In a split second everyone in the store was waving as Nick did, singing Bye Bongo. Ken, the security guard, moved next to Bongo. With a guiding hand, he escorted the red-faced Bongo to the exit.
Nick stood for a moment as everyone calmed down. “Look folks. I’m the first to admit my pulp fiction is not for everyone. There is graphic violence, romance, humor, and politically incorrect speech incorporated into every novel I write. Those ingredients are fully on display in the preview chapters Amazon provides for the novel free. Anyone having read the other novels in my Diego series, and is now disappointed in either the flavor of what I’m doing, or the character interaction, that is legitimate criticism. I probably won’t change the way I write, but I appreciate the honest feedback. What Bongo and the other BK’s do on the Amazon marketplace is laughable, but their hit pieces do kill sales. Contrary to my fellow authors’ advice to ignore all reviews, I read them, enjoy them, and interact when it’s a BK, or there is a question I can answer, because I never get mad, but enough speech. Step right up to the Un-Hemingway signing table and state your case.”
Nick bowed comically at the smattering of applause, and sat down again next to Gus. The next lady placed her copy of Assassin’s Folly in front of Nick.
“That was a very entertaining conversation, Mr. McCarty. I would like a special signing if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” Nick opened the book and prepared to write.
“Write this - I’m so sorry, Mary.”
Uh oh. Nick could feel the jaws of Karma closing around him. He wrote down the dictation. “Okay.”
“I will never use a comma before a dependent clause again – signed Nick McCarty.”
Oh boy.
* * *
“You guys have been uncharacteristically quiet,” Rachel said. “I can tell even the Daughter of Darkness is waiting for some interaction about bookstore day.”
“That’s right, Gomez,” Tina added. “Usually, you and Payaso are raving about one thing or another happening in the bookstore. Did something bad happen?”
“Gus and I are merely enjoying this quiet limo ride to the Lodge. I’m beginning to think a spot of the Jack Daniels I saw in the limo bar may be needed, brother Payaso.”
“I know it’s needed.” Gus began fixing two large glasses with ice and Jack Daniels. “I was just waiting for the starting gunshot. Here, Muerto. Salute.”
Nick toasted with his glass, and drank deeply. He grinned and sighed with contentment. “Oh my Lord, that was so good. I’m glad they don’t have an open bar at these events. I believe Payaso and I would not make it past 2 pm.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Not bad, Dagger,” Gus said. “Customer interaction is a blast, but it does have its highs and lows. John called me to rave about his video with you handling the Book Killer. The little Muerto Sock Puppet said he nearly laughed himself into a coma when you led the goodbyes to Bongo.”
“Yeah, but then I was knifed in the back by a dependent clause/comma Nazi,” Nick complained while refilling his glass. “She’s right, but I don’t even know if I did it or not. She scared me. I figured if I asked for proof, she’d whip out her list of a thousand or something.”
“The fearless El Muerto afraid of a grammar editor? Say it isn’t so,” Rachel pleaded comically. “That makes me want to read your novels all again with my red pen.”
Nick hung his head. “Editing is the most humbling experience on earth.”
“I thought you said admitting you were wrong was the most humbling experience.”
“That too,” Nick replied without raising his head.
“The inspiration for Diego’s seafaring sidekick Jed had a good day though. I answered many questions about my scenes in the books. Would you like me to tell you about them?”
“I’d rather see the video clips of the Book Killer and the dependent clause/comma Nazi,” Tina said. “I’ve heard all about your little boat cruises.”
“Fine… I know when I’m underappreciated. Here.” Gus turned his tablet so the females could all see.
When the video reached the dependent clause/comma Nazi, loud appreciative laughter erupted.
“Oh my God, she made you write an apology for something you don’t even know you did or not. That settles it. If the signings are going to be this good, I’m going,” Rachel declared.
“You’re forgetting the hours of mind numbing boredom while we listen to Captain Hook tell sailor stories all day, and Gomez get his panties in a bunch because he doesn’t know where to put a comma. You’re on your own, girlfriend.”
“Right, Tina,” Rachel said. “What was I thinking? We’ll scan the video for choice moments to enjoy in a luxurious setting.”
“At least you didn’t have to kill anyone today, Dad,” Jean piped in.
“The day is five hours from midnight. There’s still time. I’ve heard in the new Addam’s Family they’re thinking of writing a scene where Gomez goes mental, hacks Cousin Itt apart, puts the Itt pieces on the barbie, and then serves them for dinner.”
“They do not,” Tina said, startled at Nick’s word picture.
“In my screen play they do.”
“Don’t be hatin’, Gomez,” Tina mumbled while her companions stifled amusement of Cousin Itt.
* * *
“You’re certain he goes in along the railroad track?” Dominic Calhoun stared with tightly controlled rage at the single track running into the huge wooded area near The Great Wolf Lodge. “Today is perfect. It’s overcast and drizzly. We’ll be alone with him in there.”
“Are you sure you can trust what that FBI broad mentioned? It seemed like she was setting us up the way she talked with the other agent when the cops escorted us out. She did sound pissed off though.”
Dominic nodded at his two cohorts. Rafe Lansing had been on the receiving end of Nick’s temporary adjustment to the pimp population. He was raw about the way Nick took them down too, but uneasy with the expertise he had done it. Jess Boyer freelanced collections, strong-arm extortion, and keeping the prostitutes in line. Boyer thought it funny they were out trapping some Fed because he roughed up Dom and Rafe.
“Instead of watching him, you should have paid me to kill him,” Boyer said. “He’s a damn dog walker. I could have followed him into the brush and been done with your Wyatt Earp wannabe without you driving here.”
“The guy’s no joke, Jess,” Lansing replied. “Dom and I have been around the block. That sucker is fast. I’m glad we brought the Uzis. They have range as a rifle. I want to do this clown, but I don’t want to be close for it. I figure all we have to do is follow a mile in along the tracks, and then ambush him when he returns from his dog run. He must go a long way in there. Jess and I didn’t see him for forty-five minutes yesterday when we staked him out.”
Dominic gestured for his men to follow him. “It’s a good plan, Rafe. With the silencers, the asshole and his dog will be dead without anyone hearing it a mile in. He won’t be able to spot us with these camouflage rain slickers. We’ll drag their bodies into the brush and leave ‘em. It’s supposed to rain and drizzle for the next week. No one will find the bodies for weeks probably. I wanted a piece! That’s why I had you wait until I got here, Jess. You’re getting paid. What do you care?”
Boyer shrugged as he followed Calhoun while grinning back at Rafe. “The three man ambush works for me. This will be fun. We’ll need to split up so we have three nests in case he is armed, and is as fast as Rafe claims. We take no chances. That okay, Dom.”
“Perfect. We spread out at the spot with maybe fifty feet between us on each side of the tracks, far enough in the woods so we have cover. I’ll shoot first. I don’t want him getting near enough so there’s a chance we’d hit each other.”
“The guy did stop that Ripper bastard,” Lansing pointed out. “I know he punked us in the hotel, but we were going to steal his money. Now, the girls are back workin’ and business is good. I’m not sure payback is such a great idea, Dom. This could bri
ng a lot of heat down on us killin’ a famous novelist with a US Marshal’s badge. You know damn well they’ll be checking out anyone having a beef with him in the area.”
Calhoun spun on Lansing angrily. “Fuck you, Rafe! I ain’t letting bygones be bygones after what he did! Look at my face! He nearly took my eye out, and I’ll have a damn scar for life. Then the bastard kicked me in the nuts! He dies today! You got that?”
“Yeah, boss, I got it,” Lansing agreed with placating motions. “I’ll cover him over with brush. Maybe they won’t notice the bodies for months with spring rain hitting.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Calhoun replied, turning again to the tracks. “I’m going to shoot that motherfucker right in the dick first. Let’s get to our spot. Nobody does that shit to me and gets away with it.”
Following at Calhoun’s fast pace, they arrived at a spot on the tracks where they curved enough so the woods on either side of the tracks hid approaches. Calhoun pointed on the right side of the tracks.
“You go straight that way, Jess. Go in about twenty feet. We’ll watch you.”
Jess gave Calhoun a mocking salute, and entered the woods to the right, stopping at what he figured to be twenty feet. He crouched down. “How’s this? I have good vision on the tracks ahead too without any big obstructions.”
“We can barely see you. Hold position. C’mon Rafe.” Calhoun positioned Lansing only slightly inside the wooded area, having him crouch down. “How’s Rafe’s spot?”
“Real good,” Jess called out. “I can only spot either of you when you move.”
“Will it be a problem if I stay close to the woods’ edge, but ten feet further along than you, Rafe? I don’t want in your line of fire,” Dominic said as he high stepped to a spot to the left of Lansing, but further toward the track clearing. He crouched. “How’s this?”
“You’re good, boss. I’m not going to spray anyhow. I’ll get him, but I’m aiming. You’re in the clear with no chance of hitting Jess or me, so go full auto on him if you want.”
“Yeah… maybe I will.” Calhoun felt the drizzle turn into light rain a few minutes later. He smiled under his hood. “It’s a good thing we hurried, Rafe. He’ll be cutting short his dog trot for the day.”
Rafe Lansing did not respond. Calhoun at first figured Lansing was being cautious about noise carrying. After ten minutes went by, he swore under his breath. Turning slightly, Dominic called out in a hushed voice. “Rafe?”
When he didn’t get an answer, he checked the tracks for any sign of his prey. Seeing none, he straightened from his spot, and moved to Lansing’s position as quietly as he could. He spotted Lansing in a sitting position, with knees braced against his chest while leaning against a tree. His arms rested between his legs. Rafe’s head was tilted slightly as if listening for something. His posture seemed off to Dominic.
“Rafe? Damn you. Answer me,” Calhoun hissed. He creeped closer, crouching more while turning from side to side, watching for strange movement. Reaching out, he grasped Lansing’s arm, shaking it.
Lansing slowly fell away from the tree, crumpling to his side in the leaves and mud. His head flopped back against the ground. The rain slicker hood fell away from his face. Seeing the wide sightless eyes staring at him in the dusky light, Calhoun stumbled backwards, his hands shooting out to catch his fall. The Uzi strapped over his shoulder slipped into the mud. Lansing watched Calhoun’s descent with uncaring eyes, the huge open slice at his neck still seeping rain thinned blood onto the bloody shadows beneath him.
* * *
Nick jogged to his usual turnout to the left along the railway tracks. Since discovering the tracks on the first day, he and Deke explored the wooded area on both sides of the track for miles along it, enjoying the trek in rain or sunshine. The day before, Nick had spotted the out of place men wearing rain slickers as they waited in their vehicle – a black Mercedes with license plate matching one of three vehicles owned by Dominic Calhoun. He grinned as he ran with Deke beside him considering the deadly mistake made by his freed pimp acquaintance. Ever since he was alerted by Grace and Tim of Calhoun’s release, Nick waited to find out if Grace’s contact had been right about Agent Anderson mouthing off about Nick’s whereabouts while Calhoun and his minion Lansing walked by. Anticipating the worst case scenario, Nick had been prepared for an open gun battle or a more clandestine approach.
Pausing as the tracks wound out of sight from the turnoff with the road, Nick and Deke circled back into the woods. With range finders in hand, he waited for his prey to follow him. They parked their vehicles at the turnoff, getting out in their rain slickers, and standing at the turnoff like three fatted calves waiting for the butcher’s knife. When they committed to following, Nick grinned, and petted Deke.
“Wait until you see old Gus’s face when I hustle you out of here. C’mon, Dekester. We have to get a faster than usual sprint going, not so fast I fall and break my Muerto neck, but fast enough to get you to the awaiting Payaso. El Muerto has his deadly work cut out for him today.”
Nick jogged at a pace twice the speed he normally did for the next mile, then angled up the slope toward the road in the distance. Gus was parked in the GMC fifty yards from where Nick and Deke exited the woods. He drove alongside, stopping while his passengers boarded.
“Don’t say a word,” Gus warned. “I see that smirk on your face. After you take care of this nasty business, how the hell are you going to handle the bodies and vehicles? Why don’t we call Tim and Grace?”
Nick shook his head. “They have Uzis. You and I can’t arrest them without a gun battle. Great Kate gets away with her tipoff because I’ll have to try and bury the unknowing accomplices. Think of my angst at being set up for the kill by that idiot Anderson. Calhoun and his boys could have went after Rachel and Jean. Drive on, Payaso. Let me off fifty yards before the track turnoff.”
“What are you packing?”
“Sitletto and a folding shovel.”
“Are you out of your Muerto mind? Get something big out of the back with a silencer.”
“Nope. El Muerto must seek justice with his blade of darkness.”
Gus drove away, making gagging noises for Nick’s amusement. When they reached the position Nick had mentioned, Gus stopped on the roadside. “I’ll be at the same spot with fresh clothes when you call… if you’re still alive.”
“Gee… nice pep talk, Payaso.” Nick exited the GMC after petting Deke.
In a matter of moments, Nick angled fully into the woods after stripping off his pack, slicker, and making certain the black t-shirt he kept on was tucked in tightly. He also tied his shoe laces leaving no loop or loose end dangling. After tucking his pants’ legs into his socks, Nick continued to the right, figuring the ambush they planned for him would not be with the three of them together. He knew they would not want to chance being too deep into the woods where they would be risking bullet deflection, Nick paced stealthily on the wet ground, loving the covering rainfall. He slowed drastically as he passed what he thought was a half mile in. Ten minutes later, Nick nearly laughed out loud. He heard the sound of a video game being played. With silent precision, Nick picked his way on all fours to where he saw glimpses of a lighted phone screen. He had to pause, clamping hands to his mouth in smothered amusement.
In control once again, Nick began his deadly silent final approach. So absorbed in his video game was Jess Boyer that he never looked away from the screen until a hand gripped his face powerfully, shutting off his mouth and nose while the razor sharp stiletto blade sliced through his neck. The hand continued holding him in the frozen horrific pose as his arterial blood shot forward onto the leafy ground, taking his life with it. Nick allowed Boyer’s body to relax through its death throes before releasing him to the ground. He listened intently, filtering out the rain and slight breeze. Nick heard nothing on his right, but definitely a distinct rustle of leaves to his left as if someone repositioned themselves.
Nick took no chances. He back
tracked through the woods until he knew it would be safe to scurry over the tracks to the wooded area on his left. Once in the woods, Nick resumed stalking his targets. Rafe Lansing knelt on his other knee, brushing against the bush on his right. Watching the man shift uncomfortably as he came within sight, Nick figured his target had bad knees which made it painful to either kneel or crouch in a waiting position for any length of time. With Lansing, Nick made his final death lunge as Lansing once again switched knees. He yanked Lansing’s face back with vicious proficiency, while clamping the man’s body between his knees. They shared the sight of Rafe’s life blood spurting in pulsing heartbeats of eternity. Nick then posed him against the tree while listening to Calhoun calling out for his partner.
As Dominic approached, Nick moved into the shadows on the opposite side of Lansing. Calhoun focused totally on Lansing and the area around him while Nick waited calmly without movement barely out of sight. He enjoyed Calhoun’s discovery of Lansing’s demise. When Dominic fell back, Nick moved on his prey, stabbing him with three rapid strikes to the hilt of his stiletto under Dominic’s ribcage. Shock paralyzed Calhoun, the stab wounds a mere burning discomfort compared to the Nick’s smiling face as he removed the Uzi strap from Dominic’s shoulder, yanking it away. Calhoun fell to his side, clutching his wounded midsection, screaming as he glimpsed the blood oozing out around his hands in the fading light. The pain from the wounds silenced his screams as they caused needle like shooting points of agony from his belt into his brain. He curled more into a fetal position sobbing uncontrollably.
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