Clyde retrieved one of the MP5’s from the bag, checking it over with professional expertise as Nick did the same. “It would seem if anything goes wrong, we’ll be dead.”
“That’s very negative of you, Clyde,” Nick admonished. “Agent Carter will be right here with extra weapons and a bulletproof retreat car. We’ll be golden.”
“Do I have to be here for this?”
“Yes, Phil,” Nick answered. “If we need a human shield your presence will be very important.”
“That’s not funny!”
“You didn’t bring the grenade did you?”
Silence.
“C’mon, Nick. When you told me what you did to Fontaine I thought it was a cute ploy, mostly because I wasn’t with you. I’m not sure I care for you having a grenade with us in a closed space.”
“I’ll leave it in the equipment bag.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Ken drove in a semicircle past the warehouse entrance where two men in suits stood with hands clasped in front of them. The humid morning air and darkening skies heralded a rainy morning. Ken stopped the vehicle with the hood pointed the way they had entered the parking lot for a quick exit. He turned to Nick.
“Is this okay?”
“Yep.” Nick watched the men in front for a moment. They appeared detached and uninterested. “It looks okay. Paul negotiated for us that this Ben Sahraoui would come to the entrance so we can identify him. If he doesn’t show his face we leave.
A few minutes later, one of the men turned to the entrance and opened the door. A clean shaven man in his mid-forties with balding head and portly appearance walked outside, peering at the car. He wore black pants and gray short sleeved shirt. He stood in plain sight for a moment and then walked back inside.
“That was him,” Nick said. “I don’t know what all this extra crap is about. He could have simply walked out to our car, let me give him the brief from our poisoned case, and then went back inside to die. No one likes simple anymore.”
“Only you would say something like that, Nick.”
“Let’s go, Clyde. We still have to interact with the yard-birds. They’ll probably say something stupid like we have to leave our weapons with them. We abort on the spot if they insist on it after we tell them to kiss our asses.”
“Agreed.” Clyde exited the car and ran around to open the door for Nick’s senior Major Gibbons character. “Watch your step, Sir.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Nick left the vehicle in stiff regal manner scanning the area across from them. A small wooded area bordered the parking lot on the left facing away from the warehouse while a single structure of brick faced the warehouse from the other side. A string of other warehouses lined the road to their right.
Nick moved more slowly, confusing Clyde, his eyes scanning the area from behind his sunglasses. “Is something wrong, Nick?”
“I’m getting one of my bad feelings. Let’s take this slow on the approach. Walk with me around the front of the car to the other side. I want to get an idea of how the greeters react to us. We’ll keep stiff and straight but deliberate, okay?”
“Sure. You’re the boss,” Clyde replied.
Nick led the way, keeping the briefcase in his left hand, careful not to brush against the clasps which would end Ambassador Sahraoui’s life if everything happened as anticipated. In the open, halfway to the warehouse, the greeting guards suddenly hurried inside the entrance. Nick dropped the briefcase and slammed into Clyde as a barrage of bullets rained down from the building roof across the street, kicking pieces of pavement into the air. The shooter adjusted, firing at the scrambling men. A slug struck the pavement near Clyde. It ricocheted to strike Clyde along the side of his temple, catapulting him to his back. Their car roared into life. Ken screeched it into position, blocking Nick and Clyde from sight. More bullets struck the vehicle.
Pulling the heavily bleeding unconscious Clyde over his shoulder, Nick creeped to the rear seat area. He threw Clyde atop the seat and undid the briefcase he had handcuffed to his wrist for the meeting. Nick pulled his MP5 out of the bag with extra clips stuffed in his pockets with calm and deliberate movements. Grabbing Phil by his jacket, Nick yanked a yelping Phil into the back. He ripped the front of Phil’s shirt off, jammed it against Clyde’s head wound, and guided Phil’s hands to it.
“Keep pressure on it! Nice work, Ken. Hold position. Watch the warehouse entrance while I spot the asshole shooting at us.”
“Will do.” Ken took the proffered MP5 from Nick. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”
“Like I told another friend of mine, I don’t like being hunted even when I deserve it. If you see anyone but me come out of the building once I fix our shooter across the street, take off. You won’t be able to do me any good. Keep your eyes on the shooter’s position after I fix him. I’m hoping he holds position for another few shots like the amateur I figure he is. Lock up after I close the door.”
“Understood,” Ken replied, watching for movement at the warehouse entrance as ordered. He also kept an eye on Phil who continued cringing with his eyes closed but kept pressure on Clyde’s head.
Nick watched the roof of the building across the street with the killer intensity always just under the surface he showed the public. Nearly every ten seconds he saw the shooter on the rooftop across the street pop up either to look for targets or fire a few shots to keep his prey pinned down. During a ten second lull, Nick took careful aim, visualizing the way the shooter took aim over the roof. He kept his sight on target low, inches above the roof’s built up safety ledge. Nick locked on with relaxed assurance the shooter had no intention of changing his position or varying his targeting. Two seconds later, the shooter emerged over the ledge, bringing his rifle to firing position. Nick fired a short burst which stitched the shooter from sternum to left shoulder. There you go, boot camp. Even if you’re wearing Kevlar, you’re bleeding.
Nick glanced into the car and opened the rear door again to see Clyde groggily holding the shirt rag to his head. “Hey brother, how you doin’?”
Clyde’s eyes fluttered open, his face cringing in pain and from the light. “I’m good. Where the hell am I?”
Nick chuckled. “In the middle of another shit storm. Ken will explain it to you. I have to go deliver some lovely parting gifts for the ambassadorial party. That guy on the roof might only be wounded, Ken. Keep an eye on the roof for me now.”
“Will do, Nick. Nice shooting. The dummy didn’t change position even once.”
Nick picked out three more items from the equipment bag. “He sure didn’t. Be back soon.”
At the entrance, Nick opened the door from the side, bursts from what sounded like AK47’s blasted the door and door frame. The moment the firing stopped, Nick went into a shooter’s crouch at the door’s side, catching one of the guards with a full burst from his MP5. Holding position, Nick smiled. He knew exactly what would happen next. The other guard would launch out to empty his AK47 at the door. Seconds later, the other guard did exactly that. The MP5 burst nearly decapitated the guard. Nick ran through the opening and down the hall to where another door led to the main warehouse space. He immediately took fire from a line of crates on his right.
“Hey Ben, you in there buddy? C’mon out. Let’s talk.”
“We know about your plan to kill me!” Sahraoui’s voice came from behind the crates.
“I’ll make you a deal. You and your buddies come on out. I’ll shoot all of you in the head. It will be over in an instant. If you stay where you are and keep shooting at me I will torture you for a while first. What’ll it be?” Nick snorted amusement as the curses rained down on him in at least three languages, followed by another barrage of AK47 fire.
Nick threw one of the military flash-bangs on the other side of the lined crates. He ducked down with hands over ears. The aftermath of screams triggered the second flash-bang throw. Nick then ran in a zigzag pattern to where the men had been hiding. They were a
ll still alive but in various stages of distress. Sahraoui appeared to be in the best shape. He had dived between two crates when the first flash-bang exploded. Sahraoui rocked back and forth, his hands clamped tightly at the sides of his head. Nick executed the two guards with a burst to each of their heads. Nick walked over and kicked Sahraoui in the side. He jackknifed to cover the new pain.
“Hi Ben. It’s me, the nasty old Nick McCarty. You were right to try and kill me. You can take some solace in the fact if you had hired a real sniper, you might have succeeded. As it is now, you made everything messy. I will have to make things super messy now so as to confuse the authorities called to the scene. I have an idea. It’s not very good one, but what the hell, at least it may make some of the locals shake their heads. I know you can’t hear anything yet, can you?”
Sahraoui comically shook his head no even though he was not looking at Nick, proving he could still hear. Nick kicked him in the ribs.
“Who tipped you off?”
“Sen…Senator Cameron! I…I called her because of Omar Fontaine’s death. When I told her about our… scheduled meeting, she sent me your picture, and told me who you were. She said… it would probably be you coming to kill me.”
Sahraoui kept rolling around in agony. Nick restrained him with plastic ties, hogtying his bound wrists and ankles together at his back while wishing he had Senator Cameron there too. He left him and went to the entrance, waving a hand first so his companions would know not to take pot shots at him. Nick opened the back door to the vehicle again, noting Clyde looked better than he had.
“Hi guys. Any movement on the roof, Ken?”
“I thought I saw him drape a hand over the ledge, probably to pull himself upright. It dropped off and I haven’t seen him since. He did not exit the building at the front.”
“How are we at unwanted visitors? I had to use a couple flash-bangs to make the scene safe for approach.”
“Nothing so far,” Ken answered. “The warehouse line on this end appears to be deserted which I imagine was their plan. What do you have in mind?”
“I need a plausible goofy scene I can leave for a mystery. I’ll have to go collect my buddy on the rooftop to be a participant. Can you hang in there for a while longer, Clyde?”
“I’m good. My head hurts like hell, but other than that I’m five by five.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Say something, Phil. You don’t look so good.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s the spirit.” Nick ran across the street to the building.
At the entrance, he proceeded with caution, clearing his way through the empty building with care. Nick checked the elevator but there wasn’t any power to the building or elevator. He then ran up the steps, only to halt in surprise at the second floor landing. A sweaty, wounded man with a Kevlar vest in disarray lie prone on the cement landing, gasping for breath. Nick checked the man over, disarming him of the handgun he had in a belt holster. The more serious shoulder wound and slight wound at his armpit still oozed blood but were bleeding at a slow rate due to the clothing.
“It sure was nice of you to drag your ass down this far, pal. I appreciate it.”
“I…I need a doctor. Get me… to a hospital.”
Nick grinned down at the wounded sniper shouldering his MP5. “Now that was funny. You must think I’m the regular federal authorities. Here’s the deal, Bucky. I’m going to help you down the stairs, out of the building, and across the street. You’ll be joining your buddies there.”
“I cannot… I have lost much blood.”
Nick kicked the man in the groin, evoking an elemental scream coupled with hand grasping panic at his injured parts. Nick waited a few moments. “I don’t think you understand, Bucky. I don’t care about your bloody wounds. Now that I’ve cleared that up. Are you going to get on your feet with my help or do you need another kick start?”
“No! I will stand!” The man lifted his uninjured hand for Nick to get under. With Nick’s help, he sobbed and cried his way to a standing position.
* * *
“Here he comes,” Phil said. “He has some guy hobbling along with him. Is that the sniper? Why the hell would McCarty help him?”
“It’s best not to ask too many questions.” Clyde waved back at Nick as he passed by the car. “I hope his scene doesn’t take too long in setting the stage.”
“I can sure understand why Paul likes this guy so much,” Ken said. “He’s killed probably three or four guys already and he still has that shit eating grin on his face.”
“He’s a damn monstrous freak!” Phil was upset at the way Clyde and Ken deferred to Nick with respect.
“When I go into combat, I want to be with a guy like Nick,” Ken replied. “I’d have a great chance at survival. If I wanted to die with the other scared boot camps, I’d buddy up with you, Phil. I heard you have a great kid back home Nick thinks a lot of. Concentrate on him and shut your pie hole.”
* * *
“What’s your real name, Bucky?” Nick propped the wounded man in the same position he had been in.
“Akila…” he cried out as Nick shifted the MP5 into shooting position on the man’s shoulder.
“That means ‘wise one’. Heh…heh… good pick.” Nick placed his hand over Akila’s and fired a burst at the crates where the ambassadorial party was, pulping the head of the Algerian Ambassador, Ben Sahraoui, whom he had draped over a crate. “Nice shootin’, Ak. I think one of Ben’s guards is drawing a bead on you, pal. I’ll go check. Stay here.”
Nick hogtied Akila, laying him on his side. Nick ran over to his crate scene and dragged one of the dead bodyguards into position to fire an AK47. Nick helped the corpse take aim at the squirming Akila. Nick fired a burst that struck Akila along his side and previously uninjured shoulder, watching the man’s body jump and twist before lying still with only groaning twitches of movement.
“He’s down but I think Akila has a grenade,” Nick warned the corpse. “I’ll go check. Don’t move.”
Nick ran back to the near death Akila. Nick retrieved his grenade, pulled the pin, and kept the grenade from arming while putting the pin in Akila’s hand. Nick tossed the grenade so it hit and rolled into the crates where it exploded in spectacular fashion. Uncovering from where he had retreated, Nick waited for Akila to die. He then placed the MP5 near Akila with only the man’s fingerprints on it.
“Hell of a job, Akila. I should FaceTime John and make you do a Kabuki dance but that explosion will probably bring unwanted attention from the public and police. See you later. Oh… by the way… your sniping sucked.”
Outside, Nick hurried to the government vehicle and slipped in next to Ken. “All done. Let’s go get cleaned up. That bitch Cameron tipped off the ambassador which is why we received the great greeting party. I’ll have to settle for payback at a later date with her. You were a terrific driver, Ken. If not for getting the car into a position blocking the sniper’s bullets, Clyde and I might not have made it.”
“Glad to do it even for free, Nick. Was that a real grenade we heard go off in there?” Ken drove away without looking back.
“Believe me,” Clyde answered from the back for Nick, “it was a real grenade.”
“Here’s the scene guys. The sniper tried to kill the ambassadorial party but was wounded. Leaving his sniper rifle on the roof, he dragged himself across the street to finish the job of killing everyone. After a shootout of disastrous consequences, Akila the sniper pulled the pin on a grenade to finish the battle. There were no survivors.”
“That story’s insane,” Phil said. “No one will believe that.”
“Left with no other viable alternative, I think it works,” Clyde countered.
“I agree with Clyde. It’s not bad, Nick. The scene is insane as your friend who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut says,” Ken added. “The cops will be left with a pile of shit to sort out. The moment they see the only people involved are foreign nationals, they’ll call in Home
land and the FBI. That’s when Paul kicks in the details to fit your scene. I like it.”
“Exactly,” Nick said. “Did you call in to Paul yet? We need to update him and find a safe place to get Clyde worked on.”
“We’re on our way now,” Ken replied. “We called in while you were building your scene. He knows who tipped off Sahraoui too. He said he’ll have the usual suspects ready for whatever scene you create. As to the Senator, the Director hopes you will show restraint in that particular case.”
“I can wait on that particular payment. Clyde is the injured party in this. What do you think, buddy? Want to wait out the Senator for a later date?”
“Anything you do with the Senator on a permanent basis would be messy,” Clyde replied. “I’ll be happy with the payout you acquired from her without permission. Let her get kicked out of office. I’ll watch the news with a smile.”
“What payout?” Phil’s facial features brightened at the mention of a payout. “What was the payout?”
“Your payout is you get to live,” Nick replied. “We can change that payout if you’d like to negotiate.”
“Ah… no, I’m good.”
“A wise decision, Phil.”
* * *
Lover’s Point at 10 am sparkled under the rare early morning sunshine with balmy temperatures in the sixties. Gus, John, and Nick walked the path down to the stand of trees where the wedding would take place.
“I hope the weather is like this for the wedding,” Gus said. “Are you sure the Kaders are under wraps for the event, Muerto? That was a great idea pushing everything ahead in a couple days since you returned. The wedding planner was shocked.”
“The bonus soothed her hurt feelings about being speeded into action,” Nick replied. “As to the Kaders, we’ve allowed no word to leak concerning when it will take place. It is a temptation not to kill a bunch to give them something else to think about. Once the wedding and reception are over, Bill and Dimah will be moving to his base. The ‘Cleaner’ will be with us. I believe the Kaders will be done.”
“Perhaps Ishmael’s warning from you will ease this insanity from Cala’s family,” John said. “I bet they were really outraged at turning your money offer down and then having their golden goose, Omar Fontaine, found dead by mysterious causes. I cannot believe it will really be happening tomorrow morning. It will be very nice having Bill’s Marine comrades in full dress uniform for the wedding and reception.”
Cold Blooded Assassin Book 5: Nightmare in Red (Nick McCarty Assassin Series) Page 32