Cold Blooded Assassin Book 8: Rule of Nightmare (Nick McCarty Assassin)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “This is an outrage!” Tolo disliked Tommy’s style. I thought it was right on the mark. “You will fight me for the title. Did my visit to your little girls’ softball game teach you nothing? I can-”

  Lynn’s knife was at Tolo’s throat, accompanied by various weapons held point blank against his cohorts’ heads by my Monsters. Blood trickled down as Tolo gulped. “Did I just hear you threaten my little Al? You didn’t come here to sign for a fight, Betty. You came to die. I’ll let John explain the rules to you this once while I lower your blood pressure at the neck for a moment.”

  I hate threats. I’d rather rip this moron’s throat out. “Okay… when I stop talking, you and your sheep stand quietly, leave the bar, and never look back. Any other negotiations will be done in a formal setting with the UFC. Never be seen in Oakland again. Never speak a sentence with my family attached in words. If you do, I will maim and kill everyone you have ever known. Don’t bother acknowledging. I don’t care if you understand or not. You’re on our list. From now on, I will know where you are every second of your existence. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

  Lynn whispered to Tolo. “Stay silent and do what you’ve been told, Betty. Anything else, and your body pieces will be floating in the Bay by morning.”

  Lynn moved her knife away, smiling as Tolo gripped his throat in a gasping lurch to his feet. He fled the bar with his manager and nitwit minions following. “What the hell was that about, Cheese? I thought he was playacting in the park.”

  Jafar stepped over closer to us with laptop in hand. “Tolo has been a member of the Jamaican Posse since he was old enough to walk.”

  “I thought he wanted a match. Maybe he thought some Jamaican Posse talk would get me to deal the way he outlined. Hell… Tommy and I were simply negotiating.”

  “DL’s right,” Tommy added. “To get back into the MGM arena, we would have taken a sixty/forty deal.”

  “I will investigate this further for us, John,” Alexi said. “We should learn if Tolo has acted on threats before. His manager seemed more of a puppet.”

  “Thanks, Alexi. You’re right Pierre said very little. When Tolo started shooting his mouth off, Pierre kept his shut. It’s possible he’s bludgeoned his way into the other UFC matches the same way.”

  “I will get in touch with his past opponents and learn what his contract deals have been like,” Alexi agreed. “I’m glad Nick took a break during this talk. I have been looking forward to an evening dancing with Marla.”

  “I’ll update Nick. I think he’s been as anxious to entertain after our softball field dance-off as the rest of us are to hear him. I’m glad they have a karaoke machine here too. I want to see him, Jess, and Dev do ‘Hammer’.”

  Nick stood as I approached. “I saw your negotiations went sour quickly.”

  “Tolo Whitt made threats we normally deal with in the boat on the Bay while feeding the sharks. He’s from Kingston, Jamaica, and a member of the Jamaican Posse.”

  “We had some dealings in Kingston, didn’t we, Payaso?”

  Gus joined us. “My brother Phil got taken there along with his future wife, Julie, and her brother. I sailed us into a spot Nick knew about. He went ashore, blew the shit out of the Jamaican Posse and brought Phil, Julie, and Damian to the Kingston pier, a little the worse for wear, but alive. He sure confiscated a nice payday that time.”

  Jess invaded as we thought over the new piece of information about Muerto and Payaso. “Nick! Dev has the karaoke set for ‘U Can’t Touch This’. You get between me and Dev like the light in the forest.”

  Nick cracked up at Jess’s ‘light in the forest’ description. “Okay… let’s go do some ‘Hammer’.”

  With the sound and beat backing him, Nick did ‘U Can’t Touch This’ slightly in front and center of Jess and Dev. These three danced in sync as if they spent the day practicing. The hand clapping accompaniment from their audience provided a backdrop like no other. Nick voicing MC Hammer while doing Hammer’s hand movements was incredible. The moment the song ended, the applause cut short as Dev had programmed Montego Bay to start immediately after with its driving beat.

  Our three entertainers switched to the calypso rhythm and beat instantly. Nick could mimic Bobby Bloom’s voice nearly to perfection. The applause rocked the house. The three celebrated their performance before Jess escorted Nick behind the piano. Then it was on. The Piano-Man took only short breaks for the rest of the night. I think Nick sealed the deal for Jian and Joan. By the time the entertainment ended, those two needed to get a room. Although it was only 10 pm, I could tell Nick was done. He played ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ to end the evening to thunderous applause.

  He received rock star status in our section. Muerto was indeed the most mysterious anomaly ever. I shook his hand. Lora and I had danced through every set. The guys took turns dancing with Rachel while Nick played and sang. She knew all kinds of dance steps. Rachel taught us to do line dancing to the country tunes Nick played. When Nick did Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’, Rachel knew all the moves, much to Nick’s surprise. She had everyone who could fit on the dance floor doing the moves.

  “You need to retire from the Muerto business and go into entertainment, Nick.”

  “No can do, Dark Lord. Payaso can tell you, I don’t do well without the Muerto business. It would be like you ditching the cage fights.”

  “Yep… you got me there. Can you stay another week?”

  “I wish. We need to get the kids back home, not to mention Phil and Clarice will be returning from San Francisco. I believe I’ve taken care of all the loose ends from his extortion plot, but I can’t be sure just yet. What do you plan to do about ‘Black Death’?”

  “Alexi’s investigating his background. I’ll know more tomorrow. What will you do for the rest of the evening, Muerto?”

  “Turn on some music and dance with my wife. I didn’t know she could dance. I also plan to sip a few in between. Singing is thirsty work. Update me about Tolo when Alexi finishes checking him out.”

  “Will do, brother.”

  * * *

  Nick copiloted for Cala with everyone relaxing in the back of their UH-60M helicopter. Gus moved near him. “I’ve been watching you since last night. Something bothered you about the Jamaican Posse angle. You keep looking for texts or missed calls on your phone.”

  “When I brought Phil and Julie out of Kingston, I investigated the Jamaican Posse to learn what I needed to do. I ran across a pair of brothers in the bar where they held the kids. They acted as enforcers due to their size. Their last names were Whitt. The smaller brother’s name was Deon. I never learned the larger brother’s name. It was dark in the bar. I thought Tolo looked familiar.”

  “What’s the angle?”

  “I thought I killed them with a hand grenade.”

  “Are you thinking of correcting the error, Muerto,” Cala asked.

  “It wasn’t an error, Reaper. I had hostage rescue duty. I was masked. Tolo didn’t know me. I’m curious what Alexi Fiialkov learns.”

  “If you sail down to Jamaica, you’ll need the cartoons.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions, Payaso, but yeah, I would need the cartoons along. Cala and Jian will need to stay for protection duty. Plus, if something went wrong in a place like that, we’d need to get bailed out. Money buys anything on the island.”

  “Agreed.”

  An hour later as they tied down the UH-60M inside their hangar, John Harding called. Nick listened while his crew waited. “I think you’re right DL. That guy is bad business. At least he’s back in Kingston. Thanks for the update. See you soon.”

  “Is anything wrong, Dad?”

  “Not really,” Nick answered. “Alexi Fiialkov learned Tolo Whitt coerced his opponents in the UFC matches to fight him on his terms. He’s already under investigation by the UFC. They suspended him two weeks ago. Tolo thought to get back in the arena at the MGM on John’s back. He figured they wouldn’t turn the money down. Alexi sent formal notic
e to the UFC that John won’t be fighting Tolo. That’s it. Let’s go home and settle into a nice rut going to school, writing, playing songs, and-”

  “Getting smashed down at the ‘Point’,” Jean inserted.

  “Yep… I see an electronics free zone in your future, cupcake.”

  * * *

  Nick, Gus, Johnny, and Jian sat in their usual spots at the ‘Point’, sipping the Irish coffees Nick brought. They watched with amusement as Deke ran the empty beach chasing gulls and sniffing everything in sight. Johnny entertained shortly before with the stale bread he brought down with him. Standing amidst a swirling torrent of birds, Johnny tossed crumb bits into the air, enjoying the birds’ hovering catches. Nick’s phone rang.

  “Thom? How’s the new Governor of our Isle of Hope?”

  “Not so good, Muerto. I can protect the Isle. Until a couple weeks ago, this has been like ‘Fantasy Island’. We’re helping kids from all over the islands. I may even need to hit you and the Monsters for another building.”

  “You got it, my friend. What kind of problem are you having. We’ve dealt with every kind of plumbing, housing, sewage, and desalinization problem I can think of at our experimental city in the Western Sahara.”

  “We tune into their Facebook page every day. It’s incredible. That new doctor, Jared Kostler, is doing God’s work there. This problem I have involves the Russian Mafia connection located in Frenchman’s Cay in the British Virgin Islands. A mafia boss named Gleb Sokolov expanded operations to create a protection racket on the ferry boat lines connecting us with the main island. We’ve been making do with flying the helicopter transport, but Sokolov stated he will shoot it down the next time it’s in the air.”

  During Thom McGaffey’s explanation, Nick moved to a tensely straight position on his chair, the terminator shadow flowing over his features. “You’ve called at a good time. Keep your phone with you. I’ll call once I get a plan in motion.”

  “I’m sorry to dump this on you. I didn’t want Chuck and Sal to find out about this. I knew they’d want to fly over with an army. I know you’re taking contracts again. I hate to ask for a freebie, but I need your quiet type of assistance.”

  “Understood. Don’t give it a thought. I’ll be calling you soon.” Nick disconnected. He turned to his friends who witnessed the dark curtain plunge over their small window of quiet times. “Gus, I need for sure. Johnny would be most welcome. Jian, I need you here with Cala in protection mode. This will be tricky. We don’t have time for long range planning. I’ll call Paul. We need military flights all the way to the Virgin Island’s King Airport. From there we take the equipment to the ferry docks. A guy named Sokolov is creating an inland pirate franchise, selling protection to the ferry businesses between the main island and our new Isle of Hope, including threats to shoot down our helicopter transport.”

  “Let’s get back to your place and find out what we can,” Gus said, beginning to collect his gear. “I figured if you had one more week of luxury, I’d need to hire you myself to kill someone.”

  “That’s just hurtful, Payaso.”

  * * *

  “This is a small window of anonymity, Muerto,” Gus said, after giving Nick the range findings on a nearly fifteen-hundred-yard shot. “We can’t stay in this nest all morning. You do have a time frame in mind, don’t you?”

  “Johnny’s ready and online, right, Kabong?”

  “I move the moment you say, Muerto. I know this was the ideal spot for the shot into the dock area, but Payaso’s right about a time frame.”

  “Fifteen more minutes,” Nick said, honing into the exact pier location of the boat Gleb Sokolov would be boarding to go on a terror mission to keep the ferry lines in his protection ring. Through extensive research, Nick and his crew plotted every movement of the Russian Mafia boss. He trusted underlings only so much. His operation in the British Virgin Islands was crumbling. Gleb needed to make this new venture work.

  A limousine arrived at the pier.

  “Confirmed,” Gus said.

  The driver hurried to open the rear door. Gleb Sokolov exited the vehicle for his last few seconds of life. A fifty-caliber reaper drone slug entered his head, smashing him into the limousine door frame and onto the pier approach. Nick then executed everything in the limousine and switched to a magazine of incendiary rounds to blow the limousine upside down, firing at the fuel tank. He loaded another magazine.

  “Muerto! Not the boat…” Gus’s voice trailed off as Nick blasted Sokolov’s boat from stem to stern until reaching the full fuel tanks. The explosion destroyed the dock, the ship, and the pier finger out into the water. “Good Lord! You could have destroyed the entire Marina.”

  “Let’s discuss that after we get the hell out of here, Payaso.” Nick packed away equipment at breakneck speed. He smiled after a moment. “I bet we won’t need a distraction getting away from here.”

  “Small doubt about that,” Gus agreed, glancing at the flames in the distance. “You’ve been paying a lot of attention to Tolo Whitt on the internet lately. I haven’t mentioned it until now, when I saw the complete terminator picture evolve in real time.”

  “John Harding needs some space. The ‘Black Death’ will at some unfortunate time create a problem because of his expulsion from the UFC. We know he’s in Kingston right now.”

  Johnny began chuckling. “Oh… Muerto… you dog. You have been eyeballing a double mission ever since we arrived. What exactly is it that you have planned?”

  “I’m wondering if Diego’s mates, Jed and Leo, would like to cruise in the night to Kingston so I may relieve the world and John Harding of a dangerous speed bump on his road.”

  “In… without comment,” Gus declared.

  “I am in without hesitation. Leo is your man. This whole gig will be put into pulp fiction literature, right Muerto?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  Tolo Whitt awoke in a sweat. His mouth was dry, heartbeat racing, accompanied by a shiver rocking over his body. A black-masked shadow appeared over him, waving for a moment. Tolo tried to reach the black fiend’s arm. His hand weakly fell to his side.

  “Hi, I’m El Muerto. You tried to hurt and extort a very good friend of mine. I’m here with you for the end. I injected you with a death no one will ever find, because here in the islands, you jackals do many things never questioned by the authorities.”

  Blind panic formed in Tolo’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks as the tightening in his heart blasted all other thought away. Nick drew near, grasping Tolo’s hand. “I love a good ending, you worthless piece of shit. Relax and enjoy your descent into hell. If I ever get there with you, it would be wise to seek a different level.”

  * * *

  “Oh my, Kabong, Muerto didn’t do the guards,” Gus said as he increased speed away from the port. “He’s turned into Muerto the merciful. Good Lord, God almighty, I’m glad to see you here, speeding away from a port soon to be under a microscope of crap.”

  “It’s all good, Payaso. The Unholy Trio did damage without anyone knowing. We’ll need to hope Kabong’s last adventure can keep the giraffe eating a leaf at bay.”

  Johnny gripped Nick’s shoulders. “It is an honor to serve with you, Muerto.”

  “Ditto that,” Gus called over his shoulder.

  Nick smiled. “I wonder if Jean will mind our celebrations in the days to come at the Otter’s Point beach gathering.”

  “She’s on our tail, Muerto,” Gus called out. “Get ready for it, brother.”

  “Oh yeah.” Nick leaned against the boat’s side with a smile. He began singing ‘Montego Bay’, keeping the beat with his hand on the boat’s hull. Gus and Johnny joined in a moment later.

  * * *

  “Oh my God! You lushes are so out of control!”

  Nick leaned back in his chair, sipping the whiskey mixed coffee elixir with extreme pleasure. “Thank you, Daughter of Darkness. I hope your iPad and iPhone are still in vogue when you’re allowed t
o use them again.”

  Jean giggled. “Oh sure, shoot the messenger.”

  The End

  Chapter: Future Story

  Nick and Jean Bonus Story VI

  After being elected Mayor, Rachel gave in to Nick’s suggestion to hire a manager, two servers, a cook, and a busboy for the Monte Café. The slight alteration in their lives did not affect anything other than giving Rachel time to spare. The Monte Café still acted as the McCarty crew’s meeting place, doubling for impromptu city discussions. Any time Rachel conducted city business, Benny and Sammy the werewolf tried to be on hand at their rear corner table. This morning’s business incorporated a new chaperone. Nick took over for Benny with Sammy at his feet. He busily wrote in his thirty-sixth series novel, featuring the assassin Diego the laptop keyboard his workplace.

  The Monte, unusually crowded with regulars and tourists on a Monday morning, kept the two servers and manager busily making work for the busboy and cook. Rachel spoke with two of the city council members at a table across from Nick. The noise of a busy restaurant on a Monday morning encouraged more people walking by on the sidewalk to read the outside posted menu and stop in. Nick glanced away from his monitor as Sammy let out a short growl. Astur Jama, the impeached former mayor, entered the Monte with two Somali bodyguards in suits and sunglasses. She wore a pale blue abaya with matching hijab. They approached Rachel’s table. Jama pointed at Sammy.

  “That creature should not be in here.”

  “Sammy’s always welcome here. You’re not. State your business and then get out of my restaurant.”

  Jama’s lips tightened. Her bodyguards moved closer to Rachel’s table, only to stop as Sammy the werewolf let out a rumbling lowkey growl. “I have heard rumors you plan to run for Governor. I will run against you and win. I want the ongoing harassment of the Somali community to stop.”