Sotello: Detective, ex-FBI, ex-Secret Service (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 1)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “You got it Jim,” Phillips agreed. “Thousands of people are watching that on TV, screaming at their sets, and vowing to vote for whoever those people are against. It’s no wonder Davidson lost no time in trying to tie me into a debate for you. By this time tomorrow, he will be behind in the polls, if things continue at this rate.”

  “You looked good on TV Dad,” Ellen said. “They really did a nice job on all of the camera shots. It looked even more impressive on TV than it did in person.”

  “You don’t think I looked like a psycho?” Sotello asked with a smile.

  “Determined, would be more accurate,” Ellen replied.

  “Can you handle a local morning show interview?” Phillips asked. “That man and woman couple want to get you on at ten. I didn’t want to say yes without asking you.”

  “I know the show you mean,” Sotello replied. “The woman plays pretty straight, but that retard with the beard makes the show unbearable. I think he’s just left of the Communist Manifesto. I’ll do it, but what happens if I deck him before the show ends?”

  “Your poll numbers will go through the roof,” Phillips laughed. “Unfortunately, you will go to jail, and the campaign will get sued.”

  “How about if I get him to take the first swing?” Sotello suggested, only half joking.

  “If you really don’t like him Jim, we can skip the interview,” Phillips replied.

  “No, if I start ducking these guys now, I’ll end up hiding until the election,” Sotello said. “Ellen, can you dig me up some personal stuff on that flake. If I get into a mudslinging contest, I would like to have something to sling.”

  “Sure Dad,” Ellen said. “I’ll take Craig with me, and we can hunt together, using separate computers. We should turn up some stuff for you to have ready. What the heck’s his name? It’s Johnny something, I think.”

  “Denton,” Sotello answered. “It’s Johnny Denton. Her name is Rachel Stevens.”

  “How personal Dad?” Craig asked, as he followed his sister out the kitchen door.

  “Just as bad as you can find Number One. If I end up taking it, I want to dish it out in spades.”

  Craig nodded, and waved to Phillips. Phillips picked up the channel changer, and began to surf again. They watched the commentary together. Phillips began to pick up on buzz-words, each of the news people were all beginning to use. He explained to Sotello how they would keep repeating the same negative labels in front of Sotello’s name, until they blended right in.

  “Where as Red Davidson will never be labeled a left wing zealot by these dodos, you on the other hand will be the right wing, xenophobic candidate working against public schools,” Phillips informed him.

  “Don’t forget hate-mongering, pro-life bigot,” Sotello reminded him.

  “You’re getting good at this,” Phillips chuckled. “You never had time to lay into the abortion thing, so you can surprise them with that another time. It looks like from the clips so far, you will be Gubernatorial candidate Jim ‘Right Wing’ Sotello. Everyone on TV hit the old tried and true right wing label. They’ll add anti-abortionist as soon as they know for sure, along with anti-teacher’s union.”

  Craig, at one point, brought them the Oakland Tribune, and the San Francisco Chronicle. They scanned through them, looking for anything signaling a problem with Sotello’s showing so far.

  “Oh, this will make them cringe,” Phillips said, pointing to the second page of the Tribune, which had a picture of Sotello manhandling the man in the audience who had put his finger in Sotello’s face. “They found him, but he would not say anything to the news people, other than he plans on working for your campaign. God, how that must have frosted them.”

  “The rest of this stuff looks okay,” Sotello said. “I’m getting creamed by all the people we figured I’d get creamed by. Their attack agenda reads like something out of Pravda. How do these bird cage liners keep going?”

  “They don’t,” Phillips answered. “They group together, and then buy each other out, and declare chapter thirteen. It never occurs to any of them to actually report the news.”

  “I wonder what would happen if these idiots ever published a paper with a conservative view around here?” Sotello wondered.

  “Here in the Bay Area, it would be touch and go,” Phillips said. “We have just about every kooky, left wing, special interest group on the planet represented here. You graduated from Cal Berkley Jim, would you like to go there now?”

  “I get your point,” Sotello admitted. He looked up at the clock, which read seven forty-five. “It won’t be long now. If they plan on busing in the rent-a-mob, it will be real soon.”

  “With the press coverage, I would be surprised if they bothered,” Phillips said. “The usual character assassination methods they use, through their willing accomplices in the media, take time to work. They may not waste time and money on something like picketing your office. It’s best to prepare for the worst though.”

  Ellen walked in and handed Sotello a folder. “I didn’t find much. He stayed out of the military, and dropped out of a few colleges. He belongs to all the usual causes: Greenpeace, ACLU, Citizens for the American Way. Every Democrat, looking for some free local air time, goes on with these two for a puff piece.”

  “Makes me wonder what they invited me for,” Sotello said.

  “I know exactly why,” Phillips replied. “They get their marching orders, just like all the print and media journalists get their talking points. It ain’t no coincidence these people all use the same exact phrases, and labels. I know, because I used them.”

  “So this will be a real hatchet job then?” Sotello asked.

  “Yes, but it will be one you can turn on them. Want to see what you’re made of?” Phillips said grinning.

  “Hell yea,” Sotello said. “This will be the fun part. I’ve never been afraid to trade barbs, and I have a very thick skin.”

  “It will be important not to lose your cool,” Phillips added. “I’ve seen the Denton guy lose his, and start attacking the guest on a personal level. When he runs out of facts to support his position, he starts ranting.”

  “I’ll have to bring him back to point then,” Sotello said. “He bullies people anyway, like Al Gore used to do. I don’t back up, and I can’t be bullied, so Johnny will have to tackle me with facts.”

  “He’ll be equipped with an entire list of rumors and innuendos to hit you with when he can’t break you with the facts,” Phillips told him. “You’ll do well Jim, but remember, no matter what he hits you with, do not show surprise. Anger’s okay, but never let him know he surprised you.”

  “Dad,” Ellen interjected, “don’t let him make you lose it over something personal he says. Craig and I will make sure we tape the show. Craig can become this Johnny Denton, and mangle him with anything outrageous he says.”

  Sotello laughed. “That may be a great way to get some cameras on Craig’s talent. Once the media sees him do something like that, they will be haunting his doorstep after every gig I do, to see if they can get any quick zingers for their newscast. Do you think he’d do it?”

  Craig had come into the room just then. “Do what?”

  Ellen explained it, and Craig’s face began to light up as he thought of the possibilities. “Oh, I am so all over that. Denton will be my coming out party Dad. He better pray he doesn’t get personal. I will waste him.”

  “It’s okay to lampoon any lies or personal attacks these people try to pull off,” Sotello instructed him. “Just use the material you get, and don’t take any cheap shots, okay?”

  “Define cheap?” Craig asked.

  “I will let you be the judge of that. If anyone takes off on the family, all bets are off. You can handle it with a free rein.”

  “Oooooooohhhhhhhhh, I like it,” Craig said.

  “Be careful Dad,” Ellen warned. “I’ve seen that look on his face, just before he hurdles past entertaining, and into the realm of abuse.”

  “We’ll keep
an eye on him, El,” Sotello said.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Phillips added, “you can stir this up any way you want. You cannot be a winner in this arena without having a junkyard dog mentality. I had it for all the wrong causes and reasons. This will be very satisfying. I better get going, so I can set things up with Denton and Stevens. You know where the TV station is, don’t you Jim?”

  “Yes,” Sotello answered. “What time do you think I should go over there?”

  “Around nine would be best,” Phillips answered. “I’ll be meeting you there. I want to see this first hand.”

  “Okay, see you then,” Sotello said, as Phillips walked out the door. They heard the chanting as Phillips opened the door to let himself out. Phillips ducked his head back in the door.

  “It’s a bunch of La Raza folks,” Phillips told them.

  “How many?” Sotello asked.

  “About fifteen to twenty, all with readymade signs,” Phillips answered. “I guess you’ll have your work cut out for you. I see a news crew. Do you want me to stay?”

  “No, you go on,” Sotello replied. “Make sure no one gets through the door Craig, when he walks out.”

  Craig nodded, and followed Phillips out. Sotello started putting his suit coat on, when he heard Ellen scream from the door to the outer office. “Dad, Craig’s down.”

  Chapter 26

  The Danger Begins

  Sotello dropped his coat and ran straight for the door. He grabbed Ellen. “Call Tank and Jay, and then arm yourself.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he threw open the door, and charged into the incoming crowd. Sotello drove the first three men in front of him back into the rest of the incoming mob. Two of the men went down, after crashing backwards into their friends. Sotello drove his forked hand into the windpipe of the other man. He then grabbed the gasping man’s shirtfront with one hand, and the groin area of his pants, tearing the man from his feet. He used him as a battering ram to drive the mob back out the front door. Sotello saw Craig just getting to his feet, wiping the blood from the side of his forehead. Craig grabbed one of the ones who had fallen originally, and rammed him through the now clearing doorway.

  The cameras filmed away, with the crew watching with a disconnected pleasure, knowing this would be on every news cast in the country. The mob retreated, cursing and yelling, as they stumbled over each other, dropping signs and personal belongings as they fell back. Next through the doorway came Sotello in shirt and tie, still using a man, with both hands clamped at his throat, to drive the mob back.

  As Sotello cleared the doorway, the camera crew watched in amazement as Sotello jerked the man he held up over his head like a rag doll. He then flung the man directly into the mob. Craig pushed the man he held after the retreating crowd, and then turned to his Father. He saw the fury etched into every line on Sotello’s face. Craig took his place next to him, and put his hands up, ready for the mob to surge back.

  “I’m okay Dad,” Craig told Sotello, who turned to his son without recognition for a moment. Craig saw him smile then. A moment later, Ellen joined them, with a 9mm Glock in her hand, held at her side.

  “Uncle Jay said they’re on their way,” Ellen said, keeping her eyes on the crowd.

  The film crew changed positions as Sotello turned back to the mob, now keeping their distance, shouting curses in two languages at the focal point of their attack. Sotello walked forward, gesturing for his children to stay put.

  “I hear a lot of talk,” Sotello shouted in Spanish, as he gestured for them to come towards him. “Bring it on. I am right here. Come get some, one at a time, you cowards, or all at once. Come on. Show me what you’ve got besides talk.”

  The mob quieted. One of the men Sotello had rammed into the crowd, inside the office, grabbed a sign from the man next to him. He rushed Sotello with the sign raised to swing at Sotello. Sotello launched a sidekick just as the man started to swing the sign. It caught the man right in the sternum, driving him straight off of his feet, and directly on his back. He hit the road surface with a sickening thud, the sign dropping from his nerveless fingers. A cheer went up from the neighbors, who had gathered around the disturbance.

  “Who’s next,” Sotello called out, as sirens screamed up to the scene.

  Tank and Jay exited their squad car, with Jay backing up a club wielding Tank with his riot shotgun. “On your God Damn knees, hands locked behind your heads,” Tank yelled, as he ripped right into the midst of the shocked mob. They did as they were told, as more squad cars screeched into the area, blocking off any retreat. With Jay covering the mob of protestors, Tank walked over to check the pulse of the man lying motionless on the ground. He spoke into the radio at his shoulder, and then joined Sotello, where he now stood, holding a handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood from Craig’s head wound. Ellen had reentered the building to get the first aid kit.

  Tank smiled crookedly at Craig, as he looked him over. “You okay boy?”

  “Yea,” Craig acknowledged. “I let Mr. Phillips out the door, and they pushed him down. Something slammed into my head as I tried to pull him back in. That’s about all I remember, until I saw Dad pushing them back out.”

  Tank nodded, looking behind them to where Ellen knelt next to Phillips now, placing a bandage over a laceration under his eye. Phillips sat dazedly, holding a towel to his bleeding mouth, where he leaned against the wall next to the office door.

  “How do you want to handle this Jim?” Tank asked. “We have camera crews filming every second.”

  “I want every one of these assholes arrested,” Sotello said angrily. “I will sign complaint forms. I will testify in court. You name it Tank.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Tank said happily. “I was afraid you’d tell me to let bygones be bygones, or some other crap like that. I have an ambulance from Highland on the way along with the meat wagon. Stay here and take care of your casualties, while Jay and I get these gentlemen on the way to new accommodations. What do you think they had in mind?”

  “I think they were going to tear my building apart,” Sotello answered,

  “and probably kick the crap out of the rest of us. Is that guy still breathing?”

  “Yea, but I think I better get him looked at,” Tank replied. “There’s another guy croaking for breath, and holding his neck. I want to do this by the book.”

  “I know,” Sotello said. “I was going to come out to talk to them, when they ran over Phillips and Craig. The bastards didn’t want to protest anything. They just wanted to do as much damage as they could, and they didn’t care about cameras or anything. I am going to have to rethink my security measures.”

  “Good idea,” Tank agreed. “I’ll be back.”

  Sotello watched Tank take charge of the other officers on the scene. Sotello turned back to Craig. “Come on Number One. Let’s go see how Ellen and my campaign manager are doing. Can you walk okay?”

  “Yea Dad,” Craig said, putting his hand up to hold Sotello’s handkerchief in place as Sotello guided him over to the first aid kit. Craig sat down next to Phillips, who grinned up at Sotello.

  “What the hell are you grinning at?” Sotello asked, as he tore open a surgical sponge with antiseptic to clean Craig’s wound.

  “You were magnificent,” Phillips said. “You just shot up so far ahead of Davidson, we probably won’t even have to debate him. God Jim, that was something.”

  “Yea,” Sotello agreed, putting antibiotic cream on the ugly cut just over Craig’s left temple. “We could have all been seriously injured, or worse. You still want a piece of this craziness?”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Phillips sighed, “and all of it on tape too. Speaking of which, here come the buzzards to pick over the wounded. Choose your words carefully Jim.”

  Sotello looked back over his shoulder at the approaching camera crew, led by a well-dressed young woman with blonde hair. She spoke into the microphone she carried, even as she walked towards them. Sotello turn
ed back, nodding at Phillips, as he finished taping Craig’s head bandage in place. Craig smiled up at his Father.

  “I was sure glad to see you in there, Dad.”

  “I was even more happy to see you son,” Sotello said. “Stay quiet, and let me handle these people. Ellen, you stand next to me, and only speak in response to a direct question. Keep your answers short and to the point. No speculation, okay?”

  “You got it Dad,” Ellen whispered. She took her place next to his side, as Sotello stood up to face the oncoming media.

  “Mr. Sotello,” the blonde woman called out as she approached. “Do you have any idea what this demonstration was all about?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about young lady,” Sotello snapped. “My office came under attack by a mob of cheap thugs. They injured my son Craig, and my campaign manager, Adrian Phillips. What demonstration do you mean?”

  “I… I mean,” she stammered. “I was referring to the crowd carrying signs, supporting the organization La Raza. An organization you denounced in your town meeting last night. They…”

  “They attacked my office, lady,” Sotello pointed out angrily. “Maybe this travesty illustrates my point from last night. There appear to be people living here who think they can use the same methods, their old third world Gestapo uses back in their homeland, to get what they want. I have news for them and you. Nobody comes to my house, or my business, on American soil, and attacks my family and friends with impunity.”

  “Is that a threat Sir,” the blonde newswoman asked quickly, before Sotello could turn away.

  “Is English your second language too, lady?” Sotello asked grimly. He looked directly into the camera. “Let me put it plainly for you. I will not be terrorized in my own land, by people wishing to turn our country into a third world dump for America haters. If you come to me, looking for trouble, I will give it to you in spades.”