Nightmare in Red
Page 35
“Can I go on stakeout, Muerto… please?”
“Sure. Do what John says and I don’t see any problem with you going along. You certainly have the stomach for the work. I didn’t know you wanted in on this part.”
“I told her I’d watch the kids anytime she wants. They love playing with Benny and Sam,” Rachel said. “I thought I was volunteering to give John and Cala a night out. I didn’t know it was a torture and mutilation night. That’s just… disturbing.”
“We’re good to see this through, Dad,” Jean said. “Quinn, Sonny, and I will handle surveillance if Uncle John needs anything he finds out checked.”
“I recognized that Jess guy,” Villa said. “He and two other Norteños stopped at Mike’s house two nights ago while my wife Janet and I were meeting with them to discuss this mess. I admit Jean made Jess look small but I don’t think he’ll tell you anything. They take a blood oath to the Norteños to never reveal anything about their brotherhood in the Familia.”
“I believe you have Jess all wrong, Patrick. I believe he’ll be most helpful,” Nick said. “I believe Jess will practically beg me to let him talk.”
* * *
Jess absently felt the bandage at his neck, a chill slithering down his spine at the memory of the scarred blonde woman coldly pressing the knife blade to his throat. He considered ways to bypass anything to do with the Monte Café. The place was plain bad luck. The rocket attack he ordered Alfredo to do that morning vanished like a diminishing breeze off the ocean. No hint of the men he sent days ago to put the Monte on his pad or Alfredo’s crew from this morning now existed. The other businesses looked to the Monte Café owners as some kind of bellwether. If he didn’t find some way to slam the Monte, Cornelio would replace him. They were family but Nuestro Familia came first. The Familia smuggled soldiers now from all over the Middle East to fill the ranks spreading over the cities from the neglected borders.
Jess reached his apartment with the intent to change clothes before going to the Norteños’ meeting at the Phoenix warehouse. Cornelio wanted a face to face before the meeting in private. Jess dreaded it. There would be nothing but excuses to offer. The people at the Monte were not bluffing. They were killers. The restaurant would have to be firebombed or something, preferably with the idiot owners inside. For the hundredth time he wished he knew the guys’ fate he sent earlier. His apartment door shut behind him before Jess turned to close it. When he saw the older man from the restaurant with the cold dead eyes smiling at him, he turned to run further into his apartment for the Glock 9mm he had in the drawer of his bed stand. He ran straight into the black guy from the restaurant. The Middle Eastern guy who kicked Burt’s ass on the way out gave him a little wave as he leaned against the wall.
“Hello, Jess,” the older man greeted him. “Guess what we found out. Your last name is Morado. You’re just the one to answer a very important question. We want to know where to find your cousin Cornelio.”
Jess saw his death in the old man’s eyes. In a split second’s time he understood these men would not let him leave alive no matter what he told them. He launched what he thought was a fast sucker punch to the man’s head blocking his way out of the apartment. Unbelievably, the old man caught his fist with a lightning fast reflex in his left hand. It felt to Jess as if his hand would be pulverized. The bones began to crackle. Jess fell to his knees with a scream of pain. Duct tape was forced over his mouth from behind. The older man released him to the arms of the other two men. In seconds he was plastic tied and duct taped to one of his kitchen chairs. The dark haired Middle Eastern woman he had seen arrive at the restaurant smiled at him while taking measurements from his body.
“Cleaner,” the older man said. “Don’t do the measurements yet. You’ll upset the boy.”
“Oh… ah sure, Muerto.” The woman backed away as the other two men enjoyed the exchange.
“Sorry about that, kid,” the man called Muerto told him. “We have a space problem Cleaner was trying to get a jump start on. Here’s the deal. You’ve traveled down a deadly path, Jess. We’re not into the touchy feely stuff so my friends and I won’t be insulting your intelligence by pretending we care what caused your descent into darkness. We don’t. We also don’t want you to go through more pain than necessary. Tell us where to find your cousin and arrange a meeting with him…” Muerto paused. He smiled at his friends. “Jackpot. You see what I see Payaso?”
The black guy crouched down to look into Jess’s eyes. “You don’t play poker, do you kid. You have a meeting with our star Cornelio.”
“You guys are freaky,” Jess heard the Middle Eastern guy say. “The guy’s mouth is taped. How the hell do you know about a meeting, Muerto?”
“His eyes, Kabong,” Muerto said.
“I’ve told you a thousand times to watch the widening of the eyes, April Fresh,” Payaso added. “The moment Muerto mentioned arranging a meeting Jess’s eyes widened and even the duct tape moved.”
Kabong waved his friend off. “You white men all look the same to me.”
Jess Morado watched the three killers and woman enjoying Kabong’s statement with much mirth as the black man, Payaso, was very dark. Muerto finally turned his attention to Jess.
“Okay Jess, you’re on. We can agree you’re meeting your cousin… today I’d wager. Save yourself some pain. Tell me where and when.”
The knowledge one will die aches within each human being. The knowledge one will be dying within minutes no matter what that person does brings with it a terrifying aspect all its own. Tears began to form at the corners of Jess’s eyes while staring into the man named Muerto’s face. He saw nothing there resembling compassion. Instinctively, he knew no matter what the man needed to do in search of the information he wanted, Muerto would do. If it included making Jess scream for hours then so be it. He nodded at Muerto.
Muerto removed the duct tape over his mouth. “One other item I need to explain, kid – we don’t do freebies. We’ll keep you alive with Cleaner watching over you. If you’ve given us solid leads we’ll ease you into eternity without pain. If you lie or screw up, there are no takebacks. We will come back here and show you the meaning of pain. Show him a sample, Cleaner.”
The woman they called ‘Cleaner’ showed him a tablet video so horrific Jess looked away. “No more! I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’m meeting my cousin within the hour at his place in Seaside. He owns a condo complex there. The complete upper floor is joined into one huge place.”
“The Cleaner’s recording. Give us the address. Speak clearly,” Muerto directed. “Give us the address for the place you punks meet on Phoenix too.”
Jess did as told without hesitation. The thought of going through the torture shown to him on the tablet was unimaginable. Payaso brought out a flask. He gave Jess a couple of deep swallows.
“That will help you pass the time until our return. Cleaner will give you a swallow every twenty minutes or so,” Payaso said. “I can tell you’ve told us the truth, but we always hedge our bets.”
“I have told you the truth. I do not want to die like you’ve shown me.”
“Believe me, kid,” Payaso said, “you have chosen wisely.”
* * *
Cornelio glanced at the time seeing Jess was due any minute. He sipped the brandy in his hand, leaning into the lounge chair where he sat in front of a huge viewing screen. Crashing noises sounded in the room beyond his home theater space. What the hell are those idiots doing out there?
Morado stood, shutting off his movie with the clap of his hands. “Marco? What the hell?”
“Damn it,” Cornelio muttered. He stalked angrily to the door leading to an adjoining room, opening it to silence. He had five men on the other side of the door. They were never silent. Morado opened the door fully to a nightmare scene of death. His men lie in various positions strewn amongst the furniture like discarded bloody toys. Three costumed figures stood in the middle of the room, two in black masks, and one in a devilish clown
face. They posed comically with their silenced machine pistols for Morado. The one in the lead laughed and took off his mask.
“Hi Cornholio. We were having a little fun. I’m Nick McCarty, owner of the Monte Café. You put the Norteños onto my place to make an example of us. We’re here to return the favor. We’re going to make an example of you. It’s going to hurt because we have to go old school on your ass to make a point.”
Morado made a run for his theater room only to have a burst of fire rake across his legs. He fell screaming in pain, clutching his legs. Nick stood over him with a smile.
“We’re going to make you squeaky clean inside and out, Cornholio. Then we’re going over to watch the kids make the rest of our statement. Hopefully, you Nuestro assholes will take the hint. If not, things are going to get ugly.”
* * *
Quinn approached the two armed men guarding the door into the Norteños warehouse meeting place with a big smile. He stopped ten feet away and waved. The two guards traded irritated glances.
“Who the fuck you, man?”
“Bait,” Quinn answered as the guards’ heads burst like ripe melons.
Sonny and Jean ran to his side. Sonny handed Quinn their old M2 Browning fully automatic .50 caliber machine gun Quinn handled like a rifle. Sonny assisted with the belt feed while Jean would watch their backs and sides. Sonny opened the door. Jean threw in grenades. They ducked down as the grenades exploded everything glass out of the warehouse mountings. They casually walked into the building of screams. Quinn opened fire from a crouch with Sonny feeding ammo. Jean shot two Norteño soldiers on the catwalk. Quinn moved every five second burst, hosing the interior of the building with fire so devastating not a single thing made of anything but metal remained standing or in one piece when Sonny tapped his shoulder.
“Watch my six, guys,” Jean said, shouldering her machine pistol. She took out her sidearm and methodically fired into every body lying in pieces or dead throughout the warehouse, having learned from her Dad to assume nothing in combat.
They reloaded. “We’re done in the main room, Dad. Twelve down. Moving to the rooms if you have a heat signature.”
“The one straight ahead Viper,” John said. “One warm body.”
“Do you want to question him, Dad?”
“If you can do it without getting schooled, then yeah,” Nick answered.
Jean growled as suppressed humor sounded over the networked com units. “Very funny. Just for that, Sonny and I will practice our knife throwing skills.”
“Don’t-”
Jean turned off her com unit as Sonny sighed and took his off too. Quinn followed their lead.
Quinn banged the door down with one kick before stepping to the side as a burst of automatic weapons fire blasted through the doorway. Jean then dived low right and Sonny left. The man with the weapon fired at Sonny’s larger figure a moment before a knife buried itself to the hilt in his shoulder. Before he could do anything but scream, a second knife slammed into his other shoulder from the rear. Quinn ran to him, disarmed the man, and dragged him out by the scruff of the neck. Gus and John entered in a panic. They relaxed when Quinn waved reassuringly at them. Sonny and Jean worked over their victim, retrieving their knives and using their emergency medical kit to patch his wounds.
“Muerto’s unhappy with that last maneuver, Viper,” Gus said.
“He’ll get over it,” Jean replied.
“I’m surprised at you, Sonny,” John said.
“Cracker does what I tell him to do,” Jean said, nudging Sonny. “Do you want to question this guy or not?”
“Muerto only wants to know if anyone else knows about Mike and his Dad,” Gus answered.
Jean knelt next to the wounded man. She slapped him in the face until she had his attention. “Do you know who Mike Villa is?”
When the guy didn’t speak right away, Jean pulled her hand to launch again.
“Wait! I had to think. The lawyer guy, right?”
“That’s the one. Does anyone but your little playmates know about him?”
“No one I know of. I…I don’t know everyone. The guys we’ve smuggled in from overseas may know about him. They’re not here.”
“We have the Company on that tidbit,” John said.
“Close enough then.” Jean shot him in the head. “Let’s go before Dad comes down from his perch and leaves our backdoor open.”
* * *
Sonny and Quinn loaded the body of Jess Morado into their van, wrapped in a throw rug while Nick conferred with Cala.
“What did he say about Mike the lawyer?”
“He didn’t know, Muerto. Are we going after the smuggled overseas guys?”
“Absolutely, but we’ll need to make sure our clients and restaurant are safe. Then we get the rest.”
“The rest? What rest,” Jean asked. “We killed the last of the Norteños in our area. We’re done, finished… the end.”
“Doin’ right ain’t got no end.”
Jean recognized the line from ‘Outlaw Josie Wales’. “Can we at least go to the beach a few mornings before you launch a new war?”
Nick grinned. “Absolutely.”
The End… for now.
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