to run.

End Chapter 3

     The two men agreed, immediately they transformed their new business enterprise and the pain clinic was a big hit with all the local drug addicts. However, Dr.Cullen's former patients felt slighted and the, once convivial, families now made Michael feel castigated by the people he had cared for. Losing a family clinic and a General Practitioner was devastating to the community, who now depended upon the emergency room at the local charity hospital waiting for hours in overcrowded waiting rooms, gun shot victims being rushed in, people overdosing in the lobby. Dr.Cullen fully understood there new loathing for him, however, Dr. Cullen was not deterred from the prime directive and that was to make as much cash as humanly possible, and they did. The first ten days they brought in just $48,000, the next ten days $67,000, the next ten days after that a staggering $97,000, all in cash, for a grand total in thirty working days of $212,212 a wonderful sum. Now this was achieved when word spread around Chicago, far and wide, and by the end of April, Dr. Cullen was having to extend his working hours from 7:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., this was very grueling forcing Michael to see up to ten patients every hour! No full exams could be given just a brief round of questions such as; Are you in sever pain? How did you injure yourself and where does it hurt? Are you allergic to any medication? etc... Then he would write out prescriptions for darvocet, xanax, vicodin, demoral, codeine, percocet, roxycodone, nembutol, etc, etc, etc... Ethics had no place in Dr.Cullen's office.
     Now, in any successful business, supply must keep up with demand, or there becomes a backlog, spilling over, and in Azir and Michael's business, that meant people spilling out on to the streets, forming lines outside the pharmacy waiting for their 'medicine'. Azir was overwhelmed everyday and he had to hire two pharmacy technicians to assist him daily. Michael  needed two girls to work reception and two nurses to assist him in the office. There was always a never ending lists of patients, who, if they could not get in to see the Doctor by closing time, would come back early in the morning to be the first in line. Though, through all this madness, Azir and Michael believed they had everything under control, and they were led to this conclusion by the scent of cold hard cash.
     April passed into May, May into June, June into July, that summer of 1990, Michael and Azir had become accustomed to their hectic work schedule and Michael had finally paid off almost half his loan. He had moved to a new apartment, on the 15th floor of the Marina Towers, with a stunning view, over looking downtown Chicago and Lake Michigan. Michael had even struck up a, successful, romantic relationship with one of the gorgeous nurses Azir had hired for the office, he finally felt relaxed in his own skin after the burden of his debts were eased off his broad shoulders, and a gentle peace of mind returned to him having no longer the burden of doubt and worry, but he did miss working in the Hospital. Though Michael knew full well there was no way in hell he could have made any good money there. So he worked his four days a week, Tuesday through Friday, ten hours a day, raking in money hand over fist. There were a few scary moments in the waiting room at closing time, when patients were forced to leave, but that was what the security men were for, and the pair did a fine job as they were extremely large and well armed. It was on a cold day in September when Azir suggested they open up on Mondays to make an extra $40,000 a month and Michael thought this was a fine idea. Now you would think they would be smart, and leave well enough alone, but their avarice, and love of money, exceeded their reason, so on a rainy Monday morning, at the end of September, Azir and Michael opened up the pain clinic as the line formed around the block.
     Now the police did not often patrol the local neighborhood, usually on the weekends, but Chicago's finest kept an eye on the busy clinic, and today they knew, for sure, seeing all those people waiting in the pouring rain and lightning storm outside of the pharmacy, that this Doctor and Pharmacist had to go. So the officer's kept a closer eye on the pain clinic over the next few weeks. Then the Police started talking to the D.E.A., and the D.E.A. started talking to the F.B.I. , and the F.B.I. got the boys at the Justice Department involved in their undercover operation. But alas, our greedy Azir and Michael hadn't a clue. This was because they thought they were too smart, and too clever, they believed they had everything under control, they believed nothing could touch them because they had made it this far. In six months they had made well over $1,000,000, and this filled them with courage and great confidence each one having absolutely no compunction. Their voracious appetite for more and more money was much like an addiction, for no matter how much they gained and held in their hands, they were never satisfied with it. This was the sickness of chasing after something that never satisfies you, no matter how much you get, you just want MORE!. If these two avaricious, morons would have found any gratification with what they had accomplished, Michael and Azir would have stopped. They would have realized they were way in over their heads,  rapidly drawing more unwanted attention to themselves, something they swore they would never do, however, greed is like love, it leaves you blind. 

Chapter 3 continues

     "So listen..," Azir said swallowing his mouthful of tender juicy ham, as he took a sip of cold beer, picking up the thread of his story "Family Clinics are dead. Pain Clinics are the new way to go. It's a cash only business, no dealing with Medicare and Medicaid, fuck Blue Cross and Blue Shield! Damn government takes too long pay us anyway." Azir rolled his eyes and Michael nodded in agreement, Michaell still had not been paid for services he preformed years ago. Azir continued "We charge $100 bucks per visit, plus the 80% mark up on the pills. We can make about $200 off each patient, so if you had a full schedule, every day, we could make up to $9,000 in an eight hour day, that's $90,000 every ten days. $180,000 every twenty days. We could pull that in, and  have every Saturday, Sunday and Monday off!"
     Now it took Dr.Michael Cullen a few moments to do the math in his head, and when he realized what the numbers all broke down to, in relation to him and his time, Michael balked telling Azir "That equals 6 patients every hour. 48 patients in one fucking day? That leaves me only ten minutes with each person, you can not be serious. 10 minutes for an examination? No way!"
     "Listen, ten minutes is a long time.., why in ten minutes I can get home, park my car in the garage, go upstairs, take a shower, make sweet love to my wife, and still have enough time to make a sandwich before Jeopardy with Alex Trebec starts." Azir said in all candor taking another bite of the huge sandwich.
     Michael began to laugh saying "Oh your poor wife! You should send her to my place.., I'll give her something to hang her towel on!" Michael smiled as he joked with his friend, who did not appreciate his sentiment. "Six patients an hour, that's too many."
       "Okay." Azir wiped his mouth saying "Five then, that would give you twelve and a half minutes."
       "So what your really telling me is.., you want to open up a 'prescription mill'."
       "Why not?"
       "Well, it is illegal." Michael shook his head.
       "Not if you don't get caught! As long as we don't draw attention to ourselves, keep it on the down low, who will even notice our business?"
       "What about the community? We provide a much needed service to the women and children that live there." Michael asked for he enjoyed treating his familiar, friendly clientele.
       "That's what the charity hospital is for!" Azir said callously as he gorged on the some more of his tasty sandwich, however, Michael had suddenly lost his appetite.
       "A cash only business?" was Michael's next question.
       "Don't worry I will have security men inside the clinic at all times. We really could make a killing." Azir said then he stopped and thought for a moment then said "Sorry, I meant we can make a helluva lot of money, if we are careful and are only open four days a week.., and I know for a fact we would be the only pain clinic in operation, like this, in the entire city of Chicago!"
      "I only know of two others..," Michael paused asking the waiter to box up the rest of his meal "There is one, down in Dallas and one, up in Detroit."
      "There's two in Miami and one I've heard of in Atlanta."
      Michael sat there watching Azir devour the rest of his onion rings as they sat in silence for a moment. Michael was deep in thought pondering the prospect of quick and easy money, realizing how nice it would be to pay off his creditors and pay back his student loans. For if he languished in debt it would take ten to fifteen years to pay everything off. And the longer it took him to pay off the balance, the more they charged him interest and penalties. At this rate, death may be his only tax relief! Michael was fully aware of his finances and he really was not that hard to convince. Michael was only worried about getting in trouble with the law and losing his medical license.
     "It's not like what we would be doing is, really, illegal. You have a license to practice medicine and write prescriptions! I am legally authorized to dispense pain medication, the government just wants to regulate the number of patients we can see, and regulate the amount of money we make. That is so un-american! There are people out there who don't have insurance, or can't get government help, these people have pains they need us to help them. And we should be able to help as many people, and make as much money off them that we can! And that, my friend, is the American Dream to me." Azir took a breath, and Michael was sure Azir was about to start singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. "So my friend...," Azir said pushing his empty plate out of his way "What do you say? Do you need some time to think about?"
     Michael gave Azir a very stern look as if to say 'if anything goes wrong and I end up in jail, I will kill you'. This made Azir sit up and take notice, he had never seen his good friend and colleague with such a hard, dour look upon his face, this frightened Azir a little, then Michael leaned forward extending his hand to Azir saying "When do we begin?"
     Azir smiled with elation as he reached out shaking Michael's hand, saying "We have already started!"