“Quinn… I am your father,” Nick whispered over the network in Darth Vader voice. “Jay’s right. You snatch his throat, Sammy will snatch one too.”
“What you smilin’ at, kafir?” The big guy walked into Quinn’s airspace.
“I was smiling because I wanted to snatch your throat out.” Instead, Quinn blocked the knee to his groin, turning slightly. The uppercut with his left as he pivoted with a full power shot, lifted the Somali, breaking his jaw, and dropping him unconscious to the pavement. “A mentor of mine, John Harding, took on six of you gangbangers at once, with bats in their hands. Want another ‘pick six’ special offer?”
“Son,” Nick whispered between clenched teeth as his spotter and companions, Gus, Jian, and Johnny fled his side on the rooftop to get down at street level. They were over a block away. “That’s not funny! You knew I had the older cartoons with me!”
The eleven still standing, wavered at the completely relaxed Quinn, flexing only his fists. Their leader, on the ground under Sammy, hissed at them. “Do it! Bust this asshole!”
Jay drew on them. “Pick more than six and I empty my magazine into your heads! Try me!”
Jay’s warning made them mill around uneasily, with him hoping backup arrived in physical form soon. He knew Nick would kill them all without hesitation. Six moved forward, bats in hand, primping and thumping them into their hands. Quinn shot forward, smashing the one in the lead with an overhand right, leaving him standing with his opponent’s bat, and the thug rolling around weakly on the ground.
Quinn used the bat to poke, smash, parry, and completely overwhelm the five remaining. In seconds, they lay strewn in a tight circle of anguish with broken faces, smashed ribs, and ambulatory groin shots. Quinn spun the bat in his hands, already a master in multiple martial arts forms. “The rest of you can get on your knees or use your bats.”
“Fuck the bats.” The thug reached and Nick put a .50 caliber round through his head, pitching him into a bloody, heap six feet from where he was standing.
His companions dropped to the pavement, hands locked behind heads, staring at the pulped head of their companion. One of the ones Quinn had smashed in the ribs regained breath and regaled Quinn with sobbing complaints. “You used the… bat. We were the ones… with bats.”
Quinn chuckled as he restrained the ones at his feet. “Oh my, I’m sorry. Is there something you don’t understand about stick fighting? At some point, you get hit with sticks, Betty.”
Gus, Jian, and Johnny arrived seconds later to restrain the rest, remove masks, and take pictures, digital fingerprints, and DNA samples from their prisoners. Neil arrived with three squad cars, a meat wagon, and the coroner’s van. He surveyed the scene with recognition of violence seen before with a McCarty name attached to it.
“Only one dead,” Neil joked, thought about it, and looked beyond the scene. “He’s still out there on a rooftop with me in his sights… isn’t he?”
“Uh… that would be affirmative, Uncle Neil,” Quinn said. “He says hi, and eat a piece of fruit once in a while.”
Chief Dickerson glanced off guard at his slightly bulging waistline. He shot up his middle finger in three different directions. “Not funny, Muerto, I have a glandular disorder, you prick.”
“Dad says, ‘portions porky’, his words.”
Neil sighed. He looked up at the sky, then back down at the bodies being attended to, while his officers bagged weapons, IDs, and digital fingerprints. “Did you break apart these six thugs? I can tell Sammy the werewolf took down the mangled arm one.”
“It was a misunderstanding, Uncle Neil. They thought we’d just let them walk away from the scene. I needed to convince them that was not going to happen in a less deadly way. The victim drew on me and the werewolf was already busy. I bet a bunch of these idiots will be on the ICE train back where the hell they came from.”
“That would be my take too. They were on their way to riot in broad daylight. I thought we had this stuff handled. In one day, the leader of the thugs and three of her minions try to assassinate the mayor and a federal agent, followed by an attempted riot in the center of our business district.”
“Ben told me the school is much better. The worst trouble makers there have been deported with their families back to Somalia. Oh, how they howled when we helped the ICE agents ship them. Up until then, they looted and pillaged at every opportunity. The moment we made them pay for their despicable behavior, out came the poor terrified and oppressed Muslims. Oh barf!”
After some amusement, Neil patted Quinn’s shoulder. “You’ve already done the database work. We’ll take it from here. Tell Nick I received his text about a mission on the horizon. We’ll help keep watch here until he gets back. I think, no matter what, Rachel needs to wear armor and the hell with concealing her weapon. She should have a quick draw holster on her hip.”
“Dad agrees. He says thanks and we’ll be patrolling the rest of the day. Dad says take an hour for a jog by the beach.”
Neil repeated his one finger salute in all directions.
* * *
“Permission to come aboard, Sir?”
Nick shook hands with his old friend, and Governor of the Isle of Hope refuge. “Come aboard, pilgrim. You know the cartoons. This is my daughter Jean, son Quinn, and son-in-law Sonny. They are all Marines and US Marshals.”
“Great to meet you all finally.” Thom McGaffey hugged Gus and Johnny, after shaking hands with the young agents. “God… it’s good to see you two pirates. I’m still following the adventures of Jed and Leo in Nick’s pulp fiction. Is he still basing your fictional lives on real life events?”
“Most of it, Thom,” Gus replied. “Muerto’s working on a Diego adventure now where Diego takes a contract to eliminate the top Somali warlords, imported as refugees into a Minnesota town. He, of course, brings his trusted partners on mission, along with the infamous Fatima.”
“Outstanding! I was afraid after the last Fatima episode, where she blackmailed a Senator on the take, Diego might finally shoot her between the eyes.”
“Fatima makes my dad laugh while writing,” Jean said. “He’ll never get rid of her.”
“The Lucky Lady looks great,” Johnny switched subjects. “She’s locked and loaded for sure. We’ll need everything you have in reserve, depending on how badly this latest Muerto plan goes into the tank.”
“How dare you befoul the name of El Muerto with your petty grumblings, Kabong! Do not force El Muerto to again reduce you to Unholy Trio mascot.”
“Oh no… not that. He’s talking in third person, Payaso. Batten down the hatches.”
“Already done. Thanks for your great work on the Lady, Thom,” Gus said. “I hope we’ll be back in less than a few days.”
“Thanks to the adjustment you guys made years ago, no one has tried to take over the ferry line. They do an excellent job for a reasonable price. Have a good voyage. I pray I’ll see you soon.”
“El Muerto guarantees it!” Nick held on to the second deck boat railing with fist up as Thom left the boat. “El Muerto… away!”
Quinn and Sonny helped with ropes and plank for leaving the pier. Sonny signaled Gus in the pilot house. The Lucky Lady eased out of port with Nick still hanging on the side.
“Dad! Really!”
“Oh, calm down, Daughter of Darkness,” Nick admonished. “El Muerto must ready himself for the mission ahead.”
“You just killed five people. I think you’re ready.”
Nick dropped down next to her. “This will be different. We have no idea except numbers of heat signatures. Thanks to Katie and her girlfriend’s chip, we detected the boat, identified it, and learned who owns it. They could have a dozen girls working the boat. We hope to save all of them.”
“Sorry… I just wanted to get you down off the railing.”
Nick grinned. “El Muerto will not forget this disrespect.”
“I hope not. I hate repeating myself.”
Gus moved on their target
craft, a yacht much larger than the Sea Wolf or Lucky Lady. He stopped dead in the water, dark and silent. They were nearly a mile away, but could see and hear the party going on into the early morning hours. Gus anchored the Lady for the time being. Jean, Sonny, and Quinn, dressed in full combat gear, readied their raft, propelled by an electric trolling motor. They would be circling the boat after Nick reached their target from the water. His approach would be an underwater one, pulling along a submersible pontoon with his gear.
“How the hell will you find the girls, scattered everywhere, and get them into one place where you can protect them, Dad?”
Nick made final checks on his advanced tech scuba gear, with full breathable face mask, instead of dive mask and breathing regulator. “We’ve gone over this before, Viper. I won’t know for sure until I get aboard. They’re partying. I need to investigate how many non-partiers there are before boarding. They will either need to be dealt with or bypassed with Gus and Johnny watching every inch of the ship from the Lady. Johnny will be on the M107. If he sees I’ve been made, he’ll fire bursts into their pilot house until you three board and support. We’ll be on the network. Once I get the girls safe, no prisoners, no mercy - if we can snare someone to ask about this mess without endangering the hostages, then we’ll do it.”
Nick gripped Jean’s arm. “Follow orders, Marine! Ask Gus. We did this before when I executed those guys who wanted to kill you and your mom.”
“Yeah… but you were young then.”
“Why you…” Johnny blocked Nick from going after his very amused daughter. “See what you need to contend with when your kids get older. Disrespect is right around the bend, brother, waiting to pork you when you least expect it.”
Nick’s retort stopped Johnny in his tracks, enjoying the moment, knowing Nick was probably right. Johnny grabbed Nick’s shoulders with a smile. “Are you ready for this? I have heard the story many times of you acing those billionaires trying to kill Rachel and Jean. You are a little longer in the tooth than back then. That is a mile kick in midnight black waters.”
Nick shrugged. “I have a light at the end of the tunnel. I’ll go now while the ship’s beaming light and making noise. Hell, if it wasn’t for needing to stay underwater during the final approach, I wouldn’t even need the expensive stuff I have for pinpointing their location.”
Nick clutched Johnny’s hand. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about the bastards that have Katie. I brought the Marines because they need seasoning on an op like this. I will slit every throat between me and Katie. I will kill everything on that boat within reach after I have the girls in a safe place. My weak spot is on deck. You and Gus will watch that as always. Weapons free if Muerto attracts attention.”
“Understood, brother. I have watched you do amazing things over the years. I pray you can do one more for Katie.”
The Terminator flitted into position across Nick’s countenance, the dead eyed gaze of deathly promise Johnny recognized immediately. “If Katie is fine when I board, Katie will be fine when I leave that boat. As we both know, innocents may die during this op, brother. We have only one dog in this hunt.”
Johnny nodded. “You know there’s something beyond this we will need to take care of.”
“The Procurer of this travesty will die at our hands if I can keep anything alive while this rescue goes on, or if the prick is on board, we’ll confirm identities. After seeing this yacht, even from afar, I can imagine a rich asshole setting himself into a position to entertain other deviants. I need to find a likely suspect aboard and I’m thinking I will find him in the master stateroom. Gus knows. You know. I live for this. Like Cruella Deville always says, ‘it is what it is’. I want Katie safe and I want to do an intestinal cleaning of the one who put her on that boat.”
“After this op, there will be many days with the Irish at Otter’s Point, my friend.”
“Absolutely.”
Nick eased into the water, found the correct buoyancy for his submersible to stay at a few feet underwater. He then opened the snorkel side of his enclosed mask, making sure the air passages cleared. While paddling with smooth strokes toward the target, Nick watched his GPS coordinates inside the mask with pinpoint readout. Once certain his gear worked correctly, he checked communications.
“Muerto on the move. Check in, control and network.”
“Loud and clear,” Gus said. “We have clear sighting on all decks of the ship, including jacuzzi. Partying without letup. Girls are made up of regulars and ones unused to what they are doing. I count five girls and twelve males. Seven of the males are dressed in crew type outfits.”
Nick tensed, reading between the lines. “You see Katie! That is a good thing, brother.”
“Understood,” Gus said with willpower. “Marauders?”
“Viper, Kong, and Cracker on line,” Jean stated tersely. “Sorry about before, Dad… mission enabled.”
“Stay tight and honed-in on every word. Forget about anything else besides Katie,” Nick replied tersely. “I will tell you when to approach at slow silent speed. Circle until then. Check armor, gear, and every detail while sighting in on the yacht. When the order is given, assault the boat in Marine fashion. Do not pay attention to anything else other than good people alive and bad guys all dead.”
“Understood,” Jean acknowledged.
Nick arrived in view of the boat, only fifty yards away. He floated with range finders in hand, examining every person visible and every deck with those persons partying. “In range. Close recon. I see Katie.”
The silence on the network painted the picture better than anything from the assault force.
“We wait!” Nick established buoyancy and circled the yacht. “They party on all three decks. We have their sleeping schematics. Gus and Johnny will update us as needed. Relax, check gear, and picture oblivion for this travesty. We’d be waiting blindly with no information in other circumstances. This isn’t one of them. Do not hesitate!”
“Understood!” That came from Sonny, Jean, and Quinn.
The lights stayed, but the partying retreated into the cabins. Johnny called out excitedly, “we have views. I locked onto their couple forms. Sending my info to your helmets. This boat even has an under craft launching platform.”
“Damn… that’s good stuff, Kabong.” Nick drifted slowly around after tying off his pontoon at the fantail mooring and diver ramp. “Gee… this is really nice. They have dual stairways for accessing the deck. I’ll be low enough to strip out of my gear, even if someone does walk around unexpectedly on deck. Lucas would kill me if he saw this boat and knew what we planned to do to it. This yacht must be in the fifteen-million-dollar range, even used.
He marked staff positioning at each moment. Nick liked the security aspect. The security people tagged with enforcing the boat’s rules drifted amongst the dancing and partying couples with disdain while throwing down any drink coming their way. He could tell they had measured the guests, found them wanting, and decided they could party along with them. All they thought needed was a professional attitude to business. Then he felt the bump.
Submerging, Nick saw the huge shadow of a shark against the light cast by the ship’s entertainment lights. The big bad of the undersea creatures had found him. In all his years diving, on mission and off, he had never been confronted by a shark of any kind. They had moved around him, far on the outskirts. None had ever decided he was a happy meal. Nick pulled his razor-sharp knife from the sheath at his ankle. He waited for the second hoped for bump, praying he did not miss his adversary’s stalking before the first visit. Watching the blackness approach, blotting out other light, tensed every nerve and muscle in Nick’s body.
Instead of revving into attack mode with jaws ready to tear its prey apart, the ultimate eating machine in the universe bumped by Nick. He latched onto the fin, plunging his ten-inch blade repeatedly into the shark’s head without letup until it lost movement and life. Nick drifted free, watching the killer sink with other creatures
’ shadows hitting it from all directions. Nick moved position to the other side of the ship, brushing any shark residue from his knife and person. The psychopath called out from the depths of his being in triumphant celebration. Nick took a deep breath as he surfaced. Calm down, Betty, you ain’t shit. We got lucky.
“What happened, Dad? We heard you sucking wind,” Jean commented.
“I had to kill Jaws.”
“Damn… you better have had your cam on.”
“Gus and Johnny are on point to watch my back. They don’t have time to play with video cam recordings. Mission talk only from now on.”
“Rah!”
Nick drifted, trying for line of sight with each part of the boat visible. “I’m not seeing anything, Payaso. How’s your view?”
“Good from our position. There’s a guy in the pilot house, but he’s the only one I see. The Marines are circling now at a distance. They may have a better view.”
“We see the guy in the pilot house,” Quinn said. “We’ve circled once with good view of the outer decks. No guards are walking the decks.”
“Let me know when you’ve completed three circles,” Nick replied.
“Will do.”
Nick drifted to the rear entry platform on the fantail. He lifted his equipment pontoon onto the deck with silent expertise. He began stripping off his gear, placing it next to his pontoon, carefully letting the water drip off before placing all outer gear on deck. It took time to get out of the dry-suit in the water, but he wanted no splash noises around the now silent ship. Wrapping his weight belt around the dry-suit, Nick buckled it in place and let the bundle sink. He climbed aboard in his bathing suit.
“Hold, Dad,” Jean warned. “There’s a guy leading a woman from the main deck staterooms to the jacuzzi on the second deck. He has refreshments, so he’ll be there a while. The girl is very young, but not Katie.”
“Understood. Watch him while I get ready.”
“Holding position.”
Nick opened the pontoon, donning the black drawstring bottoms and pullover top. After putting on black socks and deck shoes, he fastened the shark killing knife to his ankle. Nick slipped into a tightfitting harness holding his Colt .45 caliber handgun with silencer. He then strapped a treasured personal weapon, an old MP5, around on his back. He placed the small packet of syringes in a pouch next to his .45 and MP5 magazines.
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 8: Rule of Nightmare (Nick McCarty Assassin) Page 31