The Mob Angel

Spencer "Chips" Calhoun is a smooth but fast talking, morally flexible New York defence Lawyer from the Bronx, New York City. Oozing confidence in his own abilities, this criminal justice lawyer enthusiastically takes on clients who have dubious records in the underworld.

With a reputation garnered as one of the smartest- and most successful of defence lawyers having represented around 300 defendants his services are in demand during this time of prohibition in America, particularly from within the mob in New York and Chicago.

"Chips" Calhoun has produced an unusually high number of acquittals and dismissals in cases where such results were thought impossible.

A darling of the press and radio, Calhoun's charm, wit and courtroom manner always make him front page news. Having successfully defended Dutch Shultz from a seemingly cast iron prosecution case, this suave defence lawyer seems untouchable in front of a jury.

The New York state prosecution service have no answer to Calhoun's defence skills in court. Rumblings are coming from the district attorney's office, a deadly plan is set in motion by the furious chief of police.

Following another Supreme Court victory, Calhoun gives his customary trademark victory salute. His white, black banded trilby felt hat, waved three times around his head as he stands on the steps of the court building. His adoring press and radio circus are waiting as they hustle and bustle for comments and pictures. But today is different. He glances at the hand written note just given to him by a court usher. Calhoun makes his way through the crowd, unusually not stopping for the adulation. Making his way across Foley square and into Worth Street, a two-way street running roughly northwest-southeast in Manhattan.

A violent looking mobster, wearing a black, fedora hat and a white calf length frock coat, steps from the doorway of the Italian run laundrette as Calhoun approaches. The mobster pulls back his long coat to reveal a Thompson machine gun. Calhoun freezes as time stands still. The mobster lets loose as Calhoun is sprayed with bullets from the automatic fire. A black Ford model 18 screeches to a halt, the mobster jumps on the running board as the black Ford races away.

A frantic crowd gathers around a dying Calhoun laid on the sidewalk. The gossamer spirit of a now dead Calhoun stands behind the ghoulish crowd staring at the dead body.

A pure white Rolls Royce Phantom glides to a stop behind Calhoun. The all white suited chauffeur beckons the spirit of Calhoun to the car. The rear door opens, Calhoun instinctively gets in as the Rolls Royce Phantom is gone in a whisper...