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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “How did you do it?”

  “Do what,” Sotello asked.

  “Take care of Ellen, and still hit the vengeance trail.”

  “I have no explanation for what you are talking about,” Sotello replied.

  “You think they’ll still nail you with that before the election, don’t you?” Sykes continued.

  “Yes,” Sotello admitted. “I believe jumping right into this first debate with Davidson, may be a way to head off any backlash from it. He would have found a way to enter it into the debate, if I had allowed him the time to do a setup in LA. Now, he will have to guess at what I have in store for him, on topics chosen by his buddies, Denton and Stevens. They may rebel at choosing a subject so far from the topics important to California. It might have been different if I had been charged. I know those two will find some way to play to Davidson’s strengths.”

  “Does he have any?”

  “He claims to be the education and environmental Governor,” Sotello replied. “I would wager Denton and Stevens will probably also come up with something about immigration, to paint me as a xenophobic racist. You know, the usual.”

  “Will they pursue this deal going around in the media now, about your stands on the issues making you a target for terrorists, and therefore a liability in government?” Sykes asked shrewdly.

  “Possibly,” Sotello acknowledged. “That ploy could backfire. Too many people see this war as too dangerous to play politics with. It defies logic to believe I would bring this terrorist stuff down on my family just to grab a few headlines. I don’t see how they could hatch it in a debate, but you never know. Truth to tell, I hope they do. They will end up sounding like they support terrorism, by the very fact they blame the victim, rather than the perpetrators.”

  “Good point,” Sykes replied. “This is exciting, Jim.”

  Sotello laughed. “I know what you mean. If not for the campaign, no one would have ever heard of my views on anything, outside of my own kids.”

  “You sure have had a stressful couple of months so far.”

  “The next few weeks ain’t going to get any easier,” Sotello agreed. “Did you enjoy trading barbs with the Governor of California?”

  “Oh baby,” Sykes said, leaning back. “I loved… uh oh.”

  Sykes sat up in the car, as she saw the crowd of people around Sotello’s office. They were picketing, with placards waving in their hands, and seemed to be chanting something. Sotello slowed down, not wanting to approach the street area in his car. He circled around the block, and parked the Dodge facing back towards the downtown area, two blocks up from his office. He took out his cell phone and called the office. Ellen answered on the first ring.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes… it is I, the Scarface. We’re two blocks up the street, and getting ready to head in. We saw the crowd. How are you in there?”

  “Good,” Ellen replied. “Craig took my car and went to class, while Adrian and I watched the Beavis and Butthead Show. The crowd arrived about a half hour ago. I called Uncle Tank. He and Uncle Jay have been driving around every fifteen minutes, to let the crowd know they were watching. Some of the crowd had begun beating on the door at first, as they were chanting; but one lecture from Uncle Tank, and they backed away from the building.”

  “Sounds okay.”

  “You aren’t walking up here, are you?” Ellen asked surprised.

  “Sure I am,” Sotello answered. “I’ll talk to them. With your class to talk to tomorrow morning, and a debate with the Governor later on in the day, I may as well get some practice.”

  “One of them could be wired with explosives, or sitting somewhere with a high powered rifle, waiting for you to arrive,” Ellen pointed out.

  “In that case, don’t forget to feed Tinker, and find out what the heck’s going on with Lynn’s old house. Her lawyer was supposed to get back to me about what I needed to do.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I have my vest on, and Jan is with me. We’ll be fine,” Sotello insisted. “Besides, Agent Sykes here would take a bullet for me, right Jan?”

  Ellen heard a muffled response, telling her Dad he could do an anatomically impossible act with a rolling donut. She was still laughing when her Dad came back on line, after making a mock indignant reply.

  “Oh sure,” Sotello said. “Yuck it up young lady. Do you know who these folks are?”

  “Our friends from La Raza.”

  “Oh goody. Do they want to talk to me about something in particular, or do you know?” Sotello asked.

  “I think they want to lynch you,” Ellen replied. “Fortunately, the cameras are rolling, and they know killing you would only get them thrown in prison.”

  “Or issued a medal,” Sotello joked. “Stay put, my dear. I and my reluctant bodyguard will be in shortly.”

  “Okay Dad,” Ellen sighed. “I hope to see you. Are you armed?”

  “Affirmative,” Sotello said, in his best Robbie the Robot voice. Ellen laughed and hung up on him. Sotello turned to Sykes.

  “Shall we?”

  “Shall we what?” Sykes said, eyeing the milling crowd up the street. “Why don’t I just shoot you here, and save the walk? This is not one of your smarter moves, Jim.”

  “Just stay a body length away from me, and do what you do best.”

  “That would require your son, a futon, and an empty room with a fireplace,” Sykes fired back.

  Sotello burst into laughter, bending down at the waist, helplessly trying to breathe. After a few moments, Sotello was still gasping, but had taken his handkerchief out to wipe his eyes.

  “Oh my God girl, you two fit perfectly,” Sotello stated finally. “I am so going to tell him you said that.”

  “I think I already did, after my third Zombie yesterday.”

  This set Sotello off again, and he just started walking up the street, still laughing uproariously. He was still not completely over his laughing bout when he neared the picketing crowd. They heard him approach first, and they all stopped dead in their tracks. Sotello walked up to them smiling, still wiping away tears. He gave them a little wave.

  “Buenos Dias,” Sotello said.

  “You think we are funny, Sotello?” A clean-shaven man in his middle thirties asked, as he stepped towards Sotello. His immaculate dark tan suit fit his lean five foot ten inch frame like a glove. His black hair was cut in a bush cut style.

  Sotello noticed the man’s almost black looking eyes with interest. They seemed not to focus on anything in particular, but to look at something located beyond whomever the man talked to. His voice, although a little high pitched, conveyed a forceful, angry tone. Sotello could see two news crews zooming in on him.

  “I don’t answer to you for anything Sir,” Sotello said quietly, “and especially not for whatever I wish to laugh at. If you represent these protesters, I will listen to what you wish to say. You would be well served to use your time making your point, and not waste it trying to intimidate me.”

  “I do not scare, and I do not take orders. I see by your signs, you belong to La Raza. Now what possible purpose does it serve to waste all these peoples’ time, picketing my office? The very name of your organization is racist, and yet you seek to paint everyone who disagrees with you as bigots.”

  An angry murmur had begun to build up in the crowd, as Sotello spoke to the man in English. The man gestured them to silence. He smiled dangerously at Sotello. “I am Felix Garcia, and I do speak for these demonstrators. They have heard of your promise of slavery for undocumented workers coming to California.”

  “Undocumented workers?” Sotello laughed. “Are you using PC media speak for illegal, law breaking aliens?”

  “You call my organization racist?” Garcia said, angrily waving down the people reacting with rage at Sotello’s words. “You speak as a bigot, cloaking your words in racist euphemisms.”

  “Let me see,” Sotello said calmly. “The people who come to this country across our borders without pe
rmission break our laws, hence the term illegal and law-breaking. They are foreign citizens, illegal strangers here without permission, hence the word aliens, which mean strangers. I have spoken correctly, so get to the point.”

  “You wish to enslave these people. Deny it if you dare,” Garcia shouted, waving a finger at Sotello.

  “I plan to enforce our immigration laws, and convince illegal aliens to stay in their countries until they can come here legally,” Sotello told them. “If found breaking the law, by coming into California from a foreign land without permission, the lawbreaker will be fingerprinted, photographed, and a DNA sample taken.”

  “They will then be put to hard labor for three months, to work off the debt our state incurs policing the border. They will then be deported penniless to their native land. Each successive time the same person comes into our state without permission, they will have an extra three months added to the original three months, until they get the message.” Sotello’s voice rose in volume as he spoke, so as to be heard clearly above the enraged mob.

  “Slavery,” Garcia screamed, provoking sign waving and chants of ‘Sotello must go’ from the crowd.

  Sotello stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Sykes scanned the crowd, and the buildings around them, for any physical threats. Sotello did not back up a step as the crowd surged forward. Garcia turned to face the crowd, calling out for order in Spanish, and trying to calm down the more belligerent of his followers. Finally, they quieted to the point where Sotello could speak without shouting. Garcia turned back again to Sotello.

  “Slavery.”

  “Law enforcement,” Sotello countered. “At least we do not execute or beat illegal aliens here as Mexico does.”

  This set off the crowd again, and Garcia had to shout at them to control themselves once again. Garcia turned back to Sotello, who could see the man was on the verge of losing control himself. Sykes kept a wary eye on the man, as he gestured at Sotello fiercely.

  “I detest misinformation Sotello,” Garcia began. “You…”

  “How in the world can you stand to even speak then, Mr. Garcia?” Sotello broke in.

  “You racist!” Garcia screamed, touching off another wave of bobbing signs and chants from the crowd behind him. Some of the younger men in the crowd began moving to both sides of Garcia, shaking fists and yelling insults in Spanish.

  Sotello again stood, with his arms folded, smiling as he watched Garcia begin to lose control over his mob. Sykes began to step around Sotello, but Sotello stopped her with a gesture. She shrugged and reached into her purse, gripping her 9mm automatic. Garcia became aware of the fact the outbursts opposite Sotello would not play well as sound bytes on the evening news. As he looked into Sotello’s eyes, he realized he had been baited into revealing the dark side of his crowd’s nature.

  Sotello nodded at him as the two men exchanged looks. Sotello walked forward, and right by Garcia, as the crowd parted in surprise. When Sotello reached the center of the crowd, he held up his hands, calling for silence in Spanish. The crowd drew back slightly from around him, as they quieted.

  “Let me explain this simply,” Sotello continued in Spanish. His voice took on a fervent pitch of passion as he spoke. “A nation strives for a nationalistic commonality in its legal immigrants and citizens, because such a goal builds a more prosperous and stronger country. When a nation loses the battle of language, borders, and culture, it becomes a self-destructive Tower of Babel. The result being, citizens in their own country get rebuked for their patriotism, or for flying the flag of their own nation in support of the troops from their own land. They are made to feel strangers on their own soil.”

  “When an immigrant comes here to America legally, they need to assimilate into the proven system of success, not push their own agendas of third world failure onto an already working system. America reached the pinnacle of success, not by promoting diversity, but by conquering it, and blending a cross section of the world’s peoples into one hard headed, can do, force of nature.”

  “If you wish to become citizens of the United States, you must come over our borders legally, and you must come with only one thought in mind: to become an American. A free people, striving for their own betterment, with the goal of strengthening the land of which they hold citizenship, build lasting prosperous unions, with each other, and the land they call home. California will, under my governorship, regain control over her borders. Make no mistake about that. Now please excuse me, and my friend from the FBI. We have to go inside now.”

  Sotello looked back at Sykes over the crowd of silent protesters, gesturing for her to join him. Sykes walked through the crowd, as they parted to make way for her. When she was near his side, he waved at a red faced Garcia, and at the crowd in general, as he continued through to the door of his office.

  Ellen stood, with one hand behind her back, and a look of pure concentration on her face. She unlocked the office door as Sotello and Sykes reached it. After they were inside, she locked it behind them. Sykes saw the Ruger model 9mm in Ellen’s hand, held behind her back. As they walked towards the back of the front office, they heard the chanting begin once again.

  In the back room, Sotello turned to Ellen. “Hi Honey. Do not go out there ever if I am facing a crowd like that again, no matter what happens.”

  “Don’t do that again then, Dad,” Ellen replied. “If you think I’m going to stand here with my thumb up my ass, while a crowd of lunatics beats you to death, think again.”

  “On behalf of the FBI,” Sykes put in. “Thanks for the backup.”

  Ellen laughed, nodding. “You’re welcome Jan. I had my uncles on the way over anyway. I bet they will be here in a couple of minutes.”

  Sotello had been quietly contemplating what Ellen had said. He looked at his daughter, and Sykes, as Adrian Phillips joined them from the conference room. “Sorry El, I think I may have dropped off the deep end on that one. I saw the cameras rolling. You’re right. I could have started a riot, and had Sykes here hurt, along with you. Eventually Tank and Jay would have shown up, and they could have been hurt or killed. I’m sorry. I will not do it again.”

  Ellen put her arms around her Father and hugged him. “Like you always say, any mistake we live through is just a mistake.”

  “Yep, but that could have been a bad one. Sorry Jan. I stuck my foot in it that time.”

  “I must say,” Sykes grinned. “Hanging around with you can get very exciting. In any case, I forgive you, but if Hank hears what you pulled…”

  “Oh crap,” Sotello cut in. “We don’t need to tell him that, I… oh hell, the cameras were rolling. He will climb all over me.”

  “Hell of a speech though, my friend,” Phillips said, patting his shoulder. “It played live locally, and it will be on every news station in the state by tonight. Too bad you couldn’t have done it in English for the camera too.” He held up his hands defensively, as Ellen and Sykes shot less than happy looks his way.

  “Just kidding,” Phillips told them, “just kidding. You have to admit, that was good stuff. I can’t fault your instincts Jim. I could have killed you at first, when I watched you tangle with the Governor on the morning show, but pushing up the debate was as bold a move as I have ever seen.”

  “It was worth it to see him just about explode,” Sotello said.

  “I thought he was going to hit you when you told him you didn’t need to rehearse, you already knew what you believed in,” Phillips agreed. “It’s a gamble though.”

  “I know,” Sotello replied. “You have any coffee and donuts El? If Tank comes by…”

  “They can’t stop,” Ellen informed him. “They said they would do a drive by to make sure you made it in the office, but they didn’t want to get filmed.”

  “At least they were thinking,” Sotello said. “Anyway, lets have some coffee, and let Adrian here howl about the coming debate. I want Jan to tell you how she backed off the Governor and his security detail singlehandedly.”

  C
hapter 42

  Extracurricular Activities

  Later, as they sipped their coffee, watching the replays of his confrontation with the Governor, and the crowd outside his office, Sotello shook his head disgustedly. “I see now, there were a few more in that crowd than I thought, definitely not one of my most brilliant decisions. Say, did Craig make it to class okay today?”

  “Yep,” Ellen answered. “He had Darren’s men meet him just off campus. He parked my car away from the college, and drove in the rest of the way with them.”

  “You two are getting good at this,” Sykes said admiringly.

  “It helps when we know a mistake could cost us our lives,” Ellen acknowledged. “After what happened in San Francisco, Craig goes about his business with the utmost caution. Hearing his description of it convinced me this is definitely not a game. I’m glad we have Mr. Sanders’ men watching out for us.”

  “They are very, very good,” Sotello added. “Soon, maybe things will lighten up a bit, one way, or another. I will ask them to drop us off for your class visit, El. You explained to Halloran that we will all be armed, right?”

  “She has special permission from the Dean,” Ellen nodded. “There will be extra security around the classroom, but she told me only the two of them will know why. Only they know of your visit. She was very excited about you coming. I will cash in on this with an A.”

  “Good, will Craig be coming over this afternoon?” Sotello asked. “If he is, we better call him, and tell him about the picketers.”

  Ellen looked at her watch. “I’ll call him in about fifteen minutes. He should be out of class by then. Do you want Sanders’ men to come along with him?”

  “No, we’ll get him inside, if the crowd’s still out there,” Sotello answered. “Will you be able to stay until we take off for home, Adrian?”

  “You bet,” Phillips replied. “You and I need to go over a few things about the debate before you stick your head all the way in the noose. We could get Craig to be Red Davidson.”