Monster

by Bernard L. DeLeo

  “The agent who figured out who had done it also was the one who E-mailed Abe. Why, what’s the difference? I would have found out anyway.”

  “What are your plans, Cold?”

  McDaniels smiled. “Oh, I get it, John. You don’t want anything to happen to those two poor old rubes.”

  “Hell, you know better than that. I’d help you hunt the bastards. I’ve heard the suits will be watching you every minute when you get stateside.”

  “I want to be with Diane. They’ll catch those guys one of these days.”

  Martinson looked hard at McDaniels’ eyes. Although McDaniels’ face was a mask of disinterest and he grinned as though he had not a care in the world, Martinson saw a different story in McDaniels’ eyes.

  “They’ll kill you in prison.”

  “I guess I’ll have to stay out of prison, John. Let me know when you tell the guys they’re going home.”

  “I will. Stick around with them for a few days will you? Make sure nothing stupid happens.”

  “Although I believe you’ve overestimated my abilities, I’ll do what I can. Does that mean I’m under orders to…”

  “No!” Martinson cut him off. “I think last night’s materialization out of thin air was enough for this time in country. I meant if you have some time I’d appreciate it if you looked them over and see if they’re losing a step.”

  “Will do. I’ll be alone in my quarters for a while.”

  “I can’t wait to meet this Reskova. You can freelance around here until we leave.”

  “Thanks, John, see you later.”

  * * *

  Reskova began crying and inwardly cursing herself for doing it as McDaniels’ digital form pixeled into clarity on her screen. “I…I’m sorry… I…”

  “Don’t worry about it, Red. I need AD Reskova for a moment though.”

  Reskova visibly straightened, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. “You’re all cleaned up. It looks like you’re forty pounds lighter. Your face looks like the skull of death and…”

  “Heyyyyyyyyy…” McDaniels interrupted. Reskova laughed at her own send up of his appearance. “I shaved and everything so you’d swoon in delight at how good I look. For your information I only lost five more pounds this time in.”

  “Sorry, Skeletor, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  McDaniels laughed, but then looked intensely at the screen. “First, did you get all the details I flashed you about setting up my two new friends? Secondly, did you get those bozo’s that took you?”

  “Yes and no. I passed everything for setting up a new info network to CIA. Jen built up a database addition for the information you’ve already given us. Any agency with information remotely tied into any of the names or places you collected will be flagged immediately. Anything else we come up with will be added to the database automatically. CIA will take over your recruits. Everyone is ecstatic over what you’ve begun, Cold.”

  When Reskova stayed silent after the last sentence, McDaniels gestured at the screen.

  “And?”

  “And we don’t have the bozos. They went to ground. We don’t have a clue where they went in to the mountains at. No other property or land is under their name. They probably have some place out in the middle of nowhere we don’t know about. If we could have traced where they went in, Dino could have run them down. On an upbeat note we did recover my missing Honda.”

  “Please, don’t think about them. It’s been three months. Kay picks me up at my door every morning and drops me at my door at night. They’ll come down one of these days. We just want you back with us. I want you back with me and not in a prison jumpsuit.”

  “Let’s not talk about that anymore. How’s the kid working out I sent back?”

  “He’s living at Kay’s house until Kay thinks he’s ready to move out on his own. Tom has him working with Kay and loaning him out when the need arises for his language skills. Mehmed has already been on live stake-outs of the Syrians. He can’t get enough of it. You can sure pick ‘em. We’ve settled the Nakhuda family into witness protection. Hashib has given us a wealth of information. It may be one of the biggest breakthroughs yet on how al Qaeda recruits, trains, and coerces their forces. There is one problem though.”

  “What?”

  “Kay says Suraya is in love with Mehmed.”

  “Jesus, the kid ain’t long for this world, Red. You better get him the hell out of Kay’s house quick.”

  “Don’t worry. He refuses to speak around Suraya and will not meet her eyes. He follows Kay around like Dino follows you. Kay’s helping him look for a place now.”

  “The sooner the better by the sound of it. Tell Kay to give Mehmed the keys to my place when he thinks the kid’s ready to be on his own. Will you be able to get him on the team permanently? If CIA needs a hand with his friends in Syria, Mehmed would be on hand to help. His friends heard he disappeared. They’re anxious to hear from him as a condition for them to keep feeding us info. I think they just want to make sure he ain’t dead.”

  “We’ll get it done. Mehmed came in the first morning, regaling everyone of your exploits over the border. He thinks you’re superhuman. Tom and Jen had him laughing with what you did to us the first time we met up. I told Aginson Mehmed was twenty-one. Jen made him up a birth certificate to back me up. How old did he tell you he was?”

  “Twenty.”

  “He’s only seventeen.”

  “Figures. It should make Kay feel a little better about Suraya taking a fancy to him though.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Soon. They’re keeping it under wraps for the time being.”

  Reskova looked around behind her. “I have a little surprise for you.”

  “Don’t do it, Red.” McDaniels held his hands up in pleading fashion. “I’ve been in the bush too long.”

  Reskova displayed an item in front of her camera. When she pushed something on the side, it hummed. “I call this my Cold substitute.”

  “Don’t do it, Red,” McDaniels whispered, as Reskova began to disrobe. “Please?”

  “I love it when you beg.” Reskova smiled at the camera.

  “Oh, you will so pay for this,” McDaniels threatened, unable to look away from the screen.

  “Promises, promises,” Reskova replied, leaning over her chair.

  * * *

  “Well, boys, what’s on tap this morning?” McDaniels exited his quarters to find Dominguez and Bocelli waiting for him at a discreet distance. They saluted him formally. McDaniels returned their salute crisply.

  “You look a little flushed, Sir.” Lieutenant Dominguez pretended concern.

  “Never mind how I look, pinhead,” McDaniels growled. Bocelli turned away, trying to keep from laughing. “Martinson told me to go freelance with you guys for a while. If you want to play cowboys and Indians for the remainder of my stay…”

  “No, Sir!” Dominguez barked out, giving Bocelli a slap to the back of the head.

  “Too bad. I thought you guys would be lookin’ for some payback.”

  “We know better than that, Colonel,” Bocelli complained. “You ain’t human.”

  “We gave up on retribution. We’ve settled for lamo digs at your personal relationships,” Dominguez added.

  McDaniels laughed, eyeing the surrounding small compound professionally. “You boys don’t have much in the way of entertainment out here. Haven’t you been working on what I showed you before I left?”

  “Three months,” Bocelli stated, “and you still ghosted in on us like we was a bunch of boot camps.”

  “No one else has,” McDaniels observed with some satisfaction. “Otherwise, you all wouldn’t be here. They’ve built your little Motel 6 up into more than just an encampment, I see. How many times you guys moved since I’ve been gone?”

  “Six,” Bocelli answered ruefully. “If we’re around in one place for more than a few weeks the local troublemakers start zeroing in on us. They target any incoming heli
copters.”

  “The only reason they’ve contented themselves with booby traps and homemade bombs is when they did come out to play we nearly wiped the pricks out,” Dominguez explained. “Except for some sniping and shit it’s been relatively quiet since we hooked up with you the last time. We tried making friendly appearances, but all we did was stir up shit for the folks who were friendly to us.”

  “This one wild looking Cleric we nicknamed Rasputin really has a grip on the locals,” Bocelli continued. “He comes out of his hole when we’re around, gives everyone the Darth Vader look, and in seconds the streets are empty. Then the prick gestures at us like he has an army at his back instead of his mouth and a bunch of thugs.”

  McDaniels looked around in all directions, feigning a look of utter confusion before returning his gaze back to the two Marines. They shifted uncomfortably, knowing what was coming.

  “Wow, for a moment there I thought I was with the United States Marines,” McDaniels said with a very disconcerting look of wonder on his face.

  “We’re here for one purpose, Colonel,” Dominguez replied defensively. “Recon the area and support your mission. We have orders not to cause any trouble with…”

  “I’m only raggin’ you, Abe,” McDaniels cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I’m back. The mission’s over. Let’s frag this puke.”

  Bocelli sighed. “We wish. You know we can’t just waste anybody we feel like. Martinson would…”

  “Martinson told me to freelance you guys. That means I have a training mission in mind for you boys. Now, are you Recon Marines or the Campfire Girls?”

  “I’m going to lose my bars for this and Jed will get busted so low he’ll be saluting boot camps fresh off the plane,” Dominguez muttered.

  “I’d trade my stripes for a crack at that bearded turd anytime,” Bocelli stated wistfully.

  “Nobody is going to lose anything. We’ll get ‘er done and no one will be the wiser. Trust me.”

  “Shoot me now, Jed,” Dominguez ordered Bocelli.

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Bocelli counseled, shifting his weapon and putting his arm around Dominguez’ shoulders as both Marines turned away from McDaniels. “The firing squad will take care of that little detail.”

  “I’m hurt, boys,” McDaniels complained. Dominguez and Bocelli continued walking away from him. “Hey… are you two shunning me?”

  “I’m talking to you two ingrates.” McDaniels followed finally when he saw they weren’t going to stop.

  * * *

  “He didn’t bring his crew along?” McDaniels asked quietly, sighting in the small house he and the Marines had been observing as part of their freelance mission for over a week.

  “Nope,” Bocelli answered in a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “They dragged the family over to the Mosque. You know, that holy place our friends in the local police keep cleared of all nefarious actions by the cruel insurgents.”

  McDaniels glanced at Bocelli, chuckling in appreciation. McDaniels and Dominguez’ squad of Marines were spaced out in the darkness overlooking the small town they had reached unobserved. McDaniels had tutored one or two of the Marines each day in shadowing ‘Rasputin’s’ movements. The Cleric terrorized the local people daily, protected by a small group of heavily armed men. It had been a grueling exercise for the Marines, inching into positions where they could stalk their prey without revealing themselves.

  After eight days, McDaniels was satisfied with the Marines’ progress. He was also confident of the Cleric’s movements. McDaniels accompanied by the complete squad of Marines had spent the last five hours working their way into position. It was now nearly two thirty in the morning. Only the excitement of this final phase in McDaniels’ improvised mission had eased the rigors of freezing temperatures and intricate movements. The house below belonged to a woman living with her two small daughters and an older lady McDaniels figured was the woman’s mother.

  The Marines had thought the Cleric was having an affair with the woman. They were surprised to see the Cleric’s thugs threatening the children and older woman in front of her. The Cleric’s followers then took the children and older woman away each time he spent the night. Visiting at odd hours both day and night, ‘Rasputin’ seemed to take pleasure in terrorizing the mother and her family. Neighbors of the woman fearfully hid out in their houses when the Cleric arrived with his ragtag gang.

  From his position next to McDaniels, Dominguez saw the big man’s hands tightening on the night vision field glasses. McDaniels turned finally to address his Lieutenant.

  “Leave Jed with me. You take the squad over to the Mosque. Make sure the child molesters don’t move until I get Rasputin.”

  “Yes, Sir. Will you be keeping your headset on?”

  “Yeah, but don’t break silence unless absolutely necessary,” McDaniels instructed. “We’ll join up at the Mosque. We’ll settle with his crew then. Don’t start out for the Mosque until I give you the signal.”

  “I’ll be watching, Colonel. Are you sure it’s wise to try and take this prick alive?”

  “We’ve been over this, Abe. We want to leave this area in good shape for our operations. I don’t want Marines ducking bullets twenty-four/seven. I need to find out if he’s the big cheese or not. We need to know if there are any other little groups hanging out around here we’re unaware of. See ya’ in a little while.”

  McDaniels was up and moving a moment later with Bocelli and Dominguez trying to track his movements in the darkness with their night vision goggles.

  “Shit!” Bocelli exclaimed in a fierce whisper. “I’ve lost him already. How about you, Lieutenant?”

  “Same here. We might as well focus on the house and wait for his signal.”

  “Mama Mia, the Colonel freaks me out.”

  “I hear you, brother,” Dominguez agreed. “Just when I think we’re getting skills, Cold dematerializes right in front of our eyes. There it is, Jed.”

  A single flash, repeated five seconds apart, beamed from near the target house. Bocelli flashed a single acknowledgement instantly.

  Dominguez clapped Bocelli on the shoulder. “See you later, Jed. Why do you think the Colonel wants you to stay here?”

  “I don’t know. If I get a chance to kick Rasputin in the teeth he won’t be Rasputin any more. He’ll be Gumby.”

  Dominguez laughed. “Roger that.”

  Dominguez and the rest of his squad headed in silence toward the Mosque where ‘Rasputin’s’ gang kept the rest of the family hostage. Bocelli focused on the house, smiling in anticipation of what he knew McDaniels would do.

  Chapter 48

  Unexpected

  The woman awoke as McDaniels’ hand sealed her mouth. He whispered for her to be silent in her native language. She felt herself lifted as if weightless from next to the snoring ‘Rasputin’. McDaniels took the near naked woman to the farthest place from the bedroom where she had been.

  “Please stay here and be silent,” McDaniels said.

  “Who… are you?”

  “I am here for the man in your bed,” McDaniels explained. “I…”

  “He has my Mother and children,” the woman interrupted with McDaniels gesturing for her to be quiet. “We will all be killed. Leave before…”

  “Your family will not be harmed.” McDaniels brushed his hand over her mouth to hush her. “I will explain in a moment. Can you stay here and be silent for a few moments while I deal with this man?”

  “Yes, but you do not know him. He is a devil. He…”

  “Will you stay silent?” McDaniels gestured with his hands as he straightened up.

  The woman nodded. McDaniels turned immediately to the next task at hand. ‘Rasputin’ had begun to stir. His snoring pattern snorted to a stop. The Cleric reached to his side where the woman had been moments earlier. Feeling only the empty bedclothes, ‘Rasputin’ sat up stiffly, looking around. A huge shadow detached from the wall nearest the bed. ‘Rasputin’ began to move
away. Instead, he was ripped from the bed by his robes. As the Cleric began to shout out, McDaniels smashed him across the face with his open hand, the blow tripled in impact by the fact ‘Rasputin’ was held immobile by the hand at his throat. McDaniels laughed in surprise as the notorious Cleric began to sob, holding his hands out in supplication.

  “Please… do not harm me. I…I can give…”

  “Silence!” McDaniels dragged the Cleric into the next room.

  The woman, shivering across the room where she huddled next to a divan, gasped as McDaniels pitched the over six foot in height Cleric against the wall. McDaniels walked over, ignoring the screams of pain emanating from the Cleric and helped the woman to her feet.

  “You may go and get dressed,” McDaniels directed. “As soon as you are ready, I will take you to your family. Dress warm, because we will have to deal with the men holding them when we get to the Mosque.”

  McDaniels strode over to the Cleric as the woman hurried into the bedroom. He kicked him under the rib cage. This turned ‘Rasputin’s’ cries of anguish into gasps for air, coupled with intermittent moans of pain. When the woman returned to the room fully clothed against the frigid conditions outside, McDaniels plucked the Cleric from the floor with one hand.

  “Get your feet under you, my brave little man,” McDaniels hissed at the Cleric, evoking an instant response to his orders. “Let us go and get your shoes on for this walk. I do not want your feet to get cold.”

  Stepping outside the house, McDaniels flashed a beam toward Bocelli. Bocelli had already begun his approach when he saw the light. Speeding his descent, he joined McDaniels who was standing near the entrance of the house with ‘Rasputin’ and the woman. Bocelli grinned at his bearded adversary with undisguised pleasure, enjoying the bleats of anguish coming from the Cleric.

  “You…you are Americans,” the woman whispered in awe.

  “Jed, take charge of this piece of shit.” McDaniels handed over his burden to the big Marine.

  “We are Americans.” McDaniels turned to address the woman in her native tongue. “We know this man has been terrorizing your family and causing much of the trouble in the area.”