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

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  “If it wasn’t Professor,” Sotello said with a grin. “Then I didn’t tell it right. I am not privy to the reasons the Government did what they did, or what Bill Gates’ accounting books look like. I am trying to relate to the class how complicated this campaign money gathering can become.”

  Sotello turned back to the class when Halloran nodded her understanding. He pointed to an older looking man, with long dark hair tied in a ponytail, and scruffy looking beard of the same color, sitting in the second row. The man pushed his wire rim glasses up on his nose, and stuck his face out at Sotello before speaking, almost like he meant it as some kind of physical blow.

  “Capitalism is dying Mr. Sotello,” the man stated with a nasal whine. “Should we not hurry it along? It breeds corruption and a war monger society.”

  Sotello burst into laughter, and the tenor of it so enticed the class, they joined almost involuntarily. Even the man who had asked the question grinned self-consciously at the reaction his question engendered. Finally, Sotello calmed down and spoke.

  “I’m sorry,” Sotello said. “I meant no disrespect to your question, but it took me back to my classes on this very campus. The same words were being sung like a mantra back then too. Let me give you another over simplification as an answer.”

  “How many of you have had to endure the torture of group projects through the years, foisted on you by the California Public School System?”

  Many affirmative groans, and hand waving, told Sotello what he had figured to be true.

  “Just as I thought,” he nodded in commiseration. “I went through it with my kids, as they attempted to do well in school in spite of the group think crapola. I know all of you were near straight A students in school, or you would not be here. Think of how they patterned the group projects in your high school classrooms. They took the brightest achievers in the class, and banded them together with the mediocre, and the functionally illiterate. Am I right?”

  Nodding heads and laughter greeted Sotello’s supposition.

  “Why do you suppose they did that?” Sotello asked rhetorically. “Not because they wanted to uplift everyone. Not because they felt sorry for the low end of the totem pole. They did it because it took the heat off the system. You folks in the room worked your tails off. The mediocre did their part, which you had to redo to excel. The functionally illiterate slept, or disrupted every moment you were together, and in the end you had to do their work for them completely. All of you, who were the brightest, ended up having to do extra credit into the wee hours to achieve the A you all should have gotten to begin with. Am I right?”

  Sotello had them now. He could see the pent up frustration in their faces as they remembered. There were many more angry affirmations of what he had said, rather than laughter. Even the man who had asked the question nodded.

  “Think of that group think nonsense as Communism and Socialism. Think of a worker in such a system, busting his chops to produce, while some around him work like snails, and others goof off or screw up the work. Think of the brightest having to work three times as hard to meet their production quotas to make up for the rest. Think of the fact you all get the same exact pay for your work, and you can progress no further. After years in such a system, the achievers drop into mind numbing mediocrity, and the others sink even lower. Production drops like a stone. How many of you could smilingly face day after day in such a system?”

  Grim silence greeted his question. Sotello smiled.

  “The world agrees,” Sotello stated. “That is why Communism and Socialism fail each and every time they are tried. Without the incentive of keeping the fruits of your labor, and the right to own property, your spirit dies. None of us are equal. In America, we strive for equal opportunity, but we are not all equal. Many of you could run rings around me in math and science without breaking a sweat. You should not be punished because you excel.”

  “Some of us have to hustle a bit harder to make our dreams come true, or progress as far as we can, and then pass on the vision to a succeeding generation. In America, the only limits placed on us, exist in our own minds and bodies. We just need to learn the trick of not being jealous of anyone making a buck more than we do. Punishing achievement kills dreams, not capitalism.”

  They applauded. Phillips looked over at Sykes, who just shook her head in wonderment. Sotello walked up to the class, shaking hands, and exchanging names. Even the young woman who had crossed swords with him over abortion shook his hand. The class ended, and they started to file out.

  “Hold up for a second,” Sotello said, waving his hand in a halting gesture. “We have something for you to wear, or even give away if you want, for allowing me to speak to you today.”

  Sotello handed each one of them a t-shirt, Phillips handed him out of his bag. They laughed at the picture, and lettering. Some even stopped, to slip on the t-shirt over their tops. When the class had all exited, Sotello turned to Halloran and shook her hand.

  “You have a great class there,” Sotello said honestly. “They could probably have eaten my lunch, but they didn’t.”

  Halloran shook her head. “I doubt that. You have a gift, Jim. For a moment there, I almost started thinking like a Republican.”

  Sotello’s smile disappeared for a moment as he hung on to Halloran’s hand. “Listen Professor, forget the party nonsense. Think like an American, first, last, and always. It’s never too late to remember you are a citizen of the greatest country on the face of the earth.”

  She met his look, searching for any disingenuousness, and found none. “I will, Jim. Thank you for coming.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Sotello said truthfully. “I enjoyed every minute of it.”

  On the way to the car, Phillips could not stop talking about the classroom encounter. “My God, you showed sheer brilliance in there. You may think I’m babbling, but you can ask Sykes.”

  “That was incredible,” Sykes admitted. “I had planned on ragging you for half the day on material I took from your encounter in class today. Now, I have nothing. I won’t even be able to make the Mime laugh over anything I saw this morning, unless of course I can find a way to describe that girl coming out of her seat like a missile to accuse you of being a liar.”

  “She was like a lot of women, who listen to all the propaganda,” Sotello replied.

  “I didn’t know half of what you told her about abortions,” Sykes admitted. “I’m programmed to think only one thing: woman’s right to choose. It had nothing to do with a living being. It’s just like choosing apples or oranges, at least that’s how I used to think.”

  “They depersonalize everything now,” Sotello agreed. “Abortions, killings, robberies, hey no offense, nothing personal, just an accident of birth. My childhood was screwed up, so I took it out on a restaurant full of people. It’s called No-Fault, No-Responsibility living, just like our car insurance policies have No-Fault insurance.”

  “So,” Ellen broke in, as they reached the Dodge. “What’s the answer Governor, other than taking responsibility?”

  “Taking back our schools,” Sotello stated. “We have a long road ahead to recapture our moral compass, but we have to start somewhere.”

  “I think you converted my Professor,” Ellen continued, as Sotello started the Dodge, and began navigating out of the campus. “I was watching her as you spoke, and at first she almost cringed. I guess common sense has the power to compel right thinking.”

  “Lucky thing your classmates didn’t ask me about the Teacher’s Union in California,” Sotello replied over his shoulder. “She would not have been so nice.”

  “She’s got tenure Dad,” Ellen replied. “She probably doesn’t give the Teacher’s Union a thought.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Sotello sighed. “We’ll drop you at the office El, and then the rest of us will continue on to the headquarters.”

  “Are we taking the mime with us,” Sykes asked innocently.

  “Uh, you wish,” Sotello said.

 
“I see some new ingredients have been added to our incredibly complex campaign,” Ellen laughed, shaking a finger at Sykes, who looked out the window.

  “We are ignoring all outside influences El,” Sotello laughed. “We see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.”

  “I guess the Bureau will have to start teaching a class on how to handle mimes,” Ellen added, as everyone laughed, including Sykes.

  Chapter 44

  A Shot In The Dark

  As everyone sat in the Oakland Detective Agency kitchen, drinking coffee at nearly six o’clock PM, Craig and Ellen filled Sotello in on matters relating to the business. Phillips made notes on his laptop concerning what he had found at their campaign headquarters. Sotello saw Sykes was trying not to watch Craig. He smiled in amusement at her furtive movements to appear nonchalant, as they listened to Craig and Ellen go over two pending cases from the afternoon’s phone log. The phone rang, and Ellen answered it. She handed it to Sotello after a moment.

  “Are you up to a little debate Thursday morning inside the Capital Building, Jim?”

  Sotello recognized Jane Kearney’s voice. “Sure Jane. How will it be done?”

  “We’re taking the morning show to Sacramento. It will be in all the papers, and of course the nightly news tonight. Our show will be hawking it tomorrow morning. All you have to do is show up. We already have a crew there, readying the props. We’re even going to set up a broadcast for the folks who show up outside the building.”

  “I would assume the earlier I show up, the better?” Sotello asked.

  “Right again,” Kearney confirmed. “The broadcast will be picked up all over California, so this will be a big one.”

  “Any idea on the agenda?”

  Kearney laughed. “Yep, make you look like a fool.”

  Sotello laughed appreciatively. “So, in other words, only one of the candidates will know what the subject of the debate will be, and that candidate is not me.”

  “My, my, my, Mr. Sotello, you certainly catch on quick.”

  “Thanks Jane, I’ll see you in the Capital Building as early as they will let me in.”

  “Six, if you wish to stay on my good side,” Kearney added.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Sotello hung up the phone. He looked over at Phillips, who was nodding sagely, with a big smile on his face. “Red won’t have to worry about audiences booing or applauding. Apparently, he wants to take no chances this time, head to head, on the naive public. We’ll be doing the televised debate right out of his closed office.”

  “I get the picture,” Phillips said. “How long do we have?”

  “Thursday morning,” Sotello replied, grinning.

  “Oh, I love it when a man flies by the seat of his pants.”

  “If they do me the way they think they will,” Sotello said. “I won’t have any pants.”

  __

  The limousine made good time, leaving as it did at four AM. Sotello sat in the back with Sykes and Phillips. Danny Lau, Sotello’s driver from the Mark Hopkins Hotel incident, was behind the wheel again for the Sacramento trip. Phillips studied his notes on the laptop he brought, and asked Sotello to explain things on a subject, without warning. Sykes would measure Sotello’s response time, and gage the way he reacted to the questions. As they arrived in Sacramento, Phillips put away his laptop.

  “You’re as prepared as any man I’ve ever coached, Jim,” Phillips told him. “You really did your homework. It must be nice to have a photographic memory.”

  “I could have never earned a law degree without it,” Sotello admitted. “I just want to hold my own in there without embarrassing myself. I know Red will have at least one surprise for me.”

  “With as volatile as he seemed on the set,” Sykes cut in. “I doubt he can keep his temper in check long enough to make a point.”

  “He underestimated our Rube Goldberg here,” Phillips laughed. “He won’t do that again.”

  “They really gave me good coverage on the class meeting we did,” Sotello said, changing the subject. “I didn’t think anything would come of it but a little good will.”

  “Someone taped the talk you gave, and the reporter for the Chronicle who did the story must have listened to it for a change,” Phillips replied. “The Teachers’ Union came unglued though. If I had to pick a topic Davidson slimes you with, it would be education and your remarks about the Teachers’ Union.”

  “I saw some of the stuff on the news,” Sotello smiled. “I might as well have done a campaign fundraiser for old Red. They probably pumped some big bucks into his coffers over that.”

  “Did you see the commercial they ran last night?” Sykes asked.

  “No, I went to bed early,” Phillips admitted.

  “I was out running the dog, working out, and studying for today,” Sotello added. “So give Jan, what was it about?”

  “Teachers with handicapped kids, teachers guiding sports events, teachers doing one on ones with intent, appreciative students,” Sykes explained. “Then it shows a picture of you when you came out of your house after the attempted bombing. The voice over says you believe teachers in California are corrupt, and the public school system is a travesty.”

  “So,” Sotello said, shrugging. “What’s the downside? They showed a picture of me looking like a mook, and they said I thought the public school system sucks. I do look like a mook, and the system does suck.”

  Sykes laughed. “That’s the spirit. I liked the picture. You looked like you not only didn’t like it, but you would damn sure do something about it.”

  Phillips was rubbing his jaw, mulling over what Sykes had told them. “Red will definitely hit you on the teacher issue Jim. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Sotello nodded. “Bring it on.”

  “You are getting a bit cocky there, Guv,” Phillips laughed.

  “I just don’t care,” Sotello admitted. “I can understand why the media keeps claiming we’re orchestrating name recognition. We keep stepping in shit, surviving, and going up in the polls. The only reason I gained a snowball’s chance in hell of winning this race, owes to the face time my close brushes with death have caused. Some folks have begun listening to what I’m saying. I plan to give them more of the same, except of course, the close brushes with death.”

  “It’s good to see you’re enjoying this my friend,” Phillips replied. “I would have thought by now you would have been sick to death of these verbal ambushes.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Sotello reiterated. “Once I hear the question, I immediately get into it. I guess I have decades of this jammed up inside of me, and I finally have an audience for it. I could have hidden the truth about my power to affect abortion law as Governor. In reality, I have none, but I still have a lot to say about it.”

  “At least your voice doesn’t ululate like some fundamentalist preacher out of the Deep South,” Sykes kidded him. “Your eyes don’t glaze over when you speak either.”

  “Darn,” Sotello quipped. “I was going to introduce that into my sound bytes today.”

  “I’m beginning to think you would get away with it,” Phillips said seriously.

  “Jim,” the driver said over the intercom. “We’re almost there. Would you like me to drive around so you can make sure things look okay?”

  “Maybe that would be best Danny,” Sotello replied quickly. “Take the scenic tour around half dome here, and we’ll see what we can in the dark.”

  Paul drove the limo around the area skirting the capital building, as Sykes and Sotello looked for anything out of the ordinary.

  “Maybe we should park down the block, and walk,” Sotello suggested.

  “I don’t know Jim,” Sykes replied. “It’s pitch black out there still anyway, and they’re broadcasting the show from the Governor’s Office. It’s about 5:30 now, and Jane’s crew should be close to being here, if they aren’t already. Danny can drop us, and we’ll make a dash for the entrance.”

  Sotello laughed.
“I guess you’re right. No need to go completely paranoid. Danny, just drop us, and we’ll walk in now. I’ll call you when we need a pick up.”

  “Good deal, Jim,” the driver replied. “How’s this?”

  Sotello looked out at the Capital Building, an impressive domed structure, lit up pretty well even at this hour of the morning. “This is great Danny.” He looked over at his companions quizzically.

  “Ready?”

  “You’re the one walking into the alligator pit,” Phillips joked. “Jan and I are just tourists.”

  Sotello nodded his head, opened the limousine door, and waited while Sykes exited the vehicle. She looked around, staying in front of the open door for a moment in the darkness, before turning back to motion for Sotello and Phillips to get out. Phillips slid out first and walked up next to Sykes. Sotello straightened after getting out and closing the door. He turned around, letting his eyes adjust to the pre dawn light. The impact from the first round smashed him back against the limousine door, and the second straightened him again. Sykes dived into Sotello, and pulled him down to the street, while Phillips dove to the walkway face first.

  The limousine driver had hit his brake the moment Sotello slammed into the door the first time. He had no idea what was happening, but he could see Phillips lying on the walkway, and his other two charges were out of sight.

  “Danny,” Sykes screamed. “Get out of there. Go through the rear of the car and open up the rear door. Hurry!”

  Danny threw himself out of the driver’s side of the limo, and went back in the passenger door on his side of the vehicle. He pushed open the right side passenger door, and looked down to where Sykes had Sotello covered with her own body in the street next to the limo.

  “Come on Jim,” Sykes yelled in Sotello’s face. “Breathe big guy. I can’t get you into the limo. Can you talk?”

  Sotello was gasping for air. His eyes fluttered as he fell in and out of consciousness. He felt the cold wet street under his hands, but he could not seem to get enough air. Sykes rolled him slightly as she half closed the door to try and shield him. She watched his chest heave, not knowing how badly injured he was. Sykes searched the area frantically for anyone coming towards them, but all was quiet. She saw Phillips on his side, looking at her, while talking into his cell phone.