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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Well, I better let you go,” Sotello said. “I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  “Bye Dad.”

  Sotello drove down to the police station and signed the forms Jay had left for him at the front desk. He put up with the snide comments, about him using the Oakland Police Department as his personal bodyguards, good naturedly. Many of the men and women, he knew by name, came up to shake hands and wish him well. They knew he would back the police in the state to the hilt. After leaving the precinct, Sotello went to his office. Relieved to find the area in front of his business clear of demonstrators, or foot traffic in general, Sotello checked out Phillip’s car, and then hurried into his office. His message service had over twenty messages stored since he had left. His cell phone rang again as he sat down at his desk in the back.

  “Sotello.”

  “Hey Jim,” Tank said. “You must have talked to Ellen finally. Jay and I watched some clips of you on that Bay Area Morning Show at lunchtime. We laughed our asses off. I hate that Denton guy, and man, did you do him. Did you get a chance to stop by the precinct?”

  “Just left from there,” Sotello answered. “I had to run the gauntlet when I got there though.”

  “They busted your chops some, huh?” Tank laughed. “We did some drive-bys to keep people from burning your building to the ground, but it was pretty quiet.”

  “I appreciate that Tank,” Sotello said. “Don’t forget the big barbeque takes place this Saturday, barring further catastrophes.”

  “Don’t you worry, we’re all ready for you,” Tank said. “You better not cheap out on us brother.”

  “I know better than that,” Sotello laughed. “You guys coming over for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

  “I think we’d better make you our regular stop from now on in the morning until you get to the Governor’s mansion,” Tank added seriously. “Those folks this morning meant business.”

  “I’ll be better prepared next time,” Sotello promised. “I took too many things for granted.”

  “I have to go Jim, talk to you more tomorrow,” Tank said, ending the call.

  Sotello listened to all of the messages. Except for one missing person inquiry, the rest of the messages consisted of two death threats, five people who simply hated his guts, and twelve well-wishers, wanting to know if they could donate to his campaign. The two death threats amused Sotello, because his setup refused blocked calls, so if the geniuses called from home, they were in big trouble. Sotello made a copy of both the death threats, along with the hate calls, to give to Tank and Jay in the morning. He made another copy of the ones wanting to contribute, to give to Phillips. Sotello went into the exercise room and stripped down. He put on his work out gear. Having left the answering setup on to take messages, Sotello took his cellphone into the back with him.

  For the next two hours, Sotello went through his regular weight training and aerobics workout. He worked on the heavy bag in between, practicing his kicks and punches. After showering, he dressed in clean clothes, and strapped back on his Ruger 9mm under his jacket. He also put his 400,000 volt stun gun on his belt. His cell phone rang, and he answered before the second ring.

  “Sotello, you will never get back on my show again. I had to call you, and make sure you knew that.”

  “If I didn’t know the fact Denton does not have my private cell phone number, I would be telling you to stick it where the sun don’t shine.” Sotello laughed. “How’s your head Number One?”

  “Damn,” Craig said with some disappointment. “I didn’t think of that. I worked on his voice all afternoon.”

  “You were incredible kid,” Sotello assured him.

  “Yea, I just keep forgetting I have Sherlock Holmes for a father,” Craig concluded. “I’m fine Dad, and six thirty for dinner sounds good to me. I’ll show you how I can become Denton when I’m sitting on the couch tonight.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. Maybe you can do it for a couple of reporters somewhere.”

  “You can count on it, not that you need any help with him,” Craig observed. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay Number One,” Sotello acknowledged, “but keep your eyes open.”

  “Will do, Denton out,” Craig mimicked as he hung up.

  Sotello next made his weekly call to Trisha Webster. Julie, her roommate answered the phone. “Julie, this is Jim Sotello, I…”

  “Mr. Sotello,” Julie broke in excitedly. “Trish and I have been watching clips of you the past two days. Trish said she never thought she’d have the Governor of California looking out for her. Want to speak to her?”

  “Yea,” Sotello replied, “and thanks for the kind words, Julie. I just want to say hello, and find out how she’s doing. I promised her folks I would check on her.”

  “Here she is,” Julie said.

  “Hi Mr. Sotello,” Trisha said. “You looked great on TV. I’m fine, but you are the hate target of every group on the campus. Julie and I are afraid to even say we know you.”

  “I figured as much,” Sotello replied. “That’s the main reason I’m calling instead of stopping by. I’ll give you another call in a couple of weeks. You know where to reach me if you need anything. Has the ex-boyfriend been back at all?”

  “No,” Trisha answered. “He moved out of the area. I am getting better at calling my folks too, so they won’t need to worry. I think my rebel days are at an end.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye Trish.”

  “Bye, Mr. Sotello, and good luck with your campaign.”

  “Thanks.” Sotello called the number with the missing person problem. The phone rang four times before the male voice, he had heard on the recorder, picked up the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “My name is Jim Sotello. You called me about a missing family member?”

  “I must say I am surprised you would even be calling me. I almost didn’t call when I heard about all the commotion at your office this morning. I figured you’d be too busy,” the man said. “My name is George Tyler. I moved into the area a few months back from Wisconsin. I work at Watkins-Johnson across the Bay. I live in Piedmont now, and have been trying to look up a Lieutenant I served under in the Marines, at the tail end of Vietnam.”

  “Mr. Tyler, have you tried the Marine Corps? If he stayed in as an officer, they may know where he lives. Are you sure he lives out here?”

  “Frankly, no,” Tyler admitted. “I lost touch with him in the seventies, because he was stationed overseas for a time, and I moved. I should have located him when I had the chance, because I am sure the Marines could have furnished me with his whereabouts then. Life and time have a way of slipping away, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes Sir. I sure do. A friend of mine is a retired Marine, and he subscribes to a magazine, called Retired Officers. He drops off an issue once in a while, when he finds an article I would be interested in. Do you have a fax number?”

  “Yes, I do,” Tyler replied, and gave it to Sotello.

  “Good deal, I will fax over a phone number and address for the magazine. If your Lieutenant subscribes, they should be able to come up with an address for you. Let me know if you find him, okay?”

  “I will Mr. Sotello,” Tyler promised, “and thank you. Can I give you an address to send the bill too?

  “Just let me know if you find him,” Sotello replied. “I can come up with billable hours if this doesn’t work out. You take care now, and good luck, the fax will be there in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, I’ll let you know, goodbye for now.” Tyler hung up and Sotello went in search of his copies of Retired Officer Magazine.

  Ten minutes later, Sotello finally found a couple of the magazines. He faxed over the phone number, and address of the magazine, to Tyler right away. He went outside and made another check of Phillips’ car. When he returned to his desk, he switched on the television set in the room.

  He turned to the different cable news networks, as well as s
ome of the local stations. Sotello sat in amazement at how right Phillips had been about the buzzwords, the liberal sycophants were beginning to repeat in relation to any mention of his name. He dutifully noted them down, and the nonsensical arguments they used to defend the labels.

  Sotello extensively tested his alarm system, setting the motion detectors, triggering his outside cameras, for a wider area around the building. They were set to call his home station silently, and start an automatic video feed, Sotello could choose to view or ignore. He had been auditing his calls as they came in, and when he heard Tyler’s voice, he picked up the line.

  “Mr. Tyler,” Sotello acknowledged. “How did it go?”

  “Amazing,” Tyler answered. “They had an address and phone number for him in their files, which they gave me right away, after I faxed over my identification papers with my military background. He lives in Santa Clara, not all that far from where I work. I left a message on his answering machine. You have my vote, Governor.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Tyler. I’m glad things worked out for you.”

  “I will be contributing to your campaign,” Tyler told him, “and I will make sure I get out the word to everyone I know.”

  “It might be a good idea if you found out for sure what I stand for, before backing me on that kind of scale,” Sotello replied.

  “I saw you in action all day today,” Tyler said. “We share views on this country pretty much right down the line. You’ll be hearing from me, goodbye.”

  “Thank you again,” Sotello said.

  He looked at his watch, and then took a double take at the wall clock. He saw it was already four-thirty in the afternoon. His front office motion detector went off, just as his door buzzer signaled a visitor at the door. He slipped into his suit coat again, and went out to answer the door. Sotello could see Derek Sanders through the tinted glass, and that he was alone. Sotello hurried over and opened the door.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out alone, Derek.” Sotello shook Sanders’ hand.

  “Oh, you know. Once in a while, even us recluses take a chance, and surface for a moment,” Sanders replied. “How’s Craig? I saw on the news how he and Phillips were run over by a mob this morning.”

  “Come in,” Sotello said, gesturing Sanders through the door. “Let’s have a cup of coffee, while you tell me what you thought about the day after.”

  “Not much to tell,” Sanders said, following Sotello into the back kitchen. “You acted superbly. All kidding aside Jim, I found your savvy just short of amazing. You don’t even have a speechwriter, let alone a publicist, and here you are just calmly waging war in the political trenches like you were born to it. I’ll have you on the Presidential ticket next election.”

  Sotello shook his head, while he poured a cup of coffee for Sanders. “I mean to do what I set out to do Derek. With the Democrats owning both sides of the aisle in California, I will have an uphill battle getting anything I say agreed to by enough people to get it into law. You talk about a war now. Wait until I try to finally end things as common sense as oxygenated fuels, which keep poisoning our ground water supplies. Even if I get elected Governor, it will take four years of unrelenting political Armageddon to get anything accomplished.”

  “All the more reason to take your ideas nationally,” Derek pointed out.

  “No, all the more reason to stay, if they let me, and make things right for the folks who put me in Sacramento,” Sotello countered.

  “I was afraid you would say that,” Sanders said, shaking his head. “Anyway, you are a natural. Would a couple of my men make a difference as far as your security goes? I don’t want any mayhem done to either you, or your children, before the election even happens.”

  “I must admit this deal in the morning reminded me of the things they do in a Banana Republic, where they threaten the lives of the candidates in their elections if they won’t go along with the drug dealers or military,” Sotello replied. “I’m working on two of my friends in the Oakland Police Department to coordinate security at campaign appearances like last night. I would rather not get you involved in any of this Derek; but on the other hand, I don’t want some whacko stalking my kids.”

  “After this morning,” Sanders remarked, “I put the word on the street to be careful who they mess with, because if any harm comes to you or your kids, I can find out who did it.”

  “Who would be they? How could you pass the word?”

  “I’m no altar boy Jim, and we both know it. My holdings now put me among the richest people in the country, and they are all legit, but I have in my debt many people on the outskirts of the law. They, in turn, have contacts with other people no one would like to meet,” Sanders explained matter-of-factly. “I have connections in every major media, and I will make damn sure you get as fair a hearing as I can. You don’t have any qualms about taking these vermin on full bore, do you?”

  “Hell no,” Sotello said. “I’ve watched the Democratic Party sell out every aspect of decency they ever had, to the point of having infanticide in the guise of partial birth abortion as a rallying point. They sell out our National Defense in a dial-a-dollar race to see how many Defense secrets they can give away to our worst enemies, including a sitting Vice President of the United States acting as a bagman at a Red Chinese fronted Buddhist Temple. If we don’t stop lying down for them, God knows what they will sell out next.”

  “I see the fire lies very close to the surface,” Sanders remarked.

  “You’ve given me the chance to change things Derek. I have no intention of doing this in a half-ass manner,” Sotello continued. “We won’t go very far without some kind of media at least giving us an even shot. Adrian called it right today. The talking points have already been distributed. Every newscast I turn on begins with a string of derogatory labels about me. I know what that kind of bombardment can do to people. They never start with Left Wing, Socialist and morally bankrupt Red Davidson. It hasn’t worked yet, but if they keep it up on a day to day basis right up until the election, without me firing back, I may as well quit now.”

  “You have a perfect grasp of the situation. I want you to be able to hit their myths with the same passion you did today on TV,” Sanders said. “What we don’t want is you having to duck a riot every time you go out. I think you will find a different slant start to emerge about these groups ready to do violence if they don’t get their way. I have some people working on it right now.”

  “I hope they can impart some truth to those idiots. Would you like to follow me home?” Sotello asked. “I’m making dinner for the kids, or better yet, you can bring Gina with you. I know you didn’t think coming to the barbeque this weekend would be a good idea for you, but it will be just us and the kids tonight.”

  “Count us in,” Sanders replied without hesitation. “I’ll pick up Gina and come over. What time?”

  “We’re shooting for six-thirty.”

  “We’ll be there,” Sanders confirmed. He let Sotello walk him out to his car. After Sanders drove away, Sotello checked Phillips’ car again before going back to the office.

  Sotello locked his doors, and triple checked his alarm system before leaving. The phone rang just before he walked out the door. It was Phillips. “Jim, take this address and phone number down. Someone volunteered an unused office at an industrial complex down in Hayward for your campaign headquarters. It fronts Whipple Road, so it can be seen from the street.”

  “That’s great news,” Sotello said. “It might take some of the heat off of my office building.”

  “Exactly my thought,” Phillips replied. He gave the information to Sotello, and reminded him to do his homework before disconnecting.

  Chapter 29

  Prelude To Terror

  Sotello put the information in the computer. He ran off five hundred business cards for his new headquarters, after creating them in a publishing program, where he also added his picture. After boxing up the cards, he took them home with him to pass out. Sotel
lo cooked up a meal of spaghetti and meatballs, with fresh Italian bread he had picked up on his way home.

  Sotello’s neighbor Hank, and the older lady from next-door, stopped by to wish him well in his campaign for Governor. Sotello held a very friendly Tinker from jumping all over them. The dog was an immediate hit with the neighbors. Hank offered to watch the dog anytime Sotello needed a dog sitter. They each took some of his newly made cards to pass out for him. Craig parked while Sotello was on his way back inside the house. He stopped, and waited for Craig to get out of his car to join him. Sotello looked over Craig’s head abrasion for any excessive swelling. Craig pushed him away, as Sotello started looking into his ears.

  “Let’s go inside the house,” Craig said. “I’ll let you humiliate me a little more in there.”

  “Hey,” Sotello objected innocently. “I was just showing some interest in your wellbeing, Number One.”

  “Right,” Craig said, sniffing the air, and fighting off Tinker at the same time. “I smell spaghetti. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  “This meal was not made for a duet, my son,” Sotello laughed. “In fact, Darren agreed to join us for dinner, and bring Gina with him.”

  “Well, as much fun as that sounds,” Craig replied, “what do we do about my hunger right now? I could pass out.”

  “You will have to wait. Use the experience to help you build up your character.”

  “It’s not my character I’m worried about,” Craig retorted, taking a last glance down the street to see if anyone was coming. “I’ll give them five minutes.”

  “How gracious of you,” Sotello remarked, as he led the way inside. “Would you like a diet soda before dinner?”

  “How about a glass of wine?”

  “If you plan on staying the night,” Sotello replied, “I will be happy to get you a glass of wine.”

  “We’ll be eating dinner, Dad. I can stand a glass of wine without endangering the motoring public on my wicked way home,” Craig reasoned.