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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Noon, Ma,” Sonny answered.

  “I just texted everyone,” Jean said.

  “I’m firmly against this. My cartoons will see the fallacy of this action and end it before this goofiness begins,” Nick replied.

  “Play ‘Ride of the Valkyries’,” Rachel ordered. “Maybe it will get you to step up.”

  “Why don’t I play and sing ‘Hard Headed Woman’ instead?”

  “Or ‘Coward of the County’?”

  “Or ‘Lucretia Mac Evil’,” Nick fired back.

  “The cartoons and Tina will meet you at the ‘Point’. Gus wrote ‘define sober’,” Jean said.

  “No more than two Irish,” Rachel replied.

  A moment later, Jean received the answer. “He’ll be there.”

  Instead of all the suggestions for songs, Nick sang ‘The Gambler’, putting particular emphasis on the lyrical lines, ‘know when to hold ‘em… know when to fold ‘em… know when to walk away… know when to run.’ Jean made him sing ‘God Bless the USA’. A truce was offered and granted at that time by the amused Rachel.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mob Rule Schooled

  “Let me get this straight, girlfriend.” Tina glanced around in confusion at Otter’s Point beach. “You want to take the baby and kids into the middle of a riot? Did you fall on your head?”

  “We can’t let these goons tear down Santa Rosalia,” Rachel stated.

  “So? Order the cartoons to intercede,” Tina argued. “If a riot breaks out, Gomez can shoot them all in the head.”

  “Ah… no… I can’t do that. I’m supposed to be staying low key until my adjustments in the North quiet down on the news. Rachel’s already decided she’s going. That means I’m going, but it’s not mandatory for anyone else. She’s right on this, but it will be dangerous.”

  “Deal me in,” Gus said.

  Everyone else then affirmed they were going. Nick explained from where they should make their approach after he patrolled the area for snipers. “I will do my checks before they get all their people together. I know a few buildings from which a vantage point of the Fisherman’s Wharf front can be used. If there’s a sniper, no one approaches the site until I handle the shooter.”

  “We’ve helped out the Monterey Blue before. If we do get mixed into this mess, how will the police react?”

  “I don’t have anyone I can contact like Neil. I know there are more than a few police officers who know us in a good way, but we can’t count on them if they are ordered to stand down like they were in the other riots.”

  “What about calling Grace and Tim,” Johnny suggested. “Maybe they could give us cover to monitor the Antifa protest through the DOJ. They are considering labeling the gangsters as a terrorist organization. That would give us a lot of leeway on site.”

  Nick dug into his bag and retrieved his phone. “Good input, Johnny.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yep… it’s me again, Grace. We received word from a confidential informant Antifa plans to protest/riot at Fisherman’s Wharf to tear down the statue of Santa Rosalia with the cross in her hands because she offends Muslims.”

  “I love that statue! What can I do?”

  “Can you get us official DOJ orders to monitor and prevent a riot. They do not have permission to stage a protest. I already checked. I got stonewalled about what the mayor plans to do about it. I’m guessing this will be another stand down incident, where the Blue get told to watch the riot from the perimeter.”

  “I’ll get on it right now. Keep your phone handy. Why don’t you get your sniper rifle and blow a couple heads off? The rest of the little guttersnipes will run like hell.”

  “Have you been talking to Rachel?”

  “No. Did she suggest the same thing?”

  “Same idea. Okay… get back to me when you have something.”

  “Don’t let them tear Santa Rosalia down, Muerto.”

  “I won’t, but that prevention may require my sniper rifle.”

  “When has that ever stopped you.”

  “Stop at all cost… got it.”

  “What do you know about an incident up North of you, where a suicide bomber took out a political conference meeting? After that mysterious shootout between two sitting Senators, we’re really taking heat here.”

  “I only know what’s on the news. You can’t do much about two Senators who hate each other getting into a shootout. Was alcohol involved?”

  “Yeah, it was. None of us in the office cared much about ‘Little Bull’ and ‘Crazy Benny’ anyhow. The hypocrites both owned private firearms too. A terrorist event like the suicide bombing, coincidentally happening at the same time damning evidence about the ones killed came to light, caused an uproar you cannot believe. The evidence is rock solid though: terrorist affiliations, money laundering, foundation fund fraud, and selling Top Secret documents to the highest bidder. We’re trying to trace the person who released the evidence data to no avail.”

  “It seems like things are changing under the new administration. Call me when you can.”

  “Will do.” Grace disconnected.

  “Grace will work on the cover for us. She wants the statue tear down stopped, officially or unofficially. I guess she’s a fan of Santa Rosalia.”

  “Seriously, if we’re doing this… and I’m almost afraid to mention it… but do you have a plan, Muerto?”

  “I always have a plan, Payaso. This time, it will be so convoluted, and yet ultimately incredible, they may build a statue in my honor.”

  Gus snorted in derision. “Oh crap, Kabong… that means he’s winging it.”

  Johnny nodded solemnly, while finishing off his second Irish coffee. “Indeed, Payaso, I believe you are right. I noted he has had no Irish coffee treats, despite our deserving a celebration for the end of Tark.”

  Nick shrugged. “I’ve stupidly permitted this venture to become reality. I have my wife, baby son, daughter, future son-in-law, Cousin Itt, and my entire team attending a guaranteed riot. Naturally, I’m winging it. When you consider the fact Saint Rosalia won’t give a crap whether we save her statue or not, it all becomes a convergence of the weird. Before anyone says it… yes… I know this action thwarts the Sharia Law Mutants. Sometimes… I really miss the simple solution of a well-placed hand grenade.”

  “Good… cowboy up, Muerto,” Rachel piled on. “This needs to be done. Start plotting your usual Muerto madness.”

  “Sometimes, I miss the days when I duct taped you into the bed.”

  * * *

  Nick allowed Jean and Sonny to lead casually with Deke heeling to Jean. He and Rachel followed with Rachel pushing their newly created Kevlar covered stroller. The bubbling, happy Quinn bounced around inside, giggling and throwing dog treats over Deke’s shoulder. Each time, Deke would sense the treat and snag it out of the air, provoking a Quinn laugh fest and hand clap. Nick’s crew followed in strolling fashion, Jian’s Joan being a last-minute addition.

  Nick scanned the area around Fisherman’s Wharf in Monterey with his small highly accurate range finders. He saw the glint of sunlight reflection on what he could only assume was a rifle scope. Nick kept focused, watching for movement of the glint. “Slow down a bit. I… oh shit… okay, we’re mission enabled. We have a sniper. Take over, Payaso. Use Deke to stall. We’re loud and clear on network, right?”

  “Yes, Muerto, you are loud and clear,” Johnny intoned, working his network connections through the satellite laptop in his backpack.

  Nick squeezed Rachel’s hand for a moment before fading away into a different direction. He maneuvered calmly away, circling the parking lot to the approach he had decided on. “The sniper’s on the Harbor House building. I’m on my way by roundabout approach to it. Stop at the railing with the marina view of the boats. Take in the sun, sea, and act like tourists.”

  “Understood,” Gus said.

  Nick steeled himself for the next part. No way did the sniper get atop the Harbor House without a bad entry. The
closed sign indicated plainly there was no one working the place. Nick entered quietly, knowing the sniper had not reactivated the alarms. The lock was a simple lock-pic done in seconds. He threaded noiselessly through the building to the upper access, his mouth tightening as he passed the dead bodies along the way. He stopped for a moment.

  “I may take a few moments with the sniper. Do not react.”

  “Understood,” Gus acknowledged. “He killed the store workers… didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Nick whispered.

  * * *

  The sniper scanned the area where the Antifa group formed to protest, smiling at the amount of money his involvement meant. The jolting agony of Nick’s stun-gun vaporized all thought from the sniper’s mind in a split second. Nick hesitated, trying to legitimize torturing the bastard. He grunted in frustration.

  “Just kill him, Muerto,” Gus reasoned. “Anything else will be messy and unexplainable.”

  “I know… but nothing will be explainable in this scene.” Nick choked the killer out, covering his nose and mouth with gloved hands. He took the man’s cell-phone with him as he eased away from the twitching body. “He has a silenced Glock, which I imagine he killed the three people in the store with. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

  “Understood. We’re letting Deke smell everything while we take touristy pictures of our group,” Gus said. “The Antifa bunch arrived. It looks like the security people have stand down orders. They have people with Isis, Antifa, and BLM signs. They do have coolers with God knows what in them, along with baseball bats. There’s no question the security people are observers only. This should have been stopped immediately the moment a horde of masked freaks appeared.”

  “We have official orders, thanks to Grace and Tim. Our main purpose remains saving Santa Rosalia.” Nick joined them at the large open walkway, where across from them, what looked like possibly three dozen masked thugs donned more thug paraphernalia. In a semicircle between the entrance to Fisherman’s Wharf and the thug gangs, stood a dozen police officers in riot gear watching them readying to riot. “It’s too late for preventing the swarm from forming. I’ll take a copy of our orders to the police detachment. I plan to make sure if this turns into a riot, they won’t be standing there with thumbs up their asses watching the carnage. Let’s get the gear on, IDs in reach.”

  “We better get over there,” Johnny said. “It looks like a few of the tourists don’t approve of the enemy flags flying. I see a couple of wheelchairs in the citizen mix.”

  “I need to take Deke with me. Rachel locked and loaded before we left, as I believe Tina did. You kids watch their backs and all around.”

  “On it,” Jean acknowledged.

  “Any masked freak running at me gets capped,” Tina added.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Rachel said. “We’re on your network. If we need help, we’ll call for it. I’m worried if they get repulsed here, they’ll go straight for the statue.”

  “We’ll make sure that does not happen. Cala has our backs. I don’t want you in the front, Reaper.” Nick did a final check on Jian’s gear, while Johnny and Gus checked Cala and each other.

  Wearing US Marshal vests, complete with stun-gun nightsticks, firearms, and mace, they spread out and walked toward the police line in front of the Antifa gang. The mob made catcalls at the Marshals while pumping their signs up and down. Nick reached the helmeted line of police, looking for someone in charge. He didn’t recognize any of them with helmets on. They all wore nametags, but he picked an officer with sergeant’s stripes.

  “Are you in charge of this detail, Sergeant?”

  “You mean this cluster-fuck… yeah… I’m in charge. Join us. We’re going to watch these badass Snowflakes riot and probably rip the place apart while we watch. Did the mayor call the Marshal’s Service in to witness the destruction too?”

  “New orders, Sergeant. I’m US Marshal Nick McCarty. I received orders directly from the Department of Justice to stop property destruction, and protect the Santa Rosalia statue, along with all innocent civilians not associated with Antifa.”

  Nick showed him his ID while handing the Sergeant a copy of the DOJ warrant. “We can use backup and we have federal control over all actions relating to this illegal protest.”

  “You got it! Can I keep this copy of the orders to show that pussy we have for a mayor? Otherwise, the idiot will raise holy hell because we’re doing our jobs.”

  “That is your copy. My detail will front this. As a warning, we will be taking them down hard. These Antifa idiots are nothing more than terrorists.”

  “Agreed. We’ll back your play. Good luck.”

  “Spread your detail around and use any means necessary to get the runners unmasked and on their knees. We have a database we’ve been adding to for these terrorists.”

  “Understood.”

  Nick led his crew over to confront what looked like the leaders. “Smash every phone within reach if something starts. Uh oh… look at that old-timer with the flag on his wheelchair. Cala! Watch our backs.”

  The wheelchair man and companions around him, holding United States flags, faced off with the Antifa group. When the lead thug tried to snatch the flag, the old guy expertly blocked him by moving the wheelchair from side to side. The frustrated thug instead pulled the old man’s water bottle out and doused him with the contents a split second before Nick side-kicked his knee, collapsing it, and sending the thug to the cement screaming.

  Nick never hesitated. He punched, kicked, chopped and tore off hoodies and masks with his reinforced gloves on. Deke shadowed him with trained patience, scaring off any lunge from the sides with rips and tears. Stunned off guard, the thugs retreated, trying to bring other weapons to bear, only to be then assaulted with stun-gun nightsticks. Gus, Jian, and Johnny formed the wedge with Nick at the front. They left sobbing and screaming bodies with each step. One tried swinging at Nick’s head with a baseball bat. Nick took it away from him with a violent twist. He struck his attacker with a hard poke in the groin, sending yet another screaming to the cement.

  Three tried to bring out pepper spray cans from the coolers. Nick’s team, aware of the tactic, reacted to the ploy instantly. Night-sticks smashed with fracturing velocity anyone who tried to open coolers or reach under or into hoodies. The wedge expanded outward without mercy or hesitation, leaving the able Cala and enthusiastic police to tear off masks, while positioning the surrendering thugs to their knees. It took only moments for the terrified parents’ cellar dwellers to cry and beg while kneeling with hands locked behind heads. The BLM and Isis backing gangsters had no choice but to join them, although many were beaten to their knees.

  “I’m US Marshal McCarty. Your group will be detained under the Department of Justice and the Department of Homeland Security Agency’s direction, to be unmasked, photographed, and fingerprinted. This is not an option. You have assembled illegally, without written permission or assembly insurance, for the sole purpose of rioting and destroying property. Any of you previously in our databases of known BLM, Antifa, and Muslim terrorists will be detained indefinitely. The rest of you will receive the maximum penalty in fines and charges. Your names will be added to the terrorist databases. Prison awaits any repeaters. You all will be restrained. Anyone resisting will be dealt with violently. Keep your hands locked behind your heads until manipulated into restraints.”

  The next hour acted as the backdrop to many repeaters from riots already quelled by Nick’s crew or John Harding’s Monster Squad. They reacted in typical terms of attempting to resist their serious arrests. Johnny and Cala interacted to make sure anything they did to resist ended in a stun-gunning zap. It only took a few examples for the thug crew to understand there would be no appeals except in court. The only surprise to the mix came when a bearded man raced at Nick from the crowd of onlookers, knife in hand.

  “Deke! Protect!”

  Deke ripped the attacker to the cement, dragging him back and forth until the man released t
he knife. With honed fury, Deke tore the man’s wrist as an added portent of death, before settling with fangs at his throat. The man screamed out insults for being taken down by an unclean beast. He sobbed out victimhood and called the attack blasphemous while the onlooking crowd yelled for Deke to rip his throat out. Nick went over and hugged Deke.

  “Good dog! I see extra treats for you. We’ll need to wash away the slime from this one first though. I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You… you set this attack dog on me! It is unclean! This is blasphemy!”

  For the first time ever in public, Nick nearly bludgeoned the man to death. Instead he slowly straightened away from the man. Deke retreated with him. Gus, observant of his partner’s murderous nature, moved in to restrain the man, while Johnny photographed and fingerprinted him. Only moments later, Johnny ran over to where Nick talked with the EMTs as they loaded his first active wheelchair aggressor.

  “You stirred the hornet’s nest now, Muerto,” Johnny said, pulling Nick away. “This is Lon Seorgelas!”

  “The traitor from Texas, fighting for Isis?”

  “One and the same. He never received permission to return. It would be highly interesting to find out how he managed to reenter America after becoming a top Isis leader.”

  Nick stared at the young treasonous traitor, his terminator persona rising in a flood of consciousness. “Stay with him, Johnny. He is ours to take. We’re good otherwise, so take him with you to our special place. Take Reaper with you. We’ll finish here and get rides by some other venue.”

  “Would you like me to prep him, Muerto?”

  “Yes… very much so. I would like all his information easily so I can attend to his demise. We have only a few legitimate questions before I end the interrogation with a cleaning.”

  “Understood.”

  * * *

  Johnny yanked the outrage expressing Lon Seorgelas to his feet. “You are under federal arrest for treason. You joined Isis to fight against America and her allies. There will be no plea bargains for you, traitor!”