That hope increased exponentially when Paul Gilbrech called him with a request to read in on the Formsby investigation for a meeting with the President. He had been unable to find out everything CIA and the DOJ knew about Formsby’s operation. His being read in on the case for a formal Presidential meeting meant Gilbrech knew nothing about his involvement behind the scenes. Also, no one had bothered his man on the inside of the DOJ, Douglass Cameron. Collister now felt the removal of Gilbrech could not be done unless he found a way to get a prime scapegoat like McCarty to do it. With yet another botched attempt on his family, McCarty would be nearly impossible to approach. Sadun had been right about the Rashidi brothers. They were insane. Collister shook his head to clear thoughts of how close he had come to possibly being linked to the devastation of a bomb blast in a California coastal town.
He opened the door to a Delta Force Major, looking to be a lean six footer with grim visage, and stiff demeanor. His beret perfectly positioned with locked briefcase cuffed to his arm, the man exuded an uncompromising military bearing Collister hated. Behind the Major, stood another uniformed sergeant, equally precise in bearing and demeanor. The two of them saluted in sync. Collister waved them off. “Major Gibbons?”
“Yes Sir! Special envoy from CIA Director Paul Gilbrech, Sir!”
“Come in. Leave your man outside though.”
“Yes Sir!” Nick spun to face Bacall. “Sergeant Bacall. You will wait here at the door with National Security Adviser Collister’s man. I will be out shortly.”
Bacall saluted with perfect snap and flair, which ‘Major Gibbons’ returned. Inside the apartment, Collister waved the envoy over to a table cleared for the occasion. The briefcase was positioned facing Collister with the envoy turning studiously away. Collister entered the code, and opened the briefcase, noticing a slight oily residue on his right fingers. He took out the envelope marked as being highly classified documents.
“Please sign the top form inside the envelope, and place it inside the briefcase, Sir. That will acknowledge the file is now in your custody.
Collister did as requested, and shut the briefcase. The envoy grabbed the handle, shifting the briefcase to his side. “If there is nothing else, Sir, I will leave you to your duties.”
Collister nodded, happy to be soon rid of what he considered yet another arrogant uniformed puppet. He opened the apartment door, stepping aside for the envoy. “Thank you, Major.”
“Thank you, Sir. Please enjoy your evening, Sir.”
Collister shut the door, poured himself a Scotch, and sat down in his favorite recliner with stand next to it. He sipped the Scotch, noticing a slightly metallic flavor. A half hour later, with his drink gone, Collister began feeling hot. Sweat formed on his brow, and upper lip. He set aside the file he had been scanning. Pushing himself to a standing position from his chair, he felt a slight tightening in his chest, and a small bit of vertigo. Inside the kitchen area, Collister poured another Scotch, but added ice this time. After turning the thermostat down to sixty-eight degrees, he returned to his chair. This time when he sat down, a grainy vision of his room made him wipe at his eyes. They cleared for a moment. He gulped a large swallow of iced Scotch, set the glass down, and closed his eyes for the last time. The file fell from his hands to the floor, his last action a panicked grab at the falling file with a suddenly very numb feeling hand.
* * *
At the plane, Nick shook hands with Bacall. “Thanks for the lift. I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Not if I see you first.”
Nick chuckled. “You’ll do great, Agent J. Not everyone is cut out for this killer crap. Take my word for it. We’re damn lucky we have a CIA Director who knows we’re going to all be dead if we keep allowing these assholes to use our laws against us. The law was never meant to protect terrorists and traitors.”
“You still didn’t need to kill Carl.”
“Yeah… I did. I like you, Bacall. Please don’t speak of anything you have done here today, or acknowledge any part of it to anyone.”
“Or you’ll kill me?”
“Someone probably will,” Nick answered.
Bacall grabbed Nick’s arm as he turned to board the plane. “Would you take the sanction on me?”
Nick glanced around at Bacall with a grin. “Nope. They don’t send me after Snow Whites, kid. Be careful out there.”
Bacall watched Nick board the plane, his mouth tightening for a moment. He took a deep breath, and returned to the black SUV he had driven McCarty in to catch his private flight. Before driving on, he turned to his passenger. “Where would you like to go, Sir?”
“Take me home, Clyde,” Paul Gilbrech directed. “I could use a driver. Are you interested? It would mean some courier type work, and research.”
“Courier work like today’s delivery?”
“No. You won’t be doing anything like the courier work today again.”
“You seem to think a lot of McCarty, Sir.”
“Unless I send you with a file to be delivered to him in person, or to assist him behind the scenes, we won’t be speaking of Nick again. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Yes Sir. McCarty just seems like some dude you meet at a baseball game.”
“Last word on Nick. If I knew he was after me, I’d put a bullet in my own head.”
“I’ll take the job as driver, Sir,” Bacall said.
“I’m very happy to hear that, Clyde.” Gilbrech put the syringe in his hand away. “I need someone close to me I can trust implicitly as a driver, courier, and in certain situations, a bodyguard. I hope that person will be you, Clyde.”
“Yes Sir, I believe I can handle that.”
Chapter Ten
Road Trip
“Knock… knock!” After paying the cab driver, Nick called out to the house. Gus came out to greet him.
“You look real fine, Muerto. Did you keep the uniform on just for us?”
“I took a military flight back, so Paul thought it would be best to stay in uniform until I reached home,” Nick answered. “How are things here?”
“Dad!” Jean ran out to hug him with Rachel, Dan, and John trailing. She backed away after a moment while still holding onto his jacket. “Nice uniform… not as sharp as the Marines, but pretty good.”
“Thanks, snob.” Nick hugged and kissed Rachel. “Let’s go inside. I believe a small celebration is in order. I wrote nearly three thousand words on the plane in my new Diego adventure ‘Dark Interlude’, and I think all the leaky loose ends have been plugged. Paul will handle Douglas Cameron through the DOJ. Cameron doesn’t command anyone anyhow. His only connection is his Mommy the Senator from Maine. She won’t be happy with the black eye he’s about to give her all over DC. According to Paul, the DOJ is going to make sure Douglas will be the poster child for being blackmailed in public office.”
“We do have some news to share about the Salvatores,” Rachel said as the group locked the front, and went into the kitchen. “Neil called to tell us Salvatore was trying to find out where you were, saying he was a concerned friend of the family. Neil told him he thought you were in a safe place with your family until more is known about the assaults on our house.”
“Your lawyer checked in too,” Gus said. “He turned the DA’s office inside out over letting the Rashidi brothers loose without even calling you. He said he wants to talk with you anyway, but guarantees the Rashidis will not move an inch without all of us knowing about it for the rest of their lives.”
“Yes,” John added. “The Rashidis do not know it, but they had better get their prayer rugs out and petition Allah never to allow them out of prison. El Kabong wishes to be on hand with his Unholy Trio brothers Payaso and Muerto if they ever do get free.”
Nick busily passed out beers and shots to his Unholy Trio brethren. Jean received a soda while sitting on the edge of her seat, hoping for more in roads into the very strange and dangerous existence she was part of. Rachel wanted only ice water. Nick considered wh
at he’d heard while hanging his uniform coat and beret on his chair. He drank half his beer before speaking, following the thirst quenching with half of his shot.
“Oh my… that was good. Yes, Brother John, there will be no court dates for the unfortunate Rashidi brothers should they ever see the light of day. I hope Neil wasn’t caught in the pounding on the DA’s office, but that had to be done. I did manage to question Sadun about Phil Salvatore. The name meant nothing to him, so I’m figuring Paul’s right about him being a dupe of Collister, trying to be an undercover agent. He was an easy target for Collister to use because of Salvatore’s ties with Pettinger. Tomorrow morning will be an interesting journey into the news coming out of DC.”
“How did it go in reality?”
“Very well, Rach. I had a little trouble with one of Paul’s minions, but we worked it out, and Paul will make sure he stays on our side. Collister was pretty much what I expected, and we delivered the file to him. Flying to and from DC in one day does not make me happy. Not having to worry about that guy in the position he’s in raining terrorists and assassins down on me, definitely improves my mental outlook considerably to make up for the air flights.”
“You’re in a good position now to move on the Washington gig,” Gus said. “This is perfect timing to leave the area for a while. By the time we get back, the hotplate will have cooled down. John and I also emptied out our storage unit while Dan watched the house. It was a beautiful day on the ocean too, Right John?”
“Oh yes, Payaso… it was simply wonderful. Payaso sped out of the Bay at a pace guaranteed to make a dolphin throw up.” John finished his shot and beer as he shook his head at the sea cruise he had been forced to make. “I refuse to go on any more voyages with Captain Hook.”
After much enjoyment of John’s less than shining review of his day at sea with Gus, Nick turned to Dan. “We haven’t seen you for a few days, Dan. Was it a problem for you coming to the Valley for the day?”
“Oh hell no. I was just moping around, trying to give you guys a break from the Geezer. I know you’re heading to Washington soon. I visited with my kids, and stayed out of trouble by doing all the crap I should have done on the house a long time ago. When I heard about the bombs being placed on the Muerto homestead, I began to wonder about your more open endeavors lately. Do you really think you have a handle on it now, Nick?”
“I believe so. Did Gus tell you about the unfortunate US Marshal adlib I had to do?”
Dan chuckled. “Yeah, he did. I could picture Grace Slick curling into the back of that SUV to go sleepy-time.”
“Oh, she was thrilled,” Nick replied. “Hey… I didn’t have to nick either one of them to make it look good. I should have sent Jean to bed before I asked you about it.”
“The sneak eavesdropped on the conversation already,” Rachel explained. “Unless we’re going to tie a bell around her neck, there’s not much we can do about her. I’ve thought of getting one of those perimeter collars, like they have for dogs. We can set it to zap her the moment she leaves her room.”
“Mom!” When she noticed everyone else was laughing, Jean relaxed, pointing a warning finger at Rachel.
“Don’t point that thing at me. Deke’s lying on his mat out in the yard. I can smack you around like a red headed stepchild without intervention.”
Jean dropped her hand comically the moment she noticed her canine protector was absent. “Uh… no fair. You can’t mark me up before the dance tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll mark you, and then cancel your dance engagement. No blood, no foul.”
“Dad hurried everything so he could chaperone at the dance,” Jean replied with some smugness. “No way he allows the Momster to ruin our day together.”
“I’ll give you a Momster!”
Nick watched the ensuing race around the table, but intervened by grabbing the Momster. “I’m sorry, Momster, but I’d rather keep you out of the emergency room tonight. We’ll do what we always do when the Daughter of Darkness acts against your wishes.”
“Heh… heh… yes! We will collect all electrical gadgets for a week!”
Jean gasped. “Nooooooooo… you’re kidding, right? That’s not funny, Momster. I have to check in with my peeps during and after the dance! I’ll be exiled to uncool land where outcasts go to be tortured and ridiculed for their entire lives.”
Jean giggled as her list of passionate protests and punishment drew wild amusement even from the Momster. Nick poured his partners another beverage along with getting them another beer.
“I have to admit, Daughter of Darkness’s vocabulary is very impressive, Momster,” Nick said. “Were you thinking about going to the dance too?”
Rachel bowed her head, slowly shaking it as if in anguish. “I have been exiled from the dance by The Daughter of Darkness who fears my girth and possible water breaking on the gym floor are too horrifying as possibilities to allow me to accompany you. She would rather I didn’t become a biology lesson in the midst of her dancing elves.”
“Is that true, Dagger? Are you really sacrificing your Mom’s attendance at your first dance for fear of embarrassment? I am shocked,” Nick said.
“Oh come on. Boo hoo.” Jean was not falling for the martyr cloak being thrown over her head. “You’ll take movies, and we’ll all watch them later on TV and laugh. Mom knows she doesn’t want to pop Quinn out on the gym floor in front of a bunch of preteens, some who will be laughing while others are throwing up.”
Rachel shrugged. “She’s right, Nick. Take movies. It would be just my luck to have exactly what she described happen. Then not only would I become the subject of ridicule, but I’d have to listen to her chanting ‘told you so’ until Quinn graduates from high school. Every time she’d get mad at him, Jean would be saying ‘yeah, well at least I wasn’t born on the gym floor next to the dirty tennis shoes’.”
“After listening to your acceptance speech of possible retribution, I’m beginning to understand where she gets those dark thoughts,” Nick replied.
“Guilty,” Rachel admitted. “She’s like a clone of the way I was. I’m glad we were so involved in staying alive while visiting down South with my Mom that Jean didn’t get to hear about all my adventures torturing her Grandma Mona while growing up. Okay, I’m tiring a bit, so this is last call. Finish your drinks, and let’s hit the road you lushes. Jean and I have our bags packed in the Ford already. We’ll leave John all alone again, and sleep in our own beds tonight. Put on your coat and beret, soldier. The Momster wants to have a military escort tonight.
“Hey… kid here,” Jean objected. “That’s enough of the X-rated promos.”
Jean didn’t move fast enough to avoid the Momster ear hold. “Oh sure, now you’re a kid. Being in on murder and mayhem is old hat, but suddenly your precious sense of decency is in danger over the mere mention of adults loving one another, huh?”
Jean yelped as the Momster shook her ear a bit. “I…I need that ear for the dance, Momster! G.I. Joe! A little help here!”
Dan stood, while motioning to Gus, as negotiations went on between Momster and the Daughter of Darkness. “C’mon Payaso, throw the rest of your drink down. You’ll need it with the Momster driving your new Ford home.”
“God help me,” Gus said. “John, get my blindfold.”
That was enough for the Momster to switch targets with Nick enjoying the whole show while never moving from his spot. “Oh… you did not just insult my driving skills, Geezer! I haven’t had a ticket in decades!”
“The police can’t be everywhere,” Dan replied. “Let’s go, Nick, before the Momster makes a play for my ear next.”
“Keep talkin’, and you’ll be riding on the end of a chain at the back of the Ford into Pacific Grove,” Rachel warned. “What are you laughin’ at, soldier boy? Get that coat and beret on.”
“We better do as she says,” Nick stated, putting a guiding arm around Jean’s shoulders. “It’s been a long day. I’d like to go on our balcony deck, and have a
beer with my buddy, Deke.”
“We’ll see about that,” Momster said.
* * *
Gus’s smirks as they walked Jean to school finally provoked an accounting from Nick. “Okay, what has your mouth twisted in that annoying way of yours this morning.”
“Seeing you, natural as can be, on the usual morning walk after Rachel’s very humorous explosion last night. Did you finally get her talking coherently?”
“She was fine. The Momster and Daughter of Darkness have to fry each other’s bacon two or three times a week. I usually miss a couple episodes. Rach has been confrontational. I believe it’s her hormones and pregnancy. I think she’s funny. I play along if I’m not in danger of getting a fry pan to the back of my head.”
“That sounds like a dangerous game. Speaking of dangerous games are you going in to see Dickerson this morning?”
“I called Justin last night. He says I’m square with the police, and the DA’s office has the real Homeland Security/FBI guys breathing down their necks for letting the Rashidis go in the first place. They’re taking over the investigation into those three shooters with fake FBI ID’s too. That one is solved with the death of Collister. Once they go into his place, and do the usual scouring for data a National Security Advisor’s death would warrant, there may be a quiet storm in DC. I like our chances of moving on to Washington by next week. I plan on ignoring Salvatore. He’ll have a hard time getting any job in DC with Collister gone.”
“Sounds like yet another reason for him to be bitter,” Gus pointed out. “I didn’t think you’d care much for a guy watching you like he’s doing.”
“I didn’t say I wanted to be his BFF. If I ignore him, what the hell harm can he cause? He won’t have anyone to report to anyway. Jean and I like his kid.” Nick paused as Gus began chuckling. “Yeah, I know, I’m getting careless again just when we’ve taken care of some bad problems. Is John meeting us at the beach today? I guess he can pounce on me too.”
Bloody Shadows Page 21