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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I do have a couple of great kids,” Sotello agreed. “I sure as hell want them to stay in one piece. I guess we won’t know how serious they were about killing me, until they look at those packages in your lab. By the positioning on the wall, it looks like they were either warning me, or they were going to wait to set them off in the morning. My kitchen lies on the other side of that wall. My bedroom is on the other side of the house. Were those the only packages you found?”

  “Yea,” Vance answered. “The detonator was in the bag, along with some other electronic gear. We didn’t want to play with it.”

  Vance received a call, saying the bomb squad was outside the gate. He told them to come on in, and then directed them to the devices on the wall. Vance, Whithers, and Sotello moved back to the fence surrounding the backyard, while the bomb squad worked. They put each device in a sealed container, and waved at Vance as they exited the backyard.

  “Did you guys have to evacuate anyone?” Sotello asked cringing, as the realization came to him.

  “Yea,” Vance replied. “We moved your next door neighbors down the street just in case, why?”

  “Oh man,” Sotello exclaimed. “I’m going to be real popular around here. They all may vote for me just to get me out of the neighborhood.”

  Both Vance and Whithers laughed.

  Chapter 31

  The Aftermath

  As the two officers accompanied him inside, Sotello realized just how cold he was. He hurried upstairs and dressed in his jeans, and a sweatshirt. After putting his wallet and some money in his pants pocket, Sotello grabbed his leather jacket out of the closet. With Tinker following him down, Sotello went into the kitchen and made sure the dog had plenty of food and water, which Tinker attacked hungrily. Sotello rejoined Vance and Whithers at the front door of his house.

  “Do you want me to follow you down?” Sotello asked.

  “No,” Vance replied. “You had better ride along with us. If you can’t get a ride back later, we’ll drop you off when we’re done. The news people are out there already,” he added.

  Sotello covered his face with his hands for a moment, shaking his head. “Good Lord, I am getting a thousand peoples’ fifteen minutes of fame, all inside of a forty eight hour period.”

  Vance chuckled. “Are you ready?”

  “Yea,” Sotello nodded. “This ain’t going to get any easier. I hope they don’t interview the neighbors you evacuated.”

  Both officers laughed again, as they led him from the house. The flashbulbs and floodlights were already in place, along with the accompanying crew of reporters and photographers. Sotello squinted into the bright flashing lights, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. He could only imagine how grainy he must appear to the cameras.

  “What happened Mr. Sotello?” A woman reporter near his front stoop called out, sticking her mike in his face.

  “Three men came over the fence to try and blow my house up,” Sotello replied, following Vance and Whithers.

  “Is it true you shot one of them?” She continued, falling in alongside of them, as they moved towards the police car.

  “Yea, Mr. Sotello,” another reporter called out, as he elbowed through the crowd. “Is it true this was over a drug deal gone sour?”

  Sotello stopped in his tracks, whirling towards the questioner. He towered over the man, who was in his middle thirties, with long, well-groomed hair. The man saw Sotello’s face, and blanched at the murderous look. The reporter started to shrink back into the crowd, but Sotello enveloped the hand he held his portable mike in with a vise like grip, pulling him forward.

  “What did you say to me?” Sotello whispered in a voice as deadly as the look on his face.

  “Ahhhh… I heard… that is we…”

  “You never heard anything of the kind,” Sotello hissed angrily through clenched teeth, as he dragged the squirming reporter closer. “Let me tell you this. If you ever get into my face with another cheap shot like that, you better have someone backing you up with more than a camera, or I’ll stick this mike so far up your ass, you’ll be broadcasting your dinner on the evening news.” Sotello pushed the reporter back hard enough for him to stumble and go to his knees.

  Sotello turned towards the others who stood in hushed silence, as the two police officers covered their mouths to keep from erupting into laughter. “Any more questions before I go? If you will be patient, I may have some idea of what this was all about later, and I will not hide it from you. I did have to shoot one of the men in self-defense. I will be glad to answer almost anything else about this incident after I give the police a statement. Just don’t come at me with anymore of what that two-bit hustler tried just now.”

  Whithers pulled open the back door of his squad car, and Sotello jumped in. With the cameras rolling, Sotello sat back. Vance went around to the driver’s side, and slid in behind the wheel of the car. Whithers entered the passenger side, and put his riot gun back in place between them. They were under way a few minutes later, after Whithers called in.

  “Man,” Vance exclaimed. “That guy went right for the jugular with the cameras rolling on you. If you hadn’t stopped, people would have been watching you being led out of your house by police, with the accusation of a drug deal gone sour as their only explanation.”

  “You’re right. They would have it on a twenty second loop, playing over and over again, with every brainless twit with a microphone doing a running commentary on how long a prison term I would be getting. I’ll be watching for that moron. There must be more to his throwing out something like that than meets the eye.”

  “Huh?” Whithers twisted around. “You think this whole thing may be a setup?”

  “I don’t know,” Sotello admitted. “The guy may have only been looking for a ten second sound bite to put him on every newscast, and front page of every newspaper in the country. He probably succeeded. I hope that’s all it was. I never saw opposition like this to a political candidate. I expected smear campaigns, but not bombs.”

  “Maybe we should get the FBI in on this,” Vance said. “If those guys can be traced to some foreign outfit, the FBI would have an interest.”

  “They have to be asked in, after 9/11,” Sotello replied. “If your department has no objections, I would really appreciate any help you guys could get in on this. My kids will be wondering if it will be safe for them anywhere in the state pretty soon.”

  “After tonight,” Whithers said, “who can blame them. This seems more like an election in South America. If the bomb squad confirms those were bombs attached to your wall, we may not be able to keep the FBI, and Homeland Security out of this, even if we wanted to. You were in the FBI weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Sotello answered, “but in the five years I was with the Bureau we never even heard of a case where they tried to blow up a political candidate in this country. It must have to do with what I said about immigration. Either the people profiting from the cheap labor, or some faction profiting off supplying the cheap labor must be behind this.”

  Sotello paused, before going on. “I did talk about Terrorists possibly coming in, and the Chinese wanting the Long Beach Port. I didn’t think I pissed off any groups enough to get executed though.”

  “In this state,” Vance cut in, “anything can be punishable by death, to some of the whackos we have out here. I know you were in the Secret Service too. You already know the chances of protecting someone if some goofball really wants that person dead.”

  “I do indeed,” Sotello agreed. “At the rate I’m going, if I ever do get elected, I better start eating out of a can and drinking water from a bottle right off the store shelf. Otherwise, I may need official food testers. You guys need a job?”

  Sotello laughed, and the two officers joined in uneasily.

  __

  “Hi Steve,” Sotello said as Vance led him into the watch commander’s office.

  “Jim Sotello,” Pensley said, leaning back in his chair, and clasping his hands behind his head
, grimacing. “If it isn’t the James Bond of Castro Valley. Did I, or did I not tell you to stay off of the police blotters?”

  Sotello grinned. “Sorry, Steve, but you may have heard of another little scheme I stumbled into, called a Governor’s campaign. It seems not everyone shares my political viewpoints, and some even wish to erase them.”

  “So I understand. I called in the FBI on this Jim,” Pensley informed him. “They will have a team down here in the morning to go over everything. We have your house under surveillance, because they want to send in their own people to check over the scene.”

  “I just received word they found a neighbor on the street in back of Sotello’s house, who spotted a dark blue Dodge van pull up, and saw the black clad ninja wannabes get out,” Vance said, handing a report sheet over to Pensley. “He copied down the license plate number, because he thought they were burglars. They must have had a getaway driver, because the van was gone.”

  “I’ll call the FBI field office, and see if they want us to move on this,” Pensley said, looking over the sheet. “In the meantime Jim, you better go get some sleep. I’ll let the surveillance team know you’re coming, unless you want to stay somewhere else.”

  “I have a dog I need to take care of and I’ll need to get cleaned up for tomorrow,” Sotello replied. “I’m sorry for this plague I have visited upon your sleepy little town my friend.”

  “Forget it. I’ve been watching you perform these last couple of days, and if I can help you get elected, I will do so, even if all it takes is helping you stay alive until the election. Is the barbeque still on for Saturday?”

  “It is if you want to risk your life in attending,” Sotello quipped, shaking Pensley’s hand. “Kevlar will be the mandatory dress code. How about you and Whithers, Vance? Want to come over to the house on Saturday?”

  “If it’s all the same to you Mr. Sotello,” Vance smiled uneasily, “I think I will keep my distance from you as much as possible. You can invite me to the Governor’s mansion when you get elected.”

  Sotello laughed, shaking his proffered hand. “Maybe that would be best, Officer Vance. Do you still want to give me a lift home, or would you rather I called a taxi?”

  “Whithers and I will drop you off at your house, but be ready to jump out when we get opposite your door, so all we have to do is slow down,” Vance replied, only half kidding.

  Sotello laughed. “That’s the spirit. I better get back there now, and see if I can get a couple of minutes sleep before the alarm goes off.

  __

  Tinker welcomed him as he stepped in through the front door. She followed him up to his room, where Sotello undressed and climbed into bed. Tinker jumped up on the other side of the queen size bed and curled up. Sotello looked at her for a moment, as she snorted, before closing her eyes. He shook his head and looked at the clock, which read 4:36 AM. Sighing, he reset the alarm from five to six AM, and settled down to grab what sleep he could.

  __

  His phone started ringing just before Sotello went in to take his shower. He recognized Darren Sanders’ voice.

  “Jim, are you alright?” Sanders asked.

  “I’m fine. I guess the story hit the air waves already, huh?”

  “Are you kidding? There ain’t anything else as far as news goes anywhere. The media has fallen in love with you Jim. As long as you stay alive, they will never have a slow news day.”

  “Always happy to serve the government media complex in any humble way I can,” Sotello quipped. “I guess I better get in touch with my kids before they wake up and see my latest escapade on the news.”

  “I should put a couple of my men on them until this election is over,” Sanders said. “What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds great, but let me run it by my two cement heads first. Thanks for the offer, Darren. I’m sorry it came to this. Maybe I should just send them on a vacation to some remote island,” Sotello proffered.

  “They have school,” Sanders reminded him. “See how they feel about bodyguards and call me back. What about you?”

  “I don’t want anyone around me right now,” Sotello answered. “I’m going over to see Adrian this morning, after I have breakfast with my two erstwhile beat cops from Oakland. You haven’t met Tank and Jay yet have you?”

  “Not yet, but they will be at your barbeque, won’t they?”

  “Yes, they will,” Sotello answered. “Will you be okay with Adrian there?”

  “I think I can manage,” Sanders replied truthfully. “In a war like we’re in, it would seem to be a good idea for our side to get along with each other. Tell him I said so when you see him.”

  “I will,” Sotello agreed. “He will be happy hearing it.”

  “You have a client flying in this evening, don’t you Jim?”

  “You are amazing,” Sotello told him. “How in the world do you remember all this stuff?”

  “Well, in any case, I am the only one who knows, I hope. It helps that you filed your schedule with me back when we decided to get into this Governor’s race. Don’t you remember?”

  “I’m brain dead this morning. Anyway, Craig and I meet them at the airport at six tonight. It will be a pretty straightforward operation, if I can keep from picking up a news tail following my every movement. I’ll get out my Sam Spade trench coat and hat for the gig.”

  “Good idea Sam, better for everyone’s safety if you keep this as quiet as possible,” Sanders agreed. “Will Ellen be going too?”

  “She’ll be coordinating from the office. I will make sure she is settled in before I take off with Craig for the airport,” Sotello replied. “She can take care of herself, but I’ll feel better knowing she’ll be in constant contact with me while she’s at the office. This bomb shit really freaked me out. I have the whole outside of my office under video surveillance, but she will have to stay alert.”

  “I hate to say this Jim, but this thing needed to come to a head.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Sotello remarked with some confusion.

  “Would you ever have believed a candidate could become the target for assassination, simply for having a politically incorrect opinion?” Sanders asked.

  “We’ve had strange things happen to political candidates before,” Sotello said. “Bobby Kennedy for one, but God only knows what the real story was on that one. The police officers who came to my house last night hinted at a similar conclusion. If I understand you right, you think maybe we are getting a banana republic syndrome too, where if some faction hates what you stand for, they remove you from the competition.”

  “Exactly,” Sanders replied, “If we don’t stand up now, we may not be able to later. Think what your death last night would have caused. Just the hint of your demise to a potential candidate in the future, someone disagreed with, could have a chilling effect on a campaign. You surviving, and speaking out, may give this state and the country something to think about.”

  “Meaning it would be a bad idea for me or my kids to become martyrs to the cause, right?”

  “We have to show people you can stand up for what’s right, but if anything were to happen to you, Ellen, or Craig, we would be a long time recovering,” Sanders stated.

  “I’ll just have to make sure nothing happens to any of us,” Sotello replied, “but after last night, I would have to admit it will not be as easy as I thought.”

  “Do you think La Raza was behind this?” Sanders asked.

  “Maybe, or someone who wants us to think La Raza backed the attempt, or some pissed off gang bangers who took offense to what I said the other night, or maybe the Teacher’s Union has an enforcement arm of mooks to take care of people trying to reform their gravy train. Hell, Darren, the possibilities make my head hurt,” Sotello concluded.

  “Anyway,” Sotello went on after a moment, “The police have them now. Between them, and the FBI, they will come up with a connection. They had a break on the case already, because a neighbor wrote down the l
icense plate number of their getaway van. The ones they arrested will have left some record somewhere. If they are foreign nationals, the FBI can put their prints and pictures out to Interpol, and the Terrorist database they’ve built up since 9/11.”

  “Will you call me later in the day when you know more and let me know how your kids feel about some protection?”

  “You can count on it,” Sotello answered. “I may have some information on the bombers too. I better get moving. This will be one long day.”

  “I hear you. Watch your back, my friend, goodbye.”

  “Talk to you later.” Sotello called Ellen next. She answered on the first ring.

  “Dad?”

  “It is I, the troublemaker.”

  “I can tell you were okay by the news bump they keep running. The one with you facing off with that retard reporter, who tried to hint at a drug deal gone bad,” Ellen said. “Were they really planting bombs on the house?”

  “It looks that way El, but they haven’t let me know for sure yet.”

  “I guess you already know how you have become the only news anywhere, don’t you?”

  “Hell of a way to get famous,” Sotello replied. “It’s encouraging the media has seen fit to go full bore on this. Maybe they sense how much danger we’re in, if our political candidates can get bombed if they don’t back the status quo.”

  “One of the men died.”

  “I knew last night,” Sotello confirmed. “He took a shotgun blast from close range. Are they showing the other two on the news?”

  “Almost as much as you,” Ellen replied. “If anyone knows them, the police will be getting calls. They have refused to say a word so far, according to the news, not even their names.”

  “I figured they wouldn’t get much out of those two,” Sotello said. “I hope they have them protected in the lockup, because you can bet there will be people looking to make sure they don’t say anything ever. Darren wants to put some protection on you and Craig. What do you think? I’d sure feel better.”