Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder

by Peter Casilio

  “Have you seen Ann since last night?” MacJames asked again.

  “God, what am I?” He clenched his fist, “No, I haven’t seen Ann!” Mitchelli looked at MacJames. “Nope, no illusion today. My kids, my business, my siblings, you, everyone’s on my mind. I’d like to say I’m worried stiff. The truth is, I want to kill that son of bitch. Devilish thoughts for a Roman Catholic, right? Thou shall not kill! Man, I blew that sin, don’t you think Angela? I feel like such a coward, a shivering coward. I’m hiding in this house instead of tracking Handly down.”

  “Remember, we’re a team. We’ll get Handly.”

  “I’m sick of that team bullshit. Who’s he going to get first? You, me Dom, possibly Sal? He was with me at Runners. Anyone with any common sense would just take his children and run for safety. Ann was right; I have no sense. I’m an insensible coward. Defending myself, stopping the deadly threat, shooting, killing, hell I’m a God damn expert at that. It’s a walk in the park for me. But answering the phone to speak to my daughter—that scares me to death.” Mitchelli looked out the window at his car and then the government car. “The two agents in the car, they’re here to protect me?”

  “Yes, Stuart insisted on it. You’re his shining star, his boy, the son he never had. He wants you protected at all costs.”

  “They should stay away from me, order them away, Angela. They’re just going to get in the way, and I don’t want their blood on my hands. My hands are bloody enough.”

  “You did what you had to do, and did it well.”

  “I have to be a father and some days, right now, I have no idea how to be one. My kids need a father. A father with the sense to run for cover and hide; I told Freed the truth, Ann knew it. I’m too reckless, a wildcat. I’m irresponsible. My kids are safer with Agent Hoss and his half-loaded almost ready to fire gun. Hoss won’t take chances.”

  “Peter, don’t blame yourself. You’re a good father. You’re forgetting why you volunteered, there’s truth in what you told your mother-in-law. Do you remember the twenty one missing agents and their families?”

  “I’m not sure what’s true anymore.”

  The doorbell rang and MacJames answered the door. Freed, Coarseni, and Buckala had arrived to update MacJames but really wanted to see how Mitchelli was doing. Freed walked in the living room with his shoes on then when he saw Coarseni and Buckala removing their shoes, he quickly returned to the foyer and removed his. MacJames repeatedly told them they could leave their shoes on. Buckala handed Mitchelli his shotgun and bandolier. Mitchelli did not bother to check the gun; he knew Buckala had thoroughly cleaned it.

  “Hey Shooter,” Coarseni didn’t hesitate. “Why the frick did you wack the assholes’ heads off? What the frick is with that?”

  Freed yelled, “Dom back off! We’ve already talked about that with his psychiatrist.”

  “You’ve spoken to my psychiatrist?” Mitchelli looked angry.

  Coarseni put his hand up. “I got this, Bobby. He had no choice--you wacked out big time, you know Looney Tunes, nut case.” Sal hit Coarseni in the arm. “Any how, I got your new truck on the way.” Coarseni turned to MacJames, “Angela, did you tell him we ordered his truck? Hey Peter, perk up they sent an Air Force transport to pick it up. That’s a big frickin’ deal.”

  The team couldn’t help but notice Mitchelli’s hand were trembling and his face had turned pale. “BOB,” Mitchelli spoke slowly but loudly. “DID YOU THREATEN MY DOCTOR? IF HE DIDN’T TELL YOU WHAT A NUTCASE I AM, ARE YOU GOING TO CHARGE HIM WITH CONSPIRACY TO OVERTAKE THE UNITED STATES?” He began to move towards Freed, but Buckala moved between them.

  Freed looked sternly at Coarseni. “Dom, slow down. Let’s give Peter a break.”

  “You had no right to speak my doctor,” Mitchelli said breathlessly.

  “I was following orders--something you’d know nothing about.”

  “You pencil pushing son of bitch,” Mitchelli snarled. “Whose orders?” Buckala put his hands on Mitchelli’s shoulders as he moved closer to Freed and MacJames moved behind Buckala. “You lying bastard, you coward. Hiding behind bullshit orders you never got.” He winced from the pain in his shoulder as Buckala held him back.

  Freed began to speak and MacJames interrupted him. “I ordered him,” she said. “It was me.” Mitchelli looked at MacJames. Stunned, he withdrew and backed away from Freed. The intimidating Marauder shrank before their eyes. “Peter, we’ll discuss this when we’re alone.” The shaking in Mitchelli’s hand increased and this time, Buckala moved to hold him up by placing his arm around his shoulder. “Peter, I’m sorry. I had to. Believe me, there’s nothing to be upset about. Dr. Rubin told us nothing.” Her heart broke as she watched Mitchelli implode in disappointment. He looked away from her and stared at the floor.

  Freed knew how much it hurt MacJames to tell Mitchelli the truth. “Peter,” he interceded, “securities has been tightened around your family. The security teams are dressing down, no more suits. We’ve replaced their government cars with rental cars. We don’t want it to appear the government is protecting your family.”

  “Why is that, Bob?” He did not look up from the floor.

  “Why is what?”

  “You’re luring them straight to my children and me! My family’s nothing but bait.” Mitchelli looked at MacJames. “Why didn’t you tell me this while Stazi was picking bullets out of my face?”

  There was silence. MacJames was stunned. Freed looked at her and decided to speak when she said nothing. “Peter, it’s the smart play. The Feds have doubled the security at your house. You put your ass on the line and the smart move is to keep letting them think that you have the junk. There are teams of detectives investigating the bums who went after you last night, good detectives. The more interest Handly has in you, the more likely he’s going to let his guard down.”

  “Well Bob, I guess the operative you never wanted is coming in handy and his children are a bonus bait to lure the killers.”

  “Peter, Secretary Stuart and his assistance have been hounding me to protect you and your family. Stuart stands by you a hundred percent. We discussed the strategy with the Stuart himself and he agreed it was the quickest way to draw Handly out, find our missing men, and close this case. We didn’t intend for you to get this involved, but it takes thousands of hours for an undercover agent to get into crime syndicate. Handly’s done us a favor by implicating you, it started the day you and Sal were at Runners with Kazz.”

  Buckala spoke up. “I don’t like this. I’m calling the Secretary.”

  Freed raised his voice to Buckala, “Sal, we know why you don’t like it. I understand. We all are worried for Peter and his family’s safety, but think about the opportunity we have--he thinks Peter has his junk.”

  Buckala raised his voice, “He could have been killed last night, then what Roberto! Who’s next? You and your family, Dom.”

  Freed fought back, “He wasn’t killed; he did what he was trained to do.”

  “Bullshit,” Buckala yelled. “I’ve seen more action than all of you put together.”

  Freed got in Buckala’s face and pointed his finger at him. “Sal, you better watch your mouth and show some respect.”

  “Frickin’ respect. I’ll show you some respect when I see some common sense come out of your prissy mouth.”

  “I’ve had enough from you,” Freed yelled. “I’m pulling you from this case. You can sit at home watching soap operas.”

  Buckala went face to face with Freed. “I’m sick of that soap opera bullshit. You can’t hear the truth! You’re too damn arrogant.”

  MacJames pushed them apart yelling, “No one’s pulling anyone’s ticket.” The two men separated.

  Coarseni jumped in. “He’s right, Bob. I saw combat; you can only train men so far. Mitchelli’s gone beyond any training--he’s a fighter, a survivor, a killer.”

  Freed turned toward Coarseni. “Dom, be quiet we’ll discuss it offline.”

  “Offline, bullshit,” Buckal
a scoffed. “Why can’t Dom speak? He’s right! Peter’s a man that can wheel a gun better than anyone I’ve ever seen; he’s a natural killer, an instinctive deadly weapon.”

  MacJames didn’t want Mitchelli listening to the team’s fighting, “We need to end this conversation now!”

  Coarseni yelled, “I love the guy but he’s a nut case. Wait a minute, just wait. I meant that in the nicest way, he’s a killer, oh, oh wait.”

  With that said, Coarseni, Freed, Buckala, and MacJames erupted into an argument. Without saying a word, Mitchelli watched his team members pointing their fingers at each other, each attempting to convince the others they were right. Buckala and Coarseni ganged up against Freed while MacJames attempted to stay neutral.

  “No!” Mitchelli yelled, loud enough for everyone to stop yelling.

  “Peter, you need to calm down. I’ll speak with Secretary Stuart.”

  “No Angela, they’re right. I’m a psycho killer, who better than to con Handly? I’ll play along Bob. I’ll be the fall guy. You can stick your team bullshit up your ass. Mark my words, you better hang on for the ride because I’m going after Handly.”

  “Wait a minute, Peter,” Freed said in surprise. “We have to plan our next move.”

  “Remember I don’t plan. You said yourself it would be a waste of time. I don’t follow orders. You’d better convince me what you’re doing to protect my kids. I won’t hesitate going to Washington in my new truck and meet the Secretary himself.”

  “Why would you meet with the Secretary?” Freed spoke with hesitation. Mitchelli had a direct line to the secretary.

  “I’ll ask him who the mole is, who offered me up to Handly. First, it was Kazz, then me and Sal, you had better watch your back because you’re the next prime candidate. I’m going to ask the Secretary who the mole is in your office Bob, maybe he can tell me if you can’t.”

  Freed extended his hands palms up. “Whoa, Peter. We have a team of investigators--Internal Affairs from Quantico has been working on that for days now. They’re going through all our interoffice communications.”

  “Are they? Or was it decided behind my back to leak my name to help Handly draw his conclusion a little faster, expedite the investigation by offering me up for bait?” Mitchelli looked at MacJames and in an accusatory tone asked, “Did you order that too, Angela?”

  Freed exhaled. “Jesus Christ, Peter. What are you saying?”

  “Bob wouldn’t do that,” MacJames said defiantly, choosing not to address Mitchelli’s accusation towards her. “I’ve known him for a long time. I’d stake my life on his reputation.” She moved to grab Mitchelli’s arm, but he moved away.

  “Oh yeah, moments ago I would have staked my life on your reputation, better yet our relationship.” His words tore through MacJames straight to her heart. “Don’t feel bad, Angela. I’m sure you’ve been offered up too.” Mitchelli looked out the window. A new security team had arrived, pulling up in a yellow sedan. “Nice rental car, Bob. I’m sure that won’t draw any attention. Angela, keep your pistol handy because someone’s playing us and it could get all of us killed.”

  Mitchelli turned to Freed. “Bob how’s the investigation going in Olean? Did we find out why our only living suspect was desperately driving to get to Olean?”

  Freed responded, “No, we have several agents working with the State Police. There are footprints and tire tracks by his car, but we don’t have much to go on.”

  Mitchelli narrowed his eyes. “What type of tire tracks?”

  Coarseni jumped in. “ATV tracks. They think at least three ATVs were within fifty feet of his car.” Coarseni opened his briefcase. “The footprints were heavy boots, like, you know hunting boots. I have pictures.” He handed them to Mitchelli.

  “They might have nothing to do with his death,” Freed offered up. “They could have been hunters.”

  “Bob, deer season doesn’t start for two months. Unless they’re hunting squirrels, they weren’t hunters. Dom, I’d like to know the location, and his route to Olean.”

  “Yeah, sure thing kid. I’ll get you the report right away. Who are you Perry frickin’ Mason?” MacJames was upset with Coarseni’s attitude.

  “Angela, I’d like to go for a drive, maybe dinner.” Mitchelli said as he was leaving the room. “I’m going to throw up and then take a shower.”

  “Peter we need to follow you,” Freed stood up and interjected as Mitchelli turned to walk out of the room. “Angela, we have to plan his moves, set up teams, lay out exactly how we’re going to draw Handly out.”

  “Bob, you’d be better off speaking with my doctors,” Mitchelli said over his shoulder as he left the room. “Work out a surveillance plan with my proctologist.”

  “He’s not well,” MacJames offered. “Before you showed up, he couldn’t answer his phone. Why didn’t you wait a day or so before the security teams changed to undercover? If he was one of us, he’d be on mandatory leave after a shooting.”

  “That’s why he’s special; he’s not one of us,” Buckala said as he looked at MacJames. “Angela, do you have any coffee?”

  Coarseni slapped Buckala in the arm. “What the hell are you doing? She’s the Deputy Director. She’s not going to fetch us coffee, you schmuck!”

  Freed sighed. “I should have anticipated his questioning me on the mole. He’s paranoid, no protocol, no respect of rank. He thinks outside of our box. Get him that report Dom, and fast.”

  “What the hell, Bob? You just said he was a paranoid SOB.”

  This time, Buckala hit Coarseni. “Watch it, Sal. What the hell? You heard him Sal, didn’t you?”

  “Stuart was right; we needed a fisherman, a local. He’s obsessive schizoid but he’s one hell of a cop.” Freed’s mouth dropped along with the rest of his team’s. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “Roberto,” Buckala said, “if he heard you say that, he’d knock you to the floor.”

  “Why?” MacJames was surprised.

  Buckala explained, “The reserve guys--the really good ones--they hate to be referred to as wannabes. You know, like doctors who pretend they’re soldiers on the weekends and then return to their mansions during the week? Nope, he’s no cop. He doesn’t want be a cop or a G-man. He’s too reckless. Killer, hitman, truck driver, developer, ok. I’ll give you all that and more. You’d better hang on, Roberto. He’s going to give us all one hell of a frickin’ ride. Tip of the sword, that’s what he is, the unlikely tip of the sword.”

  “I have to change. Dom, can you make Sal some coffee? It’s next to the machine in the kitchen.”

  “What the hell, am I everyone’s gofer?”

  “Dom, I’ll have a cup too.” Freed walked to the kitchen with Buckala and Coarseni.

  ***

  The Mercedes coupe drove through the town of Amherst and onto the expressway headed towards the city. The yellow rented sedan and its two agents stayed several hundred yards behind. Freed, Buckala, and Coarseni drove behind the yellow sedan in their Mercury Marque government car.

  “Where do you want to have dinner?”

  “Peter, what are you up to? You barely eat; dinner is not on your mind. Neither is showing me an early night on the town.”

  “I don’t want to say, not yet. Just keep your gun handy. Do you--I’m sorry--we’re a team, I keep forgetting. Do we have a tale on Handly?”

  “Pat Moss has a surveillance team on him. They’ve been watching his house and businesses, why?”

  “Can you find out Handly’s location?”

  “Yes, I probably can. Peter you’re--I’m sorry--WE are not going after Handly tonight. You have to slow down.”

  “I’ve heard that my entire life. You’re right, I do have to slow down. I’m always in a rush. Where’s Moss? You know Pat. He’s at one of the surveillance locations.”

  “Why?”

  “Angela, I’m going to drive to Handly’s businesses and ask where he is and demand to meet with him. You can get Moss on the phone and get us Handl
y’s twenty, or we can do it the hard way.”

  “Peter, don’t take advantage of me, damn it!” MacJames knew she would regret her comment.

  “I’m taking advantage of you?” Mitchelli pushed a button on his steering wheel and the music stopped. “Dial.”

  “Please say the name or number.” The computer’s voice was feminine with a German accent.

  “Handly Container.” Mitchelli’s enunciation had to clear or the computer would not understand him.