Red Horizon

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  Nick’s abort order solution amused Rachel to the point she rolled off of Nick and onto her back, with both hands over her mouth, stifling laughter while her feet drummed on the bed. Nick reversed positions, angling for something other than hygiene jokes. Rachel pushed on his chest, noting the reversal.

  “I don’t want you to go on the cruise today. I have a bad feeling.”

  “Have it in about twenty minutes.”

  * * *

  “At least we deposited the fish food early.” Gus steered The Lucky Lady toward coordinates which would bring them in sight of the Tempest but not suspiciously so. “You must have worked all night on the prep, Cleaner.”

  “Johnny and Muerto helped me.” Cala watched Gus closely. He pointed out wind speed, direction, currents, and brought them into perspective with smoothing the boat’s ride. Cala was training to be his backup ship’s pilot in case they couldn’t get Issac Leon flown in on a mission because of the time frame. “We finished in the early evening after Muerto dropped the Camaro off at Jerry’s job for its rebirth.”

  Gus chuckled. “Jerry’s a magician with the vehicles. I’ve seen a coupe he’s worked over. Every newer one has to have a complete work over from another at the wrecking yard so it will have a completely different electronic ID. We’ve been sailing together for a while now. How do you like driving a boat?”

  “I love everything we do,” Cala said. “Training to do so many different deadly and exciting things makes every day a new adventure.”

  Gus sighed. “Yep. That’s what happened to me when Nick brought me in on the cross-country jaunt to save Rachel and Jean. When we settled down in Pacific Grove after it was over, Nick was right all along, I couldn’t let it go. I talked him into the hit in the sand we nearly died a half dozen times finishing with the whole mess following us back here. Muerto enjoys the missions and always prepares for the worst, but he turns feral when someone crosses him. Rachel hates the Salvatores. That’s a given. Because of how he feels about Sonny, he won’t ever harm them, but he’ll make them wish they were never born. If it weren’t for Sonny though, the Salvatores would have been fish food long ago.”

  “Yes. They are very lucky to have Sonny. He has already saved their lives numerous times. I doubt Rachel’s joking when she claims they would adopt Sonny after making him an orphan.”

  “You have that right,” Gus agreed.

  “I am like you, Payaso. I am an adrenaline freak. Johnny knows and he likes having me with him all the time.”

  “You and Issac are very important to us. Both of you have faced certain death with us. Trust is a huge factor. Neither of you have shied away from anything that we’ve needed done.”

  Nick joined them on the bridge. “Johnny and I are done with cleanup. How long before we sail into sight of the bad guys?”

  “I’m thinking about fifteen minutes,” Gus answered. “Did you ever get a chance to talk with John?”

  “I called him while delivering the Camaro. Lucas was with him. They loved the idea. They left the planning phase to me. I told them we’d be looking over the Tempest today. We already have the plans for the ship and the most likely spots to find Fernando. We’re not taking prisoners unless something unexpected happens. It would be a bad idea to leave behind witnesses.”

  “Agreed,” Gus said, as Johnny slipped next to Cala, kissing her neck.

  “Muerto has a great idea for pirating the Tempest,” Johnny said.

  “I thought if John and I could get aboard where they take the Panga boats inside, we could secure the area for our boarding party. Once we have control of the lower hold, we could make an all or nothing assault on the bridge, especially if they aren’t aware they have been boarded. The main part to scope out today is the Panga boat hold, where they can actually bring them inside the Tempest. Lucas said if we can get the Tempest in one piece, he’ll put together a professional crew for transfer to ‘Monster Island’.”

  “What about the docking facilities?”

  “Already done, Payaso. They envisioned one day having a fleet there. Best of all, it’s a deep water pier facility. We have got to go see this island,” Nick stated. “I think we should all sail to the island. It has over twenty-nine acres off the coast of Washington. John told me they have a new compound built in addition to the already beautiful mansions that originally came with the island. Strobert bought a fortress of weapons and early warning radar gear. They already have a landing zone. I want to tour the place. That’s for sure. It sounded like a great home for the Tempest.”

  “Washington’s even colder than down here. Why didn’t they get an island in the Caribbean? There’s lot of them.”

  “Leave it to you, Payaso, to start whining about a place you don’t own, or are even a part of yet,” Johnny kidded him.

  Nick smiled through Johnny’s critique of Gus’s complaint. “John can lock down the island tight. In addition, it’s close to the United States coast and reachable with a strike force by helicopter if someone decides to invade it. California doesn’t have any good private islands for sale. Alcatraz and Angel island are about the only ones around and they weren’t for sale. Besides it’s cold on them too.”

  “I was just curious,” Gus said. “After hearing about the pirate action Harding’s crew engaged in overseas, I considered asking Issac to look around near St. Lucia for a place where we could sail to and own. We have a fortune. We can buy in to ‘Monster Island’ and own our own Caribbean retreat too. There have been more than a few attacks by pirates in the Caribbean.”

  “We’ll take it under consideration,” Nick replied. “It wouldn’t hurt to have Issac look into it for us. We’ll need a place to revamp and reregister the Tempest though right after we capture her. As to your personal ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ adventure, even John gets cover for pirate action from Denny Strobert. Keep track of current events. If anything forms there looking like a larger developing problem, and I could present the op to either Paul or Denny without making them look like fools, I’d do it.”

  “You know, Muerto, this pirate plotting by the sneaky Payaso makes me suspicious.” Johnny peered into Gus’s face in comical fashion with Gus finally giving him a push away. “Just as I envisioned. The happily married to the T-Rex, Payaso, loved his time alone on the ‘Valkyrie’. He’s looking for a mission to get away from his honey-bun.”

  “Shut-up, Kabong!” Gus kept his eyes on the sea ahead while his friends enjoyed the discomfiture Johnny’s suspicion provoked.

  “It would mean time away,” Nick said. “I’m not allowed to go gallivanting around the globe, leaving Rachel on her own with Quinn and Jean. If we had an island sanctuary to operate out of while pursuing occasional pirate baiting excursions, I could talk Rach into a Caribbean Island stay, especially if we made it luxurious enough. Let’s concentrate on the Tempest for now.”

  “How come Muerto gets a free pass when he admits to being under restraints by his wife?” Gus glanced accusingly over at Johnny, regretting it immediately as he could see his friend had been waiting for just that reaction to Nick’s words. “Don’t do it, Kabong!”

  “Muerto never speaks as the great and all powerful alpha dog of marriage, complete with jewels of advice he never practices himself. Whipped dog is what you are, Payaso. You want pirate adventures so you can escape your collar for a while.”

  Gus’s mouth trembled as he snorted lightly to keep from showing his amusement at Johnny’s accurate perception. “That’s… just mean. Get your range finders out. The Tempest should be in sight very soon. I’ll do a wide angle curve around it when we come in sight. Get your com units in. Stay with me, Cleaner. I’ll show you how to judge a curve at the farthest distance from a target we can get without looking as if we’re on a surveillance mission.”

  “Great!” Cala kissed Johnny before he and Nick left the bridge. “I will be on the pirate mission with you, my love.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Nick and Johnny left and Cala moved again into position
. “They can see us too though, right, Gus?”

  “Yep. Their radar can spot us on approach too. We’re dressed out on the surface like any other fishing boat or cruisers out for a day on the ocean. It’s not foolproof. If they get suspicious, I’m sure they have high tech range viewers the same as we do. There’s nothing they can do about it. My Lucky Lady is listed as a fishing trawler and rent-a-boat. The boat registry is solid to a dummy corporation we have professional credentials for. It’s not tied to either Nick or I. Fernando would have to find the Lady in port and stake us out to track her back to us.”

  “They could get worried and decide to make us disappear,” Cala pointed out while tracking Gus’s movements in relation to the digital panel. “You and Muerto made an Iranian patrol boat disappear.”

  “True, but if Fernando wants the Tempest to stay where it is, he wouldn’t make any wild decisions concerning unknown civilians. You’re right to worry though. Carone could do exactly that. Believe me when I say he wouldn’t stand a chance. Nick has enough firepower on the Lady to take on a combat ship.”

  “Yes, but then we will lose the Tempest.”

  Gus shrugged. “The Tempest would be nice, but if it meant losing any of you, I’d blow the ship to hell. There she is.”

  Cala looked out on the left horizon. She grabbed the digital range finders Gus kept on the bridge, sighting in the Tempest. “Oh my… it’s beautiful. Uh oh… they have guys on the top deck watching us. You were right about the radar, Gus.”

  “We’ll only be able to make one pass so we don’t tip them off. I’ll take the Lady further out as if we’re making a wide-”

  “Gus! They’ve launched a boat out of the side hold. There are half a dozen men on board. What should we do?”

  “I’ll turn away. They don’t know how fast the Lady is. I doubt if Nick wants company. It seems unusual for them to intercept us.” Gus began turning the Lucky Lady to a course gradually parallel and then in the opposite direction.

  Automatic weapons fire from the ‘Panga’ boat smashed into the water alongside the Lady. A second afterward, Cala saw the gunman’s head explode. The man at the wheel tried to turn but his brain matter coated the inside of the small bridge in the next instant. The boat slowed into a circle with the dead man’s arm draped over the steering control. She smiled as two more died in the same way. The two survivors dived down into the boat’s interior. More rounds pierced the boat from bow to fantail, blowing pieces out of the hull until it began to tilt, bringing out the last two men alive diving for the ocean. They didn’t make it, their bloody corpses hitting the water instead.

  “I guess our surprise visit will not go undetected,” Cala remarked.

  “Muerto doesn’t like to be hunted,” Gus replied. “We’ll head for home. Nick will get permission for satellite surveillance to see if they pull anchor and steam for parts unknown. He probably should have done that to begin with, but I think Muerto wanted to test them. If they’re that touchy about any boat within sight, it makes a big difference in whatever plan we’ll have to create for boarding.”

  “I wonder what Carone will think of what happened to his Panga boat crew.” Cala continued watching, shifting her view to the Tempest once again as Gus held course. “Some men have come out on the top level with weapons.”

  “Muerto better not hurt my ocean liner.”

  “Huh?”

  Gus smiled over at Cala, holding the Lucky Lady steady. “Wait for it.”

  The armed man on the top deck of the Tempest in the middle of his companions suddenly pitched backwards, his weapon falling over the railing. Cala enjoyed the aftermath of the dead center shot. The dead man’s companions scrambled down into the ship’s interior.

  “I think the ship’s fine, but it will need a cleaning,” Cala observed.

  * * *

  Nick, with Johnny trailing, entered the Lucky Lady’s wheel house, his silenced M107 .50 caliber sniper rifle still in his hands. “We better go home, Gus. Our experiment didn’t end well but at least we know our planned assault needs a far more subtle approach than we hoped.”

  “You could have waited until the Panga boat reached us,” Gus replied. “Maybe they were out here to issue threats to stay away from the area.”

  “Maybe they were census takers for the Neptune Society. Carone already has too much information. He knows the Lucky Lady and registration which we figured on. In one scenario, we could have done a wide sweep and anchored for a while as if we were enjoying the day on the ocean. An immediate challenge like today’s action means they have far reaching detection on board and someone watching at all times. They’ll either move location which we’ll track, or hunker down and go nuts trying to perceive what the hell happened today.”

  “You sure turned their water off, Muerto,” Gus replied. “As you say, we have facts now that were not in evidence.”

  “At least we have the Lady’s registration cloaked to a point where Carone will have to send minions into town once he finds out where the Lady is ported. That will tell us more too. We have surveillance coverage all over our docking area. Carone’s already after my ass so fooling around with him today won’t mean much in the way of added danger if he does link us to the Lady. Besides, I feel better now. If the prick would have shown his face anywhere on deck, we could have assaulted the Tempest at our leisure, and tracked it while the crew came to grips with their headless leader.”

  “I watched for Carone, Muerto,” Cala said. “He did not even peek out above deck.”

  “Johnny was spotting for me. He didn’t see any sign of Fernando either. Paul knows I have to get Carone. He’s already supported my request for full on satellite surveillance we can tap into. If the Tempest moves, I want to know where. If they land a helicopter on the yacht, I want to know where it goes when it leaves. I’ll call John when we get home after having a sip on my deck in honor of the poor lost souls in today’s boating accident.”

  Nick’s remark provoked instant hilarity as Gus increased speed for home.

  Chapter Four

  Tempest Collaboration

  “I want you, Harding!”

  The shout from the entrance drew the attention from my party crowd, but only barely. When I get the Monster Squad together for a dinner date, the only matter even a little entertaining would be a frontal assault on The Warehouse. The families enjoyed an earlier dinner and an extended enjoyable time of jokes, sporting talk, and no mention of Monster business. Claude Chardin and his wife seemed to love every moment with our very strange group of deadly killers, and our earlier meeting hour before dinner proved informative. I knew a handful of the most dangerous people alive stood near me at the end of the bar away from the entrance. I had two stretch limos bring us all here. One took our families home after the more jovial part of the night. We Monsters sipped drinks together now: Lucas, Casey, Denny, Laredo, Clint, Lynn, Tommy, Jess, Dev, Jafar, Samira and Lynn’s minions – Silvio Ruelas, Gus Denova, and Quays Tannous. Our guests, Alexi Fiialkov and Claude Chardin, listened to everything in play concerning Nick’s new information on Saran Al-Kadi’s compound at Pilot Hill.

  The Warehouse, an Oakland PD cop bar, was our informal and sometimes formal hangout. Because I became predictable in also meeting some famous names in the UFC fight circuit, we kept getting interrupted at annoying times like these. Everyone had been waiting for me to finish my description of the black op we’d have to do on Al-Kadi’s compound, and a new wrinkle Nick introduced about confiscating the place. I could tell Claude knew the names I mentioned but waited until I finished to add his knowledge of the subject. There were a few police officers working the gaming section while sipping beers on the house at Alexi’s treat. We had reserved the bar but no police officer was turned away, with or without family. My Monsters chuckled and snorted in amusement at the people interrupting our evening. Our wonderful waitress Marla began walking over to confront them but Alexi took her arm, shaking his head.

  “It’s about time the entertainment arrived, Ch
eese.” Lynn smiled at her deadly mate, Clint. She lived for my annoying interruptions.

  “Damn… what is this a ‘Black Lives Matters’ protest,” Tommy muttered for our group to hear. “Did you shoot one of my people in public, DL?”

  That of course provoked hilarity which did nothing for calming our visitors’ attitudes. Jess and Dev bumped fists with Tommy.

  “Good one, T,” Jess said. He turned to me with massive black hands on hips. “What have you done, DL?”

  Lucas Blake waved my personal jokesters off. “Don’t start that ‘Black Lives Matter’ shit in front of me. I can’t even read the news without getting violent images of a rooftop, my sniper rifle, and the next BLM human roadblock in my sights.”

  “Lucas! I’m surprised at you - a black man, not wanting to embrace those race baiting thugs claiming to speak for all us po’ black folks,” Devon said in fake outrage.

  Then it was on. Lucas went for Dev with Casey conveniently holding Lucas back. Jess grabbed Dev in the same hold me back posture as Lucas and Dev danced around, motioning at each other in ‘come on and get some’ type gestures. It was very funny and their playacting distracted our annoying visitors so much they simply stood at the entrance watching. They pulled all the clichés out for their fake verbal duel.

  “You ain’t black. You white in your head,” Dev said.

  “I’m bad, black, and got a job so I don’t have time to go out pissing off other blue collar working stiffs trying to make a living!”

  “Uncle Tom! You nothin’ but a ‘House Negro’ eatin’ with Jim Crow!” Dev stabbed an accusing finger at Lucas.

  “Listen, Topsy. Get out of my face before I show you what happens when Snow Whites need Marine attitude adjustments!”

  That was too much for Dev. I think the ‘Topsy’ tag got him. His infectious laughter broke Lucas out of his role, and soon he was braying with Dev and the rest of us. When I saw the group at the door begin moving toward us, I straightened to move forward and meet them with my hands out in a placating posture. We had real business. The leader of half a dozen relatively well dressed black men in their twenties all in dark suits, bowties, and sun glasses stood in a triangle as if they were swallows flying home for the winter to Capistrano.