Cold Blooded Assassin Book 8: Rule of Nightmare (Nick McCarty Assassin)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Are you referring to defending our nation, Hector,” I asked. “We do that every single day, within work, and beyond it. Do you have an objection to Lynn and me as American Nationalists? Lynn is an American, as I hope all of us are. The umpires call the game by what they see. If they miss a call, we are supposed to give them the benefit of the doubt, and figure it will work out in the end. No umpire is perfect. Are you saying the Blue is working for us?”

  Manny did not like that. “I hope that’s not what you’re saying, Hector. By even a well-founded suspicion of such a thing, I could have you and your wife banned from coaching.”

  Manny undid Hector. He gulped and retreated. “We…we simply want a fair game called.”

  Manny didn’t press. “Fine. Let’s have a good game. This practice game is a great learning tool for all of us. It is the first year it’s been tried. Do not undermine it. Play ball!”

  We were home team. Al met us halfway after the meeting, on her way to the mound. “Is anything wrong, Dad?”

  “Just the usual – adults acting like children. I’m sure the A’s and Bobcats will play ball with a much better attitude. Have confidence in your fielders, kid. Don’t put any on the base paths that don’t earn the trip.”

  “Absolutely,” Al replied.

  “Pitch a change-up on the first pitch, Al. The batter will be so far ahead, she could probably swing twice. Keep your change-up in mind every time. Mix it into your pitches constantly to throw off a batter showing tenseness.”

  “I will, Lynn… thanks.” Al practically skipped to the mound.

  “I think Al’s ready for the season to start.”

  Lynn smiled. “No doubt about that. We were ambushed on the mound, Cheese. What the hell was all that about?”

  “Parents living through their kids. We’ll keep in mind our place in this alternate reality – encourage the girls to play ball the best they can and have fun. This isn’t the pro-league. Some of the parents, like Hector and Jill, think every game is a war. We’re not doing that, Sis.”

  “Amen to that.”

  In the dugout, our first and third base coaches approached with big smiles. Lucas and Clint had seen the adults in action already.

  “Hector’s wound a little tight,” Clint stated.

  “Watching these parents is the best,” Lucas added. “I’ve missed this stuff so much. How’s Manny holding up. I saw his face while Hector spoke.”

  “Manny handled it well. Hector insulted the entire league. I don’t know why he would think that would help during the season. The teen umpires kept tight lipped control on their mouths. I’m not certain what that will mean. I guess that does it for cordiality amongst our brethren coaches. Hector thinks we’re a bunch of gangsters, and my UFC status means the umpires will be giving us calls we shouldn’t get.”

  Lucas and Clint enjoyed that scenario immensely.

  “Here we go,” Lynn said.

  Al threw a change-up. Her arm motion was excellent. It looked like she meant to throw a fast ball. The batter swung through it before the ball reached the plate. She then threw a fast ball the batter was so late on, it was nearly in the catcher’s glove before the swing. A high offering the batter could not resist struck her out. The A’s and coaches cheered. Al continued pitching right over the plate. The batters, now told to take some pitches, ended up in the hole, as the umpire called strikes. Since Manny worked behind the plate, Hector and his wife seethed in their dugout.

  “This adult interaction can become quite exciting,” Clint observed.

  Hector called for the Bobcats to do the pitcher belittlement rhymes. Al laughed at the new chant rhyme and finished striking out the side. Lynn sighed as Jill called time out to meet with Manny at the plate. I smiled as she trudged with head down to the meeting, amusing both sides. Everyone knew this practice game didn’t count, but Jill had to protest something every inning. Lynn listened attentively, shrugged at Manny, and began doing dance steps as Jill argued on. Manny lost it, as the crowd began clapping a beat and enjoying the show. Manny simply pointed to the dugout, still unable to speak. Lynn did one of those dancing strolls back to the dugout amidst hoots, hollers, whistles and applause.

  “Batter up!”

  “Babe… that was the best,” Clint stated. “You nearly caused Jill to stroke out. The Bobcats’ parents know this practice game means nothing. She’s hearing it from them. What did she want anyway?”

  “The usual… Al’s release point was wrong. She didn’t come set. She missed the rubber. Her socks were too low. Her cap was on crooked. The stars are out of alignment. The clouds cast a bad shadow on the field. The batter’s box is out of regulation.”

  We enjoyed Lynn’s explanation of Jill’s visit while our first batter, Mary, journeyed to the plate. I had already told her Hector and Jill’s daughter, Felisa, would throw a fast ball down the center of the plate. Lucas worked our third base coaching position. He only nodded at Mary. She swung level and sent a screamer over the first base bag and into the corner. Mary made third without a throw. Lucas held her there. Our second batter, Callie, walked on four pitches. Felisa received a visit to the mound from her Mom. Jill illustrated everything you avoid doing as a coach. Felisa, a veteran of Jill’s belittlement, remained silent with head down. Manny told Jill to get back in the dugout.

  Al was at bat next. She hid it perfectly and bunted down the third base line, scoring Mary. Callie made it to third because no one covered the bag when the third baseman fielded the ball. Al ran safely over the bag at first. Jill started out of the dugout, but Manny waved her back in.

  “Play ball! Batter up!”

  The inning ended with the six-run limit set. I stopped Al for a moment. “Pitch hard, fast, and right down the heart of the plate. We don’t want your fielders falling asleep behind you.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Felisa warmed up at the plate while Al threw her practice pitches. She hit the first pitch a ton, but Callie, our center fielder, caught it at the fence. The next two batters got on first and third with a hit, stolen base, and bobbled bunt. Al’s next pitch came in low. The batter topped it back to Al, who spun and nailed the runner at second. Our second baseman, Sherry, easily turned the double play to end the inning. It was my turn as Hector demanded a meeting at home plate between innings.

  “Are you going to let her pitch like that?”

  “Like what,” Manny asked, hands on hips. “You mean over the plate?”

  Hector counted them off on his fingers. “Set point, release point, deceptive arm motion, and her-”

  “Play ball!” Manny gestured for Hector to go away, dusted the plate, straightened, and yelled, “batter up!”

  Despite Hector and Jill, the parents were enjoying a fast paced and exciting game. Jafar joined us in the middle of the inning. “Diane Cameron’s in San Francisco.”

  “Oh my,” Lynn replied to his whisper.

  “I already texted Muerto.”

  “Good. Any indication of how long she’ll be in the city?”

  “I cannot be certain of that.” Jafar smiled. “I know who she is meeting with: Tark Ruban, Fuma Sabedin, and Abu El-Tayed.”

  “Jesus, God in heaven - jackpot.” Lynn grabbed Jafar’s arm. “Call a meeting. We need all the facts about everything, including missing Senators, the Tark grapevine, and why in the world would they meet so close to our posse.”

  “I will go to Pain Central now,” Jafar said. “I will be ready for all of you when the game ends. Bring me back a pizza, everything but anchovies, including pork sausage.”

  “You heathen,” Lynn accused him. “You got it.”

  Jafar hurried off, leaving the four of us in stunned silence.

  “What should I do, John,” little Beth, our right fielder asked. “Can I bunt?”

  “Sure. That’s a good idea, but you can swing away if you want.”

  “I want to bunt, and then steal all the bases, including home.” Her bright white smile flashed with devilish delight in contrast to h
er dark features.

  “Why, you little minx.” Lynn shoulder hugged her. “You go do that. Remember your slides. No head first dives. Got it?”

  “Yes, Lynn.” Beth jogged to the plate.

  “I think these kids developed an edge since last year,” Lynn said. “I guess winning a championship will do that.”

  “Beth made me forget about Tark,” I replied, with Clint and Lucas echoing my sentiments. “We need to be in this game, not going on a mission in our minds.”

  Beth deadened a beauty in front of home plate. She immediately streaked to second on an overthrow by the catcher, sliding in perfectly. Our first batter, Mary, was up next.

  “Take the first pitch, Mary.”

  “Beth and I talked. I’ll take two.”

  Mary’s declaration elicited much amusement. Felisa, worried about the speedy Beth at second, threw a high one, almost over her catcher’s head. Beth stole third without a throw. Lucas reminded her to slide with hands waving down. Mary and Beth played out the string perfectly. Mary swung wildly at the next pitch, throwing the catcher off slightly, allowing the charging Beth to steal home without a tag. Our two girls high-fived at the plate. Hector and Jill wanted to attack like a couple of pit vipers. The catcher didn’t even make a swipe so there wasn’t much to argue. We gave Beth rock star status greeting, along with the parents behind us, and of course my entire Monster Squad.

  A guy from their side the size of a football field screamed his way around the cage accusing me of everything from poor sportsmanship to selling out to someone… maybe the girls’ softball Gods. He threw in racist too, although the girl stealing all the bases is black, so I think that must have been because he ran out of things to yell at me. Dev and Jess intercepted him before he could get close enough to scare the kids. Life as a girls’ softball coach can get very exciting in a bad way. Manny stopped the game. I could tell he didn’t want any part of getting his head torn off. I motioned for him to stay where he was. I exited the dugout to calm the guy down if I could. Dev and Jess were trying to reason with him. He tried to shove past them. That was not even in the realm of possibility. He stopped attempting the impossible as I approached.

  “Calm down, Sir. You’re scaring the kids.” Then I smelled it. This guy had more than a few good time warmups for the game.

  “He’s tanked, John,” Dev said. “I don’t have a spell for that.”

  Jess and I enjoyed the hell out of that line. “Okay… okay… you must have a daughter playing today, right?”

  He glared at me blearily for a moment before pointing at the catcher, who was visibly trying to do anything but watch what was happening. “Thas’ my baby there, Harding! You jus’ embarrassed the hell out of her!”

  “You takin’ care of that, partner,” Jess told him.

  “Jess is right. You’ve stopped a simple practice game, scared the kids, and most of the adults, all for what?”

  “I want you, asshole!”

  “No, you don’t,” Dev retorted. “John could take both Jess and I at the same time. You couldn’t take either one of us alone.”

  Dev grinned at the guy, as he tested his ability to even move while being held by my brothers. Reality began seeping into his buzz. “Tell you what… I have a way for you to return to your seat with dignity before John plucks your throat out in front of everyone, including your daughter. I bet you never heard a Latin spell before, have you?”

  “Uh… what does… no. I ain’t heard no damn Latin spell.”

  “Good. I’m going to perform a Latin spell to ease everyone. Once it’s over, you raise your hands, say, ‘amen, brother’, and return to your seat with quiet dignity. Can you do that? It will work great if you can.”

  Dev had this guy. He was mesmerized. The man wanted an out and Dev offered the only one available. “Yeah… yeah… I can do that.”

  “Dev! Don’t do the rain spell, brother. I want to see the end of the game,” Jess told him.

  Jess’s warning nearly launched Dev and I out of the spell. Dev snorted back amusement while Jess and I lowered our heads. He shot his arms into the air, fists clenched, and delivered the Latin spell for power. In the hushed silence of his delivery, it felt like we ascended into the presence of something beyond understanding. Dev worked the spell with such power, I half expected it to rain too. He finished with climactic, fist pumping completion.

  Dev’s spell completely captivated this guy. He actually swayed and stepped in place as if he were a cobra being entranced by an Indian snake charmer. At the end, the man shot his fists into the air, hugged Dev, and shouted, “amen, brother.”

  We watched him walk away with head bowed, but dignity in every step. A few clouds had rolled in, a natural occurrence in April. Jess stared up at the sky with some trepidation. “Damn, brother… you got the power.”

  The parents, coaches, and both benches erupted in applause. Even Hector and Jill clapped briefly. I grabbed brother Dev by the shoulders. “Jess is right. You got power, brother.”

  Dev glanced over at his wife, Maria, and his adopted kids. He smiled at their looks of awe. “I wanted them to know I’m not some leg-breaking thug.”

  “Mission accomplished,” I replied with emphasis. I gripped Dev’s shoulder again. “I resent that, by the way. We’re leg-breaking, rich thugs, rainmaker.”

  Dev and Jess both enjoyed the hell out of that ending. I retreated to my mundane dugout. In the scheme of things, when you can do what Dev accomplished with words, everything else seemed dull in comparison. I heard Manny shout, ‘Play ball!’, and shared giggling glances with my young charges, who had no idea what had just happened.

  “Now that… was the best!” Lynn stated in a hushed tone.

  “Amen to that. I wish we could harness the power of it for our soon to be reckoning with Tark.”

  Lynn shrugged. “Some things are best left to the darkness.”

  “They are indeed, Sis.”

  * * *

  “Oh, thank the Lord! If not for Samira, I would never have been able to enjoy Dev’s spell of banishment,” Jafar stated the moment we joined him in the conference room, his pizza in hand. He hugged Samira. “The game was fabulous, but no way does anything eclipse Dev ending that tool’s confrontation with the Latin!”

  Jafar bumped fists with Dev, and finally hugged his idol. “You prevented a bad scene, my friend. After you did the Latin, the game played on without a snag. Devon Constantine, rainmaker and peacemaker.”

  “I heard from John you nailed down a triple threat for us,” Dev replied while we all sat down around our software infused table with projected screen. “I’m interested in why the senatorial duel disappeared from the headlines. One day after discovery, every news outlet in the country carried it as a terrorist act or unexplained. Muerto must have made one hell of a convincing scene.”

  Jafar flashed the new headlines on the screen from his table. “They abandoned the terrorist involvement. I know he would say it was skill rather than luck, the fact they evidently shot each other with their own personal weapon made the scene nearly impossible to question. They fired with the correct hand, getting gunpowder residue on clothing and hand. No sign could be found of anyone else having been there. Danders and Barren’s feud was well known in the Senate. Tark Ruban’s Monterey estate becoming the death scene for two sitting Senators caused havoc within the billionaire’s core group. Ruban issued a press release stating Danders and Barren asked if he would provide them with a meeting site to talk over their differences.”

  “So, it’s possible Ruban doesn’t have a clue what happened to his men, or why the two idiots battled to the death in his house, huh,” Lynn asked.

  “Ruban suspects foul play for sure,” Jafar answered. “His gathering the last political cards he has with ex-Senator Cameron, Abu El-Tayed, and his go between with the Congressional Houses, Fuma Sabedin, means he may be getting ready to leave the country. Danders represented his best chance to further El-Tayed’s ascension to the Presidency. He needs someon
e to front the Presidential ticket. I suspect he’s settled on Cameron.”

  “He’s probably behind Cameron’s new-found wealth on the speech circuit,” Casey added. “They’re running El-Tayed for Governor of Michigan in the election coming in November. That will give them adequate time to pad his resume. If ever there was a replacement Manchurian Candidate for our last terrorist enabler’s eight-year experiment in American destruction, this guy El-Tayed fits the bill - home grown Moslem with terrorist ties and love for the institution of Sharia Law.”

  “Denny’s still in DC working on our Cafrey Isle of Darkness excursion. The right people needed extorting from Moronas’s videos. Quillum Stafferson Blinton’s widow started making a fuss in the media. Denny shut her up with a video of her flying to the island with Quillum during the same time Moronas filmed Quillum in action with underage girls,” I explained.

  “Don’t write that bitch, Willarie Modham Blinton, off just yet, guys,” Lynn said. “She’s angling for another run at something… God knows what. I’m surprised Tark doesn’t have her sitting in on the meeting. Anyone get a message from Muerto, Jafar?”

  “Gus texted me, the cartoons took out three murderers on the loose. Muerto’s US Marshal contacts called them in on a hostage rescue/kill mission. They’re keeping an eye on the news before joining us on this,” Jafar answered. “Muerto gave Cameron a chance to retire alive. He won’t be happy knowing she’s back in the political mix. Gus thinks they’ll be free of the aftermath by tonight.”

  “We should get his input on this,” Lucas said. “We need another scenario like Muerto did on Danders and Barren.”

  “That damn guy is freaky.” Tommy gestured at the headlines concerning the mysterious shootout between Senators Danders and Barren. “He makes the killers, Ruban sent to help with the Salvatores’ blackmail attempt, disappear - then creates a perfect scene where two Senators use each other for target practice with their own guns, and blood/alcohol count off the charts. As an admitted Snow White, I’m glad he’s on our side. I have a feeling he’ll think of some plan involving a grenade.”