“You are right,” Darzi admitted. “My luck was anything but magnificent.”
“I notice you didn’t bring your guard entourage with you.” Lynn never hurried her sensuous stride during the long walk to the group of elevators where The Mix Lounge on the 64th floor could be reached. The number of people thinned out considerably on the trek there.
Darzi gestured at Clint who had moved ahead of them and sequestered an elevator. He now held the doors from closing for Lynn. “I see you brought yours. Perhaps you will let me be your bodyguard for a time.”
Lynn walked onto the elevator. “Wait for me down here, Dan. I’ll be okay up in the lounge.”
“But…” Clint began to protest as the doors shut.
“Although very necessary, having security around night and day becomes exceedingly tedious,” Darzi said, jubilant at Lynn’s leaving Clint on the casino floor.
Leaning in stunningly natural fashion with an elegance that can neither be copied nor learned, Lynn made a dismissive gesture. “Dan’s okay. It’s his job to keep me safe. I believe we will be fine in the lounge. The view is breathtaking. Have you been up to The Mix Lounge?”
“Yes. It is very nice.” Darzi placed a hand caressingly on Lynn’s arm. “You are the most enticing woman I have ever seen. I am completely under your spell.”
Lynn turned into Darzi, her hand moving to the back of his head, as he embraced her. She kissed him. Her moan after a moment of heated embrace wiped all else from Darzi’s mind, including the pin prick like pain at the back of his neck. Lynn writhed against him until the elevator reached the lounge floor. He let her disengage breathlessly from him.
“You are indeed magnificent,” Darzi whispered.
“Find us a table near the window, baby. I have to go to the restroom.”
“Of course, my love,” Darzi replied as Lynn walked away to the restroom.
Darzi found an open table near the window view amongst the crowded patrons. He began to sweat, as he felt his heartbeat rise and thump in his chest. The wondrous view of Las Vegas out the window began to blur as Darzi gasped slightly for breath. The waitress arriving to take his order, put a hand on the panicking Darzi’s shoulder.
“Are you all right, Sir?”
Darzi stared open mouthed up at the waitress, her concerned image fading into darkness along with his life.
* * *
Clint met Lynn a little ways away from the elevators. “You are the best.”
“It was your idea about the lounge up on the 64th. He came alone, which made it easy once you kept the elevator clear. I gave him a kiss to remember the rest of his life, what there was left of it.”
“Lucas said it was perfect. He sat down near the window and died without anyone even seeing you. Denny called right after Lucas. He said you’re hired.”
Lynn laughed. “We’re on a roll, baby. Did you see me at the Baccarat table? I made James Bond look like a pussy.”
“You sure did. Denny said he’d handle the IRS forms, and he’ll have the money waiting for us on the coast. He thinks we should leave tomorrow.”
“Probably a good idea. Let’s go back to the Stratosphere, and see if our friend Royal can arrange a nice table up at their Top of the World restaurant.”
Dostiene took her arm. “Sounds good to me. I’d like to see John’s fight, but we need to hit the road to complete our disappearing act. Tonto will be happy. I don’t know if I can wait to get you out of that dress. Lord in heaven you look good.”
Lynn reached up to pat his cheek as they walked. “Anticipation, lover, anticipation. Will the guys take care of my stuff or do we go up and pack?”
“Jesse and Devon are cleaning it out right now. We’re going out the door and into a taxi.”
“I think I’m going to like working with this gang.”
“The one to watch out for is Denny,” Clint replied. “We all keep an eye on him.”
“Duly noted.”
The ambulance was arriving as Clint and Lynn left the casino.
“Gee, baby,” Lynn said, as the EMT’s swept by them. “I think they’re too late.”
* * *
Jafar was grinning from ear to ear. I gave him a wake up slap to the back of his head. “Hello, Harding here. Care to share?”
Jafar looked startled for a moment. We were in the limousine, with me driving around while Jafar monitored our mission.
“It is done, John. Clint and Lynn are already on their way to the Stratosphere by taxi. Lucas says it was perfect. Darzi died alone at a table. Lucas thinks Lynn pricked him in the elevator, before sending him to the table while going into the restroom.”
“I’ve already heard the gushing tale Denny told about how she hooked Darzi, and that she won over a million dollars at Baccarat like an Egyptian Princess.”
“She is most accomplished. Denny says he is two blocks down on the right.”
I have to admit when I stopped for Denny, he dived in and went off like the President of the Lynn Montoya fan club. He started doing that barking laugh of his, and waving his hands around near the divider.
“We’re done! Shit, she wasted Darzi like he was a fly on the wall. Watching her at the Baccarat table was easily the most entertaining time I’ve had since watching you guys lay waste to the Somali pirates. Darzi was so lost at the Baccarat table watching Lynn while losing a fortune, I think he forgot where he was. You should have seen the parting shot she took while leaving the table. He followed her like a dog on a leash. Then he ambles onto the elevator with Clint keeping it clear of other passengers, happily riding to his doom. We need to clone her. Get to work on it, kid. I want twenty of her by next year.”
We shared a laugh over that one. It was good to be done with that part. “How about those clowns after Samira? Any luck tying them to Darzi or the Slayer’s bunch?”
“Langley’s working on tracing their past movements. Lucas and Casey already confiscated everything they had in their rooms. We have all their electronics gizmos, but those have to be hacked carefully or we could lose everything on them. Let’s enjoy the moment. If I get a name responsible for those guys coming after Samira, we’ll be sure to put a bomb in his house first. I’m with you and Clint on this Fatwa stuff. We’re going to make sure there are a few less people to issue a Fatwa.”
“It is long past time to try the direct approach. If we let something happen to Samira, her old man will kill me and Jafar.”
“I would like to be mission activated for dealing with one of these fanatical ghouls,” Jafar said. “Thank you for giving us the go ahead to take this approach, Mr. Strobert.”
“Hey, I don’t want anything happening to Samira either, kid. Her fan base grows every single time she speaks. She is beginning to garner world wide acclaim amongst women trapped by Islamic Law. Her enemies list is about to get shortened. I sing her praises every time I get together with the higher ups in this ridiculous terror war. We may know more soon from our assassin guests. They thought the ACLU would be waiting for them to apologize for their being detained. Instead, they got Lucas and Casey warming them up before I came in with more gentle persuasion. We’re letting them ponder that wonderful experience before questioning them again tomorrow.”
I knew Lucas and Casey very well as an interrogation team. We worked together often. That warm up would be tough to sleep on. “I have to go back to work before this evening. This is a bonus getting this stuff out of the way.”
“Drive over to the Mandalay, John. I’ll drop you and Jafar off and take the limo.”
“Sounds good to me. Are you sending Clint and Lynn on their way?”
“Road trip tomorrow. I want all traces of our dynamic duo gone from here. I’ve already intervened about the shooting. Homeland Security has taken over the investigation at my direction, much to the local PD’s appreciation, so Clint is clear of that one. Those two already ended all threads on the serial rapist. I’m so psyched about Clint and Lynn, potential cases keep popping into my head every moment.”
<
br /> I didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s time to back off a bit on them, Den. They have a full plate with the serial killers in the East, and your Gulf mission investigation.”
I saw Denny’s eyes narrow and his lips tighten slightly in my rear view mirror. He relaxed after a moment. “Okay… okay… maybe I’m getting a little too ambitious.”
“Ya think?”
Denny chuckled. “I always have you to remind me when I’m overreaching, John.”
Yeah, I guess you do. “Think about it, Denny. We’re not an army. You have a great tool for a sharp incision. We can do innumerable good things, but you need to get a bit more discerning about when to use us and what to use us on.”
Denny sighed. “Agreed.”
Chapter Thirteen: Slayer
Denny took over the limo, leaving Jafar and I at the Mandalay Bay. I knew Tommy was chomping at the bit to get me working out for the ‘Slayer’. He was so into it, he was waiting for us at the entrance. Either Devon or Jesse must be keeping him informed on our extracurricular activities. I remembered the days fondly when the only thing Tommy did was show up at some slimy back alley place in Oakland and say ‘how you doin’ champ’. He’d bet shrewdly, and I’d win. We were sure on the down low back then.
“We’re way behind, John!” Tommy fell in next to us with passion. “I snuck a peek at the ‘Slayer’ today through a guy working where they’re training in secret. You’re going to get clobbered if you don’t get serious on this fight, damn it!”
“All the peripheral problems are done, T. Let’s hit it. I’m ready for anything you have to put your mind at ease. You weren’t such a pussy about my chances back in the day.”
Tommy grunted and then busted out laughing. “Yeah… you’re right. Shit, John, it seems like only days ago we’d be walking into a dank, dark, foul smelling back alley hell like a couple of kings. You didn’t scare, you didn’t smile, and pain was your friend. We mowed them down back then, you physically, and me financially. I’ve been ridin’ the wave. Maybe it’s time for me to step up and quit raggin’ the shit out of you.”
That was a shocker. I stopped. “Hey, T, you did exactly right all those times. We’re undefeated because of you. Have you ever heard me complain? Don’t worry about my feelings. You and I are brothers. What the hell? If I lose, so what? I’ve been paying attention to the ‘Slayer’. You keep doing what you do. I’ll keep following your direction. I figure Slayer will give me a lot of looks. He’ll be stand up and ground and pound. Only I can counteract it. We can train my brains out, but it still comes back to one on one under the lights in the cage.”
Tommy glared at me. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Now go get your stuff on and let’s get to it. I have a different lifestyle now, and I ain’t letting your lazy ass regimen sink it for me. I don’t care what the hell you do in your spare time. You’re mine now, meat!”
Jafar had lost it, and was having a real good time at my expense. I smiled at Tommy. He got the kid’s mind off his wife’s danger quotient for a moment. Tommy nodded. He grabbed Jafar’s arm.
“I’m glad this shit is so entertaining to you. Put your toddler’s outfit on too. I’m going to throw you in there to help Dev and Jess with the Dark Lord here. They checked in and they’re ready for the festivities.”
Jafar stopped laughing as if we’d found the on/off switch to his vocal output. Tommy couldn’t maintain his glowering posture and broke into his braying he-hah once again. I wrapped an arm around Jafar.
“C’mon, kid. You can shoot in and take cheap shots at me with the gloves like Tommy does. It never bothers him to be a behind the back, punching asshole during training.”
* * *
The arena at the Mandalay Bay takes your breath away when walking from the tunnel to the octagon cage. Tommy stayed next to me, with Dev, Jess, and Jafar at my back. The place rocks with sound. Giant video screens beam from all around. For these events, a sellout crowd up to the rafters keeps the place humming with underlying current, anticipation, and many times, fear. If a fighter lets the noise and people get into his head, he will very likely have a short night. Slayer pressured the UFC into a five rounder, because although neither of us has enough sanctioned fights to get anywhere near a title shot, we have drawing crowd history. Two men died in the cage against me, one by a slow referee, and the other on purpose, when I fixed Van Rankin’s mouth for the last time in Dubais.
UFC officials avoid the labels of a blood sport by taking care who they match up in the cage. Deadly blows and choke holds cannot be officiated out of the sport. They belong to the sport. The referees maintain iron control in the fight, but accidents happen. Having watched the Slayer’s workouts, Tommy believed his team had found a pharmaceutical concoction to keep up Slayer’s steroid regimen that was so far undetectable. Guys take chances because they work in the speed and power department. What they can’t do is make you a more skilled fighter. Slayer was hopped up before when I broke his arm in Oakland. He had everything going for him there: referee, fixed judges, and steroid power. It didn’t help, but having watched the progress he had made, I had no doubt things would be different this time. At least here, I knew he didn’t own the referee and judges.
I picked the Marine’s Hymn for my entry theme, same as in Dubai. No need getting fancy. The Hymn would always be there for me until the day I stopped breathing. The crowd loved it. My crew wore black. I wore black trunks. Dev wanted me to start going by the handle of The Dark Lord, but changed his mind when Tommy went mental for a few moments with the rest of us laughing. Lora suggested Cement Head, but Jafar suggested Hard Case. That seemed to fit okay. It wasn’t mandatory, but the UFC likes the nicknames for the crowd to get into. I threw aside my robe, and loosened up while waiting for Abdul’s grand entrance. He did not disappoint.
He had picked some heavy metal, banging theme I kind of liked. The fans rocked with it, pumping fists, and jumping to the beat. Abdul Bacca and his crew dressed in red and green with crossed black scimitars as their logo, all faces dark and grim, marched to the cage in lock step. It was very impressive because there were a dozen guys with him. They must have drilled together to get hands and stomping feet in sync like that. Tommy slapped me in the back of the head.
“You’re stomping your foot in time to the music, dodo!”
“Am not!”
“Yeah, you are, brother,” Jesse agreed.
Jafar and Devon were already laughing.
“They’re aiming the cameras at you, dummy,” Tommy hissed. “Get your head in the game! Maybe you could ask him for a dance when he gets in the cage!”
I looked around at my crew. I looked up at the screaming fans, the huge video screens, and my supposed approaching doom dressed in red and green. I closed my eyes for a moment, my hands in tight fists. None of it mattered. In a few moments I’d be in hand to hand combat. The months and monotonous hours of training were over. No more worrying about whether I’d get hurt in a pickup fight, and lose my UFC shot. I opened my eyes, allowing the noise to flow back over me like a tidal wave.
The Slayer stalked into the cage at the last note of his theme. Nice. He started shadow boxing, and warming up. He didn’t look at me or mouth off or make hand gestures. Three of his entourage stood at his back, staring across at me. I waved, and Tommy clipped me in the head again, to my other comrades’ amusement. I was in the zone. The flakes across the way had no part in this. The only one who mattered meant business. That made two of us. Our dance card was full. The announcer did his thing to the heightened fan noise as each of us was introduced. Moments later, the Slayer and I stood at cage central listening to the referee’s admonishments. We had no plans to follow exactly what he said. I smiled when the ref finished, and Slayer nodded at me. His waiting was over too. I could tell on his face he remembered our last match, but it was not a fond memory.
We backed to our corners while our crew got out of the cage. The referee asked if each of us was ready, and then clapped his hands together for us
to begin. Slayer moved at me with deadly purpose, but in his usual swarming manner. He shot out left jabs at me, fast and deadly. I took three in the head before I figured he planned to hammer me into the cage if I didn’t do something. Ahhh… pain, my old friend. I decided to let him lead. Each time he threw a rocket propelled left jab, I leaned away while shooting a right leg kick that smacked into his inner left thigh. I could feel my right eye beginning to swell, along with the familiar feel of my own blood trickling down.
Slayer flinched the fourth time my kick hit the same exact spot, throwing off his timing on the straight right he’d planned to follow it with. I nailed him with a left hook under the rib cage that popped his eyes open. Then I took him down. Managing a half mount and some control, I worked out a little frustration left over from those left jabs, while looking for a submission hold. Slayer got to it first.
In a bad moment where I anticipated his movements wrongly, I ended up in a triangle choke, with him working feverishly to attain the leverage he needed. My surroundings began to shimmer in grainy mimicry of a bad black and white TV show. Sound faded away, marking the demarcation line to unconsciousness and death. We’re supposed to tap out when we get there, but I tap out for no one. Chilling darkness flowed slowly into my numbing hands, but I kept moving forward, twisting slightly as I went. A memory of nights back in Leavittsburg, hiding by the bridge, when my old man was on a bender brought a smile to my face. Under that bridge with sleeting rain slamming down on me was cold.
I rolled him. His elbow jammed on the mat, loosening his grip. Fighting off nausea, I whipped elbow strikes back into him impossible to ignore. With a grunt of frustration, he kicked away from me, scrambling to his feet. I barely blocked a right leg strike while I was still on my knees that would have ended the fight. The kick opened him to a leg sweep. My answering of the invitation slammed him to his back as the round ended. We trudged to our crews within a storm of noise. The crowd was happy.
Tommy sat me down, and took my mouthpiece. My crew went to work in silence. They stopped blood from flowing, iced the eye, toweled me off, and gave me a few sips of water after I rinsed the blood from my mouth. Tommy grabbed my head with both hands, staring into my eyes. He grinned. We’d been here before.
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 49