“I have it. We’ll be with you in a couple minutes. You’re lucky the ventilation is still working in here.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Nick lied. He bopped the sobbing Yuri on the forehead. “You should have had a V8, Yuri. Okay… calm down and tell me the combination.”
Nick passed Gus and John on the way out with Malik’s briefcase and metal containment case. “I’m opening the safe. Don’t take whiney down until I see if he gave me the right combination. By the way, get your uniforms on they’re in the bag Gus has in his hand. The Unholy Trio strikes again! For now… El Muerto… away!”
Nick danced out of the door with Gus waving a fist at him. “You’re damn lucky I don’t have your Giants cap with me!”
Nick returned with his pack bulging. “Oh my. This has been a profitable assault. Get my buddy Yuri down while I become El Muerto. We’ll film the ending to our mission, and get the hell out of here. I called Paul, and told him to give us a two hour window. He knows about the lab. I left Malik’s gear inside the door of the lab. Yuri, my hanging man, tell me what all this buildup is for. What the hell are you guys training to attack?”
Yuri sobbed nonstop now, unable to endure any position on the chain. “We have not… received our orders for anything. Please… I’m telling you the truth! The safe opened, did it not? Let me down!”
“He is telling the truth. We know you will kill us. What happens now matters little. We are dead men,” Malik said. “We won’t be receiving orders for another month, because of delays in the East from strikes on our cells there.”
“That fits.” Nick went over and lifted Yuri off the hook. “I liked the contents of your safe, Yuri. Very nice.”
John took charge of Yuri with rough enthusiasm.
“We could just skip the cartoon movie, Muerto.”
“No, we could skip your birthday, Payaso. We can’t skip the video. Duct tape Yuri next to Malik while I arrange the camera.”
Ten minutes later, the Unholy Trio in full costume hovered around Malik and Yuri with camera recording. Both men had their mouths duct taped shut, but their eyes reflected the terror of their situation more effectively than any words. Nick as El Muerto with both mask and cape strode in front of the camera. Gus and John stood in the shadows behind their prisoners with arms folded over chests. Nick positioned a light so Gus’s clown mask, and John’s eerily highlighted El Kabong mask glowed in the darkened room.
“This is El Muerto! The Unholy Trio of El Muerto, the dangerous Payaso, and the deadly El Kabong struck early this morning to obliterate another small army of saboteurs, hell bent on the destruction of America! They worked right here in our own country, stockpiling weapons underground like jackals, experimenting with biological weapons, and training guerilla soldiers. The Unholy Trio killed them all, except for these two. El Kabong infiltrated this deadly cell, and was nearly tortured to death. He will deliver the end to these two saboteurs. Our hallowed government agencies will be directed to this site so all cleanup of hazardous materials can be done.”
Nick stepped aside, gesturing at John. “Take out these last two in cruel and horrific form, El Kabong, so that our enemy knows we will not hesitate to match their brutality!”
John immediately slit the throats of Yuri and Malik, their arterial blood spraying in horrific fashion. The chairs they were duct taped to crashed to the floor and splintered under the violence of the men’s death throes. Nick moved in front of the camera once again, pumping his fist.
“Death to the enemies of America! Beware the Unholy Trio! We are everywhere!”
Gus walked around to turn off the camera. “Well, Muerto, that was a ghastly movie, especially when you edit in the exploding burial of over twenty men in there, coupled with your find in the lab, and weapons room. Even you must be satiated after this adventure.”
“Less talk and more packing, Payaso,” Nick said while stuffing his costume into the equipment bag. “I should take some of the hardware in that damn weapons room, but I don’t want anything traceable with us by error. That bio lab is a bad thing. If these assholes are building bio weapons stockpiles in these supposed privately innocent ‘Muslim Communities’, we are in trouble. This one was a secret underground seed of destruction. Think about these bozos building labs under Mosques, using them as shields as they did to kill our soldiers overseas.”
“That is why this strike was so important,” John added. He followed Nick and Gus into the corridor. “They believe they are untouchable. We at least put doubt into their minds, and our video will make their heads explode.”
“Right you are, Kabong,” Nick replied. “The government doesn’t allow the kids we’re sending overseas to die in some sand toilet to fight a war, so we’ll have to give the enemy small glimpses of what will happen when we finally do decide to fight this like a war.”
“If we ever do,” Gus said. “Do something about your people, Kabong.”
“I did. You were standing next to me during the video. It is embarrassing to admit this to two infidels, but my people are not peaceful religious followers of Allah. We have been third world, small minded monsters for centuries. We breed like rabbits, and refuse to assimilate into any culture other than murderous Sharia Law driven kingdoms of death. You infidels are doomed.”
“He’s right, Muerto.”
Nick grinned. “I just thought of an idea how we can combat this plague Kabong speaks of. I’m starting my own backfire with Pacific Grove as the fire line.”
“This is going to be good, Kabong.” Gus threw his bag of equipment inside the GMC. “Spit it out, oh oracle of death.”
“Dimah Kader has a cousin escaping the East Coast wing of the crazy Kader family. She asked me to help. I will introduce the cousin to our suave, sophisticated, and deadly El Kabong. They will fall in love, marry, and have so many children raised as likeminded Kabongs, the Islamists, who are dumber than a bag of rocks anyway, won’t stand a chance. We will have Kabong Law instead of Sharia.”
“Did you let Muerto run around without his gas mask on, Kabong?”
“I would hear more of this cousin, Payaso. I did not know you had a hidden skill as a matchmaker, Muerto.”
Nick shut the rear hatch after throwing his pack and equipment bag in the back. “Muerto has many skills, Kabong. You ride shotgun next to the doubtful Payaso. He doubts the skill of El Muerto until he sees with his own eyes the skillful conclusion of yet another Muerto miracle.”
“Great. He’s launched into third person El Muerto again. Hand me the Giants cap out of the glove compartment, Kabong.”
“I won’t kill you, Payaso, but I will shoot your kneecap off,” Nick warned.
John passed the Giants baseball cap over his shoulder to Nick, enjoying the interaction, some of his celebratory feelings due to still being alive. “You were not joking about the cousin, right Muerto?”
“Nope. We may have to cull a few of your in-laws out of the herd, but other than that, we should have you married off in less than six months. You don’t want a long engagement, do you?”
“I trust your judgement in all things, El Muerto.”
“El Muerto is definitely promoting you from minion to sidekick, Kabong. Payaso has disrespected the compassionate matchmaker, El Muerto, once too often. He is as of this moment reduced in rank to minion of El Muerto.”
Gus made gagging noises as he steered onto the highway toward the Lodge. “Oh barf!”
“Don’t be hatin’, Payaso.”
* * *
Nick woke at 10 am, grateful Rachel had shielded any sleep intervention by either Jean or Deke. Five hours sleep felt like heaven, especially with everything of a violent nature taken care of, and days before his book signings. He got out of bed, and right into the shower. Although he had taken one earlier in the morning, Nick thought he could still smell cordite and death. He had sealed his outer clothing in a garbage bag, as had Gus and John before splitting apart for the morning. John was to get checked into a suite and meet with his Unh
oly Trio companions, and Dan in the bar at 11 am. After a shave and shower, Nick felt as if he could write all day, and into the night, but he knew that would never happen. His best chance would be a 10 pm night, and then a 4 am date with Diego’s ‘Dark Interlude’ adventure. Rachel stuck her head in the bathroom door.
“The gentleman and lady from the plane are here to see you. I banished them from the room three hours ago when they were set to invade. Shall I tell them to hit the road again?”
Nick walked to the door, and gripped his wife’s hand. “Thanks for that, babe. I’ll take the meeting with a bit of the Irish if that’s okay with you.”
“With as steamed as the guy is, I think that’s a great idea. I’ll make it for you.”
Nick kissed her – a long, lingering, meeting of lips and souls. “You are the best.”
“Don’t you forget it, Muerto,” Rachel replied, closing the door.
Moments later, Nick came out of the bedroom with his tennis shoes, jeans, and black t-shirt on. Robyn MacEachern and Clyde Bacall sat at the suite’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. Rachel put his doctored coffee in front of him as he sat down, placing his iPhone in front of him. Deke ran over to jump on his lap for a hug. Jean followed Deke with a heartfelt hug.
“I’m glad you’re back safe, Dad,” Jean whispered. “You won’t have to kill these two, will you?”
“Nope. Are you and your Mom taking Deke for a walk in the countryside?”
“Yeah, we figured to leave you some sorting out time. They really do have a great indoor waterpark. I want us all to go together this afternoon around one, okay?”
“It’s a date, Dagger. Can you talk Momma into putting on a bathing suit?”
Jean giggled as Rachel gasped. “Yep. She has a special tent for swimming.”
“We’d better walk Deke before I start smashing electronics gear,” Rachel said, grabbing Jean by the back of the neck, causing the Daughter of Darkness to hunch her shoulders comically for Nick’s appreciation. “We’ll be back to break up the meeting soon.”
“Okay, Hon.” Nick sipped his Irish coffee with relish, the at least two shots Rachel had doctored it with shooting right down to his toes. After a second long sip, Nick put down the cup, and smiled at his guests. “How we doin’ this morning, kids?”
Robyn smiled back. “You certainly took Clyde and I out of the picture, and considering what the team found there this morning, I’m glad you did. We are so screwed.”
“That was our take on it too, Robyn,” Nick replied. “We’re allowing this infiltration to reach the point of suicide. From what I’ve seen on the East Coast, we’re constantly playing a deadly game of catch up.”
“What would you suggest, McCarty, exterminate all Muslims?”
“I have a Muslim working with me, infiltrating these nests, idiot. He knows how dangerous it is allowing ‘No-Go’ Muslim zones like the Europeans do, where anything can be stockpiled without fear of discovery.”
“He’s right, Clyde. This is war. We have to fight it with our hands tied behind our backs,” MacEachern added. “The other side took heavy casualties. Boo hoo.”
“Did you see that video he made? That was obscene! It makes us no better than they are.”
“If you believe that, you’re too stupid to be in this business, Clyde. We were much better. That was our side with the knife in the video. I’m not debating this with you. I thought you had promise. I’m beginning to think you’re more of a liability than an asset. I hope you keep your mouth shut, Clyde, and do everything Paul tells you to without hesitation or comment. Otherwise, I don’t like your chances of staying in government service.”
Nick stood. He reached out and shook hands with MacEachern. “Pleasure meeting you, Robyn. Anytime we need a hand here in the Northwest, I’ll give you a call. Thanks for the Lodge setting. It’s beautiful.”
She held out a card, and Nick took it. “That’s my private number. You call, and I’ll help in any way you need, on the books or off.”
“I appreciate that.”
“No problem. Thanks for freeing me from the book tour deal. It’s not exactly my line of work. I feel the same way as you do about this ridiculous ‘War on Terror’ they claim we’re fighting. If you need an extra hand in my neighborhood, don’t hesitate to call. Bye Nick, bye Clyde.” MacEachern walked to the door.
Bacall gave her a wave, but stayed silent.
“Bye Robyn,” Nick said. “You and I have nothing further to say to one another, Clyde. If we need you, I’ll call. Don’t forget to keep your mouth shut about all of this. Let the story play out. With what they found in that lab, there will be plenty of cover for us all.”
Bacall stood, pushing his chair back with his rage on a short leash. Nick grinned. “Don’t say anything that I have to cut your Adam’s apple out for, Clyde. Get out, and have yourself a good day, alive and well.”
Bacall left without another word. When Nick heard the door slam shut, he slipped his stiletto inside his front jeans pocket again. He sat down, enjoying his still warm Irish coffee. Nick called Paul Gilbrech.
“I didn’t expect to hear from you this early. I just had a short call from your protégé, Clyde though,” Gilbrech joked with Nick.
“Good one. You may have been right about Clyde. I’m trying to keep him alive, but he’s not helping. How’s everything looking from your viewpoint in DC?”
“Fabulous for the Republic, but not so good for the ‘Terrorists just need jobs’ crowd. They were a bit shocked by the video you cartoons filmed. It went viral in an hour. YouTube knocked it off, but it was pirated with our help to hundreds of outlets worldwide. The Middle East is on fire with indignation and outrage. In America, they want to give the Unholy Trio a tickertape parade. People are sick to death of watching our people get butchered, and genocide done without a single response other than crocodile tears.”
“It was a large body count, and you’ve seen the armory they had underground there. These suckers were training for a huge hit somewhere. They were delayed by our strikes on the East Coast. I was hoping you’d get some indication as to who or what they’re planning to hit out here when the briefcase with Malik Handal’s laptop and flash-drives arrive in DC. Although I’m certain Aman and Handal didn’t know a specific target, they don’t have the other puzzle pieces you do in DC.”
“They’re on the way by special courier. I believe you’re right, and the strike will be in the West somewhere, but I’m hoping for something more specific once we plug in the data from Handal. It may be you goofball cartoons delayed another major attack with the hit this morning. Once they dissect the info from Handal’s briefcase I’ll let you know if a targeted area becomes clearer.”
“Goofball cartoons? I think I resent that. Just wait until the ‘Unholy Trio’ flush out the ‘Seattle Ripper’. Have my unfortunate US Marshal friends contacted you after their Sadun ordeal? They knew than to call me even on a secure line.”
“Yep. They’re fine, but now involved in a manhunt for Sadun, whom they already know is beyond anyone’s reach here on earth. I put in a word at the DOJ their consultant will need them in Seattle soon to work on the Ripper case.”
“Good. I need them to run interference for me with the ‘Criminal Minds’ FBI serial killer wing. Grace is caustic, but she has talent as a liaison with the federal and local people and their sometimes comical task forces.”
“I’m a little concerned with you consulting officially on a case where El Muerto takes part on the physical end.”
“I know, Paul. I’m getting the same static from Payaso. He’s become the Unholy Trio’s official wet blanket. El Muerto has reduced him in rank from sidekick to minion.”
Nick grinned and swallowed the last of his Irish coffee while listening to Gilbrech’s enjoyment of Payaso’s punishment.
“Call me… if you need me… Muerto.” Gilbrech disconnected.
Chapter Twelve
Ripper
Rachel and Jean with Deke came in the door, followe
d by hotel management. The man, a well-dressed executive type in his middle forties had a stern look on his face. Just under six feet tall, slightly overweight, but robust looking with short cropped hair, the man clasped his hands behind his back as he entered. Rachel crossed her eyes when Nick looked questioningly at her.
“Mr. Bingham would like to discuss Deke with you, Nick. I explained Robyn MacEachern handled all of our accommodations, and made sure to get an exception to Wolf Lodge’s pet policy, but he wishes to speak with you.”
“Mr. McCarty. I’m Fred Bingham, day manager for Great Wolf Lodge.”
Nick stood and shook his hand. “Robyn did tell me about your no pet policy, and said she had made sure to obtain a waver for Deke.”
“I did get that note. However, I was wondering if I could ask you not to parade Deke around in the public areas when avoidable, Sir. I have no idea how Ms. MacEachern maneuvered around our policy, but we will get complaints from other guests I’m sure who will be upset because they were not able to bring their pets.”
“I understand completely, Mr. Bingham. Hang on just a moment.” Nick went into the bedroom. He retrieved two thousand dollars out of his plunder from the early morning raid. He rejoined Bingham and handed the money to the shocked manager. “This is for you, Mr. Bingham. Smooth over Deke’s stay, and there will be two grand more when we leave. Deke means the world to us, and we don’t go anywhere without him. We won’t take him anywhere he will attract attention.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll help us with our Deke problem.”
The manager pocketed the money and shook Nick’s hand again. “What problem? Good day, Sir.”
“Bye, Mr. Bingham.”
After Nick closed the door, he fought off his outraged women, with Deke trying to rescue his drinking buddy with growls and nips. “Why am I being attacked? I see a problem. I solve a problem. Thanks, Deke… my only friend.”
“I thought you’d waste him on the spot, Dad, not pay him off.”
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