Jean darted forward to grip Clarice’s nose in an unbreakable grip. Sonny leaped to intercept Phil. “Stay out of this, Dad!”
Clarice knew instinctively she had crossed a line. Jean release her nose. She gasped dramatically for breath.
“I warned you! Ask Sonny. My Mom and Dad raised him. They love the shit out of him. No one knows what you two love besides power and money. Ask him if you dare. Otherwise, you both need to wave and go on about your day.”
“Sonny!” Clarice cast an award winning feature filled face of victimhood at her son.
Sonny released his Dad, patting him on the shoulder. He moved over to his Mom without hesitation, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Mom… I love you and Dad. I know what you two are, but I still love you both. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Nick saved my life and yours, yet you two still treat him like shit. I spent more time at his home than anywhere on earth while growing up because I love everyone in the McCarty family. I allowed this discussion to go this far so I could at this point tell you and Dad my loyalty and honor are with the McCarty’s, not with you.”
Clarice gasped, stepping back with her hands covering her mouth in award winning form. “We love you. These people are killers! They would slit-”
Jean grabbed Clarice’s mouth in an unbreakable squeezing grip. “Don’t finish that, Clarice. You and Phil are not in touch with reality. We take that into consideration, but there is a limit to that allowance. As I said, be careful of your words. I see Phil understands.”
Phil, who had been watching the rise of retribution on Nick and Rachel’s faces, jerked Clarice away from Jean. “We have to go now! Don’t say anything else!”
Rachel took a deep breath and stood up. “It’s okay, Jean. Listen Clarice. I’m running against you. Nick has already filed for me. We have nearly every business in the city wanting me on the City Council. My next stop after that will be Mayor. Don’t come around throwing tantrums. It’s all a done deal. We love your son like our own. He’s with us because he has a heart and conscience. Be proud of that. Go ahead, Phil. Escort Clarice off the beach. If I were you two, I’d stay the hell away from here.”
Phil yanked Clarice toward the stone stairs as she mumbled something about electioneering and fraud. Rachel sat down, gesturing for Sonny and Jean to sit. “I hope we can get them to stay away from Otter’s Point. They must check the house and then come straight down here.”
“I doubt it,” Sonny replied. “They want a meeting in public with cars driving by when they decide to confront us about something.”
Amused by most of the Salvatore visit, Nick grasped Rachel’s hand. “We’re going to get her elected. We could probably get her into the Governor’s mansion if it weren’t for El Muerto.”
“I want to beat Clarice,” Rachel replied. “I don’t want to turn our lives upside down.”
“Maybe if we propelled you into the Governor’s mansion, you could do ‘Trailer Trash Momma’ for a nationwide audience,” Jean said.
Rachel laughed, pointing at Jean. “Good one, Scarface. I could imagine the news conferences when I got a crap question and I bring ‘Momma’ out. Let’s beat Clarice. She and Phil are relatively harmless right now. They aren’t money strapped are they, Sonny?”
“I put them on a budget, Ma. They don’t like it but I know they’d find a way to get into trouble otherwise. The extra money I gave them went for this whacky run for council I’d bet. Uncle Johnny? Are you sure I couldn’t go in with you. I speak the language very well. Even Dad said so.”
“I wish we could,” Johnny said. “Hell, I’d like to go in dressed as El Kabong with Muerto, Payaso, and Cala the Cleaner at my side, guns blazing. We’ll only have one chance of getting in there, one guy and two supposedly helpless women. We’re copying the method those dolts used Muerto sanctioned on the Fisherman’s Wharf pier long ago. The woman tucked automatic weapons in her burka. Viper and Cleaner can do the same thing. They’ll be suspicious enough as it is, Sonny. I’ll be lucky if they don’t turn us away.”
“We’re lucky Kabong’s Ebi Zarin identity is still working on a careful basis,” Nick added. “Zarin is an Isis legend. He appears out of nowhere, claims to have a cell forming, and everyone who comes into contact with him dies. Besides, ever since Clint streamed me the surveillance footage from satellite, Gus has been studying the compound.”
“It’s built like a small town,” Gus said. “They’re not stupid. They have streets, housing, and stores. The largest building is the mosque. One of the reasons the Monsters came to see us was for confirmation on what I saw, and finalize the infiltration without anything passed even on a secure line. Clint and I agree the mosque acts as their armory as always. It’s shielded. One of the ways we’ve been able to stay a step ahead relies on unavoidable building costs and plans. They can’t get away with any structures utilizing water, electricity, and gas without filing plans. Their lawyers are useless against California’s tax collectors. This Daesh sect we’ve handled before bought many properties in impoverished out of the way areas all across the USA.”
“We have to get inside the mosque somehow,” Jean said. “You said you saw some burka babes running around that for sure weren’t women, right, Uncle Gus?”
“Yep. Too tall and too hairy and rough handed. I could tell from the small opening they have for their eyes, with only what I could see of their features, they were male goons. Plus… there are no children at all. I’d bet money if they ever get wind of an inspection, they’ll bus in real women and kids to wail about discrimination in the street.”
“It wasn’t that long ago when we ran across this spinoff Daesh bunch and extracted Tim and Grace’s relation, Kelly Brighton. They were dopey enough to use visible armed guards. You never mentioned the place again, Dad.”
Payaso and Kabong started laughing, as did Cala the Cleaner.
“Okay… I get it… what happened, and why wasn’t I told about it?”
“You went back to college when Paul called me with a kill mission. He wondered if the ‘Unholy Trio’ could erase the compound from existence,” Nick answered. “I told him sure, but we’d need massive cleanup. Paul agreed to have a bulldozer team ready to smooth things over after we finished. The Monster Squad was on another gig. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have done it alone.”
“It was my first kill mission as pilot,” Cala said. “It was glorious! We struck in the dead of night with the Stealth UH-60M. At a mile away, we blasted ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’ so loud the buildings in the compound shook. They didn’t know what was coming. I fired off the M139 Volcano dispenser on the first pass.”
“Good Lord,” Jean whispered.
Cala smiled, nodding her head. “Yes, it was quite impressive. I nearly obliterated the compound with all forty of the mine canisters. The second pass we fired AGM-144 Hellfire missiles. The third pass, we used the XM25 rocket launcher and GAU-18A .50 caliber machine gun to…to… ah-”
“Salt the earth,” Nick finished for her.
“Yes! I was very good at piloting our ‘Death Star’.”
“We have our own AC-130J ‘Ghostrider’ now though, as does the Monster Squad,” Johnny said. “We will employ both and have the ‘Death Star’ on hand if we need to do a gentle cleansing.”
“I have the exact coordinates for three snipers’ nests, Muerto has already been over,” Gus said. “We did a recon of the area last night before the meeting as we explained before you came, Quinn. Nick and Rachel will be at one, Lucas and Casey on another. There’s an opening for a third, Sonny.”
“I’ll take it.” Sonny paused, wondering if he should go on. Jean jarred him with a shoulder. “Benny wants in. He’s perfect for my spotter, Dad.”
“No damn way!” Rachel stood, staring right at Jean with hands on hips. “This is your doing, Scarface!”
Jean waved her off. “Sit down, Trashy. Benny’s been training constantly. He’s begging for a chance in combat. Quinn started off as a spotter. Give him an opportunity. We’ll have him
covered.”
Nick yanked gently on Rachel’s arm. “Benny deserves a shot, babe. You’ve seen him. He’s as good a spotter as you are, with a sixth sense for wind and air change, not to mention he’s a genius at math.”
“Ben wants to be a doctor,” Quinn added. “He wants to do it in combination with joining the Marines.”
“Jesus…” Rachel whispered, sitting down again in slump shouldered defeat. “We’re doomed.”
“You must have missed the part about Ben wanting to be a doctor along with being a Marine, Ma,” Quinn said.
“That is great,” Nick said. “Your Mom needs a little time to absorb the reality part. We could use a medic. We’re all okay at field dressings, but a surgeon would be a real plus, right Rach?”
Rachel shrugged as Tina handed her a glass of wine which she drank half of before speaking. “I guess so. Benny’s gone through so much… why the hell do we have to adopt him into our combat wing?”
“He’s Ben McCarty now, Trashy,” Jean stated. “Okay… he’s in as Sonny’s spotter. We’re set for this, Dad. When do we move the pieces into place?”
Nick smiled. “Tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Quinn grinned as he heard Clint Jr. and Lynn trading barbs as they waited in place near the terrorist community of Ramoi with a strike force of Quinn, Clint, Lynn, and Lynn’s minions: Gus Denova, Quays Tannous, and Sylvio Ruelas. They also deployed armored vehicles in strategic spots near the entrances into the Daesh training camp with Tommy Sands, Jess Brown, and Devon Constantine as drivers. Jess and Tommy would block the approach, ready to move in for quick extraction. Devon was the secondary force’s ride inside to support Johnny, Cala, and Jean. Jafar and Samira waited in the UH-60M helicopter. Also at the ready near them Laredo Sawyer remained at the same hangar and private air field with extended runway Nick had purchased near Gilroy. Laredo flew the AC-130J Ghostrider with Gus Nason in the copilot’s seat, working weapons. John Harding piloted the other UH-60M with Issac Leon next to him.
“Get your damn head in the game, Jr!”
Clint Jr. glanced at Quinn with a big grin. He was six foot, three inches of ripcord tough, crew cut killer. “Hey Ma, your vagina is showing. Maybe you better sit this one out, Betty.”
Clint only managed to grab his wife in a last second clutch as she launched toward her son. “Easy…easy, Lynn. He nailed you again. You’re giving him combat instructions when he’s Marine Recon like Quinn.”
Lynn relaxed in Clint’s grip, pointing at her offspring. “There will be blood, you know-it-all little shit.”
“I learned from the best, Ma. Calm the hell down, Betty,” Jr. sparked her with the term he’d been bombarded with ever since he was a kid, listening to his Mom bait unsuspecting Snow Whites. “We get the order. We move in and kill anything that has a male heartbeat, including any burka babes with hairy hands, reaching for weapons. Why don’t you do some knife tricks until you get comfortable, Betty.”
The only person able to make such a statement smirked while everyone around him moved away as if near a detonating mine. Jr turned back into position, weapon at the ready, even though if everything worked out as planned, the fake community would be in ashes. Quinn watched his brother in arms crouch in comfortable silence.
“Recon!”
They all heard Lucas’s term of endearment for his Godson at the expense of Clint Jr.’s Mom. Lynn chuckled. “Shut the fuck up, Ahab.”
“We’re all on the network, Betty,” Lucas jabbed her. “We know you’re worried. It’s best to do this as Jr advised – either get ready or sit it out. None of us would think any less of you.”
A chorus of grunting acknowledgements agreed with Lucas’s assessment.
“I’m in,” Lynn stated. “I’m done mommying. If there’s any more Betty digs from anyone, I’ll have my foot massage gear ready to go. That includes you, know-it-all.”
Clint Jr. locked eyes with his Mom. “Understood, Ma. We’ll be fine.”
“I wouldn’t be worried if Cheese hadn’t used up all our good Karma and luck with all his near disasters.”
“I heard that, Crue,” Harding said. “We’re flying into position now.”
Quinn gripped his weapon, ignoring any further banter. Their support aircraft were in the air, minutes from positions already decided on. He needed a moment to gather his thoughts for combat. His sister would be in a place, if things went wrong, where there would be little to shield her from harm, other than the rain of death exacted by the sniper teams. Quinn had made peace with the fact he would kill everything without thought or hesitation until he reached her: men, women, and children. Let God sort them out at the end. He knew any of them could be wearing bomb vests.
* * *
Johnny approached the gated community’s entrance with tired realization he would once again be forced to dredge up his Ebi Zarin identity, although he disavowed and detested every aspect of his long ago dead identity. He drove a late model BMW, steeling himself to interact with the guard in a completely nerveless manner, without any indication of what churned inside of him. He well knew one mistake could rob his children of ever seeing him and Cala ever again. Cala gripped his arm momentarily.
“It is a small thing, brother,” Cala echoed, reading his expression, with a long ago reference to his favorite movie: Thirteenth Warrior.
They reached the outer gate with Johnny patting Cala’s leg with acknowledgement of her intuitive grasp of his emotions. The guards at the gate were only armed with holstered weapons. He made an instantaneous mission decision as the guard drew near with a sneering look of animosity. Johnny knew the mosque would be the key to their report.
“Give me my MP5,” Johnny told Cala. She and Jean hid the old but very reliable silenced machine pistols under their burkas. Cala instantly slapped it into his hands from underneath her garb.
“Uncle Johnny?”
“Be ready, Viper.”
When the two guards reached the car, Johnny lowered his tinted window and shot both men in the head with two short bursts. Jean instantly disembarked from the car, running toward the guard post, but there were no more men inside the guard shack. She held ground, watching for any kind of notice. Johnny dragged the two bodies out of sight. Cala smiled at her husband as he reentered the BMW’s driver’s seat.
“I’m tellin’,” Cala joked as Jean joined them.
“No need,” John Harding said. “I wasn’t thrilled with you three trying to get past those guards and leaving them at your back either.
“We’re watching the compound,” Rachel added. “Clear so far, but you’ll have to recon fast if the guards had check in times.”
“Clear from our nest,” Benny said.
“Clear,” Casey acknowledged.
“Are you headed for the mosque, Kabong?”
“No change there, Muerto,” Johnny replied. “The guards’ body language as they approached did not look promising. We will go directly inside the mosque and need time for a thorough search.”
“Absolutely,” Nick said. “All snipers’ nests have a viewing of the mosque entrance. We will maintain a clear escape zone even if we have to let the ‘Ghostrider’ loose on everything around. You copy that, Laredo?”
“Understood,” Laredo said. “We are in support distance right now. Gus fed the mosque coordinates into our weapons system. We’re ready.”
Johnny backed in beside the mosque, the hands on his watch reading a little after one in the morning. The three kept dressed for the time being while approaching without weapons showing. Before nearing the mosque’s entrance, Jean fired their wide range EMP weapon at the approach while Johnny and Cala took positions on either side of the approach. By prior agreement, if they could talk or shoot their way past the guards, the armory they were certain had been placed in the mosque would be target one. Jean threw the electromagnetic pulse weapon in the car again. She then ran past her two guards to the front with a hand held battering ram, tried the door, determined the locking mecha
nism, and smashed through with one stroke of the ram.
Automatic weapons fire sliced through the opening as Jean slipped to the side, dropping the ram, and readying her weapon. Johnny and Cala ran to the other side with Johnny pulling the pin on a grenade. They knew the armory would not be on the main floor of the mosque. He tossed it in. It made a spectacular explosion inside with fire and debris shooting out the open entrance. Johnny waited twenty seconds and threw another one in harder. Jean smiled as the second one exploded with screams of agony.
Shouting, running figures firing wildly approached, only to be cut down immediately from above. Sirens sounded on the highest tower which also acted as the call to prayer for the murderous cult. Johnny, Jean, and Cala crossed paths firing in short bursts after slipping on their night-vision helmets with breathing filters. They fired indiscriminately into every body alive or dead they found. The damage from the grenades appeared ancillary rather than structural. Firing outside increased every minute, but the three knew the mosque had to be cleared before proceeding to look for the hidden armory.
“Main floor secure,” Johnny stated.
“Secondary force on the way,” Clint said.
Devon zigzagged through the compound’s streets with the two UH-60M helicopters in support with ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ blasting from both helicopters’ sound systems. They fired the Yak-B Gatling guns, making sure everything in front of secondary force died. John shot ahead as the armored vehicle neared the mosque and blew the prayer tower and siren to pieces. Devon whipped the armored vehicle into a slide bringing it around to face the escape route. Secondary force deployed around the mosque. Quinn and Clint Jr. halted at the entrance.
“Kong and Cutthroat at the door, Viper. Secondary force deployed.”
“Come ahead. We’re at the access to the underground part, we-”
As Quinn ran toward the access with Clint Jr. watching his back the rear of the building exploded. He spotted Jean, Johnny, and Cala diving to the floor. Quinn ran through the exploded section, taking the force of five rushing at it completely by surprise. He smashed through them like bowling pins. Close order combat followed unlike anything the attacking men expected. Quinn and Clint Jr. drew their K-bar knives without hesitation, knowing from experience the lethal shock their vicious stabbing attack would cause. Only one of the enemy who had been at the back after firing the rocket launcher broke free. He stood to shoot down into the milling mass of warriors. Jean’s MP5 burst blew his face apart.
Red Horizon Page 39
