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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “Quite a bit,” Janowitz confirmed. “You called that one. That’s how we know so much about him now, but I can’t tell you anymore about it.”

  “Okay, just so you let me know if you find out something that’ll get me blown up, preferably before he’s standing in front of me with his hand on the button.”

  “Will do, Scarface.”

  “They’re still playing that song I take it?”

  Janowitz nodded. “You are branded now. I heard the President got a laugh out of it too, because this whole deal’s been on the national wire since last night.”

  “Just so someone’s having fun,” Sotello said, grinning. “I don’t suppose the President would care to make a campaign stop to give me a leg up, would he Hank?”

  “I won’t touch that one,” Janowitz replied. “You do your own campaign lineup. My guess is he thinks you’re too dangerous to be around, and he has enough of his own problems.”

  The waitress came over, and refilled their coffee cups. She also left them the bill, which Sotello picked up.

  “With every extremist in the Middle East, plotting the President’s death, with prayer beads in their hands, I’m the one who should be keeping my distance,” Sotello mused, cupping his chin as if in thought. “It would probably be better if he just phoned in his congratulations, if I win. The two of us together would probably rate a suitcase nuke.”

  “Man, don’t even tip toe down that road,” Janowitz protested. “That nightmare’s tattooed to the inside of my eyelids.”

  “Well then,” Sotello replied, standing up, “If we’re all done here, why don’t I put my bullseye back on my chest, and get to work.”

  “The way your son was devouring my agent with his eyes, the last thing in the world he wants to see is your ugly kisser, Scarface.”

  “True,” Sotello sighed. “All the more reason to return quickly. Into each life a little rain must fall. If I ain’t having fun, neither can he.”

  “Like that, is it?” Janowitz laughed, as Sotello paid the bill.

  “Hey, what’s a father for?”

  The two men walked out of the restaurant, with Sotello slipping his hat back on before they passed the doorway. Both men slipped into a higher state of awareness as they walked back to where they had left Craig and Sykes. They were nowhere to be seen. Sotello took out his cell phone, and direct connected to Craig.

  “Hi Dad, we’re in the bar,” Craig said. “May tried to have another Zombie, but I told her I didn’t want to carry her out of here.”

  Sotello heard a gasp of air, and a laughing protest. “Okay, stay there Number One, and I will be right over.”

  After he hung up, Sotello looked at Janowitz. “Where do you want me to send Sykes?”

  “Why not take her with you. Another pair of eyes would not hurt. I told you I have a budget for some protection. You might as well use it.”

  “I’m making money on this client,” Sotello said. “It bothers me to take a field agent from your team to do what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “Take her with you, and stop being such a cement head.”

  “Okay, but if Craig asks her to stay for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m filing a complaint. He lives in a one bedroom studio, so guess where the guests stay,” Sotello protested.

  “Poor baby,” Janowitz joked. “So Craig has a holiday list of guests?”

  “Yea, including our client,” Sotello confirmed. “By the time the press would get done with it, I’d be accused of running a bordello out of my house, including foreign slave labor.”

  “With your campaign, you have entered the Twilight Zone of media anal exams,” Janowitz intoned. “Nothing you do, or say, will escape their microscopic inspection. If the facts get into the way of a story, they will have to be sacrificed. Good luck Jim, am I still invited for the Saturday barbeque?”

  “You can make that, when you are supposed to be guarding my life? I am shocked, shocked I say.”

  “See you then, Scarface,” Janowitz laughed, as he walked away shaking his head.

  Sotello watched his friend for a moment, before turning to start towards the bar, where Craig, May, and Agent Sykes waited. The intensity had just went up a notch, and Sotello wondered if it would ever go down again.

  __

  May stood next to Craig as her flight boarding call was announced. She glanced back at Sotello, who stood nonchalantly against the wall, wearing what he called his Mike Hammer hat. Agent Sykes, who had been with them since being assigned to the group at the Mark Hopkins Hotel, leaned on the wall next to Sotello. Anyone watching the two would think they were in a deep discussion; but May could see Sotello’s eyes moving over the crowd in his field of vision, and back to where she and Craig waited. Sykes covered her side of the waiting area, even as she spoke animatedly to Sotello. May caught Sotello’s eye and waved. Sotello smiled, and with a small salute, he said goodbye.

  May looked up at Craig, who she had come to care for very much. It had taken all of her strength to refuse politely his invitation to stay for the holidays. She reached up, and put her hand on his shoulder. When Craig turned to her, May put her other hand on the side of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It turned quickly into a passionate goodbye, which she ended reluctantly.

  “I wish you would change your mind, May,” Craig whispered as he straightened, still holding her in his arms.

  “Will you consider coming to visit me in the summer? We can still be good friends, and I will write you,” May said softly.

  “Of course,” Craig answered without hesitation. “I will miss you lady. I do not have many female friends, but I loved being with you the last few days.”

  “I enjoyed every moment with you. Thank you so much for your company.” May picked up her carryon bag, and with one last hug, she turned towards the boarding tunnel. She turned, and winked. “Good luck with Agent Sykes.” Before he could reply, she turned away.

  Craig watched her show the flight assistant her boarding pass, and then disappear down the tunnel. He turned to walk back to where his Father and Agent Sykes still waited. The time passed so quickly from the night they had picked up May, he could hardly believe it. He knew his Father was relieved. The worry, while they discharged their duty to May, had taken its toll on Sotello. The news outlets hounded them now day and night. They staked out all of their residences, schools, and the office. Craig grinned, remembering all the disguises, and antics, they had gone through to protect their client’s privacy.

  Sykes smiled at him, as Craig joined her and his Father near the wall.

  “Do you say goodbye to all of your clients like that, Craig?”

  “Only the good looking ones, right Dad?”

  “Do not pay any attention to this unprofessional hack of an escort, Agent Sykes. He has become enamored with a client, the mortal sin of a detective agency. Thank God, with our help, he was able to control himself long enough to see our client through her stay safely.”

  Sykes laughed appreciatively, as they all turned to walk back through the airport, and to where their driver was in a circling pattern, waiting for them to appear. She liked both Sotello, and his son Craig immensely. Sotello, to her thinking, worked more professionally than any partner she had ever had on the job. He took nothing for granted. Although she was a few years older than Craig, they shared many of the same interests. She had been introduced to his imitations, and impersonations, while they waited for May Lin to finish the various meetings during her stay. Never had anyone made her laugh so hard.

  She turned in time to catch Craig give her a heads up, just before he aped his Father, walking slightly to the left and behind the older man. She slapped a hand to her mouth, stifling the laughter, which threatened to warn Sotello of Craig’s mimicry. Her body shook with the effort, and tears began forming in her eyes, watching the performance. As if on cue, Sotello sensed something, whipping around in time to catch Craig. Sykes’ silent laughter quickly shot out loudly, attracting puzzled stares from passers by.


  “Great,” Sotello sighed. “Oh, I am so happy you find this disrespectful yuppie larvae so amusing, Agent Sykes.”

  “I can’t help it,” Sykes gasped. “Watching him do a send up of the next Governor of California does make for high entertainment.”

  “I think, since you have decided to continue this tacit approval of Craig’s childish behavior, I will have to ask you to call me Mr. Sotello from now on,” Sotello said haughtily, with grinning condescension. “I will of course have to report this incident.”

  “Well,” Sykes replied, “Since you’ve been threatening me with this report business for the last couple days, I will file it away with the rest of your threats. If you could show some fatherly control, you would not need to constantly be threatening me.”

  “Good point,” Sotello admitted, as he gripped Craig in a headlock, pretending he was going to ram his head into the wall.

  “Jim,” Sykes hissed, looking down the airport hallway at two khaki clothed soldiers, jogging towards them as they un-slung their M16’s. “The army’s on the way.”

  “Oh crap,” Sotello said, having forgotten they were in the airport. He released a laughing Craig quickly.

  “Identification please,” the lead soldier, with sergeant stripes, barked.

  Sykes showed him her FBI identification, as both of her companions sheepishly pulled theirs out to hand to the soldier. The sergeant looked over the ID’s closely, and then smiled broadly at Sotello. He straightened, snapping a salute at Sotello. “Sorry sir, I did not recognize you with the hat. This is your son then, Mr. Sotello?”

  The tall, black sergeant was an imposing figure. He looked to Sotello as if he had been around the block a few times. His companion, a corporal of what looked like Middle Eastern descent, stretched out a hand when he saw the name on the ID. Sotello shook hands with both men happily. Sotello could see on their ID badges the sergeant’s name was Dawson, and the corporal’s name was Aboud.

  “Yes Sergeant Dawson, he’s my son,” Sotello replied. “I’m really sorry about this. I forgot for a moment where we were. I’m a little old to be grabassing in an International Airport, in the middle of a war.”

  “We all forget sometimes Sir. I am happy to meet you. Can we escort you anywhere Sir?”

  “No, but thank you,” Sotello said. “It was nice meeting you both. Please forgive me for taking you both away from your duties.”

  “It was an honor to meet you, Mr. Sotello,” Aboud put in quickly.

  “Take care of yourself Mr. Sotello,” Dawson added, as both men stepped aside.

  “Isn’t it nice to have a celebrity in the family Craig?” Sykes said, as they walked along, amid stares from the people who had stopped to watch the incident.

  “Oh yes, Agent Sykes,” Craig said profusely. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  “Oh, I am so laughing on the inside,” Sotello said, as he pulled the brim of his hat down lower in the front. “You two are simply hilarious, comedic legends on the rise. Thank you both for a completely humiliating trip to the airport.”

  “Do you believe we are getting blamed for this, Agent Sykes?” Craig said in mock consternation.

  “He has dropped to a new low, I am afraid,” Sykes agreed, with a shrug of her shoulders. “It was actually your head darting inside his arm lock which attracted airport security.”

  “Okay, okay, I may have made a slight error in judgment there,” Sotello admitted, jabbing a finger at Craig. “But he started it.”

  Chapter 38

  Handling The Press

  The cool washcloth, Sotello felt wiping his face, felt wonderful. The smiling woman, ministering to him, did not look familiar. He reached up to put a hand on her arm, just to stop her for a moment, to say thanks. The arm felt hairy, as Sotello opened his eyes. Tinker the dog continued licking Sotello’s face, as Sotello realized he was holding Tinker’s paw in his hand. Sotello rolled away from the dog’s persistent tongue, groaning and rubbing at the slobber. Tinker dug her nose into his side, playing the game of dig the master out for the morning walk. Sotello sat up finally, grabbing the dog’s head in both hands, and shaking it gently.

  “What on earth does having a dog door accomplish if you insist on this facial every morning?” Sotello asked, getting eye to eye with the dog. Releasing her, he swung his legs out onto the floor. “I’m up, now beat it, you ungrateful cur.”

  Tinker stuck her cold nose into Sotello’s back, causing him to jackknife onto his feet. “Why you dirty, rotten…”

  Tinker had already streaked out of the room, having successfully carried out her morning ritual when Sotello tried to sleep in past five AM. Sotello looked after the dog, feeling as if he had just closed his eyes. The barbeque the day before had gone on until almost midnight. The small gathering of friends and neighbors had expanded into a mini-block party, guarded by the patrolling Castro Valley police, and the FBI agents, who came along with Hank Janowitz. Sotello had only shared a couple of beers, before concentrating on his cooking. Craig and Damon Wilkens had helped with the barbequing. Ellen kept the condiments, and side dishes filled. This morning though, Sotello felt as if he had chugged two bottles of Jack Daniels. His head ached, and his eyes could barely focus.

  Sotello grabbed his robe, and walked into the master bath in his bedroom. He downed three aspirin from the medicine cabinet, chasing them with a glass of cool water. After shaving, and spending fifteen minutes under the hottest water he could stand in the shower, Sotello began to feel better. He finished his shower, and stepped out after drying, believing he could manage to go on with his day.

  Dressing in jeans, sweatshirt, and his body armor, Sotello put on his hiking boots to take Tinker for a walk. With his shoulder holster, and 9mm Glock, Sotello went downstairs. Tinker waited for him by the hall closet, with her leash clasped between her teeth. Grinning at her antics, Sotello knelt down and roughed her up a little before hooking up her leash. He then put on his coat, sticking Tinker’s waste bag in his pocket.

  Because his house had been placed on the regular patrol of the Castro Valley Police Department, and he now had a live in FBI agent, Sotello’s house no longer sported police officers on the front lawn. They had been replaced by twenty-four hour coverage by one or another of the myriad news people, who split their time watching his house and business.

  At before six in the morning, the darkness made his journey out with the dog a harrowing experience, but Sotello refused to give it up. He checked all of the area in front of his house with a night scope before leaving. A news van, Sotello had seen before, waited for him to appear, and leave for whatever destination he had in mind. Sotello always brought them out donuts and coffee in the morning. He let them use his bathroom, as long as they did not abuse their privileges by grilling him in his house.

  Sotello poured the already timer perked coffee into the thermos he took out for the reporters. He quickly put together a bag of donuts and cookies from the boxes he went out to get fresh everyday. As he was putting it all into a plastic shopping bag, a bleary eyed, robed Sykes shuffled into the kitchen. Sotello had already recharged the coffee pot for another perking session, but had not expected to see Sykes yet this morning. They had an understanding that if terrorists assassinated him before six AM, it would be Sotello’s own stupid fault. Janowitz had laughed, when apprised of the arrangement; but after warning Sotello of what a sitting duck it made of him, to always be out in the morning between five and six AM, he had just shrugged.

  Sykes had a belt on around her waist, with her own weapon of choice, a Ruger KP95, holstered on the belt, cocked to be within easy reach of her right hand. She stared at the still perking coffee pot for a moment, before looking up at Sotello. “The damn reporters get first dibs on coffee in the morning?”

  “Sorry Agent Sykes,” Sotello laughed. “This being the first time I have seen your shining face before seven AM, I was unprepared. I will pour you a cup from the thermos if you like.”

  “Bah, humbug,” Sykes grunted, returning her
stare to the coffee pot.

  “That’s the spirit,” Sotello replied, putting an arm around her shoulders. “But you know, Halloween comes first, and then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, Master Scrooge.”

  “How can you get up like Barney the dinosaur every morning?” Sykes complained, as Sotello patted her arm. “Frankly, it’s disgusting.”

  “Yea, I know,” Sotello replied, commiserating with her. “If you had seen me when Tinker was giving me my morning facial, you would have been real pleased at the sight. Yesterday was a long day, but at least the sun stayed out.”

  Sykes put a hand on her forehead. “Do not speak of yesterday. Good Lord, what did I drink?”

  “I believe you told Craig you could drink Zombies all day, and they would not affect you.”

  “That weasel set me up,” Sykes groaned. “Please don’t mention that beverage to me again, ever. The skunk did at least put me to bed before I humiliated myself in front of my boss.”

  “Craig is a gentleman,” Sotello agreed. “The aspirin are in the cupboard to your right. We have all brands. I have ice water in the fridge.”

  “Thank you,” Sykes said, turning to the indicated cupboard.

  “Will you be okay until I get back?”

  “Yea, but you better warn the reporters, when you go out to kiss butt this morning, I will shoot anyone ringing the doorbell before ten,” Sykes stated, as she poured a glass of ice water to go with the aspirin.

  “I will inform them you are here, armed and dangerous. They will write a story about how I seduced you against your will, and have coerced you into running the brothel they know I have hidden somewhere in the house.”

  “On second thought Sotello,” Sykes grinned. “Just get the damn dog walked, and get out of my face for a few moments.”

  Sotello clicked his heels together, and snapped off a first class salute, as Tinker began to dance around him. He grabbed the donuts and thermos, while letting Tinker guide him out through the house. Sotello and Tinker jogged to the news van across the street, and about a hundred feet down from the house. A cameraman, Sotello knew to be named Ray, opened the driver’s side window.