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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “I am not a liberal,” Sykes stated.

  “Okay,” Sotello said, “but I could have sworn you said you voted for first Clinton, and then later, Gore.”

  “I was young and impressionable,” Sykes replied defensively.

  “I’ll buy that.”

  “I’d vote for you if I lived in this state,” Sykes offered.

  “I appreciate your support, and I’m just yanking your chain. We don’t need to talk about politics anyway.”

  “Is that why you left the Secret Service?”

  “Partly,” Sotello answered seriously. “Frankly, I did not want to deprive my children of a father, so a guy like Clinton could go home to his. That’s the wrong attitude for the Service, and when I realized the fact, I left.”

  “I must say, I loved working with you and your son,” Sykes said. “I always thought the private detective business consisted of slime bag motels, and pretending you could find someone no one else could. You guys were doing a little bit of a mix between American Gigolo and The Bodyguard.”

  “Your first impression does play a large part if you want to eat steady,” Sotello pointed out. “I have always done skip traces, and they don’t always go according to plan. With things changing in the FBI, you might end up on a fast track to the higher echelons Jan. I hope you stay with it long enough to find out if you can.”

  “I plan to,” Sykes replied, “but if things don’t work out for me, I’d like to get into something similar to what you do. Craig says you speak a bunch of different languages, and he was practicing his French on me, so he could surprise your sister, when she says something to you she thinks he won’t understand.”

  “The language proficiency helps immensely,” Sotello agreed. “In the Bay Area, we have visitors from all over the world. They pay very well for sightseeing safety. I am working on my German right now, because of the increase in visitors from there. The kids began early, and really have a knack for languages. Do you speak any other language?”

  “I speak Russian and French fluently, and I am conversant in Farsi, but I can’t write it well.”

  “Outstanding,” Sotello said, visibly impressed. “You must be very valuable, considering the way of the world today. If you can learn three languages so stridently different, you could pick up a couple of more without too much trouble. We could certainly use you if your FBI career does not live up to expectations, but I believe you do your country a service right now by staying in.”

  “That’s how I see it too,” Sykes said. “I know they need agents desperately, who speak any Middle Eastern dialect. Are you picking up Craig first?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought this route looked familiar, even in my post hangover haze,” Sykes said, looking out of her window. “Are they still staking out his apartment too?”

  “Yea, but we have a plan,” Sotello replied. “He told me he can get out the back, and down the block, so I can pick him up without driving by his place.”

  “Don’t they still have someone looking out for him?” Sykes asked.

  “Yea, but he watches the front, and then Craig calls him once he’s clear,” Sotello explained. “Since he will be with me, the officer can then return to his duties. We have the same deal worked out with Ellen. When we have to meet back at the office though, we’re screwed, because they have one of my neighbors telling them when I show up. They have to be paying someone, because they’re always waiting when we come out.”

  “You don’t think it might be because of your golden chariot here, do you?”

  “Very funny,” Sotello said. “We can only duck them for a short period of time. Both Ellen and Craig told me they will both be happy when winter break comes. Going to school seems to present the worst hassle for them. There he is now.”

  Sotello pulled over to the curb as a gray, trench coat clad figure, with hat pulled down over the front of his face, walked over to the car, hands plunged deep in his coat pockets. Sykes laughed, as Craig peaked upwards toward the car to see if he had an audience, and then began to ape Sotello’s walk perfectly. He opened the back door and slid in.

  “Nicely done, Secret Squirrel,” Sotello said.

  “How is my little Zombie Queen,” Craig asked in French.

  “I hear the word Zombie again,” Sykes said, turning to look back at Craig, “and I am going to pull your lips off, Maurice.”

  “I heard you were picking up some French,” Sotello said, laughing. “Did you talk to El this morning?”

  “Yep,” Craig said as he started massaging Sykes shoulders. Sykes resisted at first, and then sighed deeply, leaning heavily against the back of the seat. Craig dug his thumbs in at the base of her neck, just beneath the skull. He then moved his fingers up to her temples. Alternating between loosening up her shoulders and applying his thumb and finger technique to her neck, Craig had Sykes moaning in relief. Wherever Craig felt some swelling or lumps at the base of Sykes’ neck with his thumbs, he worked to smooth the nerve bunches. After a little less than ten minutes, Craig leaned back.

  “My God, you’re good,” Sykes whispered.

  “Dad showed El and I how to do it. My Mom had migraines, and it was the only technique that worked on her. Besides, I owed you for yesterday.”

  “My bad,” Sykes said. “I’m old enough to know better than to get jobbed by an adolescent mimic like you.”

  Both Sotello and Craig laughed in appreciation. Craig started to imitate Sykes slurred speech from the night before, complete with word for word reenactment. A stunned gasp erupted from the front seat, as Sykes twisted around in her seat belt, reaching back with outstretched arms. Only the shoulder harness Sykes wore, saved Craig, who was now howling in laughter, unable to defend himself.

  “Stop the car,” Sykes demanded. “The mimic must die.”

  “Now children,” Sotello said, trying to steer the car as Sykes animated grasps for Craig’s neck were bringing Sotello within reach of her flailing elbows. “Calm down Agent Sykes. Is this any way for an FBI agent to behave?”

  Sykes stretched once more, looked down at her seat belt clasp, and considered climbing into the back seat. She watched Craig, who laughed even more uproariously as he leaned away from her grasping hands.

  “Ooooooooh, you will so pay for this,” Sykes said through gritted teeth. She shook her head and relaxed back into her seat.

  After a couple of minutes, Craig leaned forward, peering carefully at Sykes. “Hi honey, still mad at me?”

  “I have a gun,” Sykes informed him, with her arms folded over her chest. “Don’t make me have to use it.” Craig chuckled appreciatively.

  __

  Ellen met them at the office door, as the reporters stationed outside converged on Sotello, Sykes, and Craig. Craig entered first as a reporter called out to Sotello.

  “Mr. Sotello, when do you plan to open up some of these secret meetings?”

  Sotello laughed as he turned around. Sykes, who brought up the rear moved to the Sotello’s side, eyeing the reporters and the buildings in the background carefully. She scanned the area constantly, looking for any movement. Sotello saw it was a young woman, pushing sideways through the half dozen media with a microphone, who had asked the question.

  “When did you ask Governor Davidson about access to his campaign meetings?” Sotello asked, grinning. The other reporters laughed appreciatively, because it was a well known fact Davidson used his state police security detail to block anyone and everyone connected to the media, unless he specifically asked for them.

  “I didn’t,” the woman said smartly. “I’m asking you.”

  “Okay then,” Sotello replied. “As soon as the Governor allows you into his campaign meetings, I’ll let you attend the same number of mine.”

  “What could you be hiding?” She persisted.

  “Nothing but campaign strategy,” Sotello answered amiably. “If you have a question about the campaign, just ask my manager. Adrian Phillips will be happy to answer your questions. As to my
campaign platform, what part of it don’t you understand? I haven’t hidden any of my beliefs.”

  “Isn’t it true you plan to skip participating in any public debates with the Governor, even though he has asked for them repeatedly?” She asked, changing directions.

  Sotello peered at the woman with amusement. She wore her clipped brown hair loose in a boyish style around her angular pinched looking face. Her dark blue pants suit hung a little loosely around her medium height frame. “You didn’t happen to graduate from Berkeley, did you young lady?”

  The woman began to snap out an answer and then paused before going on. “Yes, I did attend Berkeley. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing, to you,” Sotello replied, and then gestured at the cameramen, filming the impromptu press meeting, “But everything to the folks in the Bay Area. As to your question, I am not ducking anything. I am sure a debate is already in the works.”

  “Mr. Sotello,” another reporter, this time an older man interrupted. “Have you heard the theory going around that your stance on immigration may have triggered the attacks on you?”

  “Just this morning,” Sotello said, wondering if the idea had been released for the whole media to have a feeding frenzy on.

  “How do you respond Sir?”

  “With surprise at the complete idiocy of it,” Sotello answered. “I have friends and family helping me with this campaign. To make what I believe in, out to be some Machiavellian scheme, to get attention on my campaign is asinine. Will I disavow everything I have stated about immigration or anything else to ward off these attacks? Hell no. We are at war, not just in this state, but across the entire country. Our borders represent the front line of this war. Either we control them or we will all be sitting ducks for the same people who attacked me.”

  “Yes, but does your family think the danger you’re putting them in, worth getting you elected?” Another reporter chimed in.

  “Ask them,” Sotello replied, gesturing for Ellen and Craig to join him. They both had been following the questions at the doorway. They stepped out of the office to join their father, Ellen leading the way.

  “We were the ones who talked him into this,” Ellen stated without hesitation. “We certainly knew what he believed in. The danger coming from my Father, running for governor, is the fault of the terrorists who attacked him, not his beliefs.”

  “Anyone who thinks otherwise,” Craig added, stepping forward, “simply doesn’t have a grasp on reality. We are all in danger right now. Ellen and I happen to have the opportunity to put what we believe in on the line too, and we are proud to do it.”

  “Even if it means your lives?” The young woman reporter broke in, jutting forward with her microphone jabbing towards Craig.

  “Yes, even if it means our lives, and that my dear, is just the way it is,” Craig replied, copying the woman’s every movement, including her facial nuances. His voice, although lower, imitated the slightly nasal quality of the woman’s voice perfectly.

  Dead silence reigned for a moment over Craig’s mirror like mimicry, before Sykes lost control. She began howling in laughter, turning away finally, to try and gain control of herself. Sotello, Ellen, and the other reporters joined her in short order, leaving the now red faced victim of Craig’s talent sputtering in anger over the slight. Craig had straightened with only a slight smile on his face, to acknowledge what he had done. Sotello waved his hand at the reporters.

  “I think that will be all for now,” Sotello said, still coping with his own control. He led the way into the office, with Ellen and Craig close behind. The woman reporter angrily shoved forward, but was brought up short by a still laughing Sykes, who backed towards the office door.

  “Mr. Sotello said that would be all,” Sykes said, moving between the doorway and the reporter.

  Chapter 40

  Meeting The Governor

  When Sykes was back inside the office, they all began laughing again. Sykes went over and put an arm around Craig affectionately. “That was awesome.”

  Sotello pointed to the back, and they proceeded to the door leading to the Agency’s closed off rear offices. Phillips was waiting with a big smile on his face just inside the door. He shook hands with Sotello and then enthusiastically with Craig.

  “God, my boy, that was funny,” Phillips told him. “It all went out on a live feed. I watched the whole thing right on the television. Those dolts will learn quickly not to try that cheap shot crap if they keep getting hosed like they did today. However do you do that Craig?”

  “Practice, practice, practice,” Craig answered, imitating a commercial from long ago.

  Phillips laughed again and turned to Sotello. “Our favorite two local talk show hosts want you on this morning. Can you do it Jim?”

  “Sure,” Sotello replied. “What do you think the chances are they plan to hit me with the same crap about it’s my fault I have been attacked?”

  “I would say it’s a lock,” Phillips admitted. “You can also bet they have stocked the audience this time. It will be a snake pit.”

  “Sounds inviting,” Sotello said. “Can I take the mimic with me.”

  “Ah… no,” Phillips laughed. “I think we will have to introduce Craig’s talent into the campaign in small doses.”

  “If they trash you Dad, I’ll get in front of a camera and make Denton wish he had never been born,” Craig added.

  “Let’s hope I can handle myself on the show,” Sotello replied. “Thanks for the backup though. I will probably take you up on it.”

  “Professor Halloran wants to know if you will have any time in the coming week to reschedule your talk in my class,” Ellen said, as they all had a seat in the conference room. Ellen had brought the coffee urn in the conference room with a whole layout of cups, saucers, rolls, cream, and sugar.

  “I’m glad she was so understanding about me having to bail on her,” Sotello said. “It’s hard to believe she wants to take the risk of having me anywhere near the college though.”

  “She says only the three of us will know when you come, so no one in my class will know about it in advance. She understood completely about the situation. I think she admires you, even though she disagrees with everything you say.”

  “Tell her I will be happy to come,” Sotello replied. “Adrian and Janice will come too, if I can talk them into it.”

  “Count me in,” Adrian said without hesitation. “I want to gauge their reaction to you, Jim.”

  “I don’t mind going,” Sykes added.

  “Good,” Sotello said. “Halloran gets three for the price of one El: candidate, campaign manager, and FBI agent.”

  “She will be excited,” Ellen replied. “I’ll let her know.”

  “The sooner the better, because things will be getting real hectic in these last few weeks,” Sotello said. “Tomorrow morning would be great.”

  “I have her home phone number, so I’ll give her a call, and then let you know later in the day,” Ellen promised.

  “I still don’t know why you want to keep going on the Beavis and Butthead Show,” Ellen continued. “You are eating Davidson up in the polls.”

  “People say lots of things,” Phillips inserted, “but they get real weird as they get ready to vote. Your Dad has the right idea. Stay on the offensive. If he were a Red Davidson, I would have him in hiding right now, praying the poll numbers were accurate. With your Dad here, I am not afraid for him to take on anything or anybody.”

  “Thanks,” Sotello replied. “I hope I don’t make you eat those words. I guess I will have to get going in an hour if I want to make it in time for the show. How are things going at campaign headquarters?”

  “Outstanding,” Phillips said enthusiastically. “I think a visit after your daughter’s class tomorrow will fire them up if you can make it. The headquarters in Central and Southern California have been running without a hitch, but we will have to make some appearances down there too in the coming weeks. Time simply races a
s election-day approaches, and we do not want to leave any stone unturned.”

  “I can do the visit tomorrow,” Sotello agreed. “We can even start the traveling show towards the end of the week if you want.”

  “Let’s see how things turn out on the morning show, and then go from there,” Phillips added. “Davidson has been pressuring everyone to call out for debates. You saw the first indications of his influence today.”

  “Let’s do it then,” Sotello said firmly. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m ducking him. Let them have it any way they want, but I will not sit still for them busing in a rent-a-mob to back him up.”

  Phillips nodded in agreement. “I will have some people on hand to make sure they do not get away with that. If we fail at making sure we’re getting an even break though, and they manage to stack the deck, you know we will not be able to back out, right?”

  “Yea, I know the drill,” Sotello allowed. “If I can get out what I want to say, the boo chorus means nothing to me, but if they drown me out, it could get ugly. I think I will just smile and wave.”

  “That’ll work,” Phillips chuckled. “Will you be taking Agent Sykes with you.”

  “I go where he goes,” Sykes stated firmly. “Anything could happen in an unscreened audience atmosphere like that. I should call Hank, and ask him to send a few more people for backup.”

  “Please don’t Jan,” Sotello said. “You can stand with the producer, Jane Kearney, throughout the show. If we bring along a contingent of bodyguards, it may trigger something worse.”

  “Worse than your death?” Sykes asked wryly.

  __

  “Hello Jim,” Jane Kearney greeted Sotello. “Back into the lion’s mouth again.”

  “Hi Jane,” Sotello said, shaking her hand. “Let me present FBI Special Agent Janice Sykes. She will be standing with you if you don’t mind.”

  Kearney reached out to shake hands with Sykes. “Glad to meet you Agent Sykes. You are the first FBI agent I have ever met. Please call me Jane.”

  “Call me Jan then,” Sykes said, smiling. “You are my first show producer. I’ll try and stay out of your way. Will we be close to the actual stage, where I can see out over the audience?”