“I do, Lynn. We’re in deep discussions everyday now with Khan and his force. They know soon we will need something to replace Islamic tyranny. We have many of the construction crew quarters we can convert into cafés, restaurants, and bars if the city state would like to ease restrictions. Johnny, Jian and Cala have explained what it has been like to live without the crushing weight of Islam. They do not try and convert anyone. They merely suggest the possibility of a much more benevolent spiritual way of life without the yoke of militant Islam.”
“You all have seen the difference in the faces of those who came here on the original voyage,” Cala stated with some excitement. “For the first time in their lives a force protects them having nothing to do with fear mongering, beatings, and death. They understand if they work hard and obey simple social rules, no one preys on them like wolves, looking for the smallest excuse to destroy their lives. Johnny and I are going to begin the first café, where all are welcome. Muerto brought all the necessary equipment to get started. We will begin putting in our sound system for music and installing all the accouterments of a real restaurant.”
Nick shrugged with comical emphasis. “Yes. Eventually, jails, bars, liquor, and all the sins of a regular city will become part and parcel to their city’s development. We won’t be around to prevent it. This whole experiment could explode into chaos. I have discussed with Khan the importance of he and his lieutenants maintaining the rules of the city at all cost. It will remain the prerogative of the population whether to descend once again into darkness by destroying what we’ve accomplished. Cala is right. If the people cannot worship quietly in their own way, and religious fanaticism reappears, all will be lost. I brought a piano back with me from England. I plan on entertaining in our new café, but we’re a long way from that. We brought back big screen projection equipment with surround sound to be worked on. It’s a process. Islam permits nothing. We hope to allow people to enjoy life as an alternative under a secular governing system.”
“I hope it all works, Dead Boy,” Clint said. “Knowing human nature the way we do, the chances of it working are pretty slim. They have all the ingredients: solar powered everything, beaches and ocean, developing work opportunities, and they do have citizens from all walks of life to teach others. I’m glad we’re going. When they piss it all away, don’t try to make things right. Get the gunship in the air and get the hell out of here. I want you back home entertaining in the ‘Grove’, or up in our neck of the woods, so Lynn and I can have more date nights like you treated us to in England.”
Nick’s facial features took on the grim caricature, his daughter labeled the ‘Terminator’. “Believe this, Clint. Before I allow an experiment to hurt my crew, I will blow the shit out of this place and fly off into the sunset with all guns blazing.”
Clint smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
“Thanks for the early out, brother,” Dev said. “I said this before and didn’t abide by it – I hate the Sand, and I ain’t comin’ back.”
“We’re keeping you here, Dev,” Nick said. “We may need rain.”
Dev jutted out his arm, palm toward Nick. “Talk to the hand.”
* * *
Six weeks later, Nick played piano in their homemade nightspot. The building they revamped for their café and entertainment center could only accommodate five hundred people with dance floor, tables and chairs. Whether to pipe the music out to anyone nearby the large isolated building was voted on. The vast majority of the city’s inhabitants voted to approve the broadcast music. Movies and sporting events were shown to the different zones inside the city state on a night by night basis. They incorporated six zones within the city. Every Sunday night, Nick entertained for all, plus playing at slow intervals in the café at any time.
As Nick finished his forty-five-minute music set, the packed café gave him a standing ovation. A groan went up from the people dancing. He waved his thanks. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Johnny turned on the jukebox music before he and Cala returned to the table, where Jian, Gus, and Nick sat. Khan Eshieh joined them with his wife, Sela. They had been dancing too.
“You have a real gift, my friend,” Khan told Nick, toasting him with his glass of beer.
Everyone joined the toast. Nick smiled. “It is a pleasure entertaining instead of sitting in the dark with the M107. Your police force is doing an amazing job. I saw them talk down a group rumbling with each other in the stands after today’s soccer match.”
Khan sighed. “The sports field, thanks to the wonderful irrigation, gives everyone a chance to ah… what do you call it… blow off steam. They do get a little too competitive in these city zone tournaments. The baseball and basketball team tournaments lead to less bickering than soccer. We remind the audience to have fun rooting for their team and be happy for good plays, but it is a process. I am also glad you do not need to be in your sniper post. I like you better at the piano.”
“As do I,” Sela agreed. “You know so many songs. It is amazing.”
“Music soothes the heart and mind,” Johnny said. “Having the radio station with DJs playing requests, or doing some funny news reports from around the city, has a huge following now. The radio tower serves a dual purpose, allowing the DJs to keep watch on everything while having fun.”
“We wish you all would stay longer,” Sela replied.
“We’ll be back for visits to see all the improvements and industry,” Nick promised. “Remember, we can talk and trade videos on Facebook now, since we have satellite internet. Your idea to create a new Facebook page with all your citizens involved, posting updates, and advertising your City of Hope accomplishments was inspired, Khan.”
“Everyone wants to send us things. A police department in Texas donated all our uniforms and utility belts,” Khan added. “Best of all is the interest by hotel firms wanting to develop tourist trade. They loved our pictures of the beaches with snack bars and all the accouterments of places like Aruba that Gus helped us design.”
“Not much designing needed. I remembered the fancy cabanas and bamboo furniture,” Gus said. “Out here, we need shade. Then, it was a matter of piping water into our shower and restrooms at our snack-bar/café. Add some palm trees, thanks to our irrigation system, and we have a great beach front.”
Khan’s phone buzzed. “Yes, Iman?”
The smile fled Khan’s face. “Muerto is here with his crew. I will tell him. Keep us informed. Go dark, Iman. You will be fine.”
Khan stood. “It is Iman Kaar in the radio tower. Three boats are approaching the coastline. He can see many men in black on each boat with his night-vision range finders. They are heavily armed. Iman is afraid they will target the tower.”
“Johnny, Cala, and I will go to the beach with the new XM307 and lots of ammo, unless you want to fly the stealth.”
Nick grinned. “It’s loaded. The Gatling guns, hydra rockets, and the hellfire missiles. Think of the Monster Squad getting the video of us doing a nighttime ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ assault on sea craft. I’ve only had half a beer and Cala hasn’t had anything.”
“Yes! We must go,” Cala leaped to her feet. “Poor Iman will believe he is going to die at any second. Hurry.”
Johnny and Gus enjoyed Cala’s enthusiasm as they joined her. Nick turned to Khan as he stood too. “We’ll handle this, my friend. Before Iman leaves the radio tower, tell him to have everyone go back to their cottages and go dark. Will you and Sela close the place for us?”
“Yes, Muerto… but don’t you need us to confront these invaders?”
“I hope not. You have the key to the armory. If they get us, you will need to arm your people. They will either try to land quietly on the beach in rafts or simply dock the boats on our long pier. Spread your people with the MP5s along the beach and at the pier. They have been trained. Do not fire until they are either ashore, on the beach, or almost off the pier.”
Khan clasped Nick’s shoulder. “Do not get killed, my friend. You do not h
ave to do this. We can fight for our land.”
Nick grinned. “I know. I told Gus this long ago. I don’t like being hunted, even when I deserve it. I’ve never asked for mercy, and I don’t issue it in return… even if I’m begged to. My crew rides where I ride. Watch the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ assault, Khan. You will hear our battle and see much fireworks.”
“You are quite crazy, Muerto,” Khan replied.
“So, I’ve been told. I have to go or Cala will drag me out by my ear.”
* * *
Cala got in the pilot’s seat with Johnny as her co-pilot. Jian inspected the helicopter’s frame with his flashlight, running his hands over everything as Nick had taught him. Nick and Gus loaded the XM307 on board and attached it to its tripod mount near the door. Nick loaded and checked over his M107 sniper rifle while Cala and Johnny did pre-flight checks.
“We are lucky the stealth was ready for a flight to the Dakhla Airport,” Cala said. She started the engines, preparing for lift off.
“It is never luck to be prepared,” Nick stated. “Through skill and daring, while reading the minds of our enemies from far away, sensing danger, we are ready.”
“Oh man… I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Gus retorted to the amusement of his cohorts.
Cala lifted off. Each wore a communications helmet. Jian, Gus, and Nick had night-vision capability. Nick worked inside his harness at the hatch, swinging slightly to cover as much range as possible, while Gus and Jian readied the XM307.
“Muerto ready.”
“Payaso ready.”
“Kabong ready.”
“Dark Dragon ready.”
“Reaper on the fly!”
“Let’s go dark and do a flyover recon, Cala. I want to get good movies of these boats so we can possibly identify them later.”
“On it.” Cala circled the UH-60 out over the pier, flying in a spherical pattern to take them far past the approaching boats. “They’ve stopped at a mile out, Muerto.”
“Hold her steady. I see them.” Nick put aside his range finders. Jian called out all the parameters while Nick readied himself in the harness with his M107. “They’re going the motorized raft route. I need to give them something to think about without giving away our position.”
Cala hummed with a smile on her face, zoning into the light firmness of touch needed, giving Nick a broad view of the target craft. Nick sighted in with his own self-hypnosis of concentration. Hitting anything from a harness aboard the Blackhawk Stealth in the dark on a floating target to a novice would seem a miracle. Nick smiled and squeezed the trigger with the same confidence he played piano. Nearly fifteen hundred yards away, his .50 caliber spent uranium slug passed through the boat’s pilothouse shield, pulping the inside center mass of the man at the controls. Still grinning while shifting slightly, Nick repeated the impossible twice more. He executed the men in the other boats’ pilothouses.
“Jesus, God in heaven!” Gus made the sign of the cross while Jian simply gaped open-mouthed at Nick, his rangefinders dangling. “Stake him, Jian. The demon terminator is loose. Take no pity. Stake him! No damn human being could make those fucking shots! Stake him!”
By then, everyone aboard, including Nick, enjoyed Gus’s rant with loud amusement. Nick settled in again, hitting targets on the boats as they scurried around, and in the rafts being boarded by assault teams. He hit everything with absolute silence around him but for the sound of wind, ocean, and Blackhawk Stealth. The assault boats’ crews, unable to pinpoint where the deadly fire from the heavens came from, pulled the rafts back aboard in panic mode. It did them no good. Nick took his time, blowing away any isolated target stopping for even a second. The boats’ hulls offered no protection from the loads the M107 fired.
Nick leaned back with absolute certainty no one aboard the three boats would be a threat to the Blackhawk. “I believe it’s time for the ‘Ride’, my friends. Johnny on the Gatling guns, with Gus and Jian working the XM307. It’s a kill mission, kiddies. We salt the earth on this one.”
“Yes!” Cala hit the switch for the sound system. The rumbling roar of terror filled the skies with sound, blanketing everything.
‘Ride of the Valkyries’ blasted into the night as Cala flew low and hard. Johnny stitched the boats across with Gatling guns blazing, nearly cutting them in half. Cala tight circled the Blackhawk for a broadside of 25mm grenade shots from the XM307, obliterating everything on the water. Cala laughed and shouted through run after run until nothing but toothpicks of the boats floated on the water. She turned the Blackhawk toward their hangar, doing a flyby with the ‘Ride’ cutting into the silence of night like a hatchet. Khan watched from the beach with a grin as his city’s inhabitants ran for their homes in terror. He saw his secular police did not move from their positions. His phone vibrated. He smiled at the picture of Nick in full Muerto costume.
“I see you had much fun upon the waters, my friend.”
“Light the fires, big daddy,” Nick quipped from ‘Independence Day’. “We’re coming in for a landing and going straight for the bar. I plan on entertaining and drinking until the wee hours of the morning.”
“I will have Iman know to announce it,” Khan replied. “He has been on in speaker mode through your entire spectacle. I believe he thinks you are a Jinn. Sela and I will be there to dance through the night.”
“We saw your troops held position. Excellent, my friend. They saw your courage hold and they could do no less. You proved to everyone your leadership is unequaled in the city. This was a bloody way to illustrate it, but I believe everything happens for a reason. I thank God we were still here when it happened. The only problem is determining where they came from. We could not take chances tonight. I would have liked to investigate this attack. We have already contacted the Navy about the assault. They are trying to isolate where the boats came from. We’ll be going over the videos to hunt for clues also. We have videos from every angle during our attack.”
“Is there not debris in the water, Muerto?”
“Ah… no… sorry, Khan… we don’t leave debris after a ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ assault. It is called a ‘salt the earth’ mission.”
“I see. You attack and blast everything to dust and salt the actual ground you have assaulted so nothing can grow.”
“That is the definition of a ‘salt the earth’ mission. Our Navy will investigate origins. It’s in their hands right now. We are returning for a moderated party night. I do not care who does it, but have someone take over the radio tower, with full knowledge there may be another attempt. I doubt there will be another attack. To be safe, I need you to pick a replacement for Iman, who will do the same excellent DJ job, playing music to soothe, and watching the horizon. We need to award Iman. Without his diligence, we would have been under assault in the city.”
“He shall be honored for this,” Khan replied. “I will see you all in the café.”
“Yes… you will.”
Chapter Three
Final Touches
“You have the XM307 on a tripod mount with Ma Deuce mounted at the bow,” Nick said. “The MP5s you have are insurance only. Run the trawler back to our port until I contact you. I don’t want the trawler stopped by the Moroccan military. I doubt they have patrol boats, but I don’t want to take any kind of a chance. They claim this part of the Western Sahara. It’s a hell of a good hideout for an Isis terrorist leader, like Dar Sultan, especially since half the world’s searching for him.”
“I’m interested in why the Navy didn’t let us know they were intercepting the signals between Dar and his boats,” Gus replied. “They only figured something was wrong when we annihilated them.”
“You can’t blame them for that. By the time they translated the cross chatter, we had already sent them all virgin hunting,” Nick said. “I think they should have sent a drone over and blasted the shit out of him, but Denny told me Morocco might use a strike like that to attack our City of Hope when we’re gone. He didn’
t like my counter suggestion of warning Morocco if they did anything like that, our Navy would erase Marrakesh from this dimension. Anyway, here we are. I’ll get the prick.”
“I should go with you.” Johnny and Gus helped Nick lower the raft into the water. “I could watch the raft for you and be nearby if you need help.”
“You don’t speak French well enough, Kabong. I want you with Gus in case some entity tries to stop our boat. Don’t let them. You know what to do. Shoot first, ask questions later, while you’re sailing past the dead bodies. Denny isolated the blockhouse where the signal came from. He sent me an excellent marked satellite image. All those damn huts in Guerguerat look the same. I’d sure like to know how Dar gathered a strike force like he launched. Denny figured he had help from Syria. We sent a lot of those assholes back to Syria when we should have shot them in the back of the head.”
“If that force had landed in secret, they could have wiped out all our facilities,” Gus agreed. “Call us when you need us, Muerto. We’re close enough to fly the gunship in and get you.”
Nick shoved away from the trawler. “Just make sure you bring an extra raft in case I lose mine. The camo cover should keep it safe in that isolated stretch of beach I picked, but who knows. This reminds me that we need to get the hell away from the Sand.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Johnny called out.
* * *
Dar Sultan smashed a fist on the table. “I want to know what happened!”
His companion gestured calmingly. “French only. The Moroccan military would sell us out if they discover our true identities. These huts are too close together. We cannot trust the people of this town. The force arrived in position from Nouakchott after they dropped us off. It cost a fortune to have Mauritania cast a blind eye on our operation. Our benefactor in the Emirates will demand an accounting, but we have no way to learn the truth of what happened.”
“We should have gone on the mission with our assault force. I was in contact with them to the last minute before they were to board the rafts for the beach. Our contacts in Syria told us most of the force stationed to protect the city left, leaving only a few behind. We do not even have rumors. We should fly into Dakhla Airport. They will have rumors of a battle.”
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 8: Rule of Nightmare (Nick McCarty Assassin) Page 5