The waitress arrived, took their orders and left. She returned with drink refills as Jean sensing something ominous in the prior conversation tried directing it with her own interrogation. “Uncle Ed. What would you do when the ship gets to port. How would you know who to contact or what to do?”
“Good question,” Ed answered, appreciative of Jean’s interest. “I have a number to contact when we’re nearing port. Dave said I’d be meeting with not only the dock crew responsible for accepting the container, but also a couple of our European connection’s people in charge at the retail level.”
“That must be a big container,” Jean continued.
Ed chuckled. “Actually, it’s four containers, honey. Each one has twenty of our living room sets packed so no harm can come to them.”
“Wow. I thought with all the terrorist threats, the authorities would check everything,” Jean said, leaning forward in an interested posture. “Don’t they rip your packing all apart before it ever leaves the docking area?”
“Most docking facilities have infrared scanners, but also scanners able to detect explosive materials. When they see furniture crates, they do a quick check during docking if they do it at all. They also have the offloading area under 24/7 surveillance. Besides, the containers have already been loaded awaiting departure.”
Jean smiled. “That’s good. What about drugs? Aren’t the port authorities, especially overseas, always inspecting for drugs? I’ve seen those movies where people in charge of railway stations, ports, and airports, frame people for extortion overseas.”
Jean’s observation amused the group, Ed in particular, but Nick and Gus not so much.
“I like your thinking, young lady,” Ed complimented her, “but we don’t ship drugs - just furniture. I doubt they’d plant drugs in our containers. I realize they do it all the time in the movies. The idea would make a good book though. Don’t worry, Jean. We’ll be fine.”
“I hope so, Uncle Ed.”
Tina saw Gus taking tiny sips of his drink with a big smile. “I figured you’d be on your third double by now, Gus. The signing’s over. I thought you and the famous author would be tossing them down. Soon, you two will be sitting on Otter’s Point beach with charged up coffees.”
“Gus and I are taking it easy on the sipping tonight,” Nick replied. “We’re thinking of going sailing when we return home. We need to make a couple of check lists for the trip.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Rachel agreed, noticing the undercurrent of purpose in Nick’s tone. “We’ll have a movie night with Mona tonight on the big-screen in the room, if that’s okay with you, Tina.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tina replied.
“This tour business is pretty tough, huh?”
“Yeah, Ed,” Nick answered. “Sometimes our schedule gets a bit hectic, filled with unexpected twists and turns.”
“And a Twilight Zone moment once in a while too,” Gus added.
* * *
Alone in the room’s office like décor area, with their female cohorts watching movies with popcorn, Nick poured two doubles. He called Paul with his secured satellite phone. “Did you find out anything, Paul? Gus and I did.”
“Quite a bit actually,” Paul answered. “I’ve been following your style on the news. That was really convenient of those bad guy neighbors to kill each other like they did. As to Blackbeard’s info, it seems he was entrenched in Huxley’s empire deeper than I figured.”
“Wait. Let me guess. Huxley had Blackbeard escorting a furniture shipment to Europe, right?”
“That’s damn good, Nick. I hate coincidences, but lay it on me.”
“Rachel’s sister-in-law, Celia Dalman, and her husband Ed work for Huxley. In fact, Ed is one of his area managers. On top of that cute coincidence, Celia and Ed were asked to sail with the shipment leaving Monday for Europe. The containers have already been loaded with avant-garde furniture bound for buyers in the old country supposedly. Is there any chance of getting the shipment hit before Rachel’s fall-guy in-laws board with Huxley’s drug shipment?”
“How certain are you the drugs will be stashed with the furniture?”
“I haven’t done one of the DEA’s two year stings, but I probably have as good a chance as if they had. Tell them to have the dogs sniff Huxley’s containers. I’ll bet they get excited. I’m more interested in what plans you have in mind for Huxley.”
“Are you worried about the in-laws? Huxley’s already stressed with his main man, Gustoff Banning found dead of an apparent suicide. A mystery like that coupled with Banning’s men suddenly having a shootout will have Huxley in a state of shock.”
“Gus and I figured the same thing,” Nick replied. “He’s putting the Dalmans in a spot to take the fall in case the shipment gets hit overseas. Who better than an area manager with access to the entire product line. What I don’t want is for the shipment to get hit here before it leaves, and Huxley put out a contract on the Dalmans, thinking they fingered the shipment.”
“What action do you have in mind?”
“It will have to happen shortly after or before the container search.”
“Today’s Saturday. Even the famous El Muerto would be taking a chance with such a task. I know Banning told you where to find him, but he skipped explaining the fact he ran the dock operation. We found his extensive overseas trips, where Banning worked the dock, shipped out with the container ship, and then flew home after delivery. I’ll do what I can to back your play. Any ideas on where and how?”
“It would be a fluke to catch him before the shipment hit,” Nick admitted, “but after the hit, he’ll be heading for the tall grass. He’ll know his ass will be on the no-fly list. Gus and I are looking for a little known place he owns where Huxley could lay low for a time. It will mean a slight gamble, but if he arrives at the place I stake out, it could mean a chance to sanction him without any aftermath. I could make it so no one knows about Huxley’s demise, or fix it so his body’s not found for a week.”
“Not bad, but what if you’re wrong?”
“I’ll have to do something more subtle,” Nick answered. “If not for the Dalmans, I’d let the cops handle Huxley any way they wanted. Family life’s complicated. What can I say?”
“I’ll let my DEA contact go ahead with the shipment raid then. I’ve heard on the grapevine your US Marshal friends are reaching out to you about Nancy Pettinger. Did you decide whether to deal with her for them? That’s a tricky one, Nick. The DOJ will throw you under the bus in a heartbeat if somehow you become a suspect.”
“I know. Any chance of you keeping her under observation. I’d like to know where to find her once I’m enlightened regarding the parameters my two rogue Marshal friends have in mind.”
“I can do that. Let me know if I can help with Huxley. If you locate a target area, I’ll open a door for you to access satellite data on your own. I know how you feel having more than us in on this, so I’ll send you a code access for a bird covering the next few days.”
“I appreciate that, Paul. It’ll help with our accelerated planning. I’ll be in touch.”
“Good luck, Muerto. Be aware with your notoriety, there will be heightened attention to anything done in the Charleston area.”
After Paul disconnected, Nick grinned at Gus. “It seems the higher echelon want frontier justice out here in the field, Payaso.”
“They sure are helpful. I like Paul. I know he’s playing his own angle, but I like the fact he distrusts letting more people in on this than absolutely necessary. If we find any property Huxley owns in the boonies, we’ll still be at risk for interception.”
“Are you trying to insult me, Payaso?”
Gus shook his head. “Sorry, Muerto. Let’s find the information. We’ll retrieve the satellite data on the target, and you’ll plot out where an interception team would stake you out from. I remember how you screwed the crap out of Frank and his NSA rogue unit in Colorado. You aced his interception team before killing the
Senator.”
Nick bit his lip. “My Rachel told you too much, Payaso. Did she share the whole Senator deal?”
“She did, but only because Rachel needed to convince me trust is an ongoing project. I kept my mouth shut until now. Let’s assume I know what you’re capable of, and get on with this project planning sorry for the brief delay.”
“I’ve already found a place he invested in,” Nick related, turning his laptop screen for Gus to see. “Mr. Huxley has a beautiful mansion/farm estate. It’s located in out of the way North Charleston along North Highway 17. We start tonight if you’re in, Payaso. We download the data on our target. We move into a position I pick for both an intercept team, and for taking a shot when the time comes. You’ll hate every second of it. You’ll refuse to follow orders. You’ll whine every second you’re in the field, and you’ll make sarcastic remarks about my leadership. I don’t know whether to shoot you in the head now, or give you a chance to prove me wrong.”
By the time Nick finished outlining his predictions, Gus was roaring with laughter, and pushing the rest of his drink away. “I should have known you would create instant havoc. I can’t wait to see the home-folks’ faces when you plop this mission on their heads.”
“Rachel and Jean will love it. This will be just like old times. I’m looking forward to you interacting with Tina if you decide to come with me.”
“I’m the master of my house. You’ll end up promising Rachel things for her complicity costing you years into the future. I’m in, and I’ll remember this sacrilegious denigrating of my manhood.”
Nick hung his head in saddened form. “We will see the true emasculation after you tell Tina you have to go out tonight, and won’t be back for a while. I’ll probably have to intercede before she puts your collar and leash on.”
Gus gripped his pushed away drink again, downed it, and slammed the glass on the table. “Payaso wears no one’s chains, Muerto, you dog!”
* * *
“You can’t be serious!”
“I explained many times I may have to leave unexpectedly, Dear,” Gus replied. “Tonight is one of those nights. Nick and I will be back as soon as we can. It’s an ‘Adam’s Family’ early Halloween Special. You can even ride along with Rachel and Jean to drop us off.”
“C’mon, Aunt Tina,” Jean urged. “Dad and Gus are the good guys. They had to wait until Grandma Mona left to spring this on us. They need us to drop them off, and do a pickup. You’re part of the team now.”
Tina glared at Gus, but her expression softened at Jean’s words. “Okay, I get it. I soldier on. Is this where I tell Gus to come home with his shield or on it?”
“No, Tina,” Nick answered. “You tell him you love him, and say thank you for being one of the guys who will never be known, who help protect this nation.”
Nick’s words quieted everyone. “Gus and I are going to pack up. Anyone wanting to come along on the drop-off is welcome. We’re the Adam’s Family, except our Wednesday Addams is a blonde, and Pugsley’s still a bun in the oven. I know my Rachel will be behind the wheel – the perfect Morticia. I’m walking ‘Thing’, I mean Deke, before we leave. When I get back, those on this mission be ready to go. Those in opposition will silently stay watching movies. C’mon ‘Thing’. Let’s go clear our heads. These family meetings are very trying.”
* * *
The cold droplets began in a wet spattering pattern in the night as Nick and Gus approached the position Nick had perceived would be the logical place an interception team would appear. Nick led Gus toward the nesting position decided on, quickly at first, but as they drew nearer to Huxley’s house he slowed their approach to a literal crawl. Gus remained silent, enduring the pauses and excruciatingly slow pace Nick moved toward their chosen observation nest. Nick picked the position after an hour of studying satellite footage covering the entire Huxley holding. Gus kept a tight rein over anything he felt like saying, trusting implicitly his partner’s cold blooded killer instincts and expertise. Nick brought him along as a training exercise. Gus was sure of it. He had spotted for Nick before, but never on a stealth approach.
Gus concentrated on moving every hand and foot as Nick did. He doubted anyone could hear an approach in the rain beginning to come down, or see in the now pitch black darkness. He and Nick had night vision gear, but Nick pointed out they could be spotted from a distance when wearing them. They approached with active GPS readings. Nick stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. He turned to Gus, moving close with a whisper.
“Smell that, Gus?”
At first, Gus couldn’t imagine what the hell there was to smell other than ozone, wet vegetation and mud. Then he smelled it: tobacco smoke. Son-of-a-bitch! “No wonder Rachel hates you, mutant.”
“Remember what I told you long ago. Nothing travels further or pinpoints a human being better than tobacco smoke,” Nick whispered. “They’re close. They can’t hear us, but I can smell them. We’ll follow the smell to a better vantage point than I picked out. Neat, huh, Payaso?”
“Are they amateurs then?”
“Not necessarily,” Nick replied. “Pros have bad habits too, and develop the worst one of all – overconfidence.”
“Do you think they’re American agents?”
“Don’t know, don’t care, Payaso. They were sent to wax my ass. If I had to guess, I’d say no. You’d laugh or take me through a ten minute diatribe of why I’m nuts.”
Gus grabbed Nick’s arm. “Spit it out, Nick. I don’t laugh at anything you dream, conjure, or predict. I’m here to learn how the deadliest asshole I’ve ever met thinks.”
“Sorry, partner. I’ve smelled that brand. It’s not an American blend. I’ve smelled it before in the Middle East and Europe. It’s a British American brand. I don’t believe they’re amateurs. What I think is they’ve underestimated the job. I’ve worked with guys like that in the past. None of them are alive now. Stick with me, Gus. You’re doing real well.”
Gus followed Nick in every movement. They crawled, crouched, and at points ran when the thunder and lightning started. Gus smiled inappropriately as even through the rain, he could now smell the smoke. The wooded area provided pitfalls where missteps could make a distinguishing noise, but they also shielded the rain to a point where the smoke could still travel. Then he saw it. The red glint through the trees of an inhaled cigarette. In the absolute darkness, it was like a beacon. Nick stopped, and quietly positioned his Remington MSR.
“It’s okay to spot now, Gus,” Nick directed. “Watch for any attention in our direction. There are two targets. I want everything from you. Give me what I need, Spotter.”
Gus read off the particulars. There was no wind – the distance negligible. Nick eased into position, only making slight adjustments from experience while sighting in on his rearmost target. “Watch the guy in front. When he looks anywhere away from his partner, say now.”
“Acknowledged.” Gus watched the front spotter exclusively. The man checked the area in front of Huxley’s house, sweeping slowly, point by point to his left. “Now.”
Nick squeezed off a silenced hollow point .300 Winchester Magnum round. It dropped his target with barely a sound. Nick shifted to the spotter while working the bolt action load into firing position. He put the next round through the man’s shoulder, which he knew would pass through part of his back on its way out.
“He’s down, and not moving,” Gus said. “The other guy’s head is pulped. Did you have a question for your survivor? I know you didn’t wound him by accident.”
Nick was already packing up the Remington. “I know Paul wants to find out who the hell has the inside track in his department, and has been selling us out to the highest bidder. Unfortunately for the survivor, I can’t take ‘I don’t know’ for an answer, even if it’s true. It would be big if this guy knows who the traitor is, and how Huxley’s drug empire is connected with CIA assets.”
The two men jogged toward their dead and dying adversaries while stopping at intervals to che
ck out the area. When they reached the two man interception team, it was obvious the one Nick shot first was dead. His partner writhed on the wet ground, his silently agonized features making it plain Nick would have a difficult time accessing information. Nick knelt next to the man, putting on Nitrile gloves, and moving him into a position Nick could look directly into his pained features.
“Hi. I’m Nick, and my partner here is Gus. You and your dead buddy were sent to kill us. Would you like to make your passing less painful by telling us who ordered this?”
In the intervening seconds, the man controlled the pain lacing through his body. “Could I buy my life with a name?”
“You can if it’s a name you can prove,” Nick lied. “Give me a name I can check with my admittedly vast resources, and my partner and I will load you for hospitalization. We will have to make you disappear into another country though. If you expected to get a vacation spot here in the USA, that ain’t going to happen. Let me know if you agree so I can make the deal with my handlers. If you’re going to make this into a ‘Let’s make a deal’ con I will disembowel you and piss on your entrails.”
Nick’s hushed recitation, coupled with the waves of pain from his wound, convinced the man a gamble of any kind was far better than the hinted at torture. “Ken Schilling. We were told… to anticipate a sniper team… getting into place for a shot at David Huxley when he arrived.”
Taking the opportunity provided as his victim paused to deal with pain in a tight lipped, face contorted grimace, Nick texted Paul at an on-line drop known only to them. Moments later, he received a reply allowing for the possibility. Nick removed a syringe from his pack, and injected the wounded man with part of what it was filled with, causing instant unconsciousness.
“Okay, Payaso. This is where our duty gets tough. Remember the spot I had picked out to kill Huxley from?”
Gus used his range finders to sight in the spot with a clear field of fire at Huxley’s front door at a slight angle, nearly a hundred and fifty yards away from the house. Nick’s choice of a sniper’s nest to take out Huxley lay nearly a hundred yards distance from where they were now. Gus cursed. Instinctively, he knew what Nick had in mind.
Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) Page 17