Rule of Nightmare

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “How dare you blaspheme Islam!”

  “Oh… I dare much more than that. I will not be changing any policies. We’re having great success deporting all supposed refugees who commit crimes to their country of origin. Many, who lived in fear of being killed by your thugs because they left Islam, chose the ‘City of Hope’ in the Western Sahara. They’re a huge success with the city spreading rapidly in the formerly barren area. They have industry, tourist resorts, entertainment, and best of all: lots of jobs to be had. Maybe you should get rid of the slave costume, renounce the death cult, and go get a real job.”

  “Did…did you just call me a slave?”

  “Open your ears, Jama,” Rachel retorted. “I said slave costume. Of course, it stands to reason, if you wear slave apparel, you must have a yearning for it.”

  The bodyguard on Jama’s left reached for Rachel. Sammy ripped him to the floor, silencing all the chatter and restaurant noise. Sammy rested across his captive, jaws at the man’s throat. The other bodyguard had Nick’s Colt .45 barrel at his head.

  “No one touches Mama in her own place, idiots. You have your answer, Jama. Get the hell out of my sight.”

  “On your way out, keep your fingers locked behind your heads,” Nick instructed. “Failure to do so will get you shot in the head.”

  Nick patted his leg. Sammy leaped to his side. The bodyguards did as they were told, following the furious Jama out the door. Nick gestured calmly at the silent crowd. “Sorry about that, folks. We have a few city problems still to be sorted out. Please enjoy your meals. Put on some music, Senta.”

  “Okay, Nick.” Senta Rapone, the Monte Café manager, switched on the jukebox. Soon the sounds returned of a busy restaurant.

  Nick sat next to Rachel, taking her hand, while facing the two uneasy councilmembers, Irene Castle and Thomas Sperry. “Jama’s upset because we now have Homeland Security working with ICE agents to deport known criminal refugees. They have her under investigation for harboring fugitives and being tied into the mosques used as armories. My US Marshal Special Unit continues to work with Chief Dickerson to end the Somali Mafia threads here.”

  “It’s just that… we’re taking heat all around the country for cracking down on the refugees. We’re being labeled racist Nazis,” Irene said.

  “Look, Irene,” Rachel replied, “if you can’t take the heat, then resign. I need a city council that wants the laws of our land enforced. Before we began enforcing the law, people weren’t safe walking anywhere in the city. The tourist trade is thriving once again. Did you read what Sharia Law is, like I asked you to?”

  “Yes… it’s horrible, but I don’t want Pacific Grove to be turned into a police state.”

  The other councilmember, Thomas Sperry, waved her off. “You’re nuts, Irene. Labeling law enforcement as a police state is ridiculous. Who cares what we’re called. Rachel answers every charge like that in the news and on TV, calmly pointing out the facts. She makes the real racists look like idiots. Thanks to her, we have the city back.”

  Irene nodded with a sigh. “You’re right. I need to think more about my neighbors than what some liberal idiot in New York spouts off about. Is it true you’re doing hourly sweeps, Marshal?”

  “It is,” Nick replied. “We allow no congregations of thugs anywhere in the city or outskirts. The inspections of the mosques we did initially, showed just what Islam portends for the rest of us. They not only stock piled small arms. They had grenades and rocket launchers. With the sweeps, we’ve stopped gang intrusions from other thugs besides the Somalis.”

  “That ‘City of Hope’ you mentioned impresses everyone who sees their growth and opportunities,” Irene observed. “What do they demand before allowing new people to relocate there?”

  “They demand only the rejection of Islam and that the new arrival works. Dr. Jared Kostler formed a medical institution there on the cutting edge of health care in the region. My friend, Khan Eshieh, has proven to be a leader of incredible talent. He and his wife visit Rachel and I often. We try to get to the City of Hope at least once a year. They’ve taken in over three hundred of our Somalis who wanted to be completely free of Islam and out of danger from the Sharia Law Mutants.”

  “Do they really kill each other if they leave Islam?”

  “They do worse than just kill, Irene. Those rumors and stories of mutilations, burnings, and beheadings of former Muslims that get by the liberal media are true. They throw acid in the faces of their women who dress wrong or do not obey. They honor kill their own children. One of my US Marshals, Cala Groves, barely escaped an honor killing.”

  “I…I know Cala.”

  “She can tell you all about her murderous male family members.”

  “Jama is dangerous,” Rachel stated. “She’s the smooth talking false face of Islam they trot out to deceive. She prances around in her pretty slave costume, while the other women locked in the death cult receive female genital mutilation, beatings, and burkas with eye holes. Thank you both for joining me this morning. I will learn what can be done about repairing the curve of Lighthouse Avenue.”

  “Thanks, Mayor.” Thomas shook their hands. “I’m glad we have you here, Nick.”

  “I love the ‘Grove’. I’m not going anywhere. Stay strong, you two. There will always be invaders, especially since we keep tiptoeing around the Sharia Law Mutants. Be safe out there and call us if you see anything we need to deal with.”

  “Will do,” Thomas replied guiding Irene out.

  Nick glanced down at Sammy, who sat listening attentively to everything with his head slightly cocked in concentration. “You are a very good boy, Sammy the werewolf. I know it took restraint not to rip that mutant’s throat out.”

  Sammy head bumped Nick’s knee.

  “Yes. I know we need to go for a walk. C’mon, babe, we’ll walk Sammy down to the ‘Point’. Gus has already texted me three times wondering when we’d get done and meet them all. I think he has some order of business. Cala texted and said the T-Rex told her she was driving, and to bring Bushmills, beer for Sammy, and wine. Jean and Sonny took their kids to Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk for the day.”

  “Lovely.” Rachel bent to hug Sammy. “You have to be Deke reincarnated.”

  “It does seem so at times,” Nick added. “I’ll text the crew and tell them we’re on foot, so don’t hurry.”

  The owners of Monte Café exchanged greetings and well wishes with their customers.

  “That was quite a meeting back there with Sammy the werewolf presiding,” their manager, Senta Rapone remarked on their way out.

  “Sammy does have a nice touch when presiding over politics,” Nick agreed.

  * * *

  As they walked down the hill on Forest Avenue toward Ocean View Blvd, Nick heard an engine roar behind them. He picked Rachel up and ran around the corner of Pepper’s Mexicali Café, crouching at the corner of the building and parking lot, with Sammy gearing for assault next to him. The car, a Mercedes Benz, slowed to a crawl as it passed the café. Nick shot the driver through the head, adding two shots into the gunman with a submachine gun pointing through the back window, trying to target them. The driver slumped over the steering wheel jerking it left into the parking lot, over the curb, and into the garbage bin there.

  Nick ran at the vehicle, firing into the next head popping into view from the passenger front. At the rear window of the vehicle, Nick smiled at the screaming Astur Jama with blood and brain material covering her.

  “No!” Astur screamed, holding her hands in a shielding gesture. “You… you cannot just execute me!”

  Nick backed away from the window a few feet and fired two slugs into Jama’s face. “Yeah… I can.”

  Rachel moved next to him, peering with interest into the car. “Gee… you really do have a way with politicians, Muerto. That’s one governor’s office rival down. I’ll call Neil. You call the cartoons and tell them to put the meeting on hold for the moment.”

  Nick called Gus while listening w
ith amusement to Rachel’s act of breathlessness and fright as she spoke to Chief Dickerson. “Hi Gus. Put a hold on the meeting. Rachel and I had a run in with Jama.”

  “Are you two okay?”

  “Yep… I’ll take pictures for our meeting at the ‘Point’.”

  Gus chuckled. “No survivors, huh?”

  “Just Rachel, Sammy the werewolf, and El Muerto.”

  “Those are the only ones I give a shit about. Text me when you’re ready. I’ll call everyone else. Are you still going to walk down to the ‘Point’?”

  “Did you just insult me, Gus?” Nick grinned as Gus disconnected with a laugh.

  * * *

  Chief Dickerson smiled at the distressed Rachel, shaking his head. “You can drop the act, Mayor. No one, but me, you and Muerto are in public view. Jama lost her mind coming after you two. Even if she had succeeded in some dimension in her head, what did she think would happen while dealing with your crew?”

  Rachel sighed, peering through the doorway of the Tessuti Zoo’s doll shop across the street, Neil had guided them to. She glared at the media trying to break the police lines around the Mercedes. “Who knows? The vultures arrived in full force. I was pretty good though, huh?”

  “Excellent,” Neil answered. “Nick could use some work on his compassionate features.”

  “Sorry… my happiness features warred with the compassionate side and all I had left was professional courtesy.”

  Neil glanced at the owner, nervously watching the spectacle. “I’m not really enthused with having you two here. Go on your way. I imagine you were walking to the ‘Point’. If I have any follow-up questions, I’ll drive down to Otters Point and discuss anything further with you there.”

  Nick gripped Neil’s hand with bowed head. “God bless you, my friend. We will take our leave of you for now, but we will always be at your beck and call.”

  Neil pushed Nick away, whispering. “Get going, you pirate. I know you executed Jama. Nicely done.”

  “Chief Dickerson! I’m ashamed of you thinking such evil thoughts of the Mayor and her US Marshal husband.”

  Sammy head butted Neil as an exclamation point. Neil knelt and hugged Sammy. “You are just the cutest dog ever… bloody killer… but very cute. Get your human cohorts on the road, Sammy.”

  As Sammy led the way to the bottom of the hill where Forest Avenue intersects with Ocean View Blvd, Rachel took a deep breath, watching the waves crash against the rocky coastline. “Neil was right. What in the hell could Jama have been thinking? Like he said, even if she succeeded, Jama would need to deal with our crew.”

  “I have pictures and digital fingerprints of the guys with her in the car. We’ll run them once we get to Otters Point. Two of the guys accompanied her to the Monte. The guy trying to blast us from the rear window wasn’t one of them. His identity may give us a clue. Maybe Jama found herself in the middle of killers who had no intention of backing off.”

  “I guess we’ll just enjoy the fact of a world without Jama.”

  “Yep,” Nick agreed, “and Neil let me keep my Colt.”

  “We’re quite a pair, Muerto. Do you really think I can win the governor’s office?”

  “If you can stand the heat of a race where every time we sneezed, the media will give it an anal exam, not to mention our past, then yeah, I believe you would win. If you let ‘Trailer Trash Momma’ loose, it could be the most entertaining campaign in California history.”

  “I’m willing. We need something else in our lives besides you shooting everyone in the head.”

  “That’s very hurtful. I shot Jama in the face and you didn’t even blink. You even made a sarcastic, callous comment about it.”

  “I was grieving on the inside,” Rachel replied.

  “Yeah… I’ll bet.”

  * * *

  Nick passed around his phone as Johnny worked the facial recognition software and fingerprint database. “I know these are bad to look at for you, Tina, but I need to know if you’ve seen any of Jama’s companions stalking around us.”

  “Nope.” Tina handed Nick his phone. “Did Jama have any last words?”

  “She said, ‘you can’t just execute me’,” Rachel answered. “Nick said, ‘yeah… I can’, and shot her in the face. He was deeply moved by her appeal though.”

  Rachel’s statement drew loud amusement.

  “Uh oh,” Johnny said. “The gunman in the back was that warlord’s brother you killed, Conrad Laquab. The gunman with Jama was Jacob Laquab. He probably made her stay in the car. Jacob must have suspected you from the beginning when Conrad disappeared. I’m checking on how many Laquabs might pop out of the woodwork. I alerted the kids.”

  “Thanks, Johnny. Poor Jama got caught in her syndicate of gangsters for the last time. We’ll go on alert for the next few days and increase the deportations when the Somalis protest because their gunmen got killed.”

  “They’ll be out in force,” Rachel agreed. “Any without papers, we ship immediately. I’m going on offense. Nobody better try making me defend combating assassins. Right after I leave here, I’m calling a press conference.”

  “I have something else I need help on,” Gus said. “My brother Phil contacted me for the first time since our Boston visit long ago. He feared a backlash if someone found out we are related because of what we do. I can’t say I blame him. He and Julie had little Katie to worry about. Katie used to Facetime me a couple times a month. When we were involved in a few well publicized missions, the contact with Katie stopped.”

  Gus paused to gather his thoughts. “They battled constantly after she turned sixteen. Phil thought things returned to normal when she was accepted at Boston College. Unlike many of the goofy kids today, Katie worked for her BS Degree in Biochemistry. She graduated at the top of her class. Accepted into the virus engineering research project, Katie worked toward her Masters Degree. She did so well, she received a research grant.”

  “Gus… if you’re giving us reason to know Katie can be trusted, we’re convinced,” Nick said. “What’s happened?”

  “She went down to Cancun to celebrate with three friends. Despite Phil and Julie begging her not to go into any foreign country for the celebration, Katie ignored them and their story of being taken in Jamaica. Apparently, they rented a villa on the beach. The second night they were there, they disappeared. The good part is that their research group have chips implanted. Katie has one.”

  “Aren’t they only good for short distances?”

  “Maybe in the old days, Dragon. The tech is much more powerful today. The consulate reported they read a signal on Katie out at sea, a couple of miles offshore. They don’t have anything powerful enough to pinpoint her location. Phil said they have received no ransom demands. Rumors of pleasure ships, kidnapping women into sex slavery, have become epidemic.”

  “Jay’s settled in here,” Nick said. “With Dragon and Reaper on the home front and Jay in reserve, they can also depend on Neil and the PGPD. We’ll take the Marauders with us. It’s time for us to call in a few favors. We parked the Lucky Lady II, ready for action at the American Yacht Harbor in St. Thomas. Thom still governs the Isle of Hope. He knows we need the Lady kept in combat shape with all the tools. We’ll sail her into the approximate position once I get Paul to lend us CIA assets to intensify tracking of her signal.”

  “If we’re doing all that, let’s go right now and sweep the town,” Johnny said. “Maybe we can smack down the instigators who’ll hit the streets the moment they hear the news.”

  “We’ll do it while I work on Paul,” Nick said. “I’ll call in Quinn and Jay. I don’t want to interrupt Jean and Sonny’s day with the kids in Santa Cruz. We’ll take the werewolf too in the reinforced van.”

  “Thanks for this, guys.”

  “After all these years together, Gus?” Johnny shook his head. “No questions and no hesitation. Cancun and the surrounding sea may not ever be the same.”

  “If Katie’s okay when we get there, she’l
l be okay when we leave, brother,” Nick added. “Let’s get Trashy in a safe spot with Tina and go tear the streets apart.”

  “I will drive,” Cala said.

  “I’ll arrange the press conference for when Jean and Sonny get back.” Rachel kissed Nick. “So much for a nice walk, huh?”

  “It looks like we’ll need to put off the walks for a while.”

  * * *

  “They killin’ us in the streets!” The leader of the dozen other masked men with clubs in their hands, walked the last block of Lighthouse Avenue before the two-sided string of shops and restaurants started. Beyond that point, the hotel district continued to the ocean. “We will have justice for Jama!”

  Quinn and Jay detached themselves from the first building on the commercial part of town with Sammy the werewolf treading next to them. The two men held their IDs to be seen, although it didn’t appear the group would care. “That’s far enough. We allow no congregations of masked men. Take off the masks and get on your knees with hands locked behind heads. You are all under arrest.”

  A ripple of laughter, accompanied by gang gestures greeted Quinn’s order, a moment before the leader reached under his hoodie. Sammy tore him to the pavement, ripping until the man stopped struggling. Quinn signaled the werewolf to hold. “That was not a request. We will use deadly force. We have a sniper. Do not try to run. Kneel and live.”

  A huge Somali youth tore off his mask from the center of the pack and strode toward Quinn. “Big fuckin’ man, with attack dogs and snipers! Good thing! I bust you to pieces otherwise.”

  Quinn smiled. Jay glanced over at his partner. “Oh man, brother, don’t do it. You’ll make a mess. Your dad will be pissed. Sammy gets wild at the smell of blood.”

  “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.