Nightmare in Red

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  Nick guiltily checked the grenade in his pocket. Some problems need a bigger hammer. I’m not getting caught in here. Sorry, Clyde, I told the truth. It’s not like I plan to use it on a whim. Nice justification for bringing a grenade to a gunfight, Nick… you wanker. Another couple of weeks dealing with political black holes with death and I could clean up Washington, DC… or end my days talking to myself in a padded cell.

  “Now, Clyde, cut the cams.”

  “Done. Cams and all communications blocked. Thirty minutes from right now.”

  Nick left the elevator. He straightened his suit coat top and tie as he approached the Presidential Suite with nametag in place, security ID in one hand and his silenced Beretta in the other. His repeated knocks on the door drew a gruff heavily accented voice on the other side.

  “What is it?”

  “Ritz-Carlton security, Sir. Christian Alvarez here. I need to speak with Mr. Fontaine. It is urgent.” Nick held up the ID for an actual security employee named Christian Alvarez.

  “I will relay the message.”

  “I can’t do that, Sir. I’ve been sent by management to deliver the message in person to Mr. Fontaine.” Nick put away the ID, and drew out the key card for the Presidential Suite.

  “I may be able to bring Mr. Fontaine to the door. You will not come in.”

  “That will be fine.” Nick waited two seconds for the bodyguard to turn from the door before letting himself into the room.

  The bodyguard turned, startled by the sound of the door. Nick shot him twice through the head. The other bodyguard glanced from his paper at the strange sound of a silenced shot as he sat on the couch. Nick’s next two shot barrage into the man’s head ended all curiosity forever. Nick knew the Presidential Suite layout intimately. With only cursory glances at his surroundings for movement, Nick slipped noiselessly toward the bedroom. As he peeked inside, shots clipped the doorjamb over his head.

  “Leave! I will kill you if you do not leave,” Omar’s shaky voice threatened.

  “Nice shootin’ Omar. How dare you bring a gun into this nice hotel.” Nick’s mind raced for ways to proceed. He hadn’t considered Omar to be the kind to have bodyguards and a gun. Rat-shit! I am getting careless. Then Nick smiled, chuckling as he took out his last resort grenade. “That’s okay. Stay there. I’m here to kill you or talk to you. I’m not here to get shot at. Kill you, it is. Grenade sucker!”

  Nick tossed the grenade into the room with a slightly high arc so it would make a thud sound on the carpet. He positioned himself at the door as a startled scream of terror preceded Omar running from the room into a perfectly timed clothesline thrown out by Nick to greet Omar’s rush. It caught Fontaine on the chin. Nick’s arm barely moved as Omar’s head stayed, but the rest of his body kept going. The 9mm automatic, released from the descending Omar’s hand, bounced on the carpet a moment before Fontaine hit with a huge gasp of escaping air. Nick dragged Omar into the bedroom, retrieving the still disabled grenade.

  “I’m afraid you fell for a very old trick, Omar.” Nick restrained the groaning Omar’s wrists at his back and his ankles. He then plucked the slender tycoon off the floor and jammed him down on a chair. Without his handy duct tape, Nick had to make do with a lot of extra plastic ties to fasten Omar to the chair. “There we go. Now, we can talk.”

  “Who…who are you,” Omar croaked.

  “I’m Nick… Nick McCarty. You know - the guy you sent a bunch of your goons out to kidnap his daughter.”

  Fontaine’s eyes widened in horror. Nick grinned.

  “Ahhh… that’s so sweet. You really do know me. All of the men you sent to the coast are dead. Do you have anyone else on my trail?”

  “No! It’s over!” Omar began to understand by Nick’s demeanor negotiating would not be an option.

  “I want to know why you did such a stupid thing. What possible outcome did you hope for? I have a theory but I want to hear it from you.”

  “I…I meant to force you to kill Salvatore and be caught doing it… or my men would… ah… listen, McCarty! I will make you rich beyond your wildest dreams! I-”

  Nick made a buzzer noise. “I’m already rich beyond my wildest dreams. The problem with this thing you did with trying to have Jean kidnapped… well… she’s one of my most cherished treasures. If I had more time I’d make you regret you were ever born. Because you answered my question I’ll give you a break. I figured you wanted Salvatore dead. Tell me why in detail. I’m recording it. See… I have this appointment with your enabler, Senator Diane Cameron later. She’s going to be claiming moral superiority and crap like that. I want you to tell all about your relationship with her and why she’s just a traitorous bitch. Do it convincingly and I won’t have to arc your balls with this.”

  Nick fired off his stun-gun to a very motivated Omar. Fontaine then went through his ties with Cameron in detail, including getting Nick into the accounts on a laptop computer Omar had in the bedroom. “Gee, this is swell, Omar. So Di simply has her big money account payoff under your name and control so no financial tie can be made between the two of you. Neato. I’m going to take Di’s money. I see you have your accounts locked so they can only be accessed, even by you, with another party’s passcode. Smart. I don’t have time to get it and I don’t need it anyway. The twenty mil in Di’s funds make me very happy with you, Omar. See ya’.”

  Nick shot him twice in the head. He looked at his Beretta. “Don’t worry baby, I’m not going to get rid of you, even though according to the gun confiscation nuts you single-handedly killed these guys. They’re too stupid to understand it was just your owner, crazy Nicky, who did it. You’re innocent and I’m not giving you up.”

  Nick left everything in place, including the laptop. He turned on his com unit. “Security chief Alvarez reporting in.”

  “How’d it go, Nick? Not a peep or an alarm down here except the security details scurrying around trying to find out what happened to their system. You still have seven minutes.”

  “I’m on my way down, shedding my disguise as I go. It all went smooth and I received a nice bonus. You get a ten percent cut, as does our very nice boss. Omar made an educational video tape for me outlining his relationship to Princess Di so I’ll have even more ammo to go after my big game trophy. I plan to leave our meeting with her figurative head mounted.”

  “I texted Paul as you talked. The Homeland guys are on their way. I see you.”

  The two men exited the Ritz without further interaction. When they were on their way to the hotel room where Salvatore was held, Clyde couldn’t resist asking the question.

  “You said there’s a bonus. What did you mean by that? Ten percent of what. You’ve already given me some very nice bonus money.”

  “Not like this, my friend. Ten percent of the take on this job is two mil each for you and Paul,” Nick replied. “And you thought wet work didn’t pay.”

  Clyde nearly wrecked the government sedan they were riding in to Nick’s amusement.

  * * *

  Ken answered the door and stepped to the side. “I’ve heard your mission was successful. Paul called and told me to have Phil get ready to go. He says you meet with Cameron in one hour.”

  “Great. Did Phil give you a bad time?”

  “No. He was very quiet after you left. Pouty would be my description, but quiet.”

  Nick smiled. “Yep. That’s my Phil. I’m glad Paul arranged the meeting so quickly. We’ll have some decent down time before my meeting tomorrow with the ambassador. I’m sure you know about our having to take care of the Algerian Ambassador. He’s become a dangerous entity to have on USA soil.”

  “I’ve been briefed, Nick. Do you need me for something other than babysitting?”

  “Since this meeting will be on neutral ground with only a half hour warning tomorrow morning, I could use you to drive for Clyde and I in one of those big official government vehicles with plenty of show. You can bind Phil if you want on the front passenger seat. It pays one mil.�
�

  Ken grinned. “Very funny. Paul didn’t say you had a sense of humor other than killer comic characters. I’m fine with driving. Phil and I have an understanding.”

  “The Omar job paid a big dividend, Ken. You get one mil for driving and babysitting.”

  “Well damn… give me the address for the meeting. For a mil, I’ll go kill the ambassador for you.”

  Nick and Clyde enjoyed Ken’s offer with much amusement. “Not necessary, Agent Carter, but I’d appreciate having a driver so Clyde would be with me without the vehicle distraction. I’m going to take a shower before my Princess Di audience. Her royal highness will be descending the throne shortly. Did Paul mention whether he would be releasing the news about Fontaine’s death before the meeting?”

  “He did mention it would be in bulletin form within the hour,” Ken answered. “I’m sure she’ll be informed of his death the moment it hits the news in any form or rumor.”

  “Outstanding,” Nick said. “I’ll be right out. Tell pouty to put on whatever he’s dressing up as.”

  “Will do,” Ken said. “He didn’t expect the body search I did after you left. He had a hideaway phone.”

  Nick sighed. “Of course he did. He’s a piece of work. I guess that’s why he’s pouting in his room, huh?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I’ll be outside with the car, Nick,” Clyde said.

  “Okay, Clyde.” Nick went into the bedroom where he had the suit he would be wearing to meet with the Senator. He had a spot built inside the suit coat that would hide his Beretta with silencer. It would be best if you don’t give me a reason to pull my new piece or we’re going to give the authorities another slug sample from your head, Di.

  * * *

  Inside Senator Cameron’s lavish apartment, Nick and Phil were shown to a greeting room by the house maid. A stern faced Diane Cameron sat behind a huge desk like a grade school teacher with a chip on her shoulder. She pointed at Nick.

  “I know all about you, McCarty.”

  “No, you really don’t,” Nick replied. “If you did, you’d be packing your things together, and hoping you’d still be alive to move them somewhere else.”

  Cameron stood propping fists on the desk. “Is that a threat?”

  “It would be best if you sit your skank ass down, you traitorous bitch, while I’m still in a good mood,” the Terminator surfaced to deliver the seating order. “I think you’ll need to hear what we have to say before you run off at the mouth anymore.”

  Cameron sat down even as she protested, seeing in Nick’s features deadly promise. “How dare you? I am a sitting US Senator! I don’t know what kind of trash you think you have on me, but I will call for a full investigation of you and your damn boss. This outrage will be answered. I know your informant here. Salvatore’s a cheap con artist with no credibility.”

  “Oh shut up. Phil, it’s show and tell time. You have the floor. Don’t get wordy. Give it to her as we discussed.”

  Phil, even more pouty after being called a cheap con artist, smiled at Nick’s direction. He set his laptop down on the desk. By the time he ended his presentation, Cameron’s face was a mask of worried realization. Nick took over then, taking out his iPad. He cued Omar Fontaine’s confession of collusion with Cameron, only his face and shoulders showing on the movie. After he played it for Cameron, horror replaced worry.

  “I…I just heard Fontaine is dead. When was this video recorded?”

  “Obviously before he died,” Nick replied. “I want your resignation from the Senate today. I don’t care what kind of cheesy bullshit you use to cover your exit. It’s been decided higher on the food chain you should be given an opportunity to leave the Senate gracefully. This is your opportunity. You know what we have on you. Phil is under my protection. It would not go well if anymore attempts are made on his life. Fontaine tried on your behalf to come after my family. You don’t ever want to do something stupid like that, Di. I will burn your house down.”

  “You can’t think I had anything to do with-”

  “I don’t think, Di. I know. You figured with Salvatore and me out of the way, you’d be home free. You’ve been a very bad girl. I bet you thought if one of those terrorist acts you enabled would have succeeded, all your backstage manipulations would be forgotten as poor old America joined hands against the bad guys.”

  “What do you want, McCarty?”

  “Get the official letterhead out and start typing. I’m walking out of here with your resignation in my hand. I also want confirmation you’ve sent copies to everyone on your e-mail list, including the President.”

  “And if I don’t? What then, McCarty… you shoot me?”

  Nick smiled. “Nothing will happen to you right away. I’ll take your answer with me, and you’ll be dealt with at a later date. If you like the idea of being frog marched out of the Senate chamber, keep playing the obnoxious above the law bitch card. My patience is wearing thin, Di. Get typing.”

  Cameron hesitated but then began typing on her keyboard. A few moments later, she printed out a copy of the letter, and signed it. She handed it to Nick. He read it over with amusement.

  “It’s so nice you’re giving up public service to spend more time with your family, Di. That’s very sweet. Print five more and sign them all. Then let me know when you’ve hit the send button to your mailing list so I can check your send box to make sure they were sent.”

  A red faced Cameron completed the task with Nick doing a quick check of her send box contents. “I believe that concludes our business. A word to the wise – don’t pull any lame duck crap or I’ll make sure everything hits the news cycle within minutes. Another item I need to discuss with you before Phil and I leave is the bank account offshore Fontaine controlled for you so no one would know about your bribes. It’s gone, baby. I hope you banked your exorbitant Senate wages because your illegal slush fund no longer exists.”

  “What?! You can’t do that!” This time Diane virtually vibrated in place, her fists clenched in helpless rage.

  “Already done, Princess,” Nick said. “You’ll still be able to steal the taxpayers blind with your Senate retirement which is why I voted for the frog march. C’mon Phil. Let’s leave Di alone to start packing.”

  “I won’t forget this, McCarty!”

  Nick spun around in full Terminator mode. “You’d better forget all about everything, Di. Remember… you have family to think about. If you start thinking retribution our agreement will have to be adjusted. Believe me… you don’t want that. Your boy narrowly missed a date with justice. It could catch up to him if you’re not careful.”

  At the mention of her son, Cameron shut up and looked away. Nick left without further comment. Phil followed. In the car with Clyde driving, Nick looked over the signed resignation sheets silently.

  “You don’t seem too happy, Nick,” Clyde said. “You got her.”

  “When I think of all the deals she’s done behind the taxpayers’ backs to get where she was and stay there, I wonder who got who.”

  “There’s nothing anyone can do about that. On the bright side, tomorrow will mark your last thread in this to handle. By tomorrow night, you’ll be back home in Pacific Grove.”

  “I don’t like to think too far ahead, Clyde. We won’t be meeting in a controlled area as we did with Collister. Underestimating these bastards is a mistake. We take no chances. We go in armed with Kevlar on. I don’t know what to expect with this ambassador. In a way, I’m happy we’re not doing this at the Algerian Embassy. Having him die as we’re heading out the door of a foreign embassy would be bad. I’m beginning to think my idea stinks but I don’t have a better one. Maybe Paul should have given me a long range option rather than accept my advice.”

  “This doesn’t sound like you, Nick,” Clyde said.

  “He sounds like the same cold blooded killer to me,” Phil said from the backseat.

  Nick looked around at Phil with a grin. “Ever been dragged on the end of a chain fro
m a moving car, Phil?”

  “Ah… no.”

  “If you don’t want to have that experience you’d better practice your comfortable silences until I get you back home.”

  “Understood.”

  * * *

  “You guys actually look like soldiers,” Phil said as Nick and Clyde slipped into the backseat of the government vehicle Ken had procured with Phil.

  “Phil… remember our talk yesterday?”

  “Oh… ah… sure. Sorry.”

  Both men wore military holsters with .45 caliber Colts. They were again dressed as Pentagon military messengers, Nick wearing his major’s outfit and Clyde a sergeant’s uniform. Nick carried the briefcase from which he would be doing a briefing for Ben Sahroaoui, the Algerian ambassador.

  “This warehouse on 2nd Street – do you know anything about it, Ken?”

  “I checked. It’s a dead end where the warehouse is located. Do you really think we needed a bullet proof vehicle?”

  “Better to have one and not need it,” Nick answered. “I thought he’d pick a restaurant or an apartment somewhere. He was briefed to expect an accounting of the Algerian threads we’ve found connecting Omar Fontaine, Senator Cameron, and the six missing Algerians. Paul said he was very receptive to the meeting, but wanted it far from the embassy for supposed security measures.”

  “They could have an army there,” Clyde said.

  “Not if Sahroaoui really is doing this on his own. If he has the Algerian government behind his actions they wouldn’t want to execute official American envoys on American soil. Paul said our directions were to meet his men outside the warehouse where they would check our credentials. We will then be escorted inside for a short meeting with the ambassador.”

  Nick put the equipment bag between them and opened it. “Check your weapon. Ken will be nearby with the car. If anything goes wrong, we retreat to the car for something more lethal.”

  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.”