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Author: Thomas F. Sheehan
Genre: Crime Novel

Registry #: nov020


Vigilantes East finds a number of men who have lost their daughters to pimps, drugs, slave farms, etc., and have banded to exact their own kind of justice ansd revenge.

The preface reads: It is happening all across America; daughters are lost, daughters are missing, daughters for known or unknown reasons flee the homes they were born in, or slip away in the night, not to be seen again. Where many of them end up is reported in newspapers and on television every day, the matter of special issues, tragedies that become only studies, and then statistics. They sleep their nights away on boxes, under cardboard, in the depth of alleys; plying on street corners or major cities with countless others the old trade; their bodies emaciated, their minds scrambled for good, locked away in jails and detox centers. Others, often to their last days, are hidden away in caged rooms in quiet houses on old farms, their bodies abused nightly until death becomes the only welcome partner. It was happening in the Boston area, the new constant, and the missing stayed missing. One man's loss haunted him. The void in his life immense, his anger harsh by controllable, he put his hand on the hilt of the sword and pulled it from the dark rock. All he needed were a few good men. He recruited, he organized, he fought back. A few good men. If he ever spoke of them he'd say The Fold, but he never spoke of them. A few good men.

Prime mover Robert Shetland still seeks his own daughter missing for eight months. His organization is followed through a recruiting process and a number of eliminations of Boston's underworld element, including crooked cops, pimps, drug distributors, etc. The recruiting process of a potential member is stopped when one current member says, If no one was looking, he'd go off on the ladies' tee. The eliminations include a raid on a slave farm at an old rural farmhouse where three men are left dead, and one girl is returned to her parents. The local police chief, looking over the scene of fire, death and destruction remaining from an errand of mercy and a night of revenge, says to the night wind, "Touché, baby. I don't know who you are, but I love your fucking style."

Harry Krisman is on the case from the outset and gets a few leads on an organization, and starts to narrow the noose. He believes it is a sort of vigilante effort, knows that some politics exist in it. His boss dies, his own vulnerability gets in the way. Though he has the ability to use the smallest details in solving cases, the big picture sometimes eludes him, as he has divergent interest: he loves hockey, bird watching, and, eventually, a professor of accounting at Bentley College. But luck and the strategy of good planning keep the vigilantes on the loose. Harry gets close to them, but they keep getting away. After a number of tries and spurred by losses within the police department at the hands of the unknowns, a single fingerprint, of a glass replacement specialist on the lower inside of a car window, leads Harry Krisman to Robert Shetland. Vulnerable Harry loses a foot when a thug tries to run him down in an alley with a truck. He has to wear prosthesis, go into the private sector.


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