Cold Blooded Assassin Book 7: Hell on Earth (Nick McCarty Assassin)

by Bernard Lee DeLeo

  Breech stared at his feet, shaking his head in the negative. “Kalil Al-Kazar. The bastard’s in Dearborn, meeting with other Muslim Brotherhood leaders. You’ll never reach him before he leaves the country. Their Sharia no-go zones are impenetrable. I have to get special permission and an escort to get close to him.”

  “Very interesting. You have done well, Belchy. Do you know the area he attends these meetings in?”

  “It is a building in Sterling Heights. It is on my phone contact list. I…I was to meet him there the day after tomorrow in the afternoon at 3 pm. I have been there before. They meet in a large conference room on the main floor. He may as well have shot me. I am a dead man because of him and I have in turn killed Ray.”

  “Who will be in this building on Tuesday?”

  “An army of guards… I can guarantee that. The meeting will be attended by leaders in the Muslims of the Americas, Muslim Brotherhood, Isis, C.A.I.R., and Al Qaeda in Europe. It was to be a coming together in purpose and funding.”

  Nick immediately sent the address to Johnny. “You know what to do, brother. Get a bird overhead and building plans. I’ll have to sell this to Paul. I have an idea.”

  “On it.”

  “I hate it when you say ‘I have an idea’,” Gus joked.

  “I have to say goodnight to my guests. We’ll finalize my plans for Monday when I reach my place. You guys were terrific with filtering information from Eric and Pam’s excursion with Breech. When our buddy here let slip about where he was staying, that was a biggie.”

  “Thanks. Paul’s going to be a little shocked at anything you have planned for Sterling Heights. Are you still planning to have a gettogether with Eric and Pam. We have them and Gree dead to rights now. You were right about them though. They’re the little political spies, selling info on everything and everybody.”

  “I may have to utilize their talents in the future. If I brought them into the light for our FBI contacts, Sam and Janie, wherever they worked, they could engage in what they do for us, instead of selling the nation down the river.”

  “I like it, Muerto,” Johnny said.

  “It has promise,” Gus admitted, “especially if they could get to work with potential traitorous idiots.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Muerto away!”

  Nick disconnected with Gus cursing his comical goodbye. He grinned at his attentive companions. “Well, boys, I appreciate all you’ve given me. I have a couple of special shots you two will love. Let me get you seated comfortably.”

  Breech began pleading, but Worthum allowed Nick to arrange him on the seat without comment. Nick gave Breech his shot first. In seconds, all cares in the world faded away forever from his features. Nick readied Worthum’s shot.

  “I can do exactly what you plan for the two stooges, on a much larger scale,” Ray urged.

  Nick gave him his shot. “No thanks.”

  After Nick placed the bodyguards in the front seats, he positioned his phone activated incendiary bomb at the feet of Breech and Worthum. He drove away toward where he parked his rental car in Breech’s BMW. Before he was completely out of sight, Nick triggered the bomb. As in Chicago, the blast flamed everything inside the vehicle without spreading past the locked interior, fading quickly after using all the oxygen inside the vehicle. Having already wiped down everything in the interior of the BMW, he left it, only taking his gloves and mask off after returning to the rental. Nick had left the key-fob on the front seat in plain view.

  “El Muerto… away.” Nick smiled. On to the tricky part.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sterling Heights Reclamation Project

  Eric waved at Nick as they joined him on the walk out of the building. “Did you get your luggage back?”

  “Yep. All went well, including business. I’m meeting with the CIA Director this morning. How was your weekend?”

  “Outstanding in some ways,” Pam answered. “We didn’t get everything done we hoped for, but we had a good time. You look great in uniform. The Director probably appreciates it.”

  “Wow… meeting with the man, Paul Gilbrech. He’s a bit too warrior like for my taste,” Eric commented. “I’m sure you two get along well together.”

  “We do. He understands we can’t win a politically correct war.”

  “War with whom,” Eric asked.

  “If you need to ask that, Eric, let’s say good morning and goodbye. Have a great day, you two. I’ll probably see you later.”

  “Stop by, Al. I didn’t mean to act stupid,” Eric said. “I pop off with the politically correct response to everything. It’s a force of habit. I know who we’re at war with, although I doubt our boss does.”

  “Guaranteed… she wouldn’t care anyway,” Pam added. “Have a beer with us later, Al.”

  “I’ll try. There’s a meeting in the works I may have to attend tonight and tomorrow. The project outline is nearing completion. I promise to stop for a chat once I complete it.”

  “We’ll hold you to that,” Pam said.

  Nick waved and walked to the building exit at a pace geared to distance himself from them. Paul Gilbrech awaited. Nick did not look at the task of a large-scale act of war on domestic soil as an easy sell. It would be his butt on the line though.

  * * *

  Paul Gilbrech paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back in a manner reminiscent of a man being led to the gallows. Clyde Bacall sat uneasily next to Nick. Only after a few minutes passed did Gilbrech sit across from his contractors.

  “I need you alive and free, Nick. If you’re caught or found out, I can’t do anything for you. Nothing will prevent a trial on domestic terrorism, hate crimes, and Islamophobia… whatever the hell that is. One thing I do know – you don’t fear Islam’s Sharia Law mutants at all. I know this Kalil Al-Kazar ordered your crew’s deaths along with Harding’s, but don’t you think we can find another way?”

  “I probably could, but I’m loving the collateral damage aspect.”

  Clyde and Paul both tried and failed to cover amusement. Paul asked the question Nick was expecting. “What do you need?”

  “I need a military carrier plane flying to Selfridge Air National Guard Base today in my present identity. I will make my own way from there to the Sterling Heights building in time for the meeting. After I finish my Kalil project, I’ll return to Selfridge in uniform after I hide out for a couple days. I will fly here, where my recruitment plan will be completed. Then, I will contact our FBI people to bring down Rackson-Gree.”

  “Done. Text me when you want to leave. I’ll have Clyde get you there. God help you, brother, because I won’t be able to.”

  “I will only get in touch with you when I have Gree on the hook. Thanks for this, Paul. Someone needs to make a statement to these assholes. Like I’ve told my friends, I don’t like being hunted. I’ll send them a Muerto-gram statement.”

  The men shook hands and Nick walked to the door. He turned.

  “Don’t do it!” Paul ordered.

  “El Muerto… away!”

  * * *

  Nick smiled as he approached the meeting building, dressed for rough weather. Snow and wind blew icily through the streets, making anything at a distance hard to see. “Perfect weather, guys. How’s our infiltration plan working?”

  “I’m in, Muerto,” Johnny answered. “There is a security door on the right side of the building. Let me know when you reach it. I will open it for you.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You wouldn’t be carrying grenades in that equipment bag, would you, Muerto,” Gus asked.

  “Oh no… Payaso. I would never do that. God, these guys have no guards anywhere. They deserve a good ambushing. I’m at the door, Kabong.”

  “It is open.”

  Nick unlatched the security door and ghosted inside, opening the door only the minimum for entrance before quietly closing it. He then switched to night-vision. “I’m moving to my resting place near the conference room they’ll be using. I will do
a quick look through. It would be excellent if the anteroom you found in the building plans can be used until I act, Kabong.”

  “It is large enough but I have no idea what they have inside it. They have no motion detectors or any kind of security system within the building. The outer one was a basic piece of crap, with only one security camera above the front door. They believe in physical guards. I am very familiar with this scenario. No one will be able to enter or approach the building without escort and vetting at the door. In other words, they do not allow what they demand of our nation.”

  “Have you ever done anything like this, Muerto?”

  “Not exactly, Payaso, but you boated me to a mission where I waited for my target to appear in the damn sand for days. I’m fine. The ending will be much like the Iranian patrol boat trying to stop us after our mission back then.”

  “You do realize they’ll be watching for anyone or any car moving away from the area.”

  “Yep. That’s why I don’t plan to move away from the area. I will shed my plastic covering and gloves, put on my Kufiya head covering, and join my terrorist brothers outside, yelling and screaming in Arabic until the ambulances arrive. I’ll slip into one of the ambulances, complaining of chest pains or something.”

  “What about your equipment bag,” Johnny asked.

  “I’ll clutch it to me as I sob and yell. I will make the great Director Deville proud of me. Breech was sure right about this place being a no-go zone. The street signs I saw on my approach are in Arabic. Only the makeshift warning signs were in English.”

  “I bet I can guess the number of live patients the ambulances will be rescuing,” Gus claimed.

  “You mean besides me?”

  “Yep. That’s exactly what I mean,” Gus replied.

  “Why… do you have relatives here, Payaso?”

  Gus sighed as Johnny enjoyed his discomfiture. “No.”

  “Then let Muerto worry about it. Oh man, Johnny, this anteroom is perfect. It’s as large as you said. I passed the refreshment area on the way in. It looks ready to serve the guests at the meeting with small refrigerator, condiments, fancy coffee machine, and accouterments. The anteroom, on the other hand, incorporates a wireless printer with formidable desktop computer station. I saw these true believers smashing all their electronics because such things are haram.”

  “What a shocker – Sharia Law mutant hypocrites,” Gus replied. “Is there any place in there to hide until you’re ready. We don’t see anything from your cam.”

  “Sorry. I needed to protect it from the weather. I’m not too crazy about hideaway places anyhow. I’ll put on my Kufiya and act like I’m working on the computer.” Nick moved around slowly while uncovering his cam.”

  “The desk faces the door,” Gus pointed out. “Why not hide behind it.”

  “Because then I can’t see what’s coming in. I’ll sit at it and look busy. Besides, I have to continually check the room. I pasted one of our wide-angle cams on the outer wall to watch our guests enter on my iPhone. I’m betting no one will come in here until all the participants arrive. I’ll be watching for Kalil exclusively. I don’t mind wiping out the rest of these terrorists, but I have to get that prick.”

  “Will you try to crack the computer in there, Muerto?”

  “I’d like to, Kabong, but we have no way of knowing who it’s networked with. I’m not blowing my chance to get Kalil, although it’s tempting as hell to have a peek. I’m signing off for a while and get a snooze before my big meeting.”

  “Only you could sleep at a time like this,” Gus replied. “Plug in your iPhone. We’ll take turns keeping watch on the conference room.”

  “It’s all yours.” Nick fixed his iPhone to monitor the conference room.

  “Perfect,” Johnny said. “Get some sleep. By the way, we’re monitoring the mystery explosion scene outside Fort Marcy Park.”

  “I love mysteries. Who do you guys think did it.”

  “Probably some weirdo in a mask,” Gus answered.

  “That’s just mean, Payaso.”

  * * *

  “That’s a lot of guys, Muerto.”

  “Yep, that is a fact, Payaso.” Nick launched into a Johnny Cash song. “I hear that train a comin’. It’s rollin’ round the bend. Oh my… look who just walked in. Kalil looks very dapper today. Thank you, Lord, he’s sitting at the middle, nearly across from the anteroom. That is so sweet. Well, boys, I have my plastic on, and I’m going to work.”

  Nick didn’t bother taking a deep breath or hesitating for an instant. He activated the ET-MP grenade, opened the door and rolled it under Kalil’s chair. Nick dropped flat at the back of the room after closing the door. The concussive force blew the door off its hinges. Nick scrambled to the door again before anyone still alive could react with anything other than screams. He pitched grenades under the conference table’s ends. Nick covered again as the potent grenades blew people to bits, along with furniture and walls. The ceiling collapsed. Nick entered the bomb site, firing his silenced MP5 at all bodies, moving in a counterclockwise manner around the conference table.

  Men ran into the room, only to be struck immediately by the number one assassin in the world. Short bursts ripped heads and chests until no one ran in. Nick then went to the entrance door. He threw three more ET-MP grenades in a spread pattern into the entryway. He caught at least a dozen guards by surprise as he glanced through the doorway before running for his anteroom. Nick could tell as he huddled in his spot at the room’s rear wall the entry had probably collapsed, by the huge shuddering crash after the explosive sounds diminished.

  Nick stripped off the plastic protective wear he wore, covering his entire body with his gloved hands in calm manner. The outfit prevented explosive and gunpowder residue from covering him. With his black suit, black overcoat, and white and black checked Kufiya, Nick rolled around in the dirt and debris outside the anteroom. Instead of taking his equipment bag, he pocketed the only grenade left along with the two remaining MP5 magazines, and his night-vision goggles. His overcoat incorporated a Velcro holder for his MP5. Nick buttoned one button on the coat and stuffed his bag amidst the bodies and blood. He paused a moment to add blood and body debris to his clothing, face, and Kufiyah.

  At the side door, he had gained entrance to the building at, Nick made sure the coast was clear before stumbling through the doorway convincingly like a walking wounded, muttering in Arabic. Sirens blared, lights flashed at the building front, and Nick spotted S.W.A.T teams converging on the building amidst fire and rescue squads. Crowds of people on the outskirts of the action cried out questioningly without answers.

  Nick continued his award-winning performance, even stumbling into one of the S.W.A.T. squads. One of the men gripped his arm, asking him who he was. Nick pointed to his ears and shook his head, still muttering in Arabic. The man nodded, guiding him over to an ambulance, where Nick sat on the emergency vehicle’s rear edge while an emergency medical tech tried valiantly to examine him. Nick fended her off, repeating ‘okay’ until she simply threw a blanket around him.

  Knowing the police would be questioning everyone who looked as if they had been in the building, Nick awaited his opportunity. While the EMTs moved in to be ready if the building was deemed safe to enter, Nick threw off the blanket. Threading into the crowd, speaking only in Arabic about the horror, and that he couldn’t hear, people moved away from his body and blood littered clothed apparition. He continued toward his car as the snowfall grew heavier. Having parked two miles away, Nick stayed close to the buildings as he walked. Police, rescue, and fire department squads passed him with wailing sirens and not even a glance. At the car, he had rented under his Roscoe Weatherby identity, Nick slipped the overcoat off. He folded it neatly in the trunk, taking care to reverse the inner lining to the outside. He used paper towels from the trunk to gather some snow to wipe his face clean, but kept his Kufiyah on.

  Only when he was driving slowly away in the deepening snow did he call his partner
s. “I’m on my way to the hotel room I rented. I’ll be there a day or so until I can drive safely to the military air base.”

  “It’s already hitting the news,” Gus said. “Get to your hotel quickly.”

  “I’m only six miles away. I didn’t want to be in a police dragnet area after they get done wandering around the crime scene. Keep me updated. I think it was a terrorist act, guys.”

  “I would agree with that assessment. How many dead?”

  “Leave Muerto alone, Payaso,” Johnny ordered. “We will hear the figure soon enough. You should hear the immediate man on the street questions about what people think. The answer, unless a Muslim is asked, is it’s a good start. Maybe people are finally tiring of being targets. The media of course blames white extremists. That is an insult.”

  Nick chuckled. “I’m wondering how they’ll explain suspected terrorist groups meeting together like this in a Sharia Law no-go zone. They’ll probably claim they were meeting to enact world peace. I will be incommunicado unless an emergency arises. I want updates only on protected gear, gentlemen.”

  “We’ll be waiting for the next phase,” Gus said. “You have our file of damning evidence on Gree and her staffers. If you can make a deal with Strickland and Stallings, Gree may plead out. I doubt it though. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye, guys,” Nick disconnected. At his hotel, he took off the head dressing and put on a black stocking cap, gathered his gear out of the trunk with overcoat, and went inside his room to stay. Time for some serious Diego adventure time.

  * * *

  Paul met Nick and Clyde at his door, shaking hands enthusiastically with both men. “Come in and have a taste with me gentlemen. You liven up my office with that uniform, Delta Dawn.”

  “Heard my new Lucas nickname, huh? Just a taste, Paul.” Nick sat down with Clyde at his side. “I need to talk with my two neighbors concerning a deal to crucify their boss.”