Cold Blooded

by Bernard L. DeLeo

  “Stay here for a moment. This may get a little messy,” Nick told the dog while pulling a stun gun out of the Escalade’s glove compartment. Leaving Deke out in the garage, he returned to the kitchen.

  After checking to see how much blood was flowing from his captive’s shoulder wound, he stuffed some towels inside the man’s shirt, and duct taped them in place. He unfastened the man’s pants, and yanked them down with his underwear. Filling a glass of water next, he flung it in the man’s face. The man regained consciousness, groaning for help, only to be slapped in the face with hard, flat hand swipes.

  “Can you hear me now?” Nick shook the man’s chin.

  “Oh shit!” The man’s eyes widened when he recognized who had his jaw in a vice-like grip.

  “I see Suzan must have told you what happened to the other guys who tried this crap on me.” Nick fired off an arc. “I’d advise you to start talking, beginning with what route your partners took the woman and girl.”

  “Route 93 out of the city, then hit Interstate 40 all the way to Georgia, then…”

  “I get the picture. They left you and the dead man to kill me. What then?”

  “Follow in your vehicle with the body. Please, man…that’s the honest to God’s truth. Don’t –”

  “Shut up. Who connected you to us?”

  “Craig and Joe. They…they were supposed to kill everyone but the woman.”

  “Including Brewster?” Nick interrupted, pissed off Joe held out on him.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you guys are independents?”

  “We had a buyer for the drives.”

  “Who?”

  “Tanus’s rivals, ah, Fletcher Exports.”

  “Then what?”

  “When Joe and Craig didn’t show, we came looking for them. Please, that’s all of it…I don’t know anything else.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rescue The Hard Way

  With Deke in the back of his Escalade, Nick raced after the dark blue van. Attaining speeds in excess of a hundred and ten miles per hour, he crossed the Arizona border in minutes. After the slight slowdown crossing over, Nick again drove all-out on the long stretch of US 93 toward Interstate

  40. A three-quarter moon cast some light over the nearly deserted highway. Whenever Nick saw taillights ahead, he turned off the Escalade’s headlights.

  Fifteen miles before the Interstate, he spotted taillights mounted far enough off the road to be a van. He shut off his headlights, and floored it. Once he confirmed that the license matched what the man at his house had told him, he paced the vehicle three car lengths back, and switched to cruise control. With the window down, Nick kept the steering wheel controlled in his right hand. He leaned out the driver’s side window, aiming the H&K .45 at the van’s left rear tire. He hit it on the third shot, immediately braking while waiting for the van to pull over.

  When the van drove onto the roadside, kicking up dust and dirt, Nick turned off the road with it, keeping a fifty-yard distance between the vehicles. Having already pulled the fuse on his interior lights, he opened the door, exiting quickly with his weapon in hand. He kept to the blind side of the van, working his way quickly and quietly toward it. Two men, swearing and slamming the doors as they emerged, approached the damaged tire from both sides. They stood assessing the damage at the left rear tire with a flashlight in the driver’s hand. Nick shot four times with deadly accuracy, two .45 caliber slugs through the head of each man, running up on them to fire once more from point blank range. Continuing around to the driver’s side, he opened the door and got in, ready to fire. The cargo area was sealed off from the van’s front seating.

  Nick quickly dragged the bodies around to the van’s passenger side, confiscating the keys and paraphernalia the two men carried. He opened up the rear compartment, his heart pounding. Rachel and Jean lay bound and gagged on their sides. The mind numbing tension of his race across the desert slowly seeped from Nick, leaving him drained, momentarily, of all thought and energy. He took his knife out and carefully cut Jean free first, gently helping her take the gag off. Jean’s lip trembled and her eyes misted as she worked Rachel’s gag off while Nick cut away the bonds.

  “Oh Nick, thank God!” Rachel cried out, hugging Jean tightly.

  “The Cad’s back about fifty yards. We have to get out of here. Our luck’s run out. I’ll follow you back to the house.”

  “Is…is Deke okay?” Jean asked.

  “He’s in the Cad. There’s broken glass, so I didn’t want to leave him. Take him upstairs when we get home. Start packing. I have to do some clean up. Then we need to go.”

  Nick helped Rachel from the van with Jean still in her arms. He walked with them to the Cad. With a cry of pure joy, Jean dived into the backseat with a wild Deke. Rachel let Nick guide her into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

  “Drive the speed limit. Don’t pick up any hitchhikers.”

  Rachel barked out a quick laugh, which turned into a sob as she covered her face. Nick reached in and took her hands.

  “Training or no training we’ll get ahead of this thing, Rach. No more chances--no more playing house. I really screwed the pooch last night. You go on now. I’ll follow shortly in their van after I change the tire.”

  Rachel nodded, taking the handkerchief he offered through the open window. She started the Cadillac and watched him jog back to the van in the Escalade’s headlights.

  * * * *

  “Mom, where’s the Terminator going?” Jean peered anxiously over Rachel’s shoulder with Deke’s head next to hers.

  “With us, Baby, with us,” Rachel answered, driving away from the roadside.

  When Rachel reached Nick’s house, she parked outside. She waited until he arrived before getting out with Jean and Deke. Nick remote-opened the garage door and drove the van inside. He exited the van, walked out of the garage, and closed the door. He walked over to Rachel and Jean, fending off Deke on the way.

  * * * *

  “You look like shit, Nick.”

  He flashed a tired grin. “Hey, thanks. You and Danger don’t look like a bowl of Rice Krispies either. We’ve only begun. Let Deke do his business, then take him inside. Bypass the mess. Everyone go upstairs to pack like we talked about. If you could sweep up the broken glass, Rach, I’d appreciate it. I’ll clean everything else. Let’s go. We have a lot to do. After we leave their van near the border, I want to make it a ways down Interstate 40 before we stop for the day.”

  “I’m scared, Nick,” Jean said suddenly.

  Nick knelt down in front of Jean. “Look, Danger, I know getting kidnapped every other day is the pits. I promise you this, the next time you or your mom gets taken, it’ll be because I’m dead. We Terminators are awful hard to kill.”

  Jean hugged him. “I’m glad you came. I…I didn’t feel much like a Terminator.”

  “Me neither, kid.” He hugged her back tightly. He then held her at arm’s length. “What say we blow this town?”

  Jean nodded enthusiastically. Rachel took her hand, touching Nick’s shoulder as she went past. Inside the house, Rachel took Jean and Deke upstairs and began packing. Nick went out to the garage. He loaded the other two bodies, dragged from the house earlier, that were stacked behind his Malibu into the van with the others, and covered them with a tarp. He loaded magnesium flares on the van’s front seat and opened the garage door. After backing out to the street and parking the van, he drove the Cadillac in and shut the garage door again. He spent the next half hour loading equipment into the false floor in the cargo area. When he went back inside, Rachel was already cleaning up the broken glass.

  “We’re all packed Nick,” she paused to tell him, gesturing at the three suitcases. “Jean is taking a shower. I’ll go in after her. Then it’s all yours.”

  “Good deal.” He took the first two suitcases out and loaded them. Rachel met him at the door with the third one, giving him a quick kiss before re
turning to her sweeping.

  It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning by the time Nick had put a tarp over the broken patio door and finished his house cleaning. By ten thirty, he had his bags packed and in the Escalade with the rest. Rachel, Jean, and Deke sat together on the couch watching a movie when he came down the stairs after showering. He carried the clothes he had worn through the early morning hours with him.

  “We’re all set, crew. I think it would be better for you to follow me. It’s still daylight, so I’ll have to drive this damned van out a ways off the road before doing some final touches to it. When you see me turn off into nowhere, pull alongside the road right where I leave it and I’ll join you as soon as I get the van taken care of.”

  “Okay, Nick, we’ll be out front.” Rachel switched off the TV. She walked outside with Jean and Deke into the Las Vegas heat.

  Nick backed out of the garage, sealed up the house, and handed the keys to Rachel. By the time he gave everything the once over, Rachel had the Cadillac ready to go with Jean and Deke in the backseat. He gave her a wave, and carried the small shoulder bag he had packed to the van.

  After passing a town called Cloride, Nick looked for the first available spot to turn off. Five miles down the road, he turned into the desert, keeping the van speed up to avoid getting stuck. He made it in nearly two miles before the rear of the van sunk to the axle. Taking papers, match booklets, and charcoal lighter fluid out of his bag, he doused the clothes he had worn earlier and the front seat area with lighter fluid. He opened the van's cargo doors, pulled aside the tarp, and threw two of the unlit magnesium flares from the front seat onto the bodies. Nick coated everything in the cargo area with lighter fluid. He lit a booklet of matches, and threw it into the back, closing the doors. After igniting the front in the same manner, he left at a dead run with his bag.

  He made it to the Escalade soaked in sweat, having run the two miles in brutal desert heat, pouring water from a quart container over his head every hundred yards. Rachel drove off the second he closed the passenger side door. They were nearly a quarter mile down the road when the van exploded. Nick had been watching for it. With the magnesium flares, he figured it would burn white hot until nothing of any consequence was left.

  “Can you give me about an hour, and then I’ll take over for you?” Nick reclined his seat.

  “Oh sure, I do all the hard work and you sleep it off,” Rachel deadpanned.

  “I’ll make it up to you later, Nikita,” he promised, his eyes already closed.

  Nearly an hour later he woke up, looking around tensely. He relaxed when Rachel smiled over at him.

  “What the hell! You have a built in timer or something?”

  “Inner clock--perfected over the years.” Nick stretched. He looked back at Jean and Deke. Jean sat with her head against the seat, sleeping soundly, while Deke lay across her lap. “Want to make a pit stop and get something to eat?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. A sign we passed just before you woke up claimed there’s gas, food and lodging up ahead about five miles. How far did you want to go today?”

  “Flagstaff, if we can. The guy I questioned convinced me they were selling the drives to a rival outfit called Fletcher Exports. If those guys were independents then we’ve bought some time. We’ll make Sarasota ahead of schedule. We needed more work in the desert before pulling off what we have ahead, but it can’t be helped now.”

  “Do you think there are any more free lancers out there?”

  “I’m sure of it. As long as we keep on the move, I think we’ll be okay. Hooking up with Suzan was a blessing and curse. She nearly killed us all, but if we can get together with her husband once we retrieve the flash drives, our bargaining position will be greatly improved. I better call her, and then Grace.”

  Nick pulled his satellite phone from the bag at his feet. He called Suzan on the throwaway cell-phone he’d given her. She answered a moment later. “It’s over, Suzan. You can take the kids home. Our deal’s still on, but we won’t be seeing you until the drives are in our hands. It probably won’t matter, but did anyone see those guys visiting your place yesterday?”

  “I can’t say for sure. They came after dark. They’re really…gone for good?”

  “No more surprise visits,” Nick told her. “Will your husband be coming home on time?”

  “Yes, he called earlier.”

  “I’ll give you a call this weekend sometime after you get a chance to talk with him.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “You bet.” Nick hung up. He called Grace next. She answered the phone without setting off a red light. “We’re on the move, Grace. The timetable may have been moved up a bit. Are we still dealing?”

  “It’s a go, Nick. They’re not all happy but, surprisingly, the Attorney General is. He’s suspected there was a lot more to all this. He’s very happy with our progress--considering how little of it you’ve worked with us to achieve. Can I talk to Rachel?”

  “Sure, but make it quick. She’s driving, and cell phone usage by the driver is against the law.”

  “Hand her the phone, wise guy.”

  “She wants to talk to you.” He handed Rachel the phone.

  * * * *

  “Hello, Grace,” Rachel greeted the Marshall, as she turned the Escalade onto an off ramp leading to the gas, food and lodging she had seen advertised on a sign earlier.

  “Listen closely, Rachel. Don’t reply,” Grace urged. “Nick’s a killer. He’s some kind of psychopathic hit-man according to all the rumors flying around. We’re not sure if he does it under some pseudo government network authorization, but we know he’s not some innocent novelist. You and Jean need to get free of him, Rachel. When you do, call me, and I’ll help you deal with the flash drives.”

  “I’m sorry for putting you and Tim through all this. What you just outlined will never happen. Nick’s already saved our lives a few times on this damned excursion.” Rachel glanced over at Nick, who was looking straight ahead.

  “Damn it, Rachel! Use your head! How the hell do you know he won’t waste you all the moment he has those flash drives?”

  “I just do.”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you, dummy?” The tenor of Grace’s voice betrayed her anger. “Think of Jean.”

  “I am thinking of Jean. Nick’s our best shot at being free again.”

  “With harps and clouds maybe.”

  “Are we done?”

  “Think it over care –”

  Rachel handed the phone to Nick. “Hang it up for me, Nick.”

  Nick disconnected. “She trying to sell you the sell out?”

  “Yep. Grace thinks you have it in mind to get the flash drives and bury the rest of us in the desert.”

  “The only thing the flash drives mean to me is a chance at having you, Jean, and Deke in my life on a permanent basis. I have money. What the hell does Grace think I’m going to do with the flash drives?”

  “She thinks you’re a cold blooded psychopath without a conscience and you’d do it just for the power trip.”

  “Oh, well sure, there’s that, but I’m a nice guy when you ignore those small flaws.”

  * * * *

  “I feel better.” Nick sat down at the table with Rachel and Jean.

  “You smell a little fresher.” Rachel sniffed toward Nick, earning a quick head slap.

  “You try running full speed for a couple miles in the desert and then –”

  “Sleep your time away to a restaurant,” Rachel quickly filled in for him while Jean giggled at her two adult companions. “I think the clean t-shirt helps the most.”

  “After washing up, I went out to give Deke some water and dropped the foul smelling thing off in the back. Did they take the order already?”

  Rachel nodded. “I didn’t order the food yet, but I did order our drinks. She’ll be bringing us coffee and –”

  “A milkshake,” Jean piped in proudly.

  Nick laughed. “She conn
ed you again, huh?”

  “Miss smarty-pants pointed out we could wind up dead anytime, so it’s kind of stupid to worry about her diet right now.”

  Nick quit laughing abruptly, looking over at Jean. “Not funny.”

  “I got a milkshake out of it.”

  The dark-haired waitress in her middle thirties served their beverages, smiling at Nick appraisingly while setting the drinks down. “Have I seen you around here before, Sir?”

  “I get that a lot.” Nick smiled back. She doesn’t look the type to be a fan of Diego, but Grace didn’t either. “This is our first time visiting Ash Fork though.”

  “You look familiar, but it’s been a long day. I’m probably a little batty. Are you folks ready to order?”

  “We’ll have your special.” Rachel wagged a warning finger at Jean.

  “Make it three.” Nick handed the menus to the waitress.

  The waitress paused after taking the menus. “I can’t think who you remind me of, but--I know this sounds goofy--are you someone famous?”

  “Roscoe Weatherby,” Nick said, holding out his hand to the waitress with a friendly smile. “I’m only famous, or infamous, as the case may be, to my wife and daughter here.”

  The waitress chuckled, shaking his hand. “Terry Jenkins. You look a lot like Brad Pitt.”

  Rachel and Jean were still laughing as Terry walked away.

  “It wasn’t that funny.” Nick pretended annoyance at his companions’ amused disbelief that the waitress would think he might be Brad Pitt. “I do look a lot like Brad.”

  His statement brought renewed laughter. His satellite phone beeped in the bag next to him, where he’d stored his H&K .45. Nick took the phone out of the bag. “I’ll be right back.” He walked outside with the phone, unwilling to take any chances some noise or conversation might give away their location to the caller. It was still nearly ninety degrees outside in the Arizona town, and he felt the sweat start forming again after being in the air conditioned restaurant. Staying in the shade, he walked away from the restaurant entrance, but kept alongside the building wall providing