“Excellent,” Nick whispered. “We’ll wait a few minutes, and Dan can pull the same thing at Nancy’s door. She’ll call over to her bodyguards. John will answer, and tell her he’ll be right over and will knock once. Nancy opens the door, and we Tase the shit out of the bitch.”
“No, Muerto, we won’t,” Gus countered. “Stick to the plan. We don’t want to leave marks to upset your psychopath scene setup.”
“Fine, nitpicker. Great job, Dan. Are you ready for another taste?”
“I’m good to go, Nick. You guys are frighteningly good.”
“You don’t want to be in the room when Muerto really becomes creative after we get Nancy,” Gus said, with avid agreement from John, who was restraining the bodyguards with plastic ties and duct tape.
“Yeah… I do,” Dan answered with conviction. “Let’s do this.”
“That’s the spirit, Dan,” Nick said.
* * *
Nancy Pettinger gulped down a large portion of Johnnie Walker Red on ice, wondering what the hell all the commotion was next door at her bodyguards’ room. When it quieted again, she poured another drink, smiling at the money offerings she was getting every moment on-line for her auction taking place in Montreal. Then someone was cursing, banging into her hotel room door, and sounding like a mental patient. She called immediately over to her bodyguards.
“Yes?”
“Get your ass over to my room and find out who the fuck’s ramming my door!”
“On our way. One knock.”
Nancy disconnected, cringing each time the banging persisted. Then she heard voices followed by silence. A single knock on her door, and Nancy drained her refill and walked unsteadily to the door. She opened it, and men grabbed her while physically dragging her deeper into the room. A hand clamped over Pettinger’s mouth as her arms were restrained by her wrists behind the back. A piece of duct tape was spread across her mouth as the clamping hand released her. The man who had clamped her mouth shut smiled and waved.
“Hi Nanc. I’m Nick. I’ll be your escort to hell. Don’t worry though. I can’t do all the things I wish I could do to you. I need to make a tragic scene of death here, where your bodyguards became embroiled in a sexual scene with you. One will be the participant while the other will be the jealous lout who ruins everything. I’ll give you a little something to help you into the mood, you traitorous bitch!”
* * *
Dan watched, mesmerized as Nick stripped Pettinger, placing her on the bed. Then with Gus’s help, he stripped one of the bodyguards naked. They spread the clothing around in haphazard seduction form. Nick had injected the supposedly amorous bodyguard with something, and the man now lay near Pettinger with a drug induced erection. With gloved hands at all times, Nick lubricated and created an undeniable sexual scene. John held Nancy in place during the final setting with Gus controlling the bodyguard.
Nick then produced a silenced Ruger 9mm automatic. He put it in the second bodyguard’s hand, whom he had sitting on a chair, while aiming it carefully. The vocals surprised Dan; but drew clucking noises of discontent from Gus, and suppressed amusement from John.
“You bitch! How dare you betray our love,” Nick said with actual angst as he fired a round through Nancy’s forehead. He then shot the sexually coupled bodyguard in the back, assuredly near his heart.
Rushing over to the bed, Nick placed a silenced Glock 9mm in the sexually coupled bodyguard’s left hand, aiming back at the bodyguard in the chair. “You dirty rat! You’ve killed me, you prick! Take that!”
Nick shot the bodyguard in the chair through the head. Dan watched as the Ruger the unconscious bodyguard in the chair held, clattered to the floor with the body. Gus took the chair, placing it in its original position at the room table. Nick allowed the Glock to fall away from the dying bodyguard's hand, standing while scanning over his scene. He waited while the bodyguard died, the final death in his macabre play. Nick checked the bodyguard’s vitals, while Gus and John scoured both rooms, making sure no hint of what had actually transpired would be left behind.
“Holy God in heaven,” Dan said.
“My advice,” Gus said, while guiding Dan to the door, “leave the Lord out of this.”
“Amen,” Dan replied.
* * *
At their new beach, with Gus, Dan, John and Nick sitting comfortably on folding chairs, they sipped their spiked coffee with appreciation. Nick’s phone vibrated. He threw a Frisbee toss for Deke and answered, noticing the caller ID.
“The fabulous and deadly El Muerto here, with his equally dangerous sidekicks: Payaso the bold, El Kabong the silent death, and OG the herald of doom.”
It took many seconds for Paul Gilbrech to recover from Nick’s greeting. “That… was too much.”
“Says you, El Kablooey. How has our tragic scene panned out?”
“Exactly as you had envisioned, you prick. May I say without a doubt, you scare the shit out of me, Nick. With Dan playing the role of a senior citizen making a 911 call, complaining about a violent argument in the room next to him, the scene was incredibly good. How the hell did you recruit someone to work that angle so perfectly?”
Nick looked over at the old man staring into a tide pool. “I recruited him from hell.”
The End
An Added Bonus Short Story
Cold Blooded Future
She saw him walk out of the gym with bag in hand. His nondescript nature and looks made her doubt everything. Approaching him seemed a bad joke. Although around six feet tall with a solid look about him, he could have been a hundred other men. His close cropped graying hair gave him a frustrated gym-rat look rather than a sinister one. The woman sobbed. Fear clutched her insides into a ball of misery. Remembering what her US Marshal Aunt had told her, she stood in plain sight, trembling with her hands empty. Only a moment passed before the man who until that second gave no indication she lived or mattered, approached her with an unhurried gait. When the man reached her, he smiled and held out his hand.
“Cindy Brighton?”
Cindy grasped his warm hand. He put his other hand over hers. “Your hand is like ice. Is your car nearby?”
“It’s the Nissan over there by the curb,” Cindy managed to blurt out, trying to control the tremble in her voice. “Are… are you Nick?”
Nick McCarty put an arm around her, shielding some of the wind chill blowing in from the ocean. “Yep. I’m Nick. Why don’t we talk in your car with the heater on? I can tell you’re nervous. Don’t be. We’ll talk like two old friends, and then we’ll get to know each other, or part ways with a smile, okay?”
Cindy nodded without speaking, allowing Nick to guide her to the Nissan. She beeped open the locks. Nick opened her door and held it open until Cindy sat down in the driver’s seat. He closed it and went around the Nissan, quickly getting seated in the front passenger seat. Cindy started it, putting the heater on low blow. Nick smiled at her, his eyes direct and unblinking.
“Better?”
“Much,” Cindy replied. “Grace Stanwick is my aunt, Mr. McCarty. I went to her as a last resort. I… I didn’t know what to do. I thought as a US Marshal, Grace could help me get my daughter away from that cult she joined. My aunt said it wasn’t something she could do anything about unless approached by my daughter Kelly.”
“That is unfortunately how it works, Cindy. Grace told me your daughter called you secretly, begging you to get her out of there.” Nick’s eyes narrowed slightly, his facial features chilling into an uncaring mask. “You wouldn’t be making that up to get help, would you, Cindy?”
Cindy shook her head no violently. She reached over to clutch Nick’s hand. “No… never… Grace was my last hope. When she told me to be here at six o’clock at night to meet some novelist named Nick McCarty, I thought she had blown a fuse in her head.”
Nick chuckled, his face easing out of the grim featured tone he had been casting. “I’ve thought that a few times on a normal basis about your aunt. I’ve known her well over
a decade, and she’s just as mental as I remember her from the first time we met. Your Uncle Tim is a saint to have stayed with her. That they pulled off remaining together as partners is a damn miracle.”
Hearing him speak so familiarly about her aunt and uncle stopped the trembling in her hand. Nick kept holding the hand with a light touch. “My aunt told me if you decided to get my daughter back to me there would be consequences and secrets that could never be shared with anyone. At first… I really thought she was nuts. I don’t read pulp fiction, but I know you’re one of the most famous authors in the world. You’ve sold millions of novels about an assassin named Diego. I asked her how a New York Times bestselling author could help me. I thought at first she meant you could buy Kelly out of the cult.”
Nick’s face darkened like a Midwest tornado forming on the horizon. “Sorry, I don’t work that way. I don’t much care if I could buy her out of there. I’m sure Grace explained that to you.”
“Yes,” Cindy acknowledged. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just couldn’t figure out how Grace thought you could help. She told me you don’t just write about Diego, you are Diego.”
Nick grinned, patting her hand. “Like I told my wife Rachel long ago – compared to me, Diego’s a campfire girl. I also have a few partners. I brought one with me. She may make you more comfortable.”
Nick’s hand went to his ear. “Hey Dagger, c’mon out here.” Nick laughed at something he heard before turning to Cindy. “She’ll be out in a second. My daughter Jean’s a little rough around the edges, but I’ll need her in on this.”
Cindy watched the gym door. A slim woman emerged, striding toward the Nissan with acrobatic grace. The parking lot lights flickered on her grim visage, the woman’s long blonde hair, tied at her neck tightly in the back. She wore a black windbreaker, and carried a small bag much like Nick’s. As she drew closer, Cindy thought she looked to be only a few inches shorter than Nick. She flung open the back door to the Nissan with suppressed anger, slamming it shut. Before she closed it, Cindy noticed the thin scar running from her right eye down to her ear, and another small one at the left corner of the woman’s mouth in the dome lights dim illumination.
The woman slapped the back of Nick’s head. “I told you to stop calling me Dagger… damn it!”
Nick chuckled. “Yeah… so what?”
To Cindy’s surprise she saw the grim woman grin before turning her attention to Cindy.
“Who’s the mark?”
“This is Cindy, Grace’s niece. Her daughter’s being held in a cult against her will. Cindy, this is my daughter Jean.”
Cindy shook hands with Jean, surprised at the strength she felt in the short grip. “You must work with your hands. They’re rough. It’s nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too.” Jean didn’t comment on Cindy’s observation. “Let’s go over to the Monte, Dad. Mom’s working the night shift with Quinn. I’m starving.”
“I haven’t decided yet about Cindy’s problem.”
“I have,” Jean said. “Cindy’s okay. Let’s get her daughter back.”
Nick’s chin dropped to his chest, earning him another slap on the head.
“C’mon. What else do you have to do? This is for Grace and Tim. We owe them.”
“No we don’t.”
Jean patted Cindy’s shoulder. “We’ll get her back, Cindy. Dad’s a little slow on the uptake since turning fifty-seven. Don’t mind him. Do you know where the Monte Café is?”
“Yes. I’ve lived in Fremont all my life, but we visit down here all the time. The Monte Café is one of our favorite places to eat at. Has your Mom worked there a long time?”
“Nearly twenty years. My younger brother Quinn works with her now. He was practically raised there. Mom loves what she does, so she ignores the fact Dad has more money than God. You talk to my Dad and drive him over to the Monte. I’ll follow with our car.”
“Okay, Jean. Thank you.”
“You bet.” She grabbed Nick’s ear, shaking it slightly. “Say something, Muerto.”
“This is about me roughing you up, isn’t it?”
“Nope, but I am going to beat your old ass one of these days. I’ll call Uncle Gus, and Uncle John for a meeting. See you at the Monte.” Jean exited the car, and jogged over to a gleaming black sedan.
Cindy drove toward the Monte Café. “I like Jean. She must look like her Mom.”
“She does. Jean’s my step daughter, but closer than blood. Quinn is my son. Let’s talk about how your daughter entered the cult. Grace told me it’s an offshoot of those nut-cake Isis guys we finally almost exterminated. How the hell did she get introduced into a radical Muslim group like that?”
“Kelly met an intense young man in high school, named Javid Harandi. He invited her to their mosque. Kelly’s always been a wild one. I didn’t figure she would ever attend more than one meeting. They all stay at this ranch in Salinas, where they’ve converted the main building into their mosque. The outlying structures used to house farmhands, but now are part of their compound where families supposedly stay. Javid seemed like a nice kid. It wasn’t until too late I found out he didn’t attend school there.”
“He was recruiting.”
“Exactly. He was very good at it. Before I knew what was happening, Kelly was wearing long dresses and a hijab. The school began calling, accusing Kelly of disrupting classes. When I confronted her, she threw a fit about the school being unclean. She left in the night. I tried to get the police to intervene; but because she is eighteen, they couldn’t barge into that compound even though she hasn’t graduated. Can you get her back, Nick?”
“How did she get word to you she wanted out?”
“They get deliveries there from UPS, among others. Kelly snuck a note to the UPS driver. He was nice enough to call me. You keep avoiding the question.”
“I’m gathering information. I don’t know if I can get her out. I’ll talk it over with my partners. Jean’s having them meet us for dinner. We may have to scout the place first. For one thing, we don’t know where she would be.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I thought you could do,” Cindy replied. “I hope you can figure some way to help. You’re my last chance.”
* * *
At the café, two men sat together at a place where two tables had been pushed together. There were no other customers. Jean led the way in with Nick and Cindy following. Jean hugged a tall young man with an apron on.
“Hi, Sis. I heard you have a meeting planned. Am I invited?”
“Sure, if you want to make Mom’s head explode,” Jean said, echoing the same words Nick used when Jean asked to be let in on missions. She smiled as her Mom appeared with a tray of appetizers, glaring at Jean. “Hi Mom.”
“I heard what’s going on,” Rachel said, serving the appetizer tray in front of the two amused men. She pointed a finger at them. “Don’t you two start either.”
As if prearranged, both men made lip zipping motions in sync. Nick hugged his wife. “Is Quinn torturing you again with Jean’s help?”
Rachel framed her husband’s face with her hands. “Yes, and I blame you.”
Nick kissed her, eliciting quick ‘get a room’ remarks. “I’m always to blame. This is Cindy Brighton, Grace and Tim’s niece. Her daughter Kelly’s being held by a Muslim cult offshoot of Isis. What do they call it now?”
“Javid said they are of the Daesh sect of Islam,” Cindy answered.
“That’s the French word they created to be politically correct overseas. It means the same thing: Isis, Isil, Daesh – all the same.”
“That’s John Groves,” Nick said, holding onto Rachel. “Gus Nason is next to him. The young man is Quinn McCarty. Last and certainly not least is my lovely wife, Rachel.”
The others waved, but Rachel shook her hand. “I’m sorry about your daughter. Mine has decided to follow in the footsteps of her Dad, where she received those lovely scars infiltrating a nest of shitheads much like the ones hol
ding Kelly. Nick, Gus, and John barely arrived in time to keep the bastards from slitting her throat. Don’t worry, she’s much more careful now, right darling?”
Jean absorbed the amused laughter in good spirits. “Thank you for the history lesson, Mom. I didn’t do what I was told, and I paid the price.”
“She could have the scars fixed surgically,” Cindy said. “They do wonders with plastic surgery now. It would practically be an outpatient procedure.”
“Nope. Not doing it,” Jean said, as Rachel did an eye roll to the heavens. “When I wake in the morning, and see my face, I know not to do something stupid again.”
“Let’s eat while Rachel busts our chops,” Gus said, digging into the appetizers. “Sit down Nick. John and I have some news about the Daesh bunch. We read in Paul on the way over. He’s backing our play if we decide to help. Apparently, they’re already on the radar.”
Nick sat down after holding a chair out for Cindy. Jean sat down next to her. Rachel brought over the coffee pot and filled the cups while Quinn replenished the finger foods. “It’s damn nice the CIA director still takes our calls.”
“He never forgets how he got there,” Jean said.
“You mean Paul Gilbrech, the actual Director of the CIA?”
“Keep that between us, Cindy,” Nick said. “Paul likes us. We’ve worked together many years, since before Quinn was born. We have a habit of attracting cases involving Homeland Security. We’re legal though. We consult with the FBI, DOJ, and US Marshals. I originally made contact with the US Marshals through Grace and Tim.”
Cindy waited for Nick to go on, but he began eating as did the others. Rachel patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can see it in their faces. They’ll be going after Kelly.”
“I want to go with them,” Quinn announced. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I’ve been trained since I was old enough to walk.”
Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) Page 33
