Rage of Angels [antikvár]

1 New York: September 4, 1969 The hunters were closing in for the kill. Two thousand years ago in Rome, the contest would have been staged at the Circus Neronis or the Colosseum, where voracious lions would have been stalking the victim in an arena of blood and sand, eager to tear him to pieces. But this was the civilized twentieth century, and the circus was being staged in the Criminal Courts Building of downtown Manhattan, Courtroom Number 16. In place of Suetonius was a court stenographer, to record the event for posterity, and there were dozens of members of the press and visitors attracted by the daily headlmes about the murder trial, who queued up outside the courtroom at seven o'clock in the morning to be assured of a seat. The quarry, Michael Moretti, sat at the defendant's table, a silent, handsome man in his early thirties. He was tali and lean, with a face formed of converging planes that gave him a rugged, feral look. He had fashionably styled black hair, a prominent chin with an unexpected dimple in it and deeply 15