Hell on Earth

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Nothing wrong with that, my friend,” Nick replied. “Think of it this way, you could be going home to face the T-Rex Tina with yet another participation in a dangerous mission.”

  “Tina loves me!” Gus folds his arms in disagreement of what he is hearing. “She’s naturally worried about my safety.”

  “Yeah, brother… keep telling yourself that,” Johnny patted Gus’s shoulder. “If Tina were my wife, I’d have her walking point on every mission.”

  “That’s cold, Johnny!”

  “Not as cold as sleeping on your couch five days of every week, my friend.”

  “I do not sleep-” Gus realized he was being played. “Okay for you, Kabong! I’m with you guys on everything. We can’t be all married to a ghoul who loves slicing apart human beings into fish food, and sleeps next to her surgical hacksaw blade.”

  “That’s a lie,” Johnny protested. “She sleeps with the new cordless Sawzall I bought her.”

  Cala and the Unholy Trio enjoyed Johnny’s remark for the next few moments, Cala most of all. “It… it is true. I have a new Sawzall and many blades.”

  * * *

  Nick and Johnny, dressed in black slacks, black t-shirts, and black windbreakers approached the ranch house with Lynn and Cala in restraints, gags, and blindfolds. Two of the Somali Mafia met them at the door, smiling. Johnny called out a greeting in the Somali dialect he knew, switching then to Arabic.

  “I am Ebi Zarin. My associate, Amin Jutoh, and I have been instructed by Calas Mussa to update you all on tragic setbacks in our transfer stations. We brought along two of our captives we cannot transfer to The Amir. Calas told me you have others held here. Can you put these two in with them while we talk?”

  “Yes… of course… come in.” The speaker gestured them inside. He and his companion entered with Nick, Johnny, and their captives following. “We heard that Ebi Zarin was killed.”

  “His name is Samuel Kento,” Jafar revealed on their communications network.

  “Are you Samuel Kento?”

  “Yes.” Kento visibly relaxed after hearing his name mentioned by Johnny. He led them through the cluttered ranch house to a locked door. Kento released the locking latch. He opened the door and pushed Lynn and Cala inside where they could hear other women’s voices. “The name Ebi Zarin has been mentioned on the ‘Dark Web’ many times, always in major losses.”

  Kento led them through a living room, along with his comrade, to an area where the five other men watched TV or played video games. In the kitchen beyond, Kento motioned for Nick and Johnny to sit down. Nick made calculations in his head as to positioning once they began their assault. He knew John Harding’s crew were moving into position, awaiting Lynn’s word that they held the hostage room.

  “We have been overrun in the Tahoe Desolation compound,” Johnny told Kento. “They came with gunships and special forces soldiers. Only I and Amin escaped into the mountains. After reaching the coast, we made contact with Calas on a safe line. He explained the infidels destroyed The Amir, sank it with all hands outside of Mexican territorial waters.”

  “Can this be! The Amir… Allah be merciful! What can we do now?”

  “Cala and I hold the hostage room, Muerto,” Lynn said in Nick’s ear.

  Nick pistol whipped Kento to the floor. Johnny drew and fired into Kento’s companion’s head. Nick and Johnny then stayed low to the floor while Harding’s crew crashed into the house, avoiding a deadly friendly fire incident.

  * * *

  The moment Lynn and Cala heard the latch slide into place, they broke their restraints, tore off their hoods and gags, and faced the three stunned women with knives in their hands. Lynn smiled, making shushing gestures. “Who wants to get the hell out of here?”

  “You don’t know these men,” one of the women said. “They will cut your heads off when they find you are not as you seem.”

  “Let us worry about that,” Cala said. “We need you three to stay silent and out of the way. Can you do that?”

  Three heads nodded.

  Lynn told the network they held the room. A single gunshot sounded, followed by massive firings. The latch opened. One of the Somalis stepped in. Cala rammed her blade into the man’s thigh and Lynn slit his throat. Cala closed the door and brought over a chair to wedge under the knob.

  “Okay, girls, we wait,” Lynn announced.

  * * *

  I played human battering ram once again. The door gave way, hinges and all. My crew spilled in behind me. The Somalis confronting us, four in all, fired in panic, and died. Clint, Casey, and Lucas fired with pinpoint accuracy, all headshots.

  “We have two down in the kitchen,” Nick stated.

  “One down in the bedroom,” Lynn added.

  “We have four dead out here,” I replied. “I think that’s it then. Stay where you are, Lynn. We’ll sweep through the rest of the house collecting gear.”

  “Any live ones,” Lynn asked.

  “I have their leader alive,” Nick answered. “We can take him to my place for interrogation or do it here, John.”

  “I think we need to take him with us to your place,” I said, while we scrambled around, gathering electronics gear, phones, and tablets. “We need to get out of here. I’d like to burn this damn place to the ground, but we’ll dump the bodies into their Silverado we saw coming in, and fireball them out in the sand as Muerto did earlier.”

  In less than half an hour we had all bodies loaded with Nick at the wheel, along with a bunch of magnesium flares. He drove it into the desert surrounding the ranch, while Lynn briefed the rescued women on the way they would be returned to their lives. We gave them each ten thousand dollars from the safe we found without needing interrogation. I dragged the still unconscious Kento to the safe. His fingerprint opened it. Nick jogged to the ranch house in time for us to coach the women on how we could return them to their lives. The Unholy Trio and Cala would be driving the former captives to their choice of dwelling. Luckily, they had been taken only a couple of weeks ago.

  Lynn told them the facts of life once again. “Keep your mouths shut, girls. This was no game. It’s a federal terrorist operation. The Somali Mafia participated in a human slavery ring. My advice is to take the money we gave you and get the hell out of this life, but that’s your business. My friends will take you anywhere you want to go in Vegas. Any questions?”

  “No… we just want to get away from here,” the older of the teen prostitutes said. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  A murmur of agreement from her two friends ended Lynn’s pep talk. “Okay then, go and sin no more.”

  Lynn’s parting shot produced some amusement.

  “We’ll be going then,” Nick said. “I guess you’ll let Jonas know how things worked out. We’ll return the ladies to the city and see you at the hotel.”

  “Sounds good, brother,” I agreed. “Are you leaving after the book signing tomorrow?”

  “Yep. Rachel and Tina told me they’ve had enough of Vegas for now. Are we still all flying to the coast together with Laredo?”

  “Absolutely. We’ll meet with Doc Bostig and Denny tomorrow for the debriefing, and what Lynn finds out from Kento about this Minnesota Somali exporting terrorist gangs business. Thanks for the use of your house. I’m afraid we’ll be missing your book signing though.”

  Nick shrugged. “No biggie. I think it will be a pleasant but run of the mill excursion.”

  “Meaning Muerto probably won’t kill anyone tomorrow at the signing,” Gus said.

  “That’s disrespectful, Payaso,” Johnny retorted. “The great author will certainly be previewing his new work without violence. I’m sure my character’s great part in the new novel will be a main topic of conversation.”

  “How many times must I tell you, Kabong – no one cares about a common deck hand.” Gus continued his lecture as they escorted the women to Gus’s rented Expedition with Nick and Cala waving back at us while suppressing amusement.

  Lynn turned to her sul
len new toy. She pinched his cheek. “Oh, Sammy, it’s time for you to tell us all about the Somali Mafia and this disturbing connection to Minnesota.”

  “I tell you nothing. I want a lawyer. You people are murderers!”

  “Well… yeah… but we’re so much more than that when we get to question a terrorist ghoul like you. All the rest of your merry band of Moslem mutants are dead. That leaves you to explain everything.”

  Lynn’s statement shocked Kento. “Where are the others?”

  “You mean the ones sent to ambush us? I’m afraid we had to deal with them rather harshly. They won’t be…” Lynn halted as the Silverado exploded out in the sand. “Sorry… your friends met with the same fate as your buddies in the Silverado. Let’s go get you acquainted with being a good little helper.”

  “I cannot be broken, woman!”

  “That’s what you think.”

  Chapter Two

  Signings and Sumos

  “Wow, Dad, this place is huge.” Jean glanced around with Sonny sitting next to her gawking in the same way. They could put a few of the little Carmel bookstore, side by side, in this place.”

  Nick smiled as he helped Gus and Johnny arrange the display table with all his novels. His agent, Cassie, had supplied the store with new print runs of each one of Diego’s adventures. The media announcements of Nick’s appearance worked incredibly well. There were three security guards working with the store’s employees to form the lines snaked amidst guide ropes all the way to the door.

  “This is the biggest one I’ve had since New York,” Nick acknowledged. “We’re lucky your Mom, Tina, and Cala went together to participate in a ‘Texas Holdem’ tournament. I’m glad I have all of you here to warn me of any book-killers and suspected grammar Nazis.”

  “Cracker and Viper are on the case, Dad,” Jean stated. She held her iPad for Nick to glance at. “We take movies, pictures, and make notes of all suspects. When we’re right about them, they go into a category file of which type saboteur they are.”

  Nick chuckled. “Saboteur?”

  “Well… they’re not here to boost sales,” Jean pointed out.

  “I can’t fault your thinking,” Nick admitted.

  “Did you find out anything else on my folks, Sir?”

  His investigation the night before with Gus and Johnny yielded a Washington DC political insider, offering to purchase any information about passport destinations by key officials. It was a federal offense to give out personal information, but the Salvatores had done it before. Nick surmised they thought it could be done without detection; because the political insider, Ray Worthum, owned the law firm of Worthum Associates. They worked to supply information on political enemies of their clients. The Salvatores were assured, Nick figured, to be shielded from scrutiny. If not for Sonny, they probably would have been invisible to the usual governing sources on the matter of government extortion.

  “You were right, Sonny. We’re dealing with it, kid. I’ll let you know what we need to do.”

  Sonny looked away from Nick, fists clenched. Jean put her hand over his right fist. “We got this, Cracker. Dad will fish them out of the soup. We need to concentrate on the signing.”

  Sonny nodded, turning again toward Nick. He grinned. “I was raised by wolves.”

  That statement, as always, elicited amusement from the only people Sonny considered family. Johnny pointed at him. “You were indeed. We’ll fix this. I never imagined after Muerto’s haircut lesson your folks would move again to the dark side so quickly.”

  “Me either, Uncle Johnny,” Sonny admitted. “Hey… the manager’s signaling, Nick.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Nick joked, waving back at the manager.

  For the first two hours, Nick and entourage enjoyed every moment, as fans interacted with his real-life character models in Gus and Johnny. It turned out, Diego’s sidekicks, Jed and Leo, had accumulated quite a following. Gus and Johnny, playing out their parts, entertained the many readers interested in their real-life personas. Nick perceived the reality, as reported in public, of the three men sitting together at the book signing, being both US Marshals and FBI agents, capturing the imagination of his readers. His outing of their participation in consulting with federal agencies worked to both sell more novels, and enhance the book signings. Jean and Sonny interacted spectacularly with the readers, both able to answer anything pitched at them with outgoing personality skills that were hard to teach.

  “Book killer, Dad,” Jean whispered. “Eight back from the one approaching now. No book, and he can’t keep from rolling his eyes at every great comment made by other fans.”

  Not for the first time did Nick wonder at Jean’s progressing skill set. “Nice catch. I’ll let Gus and Johnny know.”

  Before parlaying with Gus and Johnny, while signing and interacting with the ones in front, Nick paid attention to Jean’s book-killer candidate. The book-killer phenomena still captivated Nick. It was hilarious, weird, and a sales killing beast every author had to face. Sometimes launched by competitive authors, major New York publishers using interns, and weirdo freaks fulfilling their own fantasies, it was a beast Nick loved to face both in words and in person if the opportunity arose.

  Nick measured the newest suspected nemesis with interest. Short, squat, with sandy haired, balding mop and mustache, the man met Nick’s eyes for a moment and looked away quickly, but not before Nick spied the visceral dislike overwhelming the man’s features. He seemed jovial enough, smiling while listening to the crowd’s comments, but as Jean pointed out, his smile disappeared when hearing a fan’s positive comment. The readers in front of him not only wanted autographs, they wanted to know about the law enforcement connections, Nick, Gus, and Johnny had. The first few fans were already calling out questions about his recent confrontations with the Council on American-Islamic Relations and the Black Lives Matter group.

  Expecting the interest because of all his recent interactions, Nick decided to expand on the crowd’s enthusiasm by answering honestly to a point. “It is true my partners at the table and I are credentialed by the FBI and US Marshal’s service as consultants. After the signing hours, I will be glad to take questions on anything involving our real-life law enforcement duties if they don’t relate to an ongoing investigation.”

  The woman in line next, a smiling thirty-something brunette shook hands with Sonny and Jean as she walked by. “It must be exciting being with Nick McCarty.”

  “Sometimes, it goes beyond exciting,” Jean answered with a big smile.

  “I’ve read what’s happened at a couple of book signings. The articles said you were there too.”

  “People are kind of crazy these days, and dangerous,” Jean replied.

  “Nice meeting you kids.”

  “Thank you,” both Jean and Sonny repeated politely as the woman moved onto Nick, Gus, and Johnny.

  The lady caught Nick flat-footed with her comment to him as she handed over Dark Interlude for signing. “How did you kill the terrorist that attacked you at the book signing? The articles I read claimed hand to hand combat. I’m a True Crime fan.”

  Nick hesitated. Jean piped in for him before he could answer. “He drove the guy’s nose bone into his brain.”

  “Good Lord… and you saw that?”

  “Yeah… it was pretty cool.” Jean ignored Nick’s head shakes.

  The lady took her book after Nick signed it with a quiet ‘thank you’, and a slightly horrified look. The rest of the crowd within hearing buzzed excitedly. The next three readers in line were men who wanted Nick’s autograph and a chance to talk about boats with Gus and Johnny, wondering how much real world experience they had on water craft. Jean and Sonny continued their note taking and pictures while enjoying the interactions. The fifth reader in line carried a copy of Dark Interlude with what looked like a few dozen colorful bookmark stickers. Jean and Sonny stifled amusement as the woman, probably in her fifties, handed Nick the novel with a big smile.

&n
bsp; “Very exciting stuff, but I found thirty-six errors in it. I’d like to go over them with you. I could be your proofreader.”

  “Uh… no… but thank you anyway.” Nick signed the novel and handed it back to the woman, who stared at him in unbelieving fashion. “Thanks for stopping by though.”

  “You’re not interested in a better edited novel?”

  “If you’re interested in listing the errors, email the list to me,” Nick suggested. “This isn’t the time or place for doing it. My email address is listed on my Amazon Author’s page.”

  “You should be more concerned with your product, Mr. McCarty. Bad editing will drive a reader right out of a story. Another thing is that new character Leon is a mistake.”

  “The character’s name is Leo, Ma’am,” Johnny said.

  Nick grinned. “There you go. Maybe you could use your proofreading skills to make sure you know what the characters’ names are.”

  “Maybe I’ll never read another one of your novels, McCarty!”

  “Maybe that would be best.” Nick looked to the next reader in line who hurried forward.

  Gus and Johnny waved at the dismissed proofreader as she stormed off.

  “I love Fatima!” The young woman clutched Dark Interlude to her chest before handing the novel to Nick. “She has such a lovely dark romance with Diego.”

  She then gave Gus and Johnny a tightlipped grim look. “Those two reprobates, Jed and Leo, trying to break Diego and Fatima apart, really make me mad. I think you should have Diego shoot them.”

  Gus, who had been sipping coffee, almost lost the sip through his nose to Johnny’s delight.

  “Jed and Leo are merely making sure Diego’s head is in the right place,” Nick commented. “Fatima endangers all three men. He needed to prove he could stay one step ahead of her. Thanks for your feedback. Fatima won’t be going anywhere.”

  “I’m so glad! She’s my favorite bad-ass woman character.”

  “I appreciate that. I enjoy writing her into the novels too.” Nick noted the next person in line before the suspected BK hesitated to approach. The older man gripped Dark Interlude in both hands like an outpost in an arctic wilderness. Nick motioned him forward with a smile.