“It looks like the news hasn’t hit,” Nick said. “I’m wondering if Homeland Security arrived, and put a clamp on everything to do with last night.”
“I wouldn’t blame them for doing so,” Gus replied. “I assume they have the Rashidi’s in the interrogation rooms this morning. There’s no doubt in my mind those pricks lawyered up the moment they entered the station. Too bad we couldn’t get them down in the Valley for a chat with your theme music playing.”
“I could tell last night those two would be begging me to let them talk inside of ten minutes. They’ll be wasting their time trying to question that arrogant asshole, Habib. He’s probably having his lawyer cite religious persecution as the reason he was arrested while planting bombs. I wish they’d let both of them go. I’d fit them into my schedule. I got caught relying on plain old naked luck last night. I’ll be glad when we take care of Sadun, and get the hell out of town for a while. I think we need to let our home base cool off for a while. It’s getting toxic, and I don’t like it.”
“What would you have done differently though?”
“Put the Rashidis through the CIA database wringer. If they’re only idiots, then so be it. If I find a link I shouldn’t have missed, then I have to file that one away as a blessing I probably won’t see again. I’ll take my satellite laptop special down to the beach today. We’ll conference with John, and I’ll do what I should have done before I had bombs planted on my house. Rachel’s walking with us. I’ll check in with the Marshals, and my lawyer. He’ll be getting into his office about the time we get to the beach.”
“Want to tell me about your lawyer?”
“Khole defended a killer in Sacramento. As I told you, he’s one of the best criminal attorneys in the country. Justin believed the accused killer was being framed. This Carter Mulligan guy moved down from Oregon. He worked construction in and around Sacramento. A woman was raped and murdered who had been seen with Mulligan at a bar the night she was murdered – no DNA, or anything tying Mulligan to the murder. The cops knew they had the right guy, but couldn’t prove it. Mulligan fooled Justin right out of the gate. He told me he’d handled a lot of liars, but none as accomplished as Mulligan. Khole convinced him to take a lie detector test which he passed with flying colors. The DA had no choice with what they had for evidence but to let him go. If it had ended there, we wouldn’t be talking about my friend Khole.”
A car came up one of the streets running perpendicular to their route, and both men turned, putting hands on weapons because of the engine roar. When it passed, Nick went on. “Part of the problem was the cops didn’t have a DNA sample for Mulligan. They couldn’t trick or obtain it from Mulligan without evidence, and he refused any cooperation, playing the outrage card. Khole got him released before the cops were able to get a court order. Then, one of Justin’s law clerks stumbled on the fact Mulligan never existed until five years prior to the Sacramento murder. My buddy didn’t want to drop an actual killer on the street, because he got stupid. Justin invited Mulligan in to sign papers, treated him like a king, and then sent the DNA sample from his coffee cup to be tested by a private firm.”
“Be careful about curiosity, huh?”
“And then some, Gus. Justin turned the report over to a friend in the DA’s office. The very next morning, he had Sacramento police swarming his office there. Mulligan was in the wind, but not before linking him to four kidnapping, rape, and murder cases in Maine. Mulligan’s real name was Seth Darboe. Then the FBI was called in because of the serial kidnapping, and across state lines business. I have to hand it to Justin. He was no dummy. He knew the police and FBI would swarm around like a hive of African bees, but do nothing other than launch into a massive circle jerk. Justin put his wife and two daughters in hiding. Then he went looking for someone to handle Darboe. It turned out Justin defended an old service buddy of mine, Jake Watterston. Jake knows a lot about me, and Justin had defended him successfully on a counterfeit ID charge. Jake has my personal mail drop. I was between jobs, writing the third Diego novel. Since there was a lawyer playing a large role in my novel, I thought it would be a kick to get involved with Justin.”
“I stopped thinking about it as a humorous endeavor when I found out the facts. I know we joke about me being a serial killer, which is true, but I don’t kidnap, rape, mutilate, and murder innocent young women.”
“True, although you kidnap, mutilate, and murder many other not so innocent people, hence my point about you being a serial killer, Muerto.”
“Oh good, thank you for clearing that up, Payaso.”
“Go on with your story.”
“No. You’ve hurt my feelings, Payaso.”
“You don’t have feelings, Muerto.”
“True. Where was I when you insulted me? Oh yes… I looked into this Darboe guy. I didn’t like what I found. After meeting with Justin, I sent him into hiding with his family, but showed him in detail how to not be found. He thought I was sending him into hiding for years. I found Darboe in three days. He crossed the country to Maine again, where he had old connections. Seth had a drink at an old hangout in Bangor one night, left at closing, and disappeared. I told Justin that although there would be a nationwide manhunt ongoing for Seth, it was a formality, but to accept any police protection offered to keep our forces of justice busy. He reads all my novels, and we get together a few times a year when he’s in his Salinas office.”
“That story doesn’t sound like the pre-Rachel, Jean, and Deke Nick.”
“I’ve told you before I take risks occasionally when I meet someone real. If not for Paul, I would have never taken on his Marine buddy who was avenging his niece’s death. I knew if he was let in on the details he’d screw me. That is not the case with my lawyer buddy. He never calls me. He never writes me. He posts a short blurb on my mail drop that he’ll be in Salinas, and what time. That’s the other plus sign about a guy like him. He knows I hunted down, murdered, and made disappear a serial killer no one else could handle. Yet he still likes having lunch with me, never mentions what I do, and always wants to talk about the novels.”
“So what are you going to ask him to do for you?”
“Poke a stick into our DA’s office, and find out the details behind the scenes as to how a set of brothers capable of blowing people to hell and gone get to walk out of lockup without a single word to the civilian they have a grudge against. Justin annoys the hell out of people when he wants to, but he does so with a professional flair. I want a face and identity without my having to get it personally. Justin will get it.”
Gus pointed ahead as Deke stiffened. “It looks like you have federal company already. Heh… heh… they actually think Rachel will open the door to chat with them.”
“Rach hasn’t called, so she’s seen them on the security monitor and decided to ignore them. She’s seen enough frauds to know taking a chance on opening the door to strangers is a bad idea in my household.”
“So, you think they’re frauds?”
“Take Deke. I’ll let you know.”
The two men in suits on Nick’s porch turned, saw Nick, and went for their weapons. Nick’s .45 caliber hollow points, pulped their heads before they could do more than begin to draw. “Get Deke down behind the tree, Gus!”
Nick turned in a crouch to the black SUV parked in front of his house, which started, and shot forward. Nick put four rounds into the area of the tinted windshield where the driver would be. The engine idled forward with wheels turned into the curb. Nick ran to the door, and shot into the driver’s head once more. In seconds he was inside, checking for other gunmen, while reaching behind him to turn off the engine. He backed out, set the parking brake, and ran to his porch. There was no doubt the two men on the porch were dead.
Nick used his iPhone to take pictures of both men, and his portable fingerprint digital ID app to quickly gather fingerprints. He ran to the van, and repeated the process before sending evidence on to Paul Gilbrech. Nick then called inside.
�
�Hi honey. No beach today. Road trip.”
“How many, Nick?”
“Three. Did they try to get in, showing ID’s.”
“Yep, and they looked real good. I didn’t like the looks of the one with glasses, not that I would have opened the door anyway after having bombs attached to the house last night. Someone put a contract out on you, didn’t they?”
“Affirmative,” Nick looked at the faceless men. “Uh… what color suit did the one with glasses have on, dark blue?”
“No, black.”
“Thanks, pack some things. We’re moving into the Valley house for a while. I’m afraid Jean will have to miss a little more school than we figured.”
“On it. Want me to take Deke?”
“Yeah. I’ll let him in, and then I’m going with Gus to collect Jean from school. I hear sirens, so I better go get Deke inside before they get here, and declare a crime scene. Oh… good, here’s Gus and Deke now.”
Nick turned off the security system, opened the door, and reached down to where Gus stood holding out the leash. Nick picked up Deke, and slipped him into the house, and reengaged the security system. “Hell of a start to the day, huh, Deke. See you in a little while.”
Nick then backed carefully off his blood and brain spattered porch. He glared at Gus. “Well, Payaso, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten me into.”
“Yeah, Muerto. I’ll go watch the school until you get free of the cops. You’ll be coming to get Jean, right?”
“Yep. Call John. Tell him he’s going to have house guests. He’ll be getting ready to come to the beach anyway. Better get moving, Payaso. Those sirens are sounding close.”
“Be seeing you, Muerto. Like you told Deke. Hell of a start.”
Nick placed his .45 caliber Colt on the porch, pushing it away from him. He then called Paul Gilbrech. The moment Gilbrech answered, Nick briefed him on the prior night, and morning’s adventure. “No, I don’t know how much is connected, but this porch assassination attempt was the real deal. Someone put out a contract on me. I’m betting it’s related to Formsby. The police are driving up now. I have to go Paul.”
“I received the pictures and fingerprints. I’m pulling strings right the hell now, Nick. Get your family safe, and I’ll find some answers. I saw the lawyer on the news. That was one cold piece of work. Are you still planning on the Marshal end of it?”
“I sure am. Thanks, Paul. Talk to you later.”
“Indeed.”
Nick put away his phone, and laced his hands behind his head. He took a deep breath. It was Dickerson and his partner. “Hi Neil. Hi Trina. It’s cool this morning, huh?”
Dickerson stared at the porch scene in silence before turning to his partner. “Call the meat wagon, Trina, and the coroner. I guess we’d better alert those Bureau guys who moved into our office over last night’s party at Nick’s house too.”
“Do…do you want me to cuff Nick?”
“There’s no need. If he was a danger to us, we’d already be dead. Go make the calls, partner.” Dickerson waited until Trina returned to the squad car. He sat down next to Nick. “I won’t say anything so inherently stupid that you’ll give me the silent treatment, but do you know if last night and this morning are connected?”
Nick had already made a decision about Dickerson. “I’m not much on coincidence, but I didn’t get a chance to investigate the Rashidi brothers this morning as I planned. I’ll let you in on this part. My other boss at CIA with the title of Director will be calling in some favors. He’s worried about this series of events too. I don’t want you thinking I’m sitting around with my thumb up my ass. There’s no use in playing this charade game with you, Neil. I work for the CIA, the Department of Justice, and the US Marshals. I also have FBI credentials. Yes, part of what I do is consult. The other part would not do you any good to know about. We have some very big problems involving national security that we’re trying to solve. I believe you’ll find the Bureau agents sent for the Rashidis have been briefed to some extent.”
“You’re right about that,” Dickerson admitted. “I offered to bring them over to meet you this morning, but they told me it wouldn’t be necessary, and took the Rasidis. I already know the Director of the CIA takes your calls. Tell me how this went down.”
Nick explained what happened, and how quickly. “Rachel knows what I do. After last night, there was no way she’d ever open the door to anyone. The moment those guys noticed me, they went for the guns. Their getaway driver is in the van wheeled against the curb. Right now, that’s all I know. If it’s just you and Trina, why not give me a pair of gloves, and let me see what their ID’s look like. Rachel said they flashed some very impressive ones.”
Dickerson nodded. He stood, and handed him a pair of Nitrile gloves. He retrieved Nick’s Colt from the porch. “Here. I normally would have to take it, but what’s the use. I know where it will be, and what it was used for. I’ll let you know if anything is requested, like turning it in.”
“Thanks.” Nick holstered his Colt. “I do write novels, Neil.”
“So I hear, Castle. I can’t even call you that anymore. That writer pussy on TV doesn’t do this type of work,” Dickerson said while searching the man Rachel told Nick she hadn’t trusted.
“I liked that guy in ‘Serenity’, but he let his weight balloon up, and his part is kind of wimpy, like he sits down to pee.” Nick went through the blue suited man’s pockets, smiling at Dickerson’s enjoyment of his backhand putdown of the ‘Castle’ TV show star.”
Nick inspected the FBI ID and wallet he found. No other hint of the man’s identity was on his person. “This is very good. I would have probably opened the door to this guy.”
“His buddy has a good one too. I guess it would be racist to note they look Middle Eastern in nationality, although the holes in their heads make it a little tougher to determine anything for sure. My question would be why didn’t they try to play it out as FBI agents until you moved closer?”
“Frankly, I think they have a shoot on sight order, and they figured I’d hesitate. They figured wrong. Also, they planned to ambush me inside the house using Rachel, I’m sure. If they had gotten in the house, there would have been a bloody shootout inside. Why they had a shoot on sight order is the more important question. I need to get Rachel and Jean somewhere safe, and do some research in conjunction with my boss. I know you’ll be here a while. Do you mind if I go collect Jean from school? I need to move her and Rachel out of here.”
“Go ahead, but keep your phone near at hand, Nick.”
“I will.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Nick explained some of what was going on to Dimah Kader in the school hallway, stressing the urgency of the danger. “I know how weird this all sounds. I will keep Jean in good shape academically, but for now I need to protect her physically. Until the threat passes I have to keep Jean with me.”
“That is horrible! Of course you must keep Jean safe. I’ll bring her out to you.” Kader went into the classroom to help Jean gather her belongings, leaving Nick thankful for someone not interested in playing twenty questions.
In their vehicle returning home, after sending Gus ahead to the Carmel Valley house, Nick explained what had happened the best he could. Jean listened intently, perceiving far more than a normal nine year old. “I bet you’re glad Mom made you get this Grand Caravan with all the cargo room. Do you have the Escalade in Las Vegas now?”
“Yep.”
“You should trade in your old Chevy Malibu for one of those special James Bond cars.”
“Yeah, that’s what I need, a James Bond car, just in time for Quinn’s baby seat.”
Jean giggled. “He’ll be fine. We’ll put little sunglasses and a turned around baseball cap on him, and he’ll be rockin’ it.”
“Hey… your brother isn’t a little Mr. Potato Head to try different accoutrements out on.”
“Sure he is. I’m getting him a mustache and different plastic noses, and ears
. He’ll learn how to deal with pain too. Those things will probably hurt when we slam them into place.”
Nick tried to hold onto a look of outraged horror, but lost control in seconds. After many moments, he finally said something decipherable. “You do know if you repeat anything you just said in front of your Mom, the police will be dredging the water for your body, right?”
“I know. The Momster has no sense of humor right now… absolutely none. Did you forget something when planning to escape with us to a safe-house?”
Nick sighed. “No, I didn’t forget about volunteering to chaperone your dance on Friday. Despite multiple attempts on my life, and bombs attached to my house, I know better than to use my real life danger to wiggle out of your dance.”
“Good. Just checking. Sonny is going to be there. I’ll make him dance with me. He says he can’t dance, but I remembered your story. He’s not escaping to the wall of shame like you did.”
“Playing hard to get, huh?”
“I can’t let him become a hopeless wallflower like you. In any case, you have to take care of business before Friday.”
“You do know today is Wednesday, right?”
“Yep. Get busy.” Jean crossed her arms, leaning against the seat. “Wow, look at all the people and yellow tape. I’m beginning to lose hope for my dance.”
“Don’t give up hope yet, Dagger. I’ll be working on solutions the moment I get you, Deke, and the Momster into the Valley house with John. My friend at CIA is looking into this personally for me, and I haven’t begun to check on the threads I’ve already found.” Nick drove around the block, opened the garage remotely, and drove inside.
“Stay here for a moment while I talk with these approaching suits.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Nick met Dickerson and the two men he figured were federal agents with his hands in plain sight. He held out his hand. “I’m Nick McCarty. Sergeant Dickerson was kind enough to allow me to bring my daughter Jean home from school.”
Bloody Shadows Page 18