“I killed a man at nearly fifty feet with a thrown knife while drugged. I’ll be fine.”
John leaned forward from the backseat. “He was a bad guy, huh Muerto?”
Nick smiled, remembering a similar question from Rachel. “He was to someone.”
Chapter Fifteen
Making Memories
Jean pumped her fist. At fifteen feet, she had buried the throwing knife in the large layered cardboard target Nick created from boxes cut to a three foot square center, attached to an old tilted pine table. Rachel, Tina, Gus, and John sat under Nick’s rear veranda, watching the lessons. Jean never showed any boredom with Nick’s repeated corrections to her form and handling. She ran each time her knives plunked to the ground without any indication of frustration. Nick was already worried. He sensed dedication. Although he taught with calm deliberation, Rachel bailed early from the lessons. Tina, John, and Gus had taken a few shots at the target with only Gus making progress with a few hits.
They neared the two hour mark in the lesson as Nick began to legitimately regret enjoying his Otter’s Point sojourn with Gus, John, and Deke. Although the magic coffee elixir had been incredible with the stillness of both the water and his outlook, shared with Gus and John, it had taken a toll on him. He grinned over at the watchers, knowing Jean’s first strike with the knife would mean more practice than he had bargained for.
“Hey… give Dagger a break. Show us what you can do with the knives,” Rachel said, knowing Nick had been imbibing down at the Point. “You’ve been showing form, but we want some substance.”
She was of course encouraged by all watchers, as Jean ran to the throwing line Nick had created with the knives. Jean understood what the joke was. Watching Nick plant the three knives at twice the distance on target at Jerry Burkhart’s request, she handed him the knives with a smile. “Show them, Dad.”
Nick without pause or aim, planted the knives to the hilt. They struck so close together in the bulls-eye target he had pinned to the cardboard backing as to appear staged. He went to gather the knives himself, chuckling over the remarks of awe as well as disbelief. Nick returned to the throwing line, handing a knife to the exuberant Jean. “If all you other blokes are bored, go on inside. I’ll stay out here with Jean.”
Rachel stood and ran over to hug him. “You may be a lot of things, but damn… you’re good. I’ll pay more attention to the future lessons.”
“You’ll have to,” Nick replied, holding her to him. “I doubt Dagger will be giving this particular sport up any time soon. She’s driven, Rach. It’s best to accept it, and move on, rather than fight it, and alienate her.”
Rachel glanced at her high fiving daughter before returning her gaze to Nick. “You’re right as you so annoyingly are on a daily basis. Good Lord, Nick… I hope you’re wrong.”
“So do I, baby. So… do… I.”
* * *
On Sunday morning, Nick wrote and edited with single minded concentration, Deke lying happily at his feet. Nick’s new novel ‘Assassin’s Folly’ touched him in a way he could not express. Although resembling his other Diego novels, this new one incorporated more of himself in it than he had ever chanced before. Diego felt things he had chained inside his being, never to see the light of day. Nick poured over it with a passion he knew originated in the happenings he had faced since his prior book tour. He glanced startled at the clock, hearing a soft footfall, combined with the musky odor that drove him crazy at times. Rachel moved nearer to him with slow steps, clutching her black silk robe around her he had purchased on a whim. His imagination of Rachel in it one day, while shopping with her at the mall, had forced him with it in hand to the cashier.
“It’s only six, babe. Is Quinn doing his usual stomping act on your bladder?”
Rachel smiled, allowing the robe to open while wrapping an arm around Nick’s shoulders. “Of course, but I missed you in bed with me. Quinn had little to do with me traipsing down here to interrupt your pursuit of Diego’s latest pulp fiction killings. I know you’ve finished the novel. Why this driven obsession to edit until your eyeballs pop out?”
“I edit best in the morning.” Nick’s hands roved in places garnering moans as well as gasps of denial. “See… even you are a quandary of emotion in the morning. Your body says yes, yes, yes, while your head calls out no, no, no. I would say my concerted editing efforts are far more reasonable than those half-hearted denials.”
Rachel clutched him to her with passionate annoyance. She backed away after a moment, her small embrace of angst fazing Nick not in the slightest. “You go too far!”
Nick grinned innocently at her, his hands roving without pause. “We’re married. You’re having my son. There is no too far. Let’s retreat to the bedroom before your protests wake Dagger up.”
Rachel allowed a full surrender to Nick’s manipulations as he moved her toward the stairs. “Tell Deke to stay down here.”
Nick glanced down at the attentive Deke, who shadowed his new path away from the kitchen. “Don’t worry about Deke. Everything we do makes him doze. He’ll be in a sleep coma ten minutes after I get you into bed.”
“Yeah, but he goes into his coma at the end of the bed… oh damn… okay… who cares.”
* * *
Gus arrived with Dan Lewis in tow at 8 am. Nick met them at the door. He shook hands with Dan. “Did Gus find you wandering the streets, old man?”
“He did indeed,” Dan admitted. “I was plodding down to Carol’s beach when Gus intercepted me. This is my first journey out. It’s a rough one.”
“His kids have returned home,” Gus added. “I figured since we’re all walking to the ocean, we may as well walk together.”
“I agree. Why not walk along together, Dan, if you don’t mind. Gus and I have to walk Deke. Then I have a knife flinging lesson at 10 am with Jean. She’s obsessed with it. We nearly spent three hours at it yesterday.”
“Are you training her for anything in particular?”
“I hope not,” Nick answered truthfully. “We have something on the horizon you may be able to help us with if you’re interested.”
Dan considered Nick’s statement before answering. “Get Deke, and tell me about it on the walk. Otherwise, I may say yes now, and no later.”
“That’s fair enough. Be right back.” Nick gathered the happy Deke, added a beach chair to his dual set, and his pack with thermos. He also brought along Deke’s water dish and water. Gus brought the cups, while Nick could strap up to four chairs tightly to his pack, and it held snacks as well as spiked coffee. He always traveled down with his small satellite laptop.
Rachel caught him before Deke dog sledded him out the door. “Hey, Muerto, do you know what Jean’s already doing?”
“Probably smacking the target with throwing knives. I heard her. The first part of our lesson was to teach her safety. How’s she doing?”
“Let’s just say if you were the target, you would not be happy. She’s burying one or two every set she throws.”
“She’s a natural,” Nick said. “How was I this morning?”
Rachel gasped and blushed, smacking Nick’s shoulder. “Never mind. No matter how you were this morning, you’re never doing it again, so it won’t matter.”
Nick kissed her, holding onto Rachel below the hips. “You always say that.”
Rachel broke away from him. “Did you know all sex in or out of marriage is rape?”
“Really,” Nick seemed interested. “Is that why you were screaming?”
Nick’s quickness, led by Deke’s intuitive nature, allowed the pair to escape through the door before Rachel could catch them. Nick and Deke scrambled down to the sidewalk as Rachel appeared huffing and puffing on the porch. When she saw Gus and Dan, Rachel remembered she only wore her black silk robe. She waved at the men, as she clutched the robe to her.
Gus and Dan waved in response. Rachel added a fist waving sequence at the unrepentant Nick. “I will have my revenge, Muerto!”
�
��Who is Muerto?”
Nick clasped Dan’s shoulder. “All in good time, old man. All in good time.”
“What did you do to anger Princess Preggo this morning?”
“Not a thing, Gus. I was my usual lovable self,” Nick replied. “I have no idea what got into her highness this morning. Some people are unfortunately not morning people. Let us move past these petty squabbles with hormonal women. We need to enjoy the small good fortune of another chillingly wonderful ocean visit.”
“Chillingly wonderful meaning another trek to Ice Station Zebra,” Gus complained, slapping his hands across his chest as if drumming arctic cold from his body.
“You haven’t grown accustomed to our brisk climate yet, Gus?”
Gus shrugged, gesturing down the hill, where gray skies highlighting drifting somber clouds, framed the ocean scene embedded with rocky escarpments jutting from white capped waves. “It’s a process, Dan. I admit it is beautiful. I’d miss it if I were anywhere else… like the sandpits overseas.”
“I remember you guys went overseas for research on Nick’s new novel,” Dan replied. “It was more than research, huh?”
“It was a business/research trip,” Nick answered for Gus. “We’ve decided to stay out of the sand. There seems to be more terrorists here than overseas now anyway. With these new Isis bastards claiming to have cells all over the USA already, I’m wondering if we’ll ever shut the damn immigration door.”
Dan chuckled. “You sure are right about that. I thought Diego isn’t political.”
“He’s getting as fed up as I am,” Nick replied. “It may be seeping into Diego soon. The Kum Ba Ya crowd doesn’t buy my pulp fiction anyhow, unless it’s for the purpose of doing a ‘Book Killing’.”
“Are you contacting Grace and Tim at the beach?”
“Grace and Tim?”
“Gus is referring to our US Marshal friends. We’re working on a case they were dumped on with. It should have been funneled down through a different venue. Their relationship with me, along with a recent case we worked has our usually reticent Department of Justice reaching into dark corners they don’t belong in. Our contact with the Company will be attempting to limit their involvement after an unforeseen development.”
“Is that the case you were referring to at the house?”
“Only if you’re interested, Dan. We may not be able to use you. If the woman has fled the country, any part we could use you for probably wouldn’t work. Her name is Nancy Pettinger. She’s been selling us out from a high level in the DOJ, betraying missions, and blocking action against suspected terrorists. Nancy’s on the run, but after the other night, we know she has some backdoor into operations no one knew existed. My concern is if she’s already sold the backdoor to the myriad enemies we have all over the damn globe.”
“What’s a backdoor?”
“It’s a Trojan Horse type virus used to allow access into a computer mainframe,” Nick answered. “Depending on the sophistication in its creation, it may take weeks to find. Pettinger will be careful who she sells to, but she can sell an endless number of tipoffs on operations that will cost agents their lives. She’s no dummy. Our traitorous Nancy slips in for an important piece of information requested for, and slips back out undetected. I’m sure the sale is for a large amount of money.”
Dan slowed as they reached Carol’s beach, only a block from Otter’s Point. “What could I do to help? I’m an old man as you’ve pointed out.”
“Let’s find a place in the sand. I’ll explain my idea to you.” Nick led the way. Unlike Otter’s Point, Carol’s favorite beach had a vehicle turnout, horseshoeing from the coastal road entrance, and then back to the road again for exiting.
When they reached the beach, Nick let Dan show them where he wanted to sit. He led them to a rounded rock with a rocky tide pool in front of it, Nick recognized from the night with Dan and his kids.
“Anywhere here guys.”
Nick and Gus prepared the beach chairs. They left Dan alone as he stood next to the rock and tide pool. Deke chased the Frisbee for half an hour in the sand. As if sensing a change, Deke returned to stand next to Dan. As Nick and Gus moved to the chairs, Dan sat down with Deke at his feet, both watching the tide pool flowing in, and round again to the ocean. Nick opened his thermos while Gus readied the cups. He passed a charged coffee over to Dan.
“It’s loaded, Dan,” Gus warned, “and not with mocha berry almond fudge supreme either.”
“Understood.” Dan accepted the cup, wiping his face with a handkerchief before sipping the coffee. “Very good. It’s 5 pm somewhere.”
“That’s our motto.” Nick also gave Deke water in his dish, and spread a small towel with a rawhide chew on it. Nick also opened his laptop. In moments, he accessed a site used as a drop, Grace could contact him without a call or a trace. After a few moments reading, Nick took a long swallow from his spiked coffee. “Uh oh. Nancy got wind of the dragnet possibly descending on her head. She’s driving into Oakland Monday night, and hopping an Alaska Airline flight from Oakland International to Montreal. She’ll be staying at the Hilton Hotel at the airport. Grace and Tim have agreed to be our chauffeurs on this trip to the East Bay. They’ll be arriving today. We have a small window of opportunity tonight. Nancy’s traveling with two guard goons.”
“Did Paul get them on board?”
“Yep. Apparently Paul shared our adventures the other night where Nancy nearly cost us a whole team. They have not found her Trojan backdoor into the system yet either. They figure she’s on her way to Montreal to sell access into the system from out of the country.” Nick leaned back, sipping his coffee, and chuckling.
In an opposite reaction, Gus sat straight in his chair, pointing at Nick. “I see that look, Muerto, and I don’t like it. This is not a fun time.”
“It is to me, Payaso. I have a job for you, Dan. It will clear up your entire debt to me you think you owe, and take care of a traitor. Would you like to work with Gus and I on this mission?”
“Listening to you two has made the damn pain recede for a few moments from my head. If I can barter my way into a day and night thinking about something else that doesn’t rip my heart out, I’d do anything for it.”
“That’s plain enough,” Nick said solemnly. “Your part will be very important. You’ll need a walker, and a geezer attitude without fear.”
Dan drained his drink, and held the cup out for more. Nick filled it. “I fear nothing, Nick. Without Carol, death, prison, or even torture don’t mean a damn thing to me. The night before Carol lost all conscious thought, my daughter thought it would be good to watch a movie with her… one of her favorites. Carol smiled when Sally showed her The Wizard of Oz movie case, so I put it in. When Judy Garland sang ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ Carol’s eyes widened, and she smiled. It nearly killed the rest of us… good Lord… we muffled our cries and tears so Carol didn’t notice. She was so absorbed in the song we pulled it off. Now though, every day that song rings in my head out of nowhere… and I…”
Dan lost control for a few moments, turning away as his shoulders shook. Nick and Gus remained silent, resisting the urge to interrupt the old man’s pain with comforting words they knew would bring no comfort. Seemingly in tune with his pain, the crescendo of waves against the rocks increased their tempo. When he turned again to face them, Dan wiped his face once more, and drained his drink.
“I’m in, boys. Tell me what I’ll have to do. I won’t screw up.”
“We know you won’t, old man,” Nick replied.
* * *
Nick answered the door, hurrying in from the all-day knife throwing activity in the back. He had talked Dan into staying with them to meet John, Grace, and Tim. Built around Jean’s knife throwing obsession, Dan enjoyed the banter mixed in with knife practice Jean could not get enough of. Rachel had participated, with some success, while Gus, John, Tina, and Dan watched appreciatively. Deke at first wanted to chase the throws. A couple of beer bowls, and Dan feeding
him beef jerky treats had calmed Deke down noticeably.
“Hello minions of the darkness,” Nick greeted his US Marshal friends.
Tim laughed, but Grace barged right past Nick. “Damn right! I want that bitch in the worst way imaginable, Nick! It was a crappy trip. I need a drink and a plan. I don’t give a shit who knows what we’re doing. I pray to God you have something for us.”
Nick retreated a bit, surprised for a change at Grace’s initial greeting. “Well okay then. Has she been like this all the way here, Tim?”
“She’s calmed down somewhat. We did not drink on the way here.”
“You definitely need a drink then. Come outside with us. Our knife throwing exhibition is almost over due to temperature and darkness. I have a couple of new team members, and a hell of a plan. We need transportation, the proper room next to Pettinger and her bodyguards, and a place to bide our time afterward, until one of my team members can play out his part.”
“Let me see the knife throwing contest, meet your people, and then get my cranky ass up on that great drinking deck you have,” Grace replied.
“Done… and done,” Nick agreed.
* * *
Dan approached the bodyguard’s hotel door, the walker he used banging into the doorjam and door noisily while Nick, Gus, and John fanned out to both sides of the old man. Dan tried the wrong room-card repeatedly, cursing and ramming into the door. It soon opened, with a tall, dark, and very annoyed man of Middle Eastern descent glowering at Dan.
“What is it you want, Sir,” the man asked.
“I want into my damn room!” Dan peered at him in confusion. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
“This is not your room! Go away!”
Dan stumbled forward, his walker catching in the doorway. Nick surged around him, using a stun-gun to knock the door greeter to the floor. Gus grabbed Dan and the walker, lifting both clear of the door as Nick and John rushed in with Tasers. They caught the second bodyguard completely unaware, the dual sets of needles hitting him as he sat on the bed. In seconds he was unconscious. Gus dragged the other bodyguard further into the room while Dan closed the door.
Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) Page 32