The group expressed agreement with Nick’s words, nodding and murmuring in unison.
Gus handed Nick the wireless microphone. “I will make this simple. These men and women will enforce encampment law. It will not be religious law. Everything you know of Sharia Law ends now. How you worship in your own tent is fine. If you all want to go out in the sand together and pray five times a day, that is allowed. If anyone in the group wants out of the prayers, that will be allowed too. This will be a secular city.”
Nick let that sink in as the people muttered. “These men and women will make sure no one is punished for living a non-religious or other religious life. The punishment for disobeying a lawful order by this group is death. When your dependents are shipped here, there will be no child marriages, no female genital mutilation, no wife beating, and no Imams preaching hate. That carries a death sentence. There will not be a dress code of any kind other than comfort. I will have the basic laws of the encampment made by tomorrow. Anyone wishing to return to Sharia Law will be shipped to their country of origin. Protect these men and women with your lives. If anything happens to them, we will decimate this encampment with pork smeared machine gun fire.”
“We need our phones!”
Nick grinned. The cell-phone demands he expected would help him launch his Cruella Deville ploy. “No one gets a cell-phone other than our law enforcement group until the city becomes self-sufficient. The irrigation channels have already begun changing the land. Soon, as some other desert nations have done, you will be able to grow crops. The only way you could win a phone would be to challenge our most excellent knife fighter. Do you have a cutter?”
A murmur of excitement rumbled through the crowd. Five minutes later, a hawk-faced man stripped off his upper robe. Slender and whipcord taut, the six-footer flexed his hands and arms before gesturing at Nick. When he spoke, his scraggly beard seemed to poke from his face.
“I have prayed to Allah for the chance to kill one of you kafirs. He blessed me with this opportunity. Where is the dog you wish me to butcher?”
Lynn strode forward, her blonde hair tied back, excitement glistening over her features. She wore tan slacks, light weight tan hiking boots, sleeveless black silk shirt, and seemed to glide over the portable road to stand near Nick. “Clint said it’s time.”
“Yep,” Nick answered. “This guy has been praying for a chance to kill a kafir.”
“Ask him what kind of blade he wants.”
Nick repeated the question in Arabic. The man waved him off. “I speak English. You want me to fight this blonde whore? Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” Lynn answered. “Kill me and you get a cell-phone. Tell us what kind of knife you like, Betty, and quit stroking yourself. This isn’t a camel race. Put up or shut up.”
Nick chuckled at the effect Lynn’s derisive challenge engendered in the man. He literally stomped around, spewing curses and threats with fist clenched fury before finally facing Nick.
“Do you have a stiletto, kafir?”
Nick took his out and tossed it to the man, who caught it, judged weight and feel, and released the blade. He nodded in satisfaction. “Yes. This is a fine knife.”
“I’ve seen Nick’s tactical knife before,” Lynn told him. “It’s ten inches total in length. That’s eight inches longer than your dick.”
“I will slice you to pieces for that insult, slut. No more talk. Get your blade.”
In a split second, Lynn’s butterfly knife appeared as if by magic. She moved into position across from her opponent. “I have it right here, Betty. Let’s do this before you chicken out.”
The man showed concentration. Lynn’s complete lack of concern unnerved him. He crouched into a knife fighting stance jutting toward Lynn with threatening feints. Lynn remained upright with knife at her side, one hand on her hip, and foot tapping impatiently.
“Oh, for God’s sakes, Betty. Show me what you got. I’m not a goat. You don’t need to romance me.”
That was it for her opponent. With a stabbing motion remarkably fast, he tried an eviscerating stroke to Lynn’s lower belly. The crowd screamed out for Lynn’s death. At the last possible instant, Lynn twisted with blade slashing upward. Her opponent missed. She didn’t. the Balisong’s razor sharp blade sliced the nose from his face. He screamed, falling to his knees, Nick’s knife tumbling to the ground as the nose-less man gripped his spurting opening. Lynn pirouetted around him, stabbing, slicing, and slashing finally across his eyes. Lynn then twirled in front of the blinded man, stabbing upward through his neck to the hilt. She kicked free of him before wiping away the blood on his clothing. Lynn retrieved Nick’s knife. Dead silence followed her swaying walk to Nick’s side.
Nick accepted his knife from Lynn before addressing the crowd again. “Anyone else want to try and win a phone?”
After a minute of continued silence, Nick shrugged. “I guess that concludes our business for tonight. Remember. Guard these people with your lives. I want everyone in their tents in fifteen minutes, so do whatever you need to and turn in.”
Nick gestured for his proposed law enforcement group to remain. “We will bring vests with insignia tomorrow, identifying all of you as law enforcement personnel. Respect for each other is of the utmost importance. This group must lead by example. Be strict, fair, and adamant giving orders. No one will follow a leader who screams without reason. I will get the postings of rules to Khan tomorrow. He will be in charge of operations inside the camp. Anyone challenging him, challenges us. Thank you for taking on this responsibility. Hopefully, Khan will find many more willing to throw off the old ways. Goodnight.”
After his chosen group walked away, Nick breathed in deeply while looking at the dead man. “That was a lesson they won’t soon forget. Excellent lesson, Crue.”
“Oh, Muerto… that was the best time I’ve had since we landed in this pit. I hope some more cell-phone addicts want to gamble on a phone. Maybe you should throw in a tablet too.”
Nick chuckled. “I will. I’ll go deposit Pinocchio in the fire of redemption.”
Chapter Two
Rule of Law
I outlined our progress after last night’s hoedown in the encampment. After Lynn’s cell-phone contest, the evening passed without incident of any kind. If Khan could recruit a vetted force of determined secular police, we would have more chances to root out the bad ones disrupting the camp. It was impossible to say how many avid Sharia Law acolytes we had in the camp. The secular police would be our eyes and ears inside the camp. My audience, officials both military and civilian from America and the UK listened attentively to my list of successes. They seemed surprised at the problems. I brought Nick, Lucas, Casey, Clint, Lynn Johnny, Cala, and Jian to help me explain the mindset we faced. Jafar was ready to do his video on the encampment. He also had some surprises for our guests. Our former Muslims gave their talks first, explaining why we needed to proceed as we did with harsh and immediate judgements.
“We are facing a backlash in the UK over this stunt, Harding,” a Labour Party official, named Liane Babbott stated after Cala explained the treatment of women in the encampment would not be under Sharia Law.
We did our research on the participants of the conference, her included. A round faced, dark skinned woman, with glasses and bangs nearly covering her eyes, reminded me of Mrs. Potato-Head from when I was a kid. Being an ogre with scars myself, I try to always look beyond a person’s appearance. In Babbott’s presence, I found it impossible. Jafar showed me many interviews with this woman. Her entitlement mentality, terrorist enabling, communist manifesto type comments triggered my barf reflex every time she opened her pie-hole.
“You and your team run the encampment like a gulag,” Babbott continued. “We have reports of mass executions and horrid conditions.”
“My associate, FBI Special Agent Jafar Kensington, will now show a video of encampment conditions. I have already explained the rules of the camp. Sabotage and confrontation is punishable by d
eath. An option for dumping the Sharia Law, brainwashed zombies in the ocean when we arrived here, and let them wade to shore, was also considered. With our own money, we have begun an experimental secular city where the inhabitants can become productive, independent, and eventually establish trade.”
I paused as Mrs. Potato-Head muttered something. “Our solar powered desalinization capsules have already worked miracles with the soil. They also have proven capable of not only providing water in abundance, but also will supply fresh water to the surrounding cities. This part of Western Sahara, long ago abandoned as uninhabitable, will soon be a modern-day Israel, producing crops the surrounding cities are eager to buy. First though, saboteurs and common Sharia Law thugs will be weeded out of the population. They can ask to be deported to their nation of origin. Many choose to stay and sabotage our efforts. They will be shot on sight if caught by our team or the secular police inside the encampment.”
Jafar started his presentation, highlighting and explaining our fresh water and irrigation plans, finishing the sequence with details of our stat of the art waste recycling stations. Housing and plumbing, complete with an inside inspection of the mobile cottages, provided a broad view of what we had accomplished in weeks. He then showed the attempts to sabotage and terrorize the encampment, forays to destroy our water plants and waste treatment operation. Before Babbott could spew her familiar claptrap about jobs and human dignity, Jafar ran our video compilation of the one world order globalists, some of whom sat at our conference table now. The video showed Babbott and her friends causing nearly every terrorist act inside the UK with out of control importation of terrorists, releasing rapists and pillagers, and idiotically refusing to deport anyone, including known terrorists. It finished with the globalists allowing Isis fighters back into the UK after warring against UK troops. When Jafar finished, there was red-faced silence, except for Mrs. Potato-Head.
She leaped from her seat as much as her bulk allowed, screaming at me in a finger-pointing frenzy. “This is an outrage! Who leaked these videos? I want their names right now!”
“They are videos of you and your other traitorous accomplices selling out the UK at every opportunity. If I had my way, you would be put on trial for treason. I will reveal nothing to you, traitor. Sit down and keep your mouth shut or I will have my colleague FBI Special Agent Lynn Dostiene escort you to a locked room.”
Lynn stood and waved at the flabbergasted Babbott. “You don’t want that, sweetie. I tend to get physical with traitors, importing the enemies of civilization to terrorize their own citizens – all for the purpose of establishing some form of global nightmare. Now sit your fat-ass down!”
One look into Lynn’s eyes and Babbott sat down, sobbing. “No crying in here, Babbott. Stifle yourself or get out!”
At Lynn’s final warning, Babbott stood and walked out, watched by one of Alexi’s crew from the Roma. No visitor was allowed the run of the ship, especially her. Lynn sat down and I continued.
“We’ll be happy to talk plans and progress. We won’t talk over rules of the encampment. We know Babbott was lying. The real citizens of the UK are going wild over our handling of this situation. They will be escorting a new wave of dependents and thugs to be deported soon. In other good news from the English, Scottish, and Irish Defense Leagues is that a majority of the Sharia Law acolytes have renounced Islam, and consented to be watched for any taquiyya nonsense of lying to the infidels. The globalists, like some of you slimy worms at the table, are very unhappy as is the traitorous BBC. I believe change is at hand. Please remember we were asked in to handle the Sharia Law Mutant problem. The Roma flies the United States flag. We have paid for this experiment. The only thing we ask is protection against the Islamo-Fascists who would like to blow us to kingdom come.”
The representative from the State Department stood. “Thank you, Agent Harding. The State Department and Department of Defense will continue to back this program. We appreciate your straight forward logic in dealing with this mess, brought on by nations dumping a known enemy of civilization in droves on their own citizens. We stand ready to return anyone unwilling to abide by the encampment laws to their country of origin. It is the least we can do. I have been ordered by the President to declare this new city-state under the protection of the American military. We will deal with outside forces attacking as Agent Harding and his team deal with saboteurs inside the encampment… with deadly force.”
I waited for a moment while the UK representatives squirmed. “Thank you for your backing in this project, Sir. My associate, US Marshal and FBI/CIA consultant, Nick McCarty will handle the rest of this briefing.”
“Thanks, John.” Nick stood with a smile of greeting. “We all know the UK government is locked into a war between patriots and globalists. We side with the English, Scottish, and Irish patriots who do not want their nations turned into a cesspool of rampaging mutant troglodytes from the Sand. We also have a contingent of encampment inhabitants who want to make this experiment a success. They will lay down their lives to escape from Islam’s clutches. I supplied them with vests designating their new station as secular police. Anyone assaulting them in any way will be killed. Globalists from the UK are not welcome here as we made plain with Babbott, yet the UK allowed three to attend our briefing. Please refrain in the future from sending any agents from the UK Labour Party. They are terrorist enabling communists, hell bent on destroying their own nation. We will-”
“How dare you! I’ll see you in hell!”
The UK Labour Party lead representative, Gemy Borebyn, reached for a sidearm, pulling the weapon part way out as the same stiletto a cell-phone contestant tried to use the night before, entered Borebyn’s right eye, puncturing it and his brain. Nick walked around the table and retrieved his knife, plucking it from Borebyn’s eye-socket. He wiped it on Borebyn’s clothing before returning to his seat amidst Monster Squad contingent.
“I see you are all shocked, as am I,” Nick stated. “We are not an organization you fetch in to correct petty crimes. Your governments asked us in to solve a worldwide conspiracy against Western Civilization. We fear nothing. We deal with threats with death. The United States backs our plan, initiated by a call to arms from the UK government. I have not seen or heard any backtracking by the Prime Minister. She apparently has decided to stick her finger into the wind after the statement of approval for our action, to see which way the wind was blowing. My friends and I do not stick our fingers into any wind. We know the threat that Sharia Law Mutant infiltration amongst civilized nations poses, as the idiot globalists seek to betray their own citizens and establish a one world order fantasy. We have no clue as to why, other than they think for a second they will get a seat at the ruling table. My brethren and I stand fast. We know the threat and we know placating Islam leads to either death or enslavement. The encampment is our hope for isolating and initiating a restructure of a monstrous ideology. That ends our briefing… unless you would like us to remove Borebyn’s body and continue.”
The occupants, other than the United States contingent and remaining UK government group, representatives from the English/Scottish/Irish Defense League, and representatives from Canada, Australia, and all of Europe stayed in their seats. Nick’s brutal killing of Borebyn cast an eerie magnetism to the scene. Some in attendance were in obvious horror at what had transpired, but made no move to leave or protest. Alexi Fiialkov’s men removed Borebyn’s body. The discussions about complete German surrender to the Islamic horde dumped on the German citizens went as expected. Germany was lost, except for a bloody civil war, illustrated by the two German representatives formally walking out. The representative from Sweden was the first to speak.
“Can you help us?”
Nick hesitated for a moment. He put his hands on the table in front of him, leaning toward the representative. “No. Your government and far too many of your people have turned a blind eye to the murderous mutants allowed inside your nation. We were given a foothold in the UK to defend
and expand. Your nation’s dimwitted population still greets these imbecilic marauders from the sixth century like the ‘Little Sisters of the Poor’. They rape, pillage, and subjugate with Sharia Law no-go zones. Yet, your government does nothing.”
Nick straightened, gesturing toward all. “The rest of you have done little else besides your citizens posting Sharia Law Mutants doing hideous things to innocent people on Facebook. We don’t fight on Facebook. If you would like to join us in our experiment, begin deporting your mutants back where they came from no matter what the European Union orders. We helped the UK because they threw off the chains of the EU. We still have sycophants in the UK trying to sabotage our efforts. I can only imagine what would happen if we interceded in the rest of Europe. We would be hung out to dry. I’m sorry, but until your nations show some backbone, we will not transfer the monkey on your back onto ours. Yes, we know the dangers. For example, we back the Czech Republic, Poland and Hungary’s stance against importing the mutants completely.”
“What right do you have to label them as mutants?”
Nick grinned at the last UK Labour Party leader. “You are an idiot and a traitor. You were wise to keep your treasonous mouth shut. I label the Sharia Law acolytes as mutants because they refuse to assimilate into civilization. They do honor killings of their own children, beat their wives to death or stone them for the slightest offense. They do female genital mutilation and throw Gays off the rooftops of buildings. They rape, pillage, and murder in every nation they are allowed in. Pedophilia is so rampant amongst these degenerates, I would like to nuke their nations from orbit. Reformation is a joke! Forcing secular governments upon these hideous perversions of humanity is the only way.”
“I will inform the Prime Minister and our followers that the Labour party will have nothing further to do with this travesty of human rights and your murderous ways.”
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 8: Rule of Nightmare (Nick McCarty Assassin) Page 3