Even with his slumped shoulders and thin stringy hair that touched his collar, Jack Carlton was a man who demanded respect upon his appearance, and he held that "respect" for almost 40 years straight. His well dressed form most certainly contradicted his sloppy manner of behavior.
Always hovering behind and just to the sides of him were men, also dressed in ties and jackets though ill fitting for some. These men were virtually faceless in a manner of speak, that they were always being replaced. No two visits from Jack Carlton were his minions comprised of the same line up.
One such visit proved fatal for a group of bodyguards who had been protecting the Governor before he was abducted. Strangely enough, the Governor was set free unharmed only 4 days after the incident. He told the authorities of his experience and delivered names and descriptions of his assailants. None of them were Jack Carlton, even though word on the street said they were working for him. Nothing else, though, could be officially proved.
And likewise, the local police station was burned to the ground in broad daylight. No lives were lost, no injuries sustained, but the station could not be saved. All accounts said that Jack Carlton was present with his minions, but again, nothing was conclusive.
A bank blew up, a firehouse filled with noxious gas, a post office collapsed, and on and on the like went. Everyone knew Jack Carlton was behind it all, but the terror kept coming,
Buck Watson, a detective in the local police force, was done letting one man keep the entire state cowed. Pulling a map of the area out of a filing cabinet, he began to mark all the areas where the ring of terror had touched. The answer was as clear as it could be. All crimes were committed exactly within a 30 mile circle, but stopped in one particular neighborhood so that when Buck got through with the map, crimes appeared in something of a doughnut shape. That empty space in the center, the "eye of the storm" if you will, was where Jack Carlton was hiding out. The crimes kept authorities busy in other places, but no one thought of looking for the elusive criminal in a crime-free environment.
It was not much longer thereafter where Jack Carlton himself was cuffed to a table in a darkened room of the detectives' headquarters. "We finally caught up with you," Detective Watson said breezily. "I'm not looking for your sympathy," the crime lord sneered calmly. The detective continued, ignoring the weak attempt at a joke "What I can't understand is why you made it so easy to find you."
"Do you really wanna know?" Jack Carlton said sarcastically, "I'll tell you why. I was once a part of a gang where I was nobody. I was expendable. All I ever did was play the heavy. You know where the leader of that gang is now? Six feet under. Cops put him there. See, this leader was always tiptoeing around the country, trying to do everything carefully, not risk anything and so on. You know how much he accomplished that way? Nothing. Not a thing," Jack's voice began to rise, "Do you wanna know why I set him up? I can't stand mediocre criminals. I was the one who called the police on him. He never thought to check on things like that. He was too busy with his lists, and lists of lists of things to be careful of. Seemed to me he missed a few items, so I was just setting him straight."
Jack began to laugh maniacally. Buck Watson was at first surprised to hear that Jack Carlton had brought anybody to justice, but decided to keep listening to the story before he asked questions.
"Well I had had my fun. I was ready to settle down for life. Buy a yacht, plant a flower garden or whatever normal people do. But then I kept hearing how people were taking credit for bringing that guy down. They all wanted a piece of him. I was sick of it. If they wanted a chance at bringing crime down, I was gonna give them a criminal worth finding. Ha! They gave up too soon, those cowards."
"I ran the best crime ring in the land! I specialized in anything. I looked out for, and worked for number one. You see, lists are too easy to trace. Keep all that in your head. Encourage some spontaneity. Was my reign of terror not the most impressive? Of course it was. Everything was orchestrated in my head. It always was. What a beautiful sound it made! But the mind, like anything else, is volatile. Even you, Buck, you could slip like *that* into senility. Lists are for people with weak minds. Plans are for the mentally imprisoned."
"And that's where you made your mistake, Jack," Buck said somberly.
"Don't rub it in," smirked the defeated criminal as he was being led away, "I'll have all the time I need to remember it."
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