“Why did you stop playing, Gomez,” Tina asked. “You’re as good as I’ve ever heard on the reality shows.”
“I tried to get in touch with Bert when I returned. He was murdered in New York on the subway. It took me a month to find his killer, a typical gangbanger, who thought he could get away with anything because he wore a hoodie. Maybe he could have with the police, because they couldn’t ask his confederates the right questions with the right amount of persuasion. He took a long time dying. Bert’s death hit me hard. I didn’t play again until tonight.”
“Damn, Muerto… is there anything you can’t do,” Gus asked.
“Not much if I train for it. I’m calling it a night. Keep the recordings going. I’ll go over them in the morning. I must get into my new novel too. Goodnight. I’ll call in the morning, Rach.”
“You’d better.”
Nick removed his micro equipment. Later, in bed, Nick allowed the memories of his intense studies with Bert to seep into his consciousness. He never mentioned while relating his tale of piano study that Bert became like a father to him. Nick promised to see him the moment he returned to the states. The burning question that bothered him for years still stung – what the hell were you doing riding the subway, Bert?
* * *
The next morning at 5 am, Nick sat at his kitchenette table, drinking coffee while reviewing everything Johnny sent him from the night before. He learned, in spite of their distrust for Breech and his deal with their other boss, Ray Worthum, Pam and Eric met with Breech on the weekend excursions. Nick truly liked the two staffers. Survival in the DC political zone required a separate set of morals, when dealing with traitorous congressional members who could frame someone, do a tax witch hunt, and black ball an employee throughout the city. Today, Nick determined he would learn how deep the two were in the traitorous Gree and Worthum dealings. With their testimony, Gree’s indictment and prosecution would be a slam dunk. Nick planned to take care of Ray Worthum right away. He figured to stir the circle of political treason into action with the death.
Nick finished his perusal of Johnny’s files and began writing in his new novel, where he planned to send his assassin Diego into the Chicago killing fields. Diego’s deeds would be complicated by the unfortunate arrival of his lover, Fatima. Diving into pulp fiction land relieved much of his impatience to get started doing a thorough inspection of both Eric and Pam’s abodes. His phone buzzed at 7 am. Rachel’s face on the caller ID prompted a smile.
“Hi, babe. I didn’t figure you’d be awake this early.”
“Your performance last night at the party woke me many times in the night. I dreamed about it. I’m buying a damn piano!”
“No problem,” Nick answered. “I dismissed the time from my mind after Bert was murdered. I enjoyed last night’s chance to throw everyone off at the party. It’s funny how music can turn a bunch of liberal whackos into regular people.”
“Not to mention a martial arts demo, not to mention scaring a guy so bad he dropped his drink on the floor and ran for it. You never told us what the hell you said.”
“I told him the last person who called me a dog, I eviscerated and shoved his entrails down his throat.”
Rachel enjoyed Nick’s rejoinder so much she didn’t speak for many moments. “That’ll learn him. I’m as sick as you. I want you to play and sing for me.”
“I promise to do so. I learned to be an entertainer. Anytime we’re out on the town and they have a piano for impromptu performances, I’ll play in public too. How’s that?”
“Wonderful. The moment I begin thinking I know you, something else you’ve done arrives at my doorstep to blow my mind. God… I love you so much.”
“I love you too… more than I ever thought possible. You, Jean, Quinn, and now Sonny have become a universe away from the killing – a sanctuary for me to maintain perspective.”
“I always miss you the most when we talk after you leave on one of these missions,” Rachel said. “I’d kill for you. I’d do anything to keep you near me. I’m lost when I’m in your arms, my love. You are the most dangerous man on earth and yet I crave every touch when you’re with me. Please always be with me.”
“I will never leave you, Rachel… ever. Death will be the only reality that ever separates us. You know what I am, beyond any imagined game of reality. You know me to the depth of my being. We’re joined, baby – forever.”
“You are so much… I sometimes lose perspective as to why you embraced Jean and I in the first place. Add in the fact you’ve corrupted both US Marshals to your will, and… I… lose touch with reality.”
“I love you. Accept that and everything else is a backdrop to our lives. I believe I’ll be done here soon. We’ll sit on our deck and laugh at all this later. You have to admit, a lot of last night’s intermingling with idiot liberals amused you.”
“Admitting that, would open another vista I shy away from. Come home in one piece. I’ll answer every question about desire and need.”
“Soon, baby… very soon,” Nick replied. “Today’s excursion into Eric and Pam’s living quarters will reveal many things. I’ll be able to return home much faster afterward if what I suspect is true.”
“I have to go, my love. I promised to take Jean and Sonny to Hurst Castle today. I need to fool around with everything concerning a Quinn excursion.”
“Very cool. Have a great time. I’ll be home soon. Don’t cheap out. Get a limo on your excursion. We’re rich, babe.”
“I know. I love you.” Rachel disconnected before Nick could reply.
Nick called Gus, resigning himself to the fact writing would be delayed. Gus answered immediately. “Man… I’m glad to hear you this morning.”
“Did something happen out of the ordinary affecting my recon of Eric and Pam’s places?”
“I…I imagined all kinds of scenarios going on in DC. You’re being extremely careful there, aren’t you, Nick?”
“Did you just insult me, Payaso?”
Gus sighed and chuckled. “I worry about you, brother. What the hell would Johnny, Cala, and I do without you?”
Nick became serious in an instant. “Protect, Gus! I trust you to take Rachel, Quinn, Jean, and even Sonny to the island John Harding has. Don’t think about me, brother. Whatever happens, we had an excellent run. I give you my word. I never take anything for granted, brother. I kill in an instant with no hesitation. Like Lynn Dostiene is fond of saying, it is what it is.”
Nick heard Gus sigh. “I will miss you, my brother. Kill everything blocking you from returning to us. I know you have the skill to do it. On a lighter tone, Lynn has Audrey Lantos ready to star in a Hollywood Bounty Hunters episode. Johnny and Cala will be joining Cruella Deville at the sight soon to assist in yet another episode of alternate reality.”
“Understood. Let’s stay on point with this operation, Gus. We can nail an idiot in congress while annihilating her apparatus of bribes, blackmail, and traitorous scams. Let’s do it. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got the situation in hand. I’m wondering what we’ll pick up on Eric and Pam’s trip. I admit if I could keep those two out of prison, that would be good with me.”
“Muerto! What the hell?”
“I know what you’re thinking. When did I become Buddy Love about traitorous suspect staffers, playing all sides of this political miasma of billionaire one world order anarchists, greedy coin operated politicos, and Ray Worthum type extortionists, right?”
“Exactly,” Gus retorted. “Those two swim comfortably in dark waters.”
“I’m not disagreeing. I’ll keep an open mind. They’ll be leaving soon. Once I search their places, this puzzle will be clearer. Worthum used his second chance card. He’s heading for the last snakehead roundup. Breech will be joining him. Those two work out of the spotlight, where they can disappear without a trace. If Eric and Pam can be used as live witness whistle blowers against Rackson-Gree, we may be able to put the treasonous witch where she belongs – in prison. If I don’t of
fer a feasible deal, Eric and Pam will clam up and call for the lawyers. Then I must shoot them in the head and hope we have enough rough evidence to convict Gree.”
“I hear you,” Gus admitted. “You’ll be scrambling if you need to make the staffers disappear. We’ll be listening in on them. I’ll call you with any significant updates, especially if they’re meeting with Breech. I wonder if they have any idea where that prick is staying.”
“Too much to hope for,” Nick replied. “I’d get a twofer. Ray goes to the happy hunting ground tonight. Johnny sent me the code to his Beamer. I’ll reintroduce myself as I did Frank Richert a while back. Then Mr. Breech meets his maker on Sunday.”
“I’m afraid to ask this, but where do you plan to stash the bodies?”
“I don’t plan to stash them anywhere. I thought of a political statement I might make with them.”
“Oh boy,” Gus muttered.
“What do you think of our two co-dependent terrorist enablers spending their last moments outside Fort Marcy Park?”
“Really? That place probably has security cams in every tree.”
“No… it doesn’t. I brought along one of my little incendiaries for their sendoff. I wish I could do a cartoon Muerto appearance, but Paul told me the gangs are still lying low in Chicago thinking Muerto might still be around. I must be satisfied with two happy-go-lucky pricks, selling out America, sharing a final goodbye on earth, burning their traitorous souls clean.”
“That’s a lot of work, Muerto.”
Nick sighed comically. “Yes… Muerto’s work is never done. Talk at you later, Payaso.”
“Indeed.” Gus disconnected.
* * *
Ray Worthum entered the parking lot near his business, striding at nearly a jog to his brand new black BMW X6. Inside, he sat with his eyes closed, feeling the luxury of seating and ambiance, the new car aroma bringing a smile to his face. The pinprick at his neck ended all thought of luxury and ambiance. Horror replaced it at the last thing he heard before darkness streamed over his consciousness.
“Hello again, Ray, it’s me, Muerto.”
* * *
Nick approached the idling limousine at the curb, striding confidently, dressed in a ‘Men in Black’ suit with matching overcoat and sunglasses. He knocked on the dark tinted passenger window, showing his US Marshal’s badge. It rolled down, revealing two burly bodyguards’ bored faces. Their expressions only lasted a moment before the silenced .45 caliber 1911 model automatic discharged, the slugs smashing through their faces. Nick hurried around to the driver’s door, opening it, and shoving the driver into the lap of his companion.
“Damn… you two look heavy. I need to reseat you both in the trunk somewhere close by quickly,” Nick explained to the dead men. He drove away after placing a towel over the seat to soak the spatter. “If I had more time I’d film a Kabuki dance for Payaso just to make his head explode. You guys are too heavy for a good Kabuki dance anyway. El Muerto will be chancing a hernia transferring you bozos into the trunk. Oh well… I’ll make your boss pay. Oh good, here’s a nice spot.”
* * *
Belcium Breech left his hotel suite in an angry rage. Nothing in the idiotic meeting with Rackson-Gree’s underling staffers produced even a slight edge to any of his plans. They gave him the usual policy wonk crap he endured with disgust while trying to learn how deeply the two were embedded with Ray Worthum. Now… he hadn’t been able to reach Worthum either. This cloak and dagger bullshit must end. I will find a toady I can trust to act as a middleman. I detest the thought, but after the staffers proved to be useless over the last few meetings, relating information I already knew, I may have to accept the fact Worthum will be the one.
The limousine idled at the curb waiting for him, but neither of his men jumped out to open his door. For God’s sake! What the hell is it about today? Breech opened the back door himself, ready to ream his two bodyguards a new asshole. The Taser needles hit him, jolting him backward. A hand gripped his clothing, ripping him inside, face first to the limousine floor. He heard the limousine door close behind him.
“Hello, Belchy, I’m Muerto. Your bodyguards wanted to apologize for this travesty. I take full responsibility. They’re in the trunk. You’ll be joining them shortly. Here’s something to help you endure the journey until I can transfer you.”
“Wait! I…I have money! I… can make you rich!”
“Oh, believe me, you will be making me rich. This isn’t a sightseeing tour into the unknown. We’re going somewhere you will do many things you never dreamed possible. The helpful Muerto will guide you to do the right thing.”
“Who the fuck are you? Doesn’t Muerto mean dead one?” Breech tried to push himself up away from the floor, but a knee forced him down again. The sharp pinprick at his neck faded all worries and outrage into minor grainy apparitions into the darkness.
“Yep,” the quieting voice of his captor stated, “but I won’t be the dead one in the dimension I’m sending you to, Belchy.”
* * *
“Damn, Muerto,” Gus exclaimed. “That all was hell-a-good. Johnny and I are on with you in HD, brother. Did you drive both vehicles to Ft. Marcy?”
“Yep. It’s very late here and dark, just as I like it. I have the two innocent bodyguards in the trunk of the limo still. They, of course, passed into the beyond a while ago. I have my two new buddies here in the back of the limo with me. As you can see, they’re not happy.”
Nick moved slightly, allowing the cam to register his captives’ faces. Horror, mixed with panic, radiated from the two men. “By their frozen in horror features, Muerto believes Ray and Belchy understand how serious this final meeting is, especially Ray.”
“Yes! You wore your Muerto mask,” Johnny called out, with Cala giggling by his side.
“He’s talking in third person again, so it’s Muerto for sure. Naturally, these two sickos think your cartoon appearance is warranted. How’s it working so far,” Gus asked.
“I’ll let you know in a moment.” Nick removed the gags from both men.
“Please… Muerto… don’t do this!” Ray knew instantly how much trouble he was in.
Nick patted Ray’s shoulder. “Oh Ray, you bugger. Don’t bother. This is only a fact-finding mission with you drifting into the great beyond, or screaming for it – your choice. I gave you a second chance I seldom give anyone. It would be best to educate your pal, Belchy about where he’s headed. I doubt he’ll listen, but I brought along a couple of my favorite videos if he doesn’t.
“I’ll testify! I’ll reveal every fucking detail of everything! Don’t torture me!”
“I hear you, buddy. It’s unfortunate you sent killers my way. You know how to avoid torture with me, Ray. Show your cohort, Belchy, how it’s done.”
Ray hung his head, cognizant this would be his last moments alive. “I let this asshole convince me he could get you. I’ll start from our last talk… if that’s okay.”
“Either I, or my team, will let you know if it’s okay.”
Ray recited everything he knew concerning not only his inner workings with Rackson-Gree, but also all incidental meetings, workings, and financial dealings with Breech, much to Breech’s horror. Nick allowed his friends to work in the background of horrific silence. It took only fifteen minutes to confirm the threads Ray recited to what Nick had found inside Eric and Pam’s abodes.
“He connected the dots, Muerto,” Johnny stated.
“Well done, Ray. My cohorts confirmed your input. That means you get to journey into the beyond painlessly. I can tell Belchy thinks this is a game.” Nick grabbed Ray by the throat. “Listen carefully, Ray. I will show Belchy a bit of my past dealings with bad people. Afterwards, I want you to explain in passionate terms how vital it is for Belchy to cooperate. Can you do that for me, Ray?”
Worthum sobbed, nodding his head up and down virulently. “Yes! Anything… please don’t eviscerate me!”
“We’ll see.” Nick held his iPad for Breech to see t
he highlight real of Muerto’s most gruesome executions and tortures. “I have a barf bag here ready. Miss it if you have to spew, and I’ll wipe it up with your face.”
Nick began the highlight clips. Breech threw-up and urinated only a quarter of the way through. He hit the bag held open. “Ah… I see you know this game has consequences as my colleague, Dr. Deville, would say. We start first with the cost of my mission here in corruption central. Give me the account numbers for everything you have, Belchy. They won’t do you any good anyway. My friends are all ready to take the info, Belchy. Make Muerto happy or Muerto will make you very sad.”
“In… my inner coat pocket,” Breech gasped out. “My phone… there’s an encrypted… file. A righthand thumb print unlocks the phone. Lefthand index finger… unlocks the file. Everything liquid can be found there.”
“Excellent choice.” Nick took out Breech’s iPhone. In moments, he sent the file to Johnny. Confirmation came fifteen minutes later.
“Oh my,” Gus said. “Muerto should be very happy. We left a little in each one of his offshore accounts to avoid triggering an investigation.”
“We should bring Strobert into this, Muerto,” Johnny suggested. “Denny and his wife Maria will know how to split such funds.”
“Agreed,” Nick replied. He held his iPad in front of Breech’s face. “I have one other question, Belchy. There’s a Saudi asshole with the last name of Al-Kazar partnering with you on this nasty business. I’ve concluded there can be only one. The mutants never trust each other. Between incompetence, greed, and petulant stupidity, only one conducts operations like this. Before you answer, would you like to watch the rest of the highlight reel?”
Hell on Earth Page 27