Inside the cabin, McCarty sat Kelly on a chair with the affable blonde watching him. McCarty spread a tarp on the floor, placing an equipment bag nearby. McCarty transferred chair and Rupert powerfully to the center of the tarp, before repositioning the restraints. At the end of the task, Kelly’s arms were restrained on the chair arms, and his ankles to the chair legs, his chest bound to the chair back. Only then, did McCarty address him.
“Hello, Kelly. You know who I am, but I’m certain you have no idea why you’re here. Let me explain. You picked the wrong hunting ground at my book signing. My associate, Lynn Dostiene, and I will learn everything about what you have been doing, with all the details concerning your victims. Lynn and I are going to put on our costumes. Then, we’ll position our video camera to record this event. Be patient. All will be made clear to you soon.”
Terrified, Kelly watched his two captors place a video camera and tripod to record the scene before dressing all in black with black masks. They tested the audio voice-masking sound. Satisfied, McCarty cut away Kelly’s clothing with a scalpel, separating everything down past his groin, leaving only a thin line of blood along the pathway. Suddenly, Rupert knew he would not be leaving his cabin alive.
* * *
Nick and Lynn backed away from Kelly, turning and facing the video camera. Nick activated the recording device with his remote. “I am El Muerto. With me is Crusader Crue. We have caught a child serial killer. We will learn what Kelly Rupert knows for the police and where he buried the bodies of the children. He will not go quietly into the night.”
Nick slit open Kelly from sternum to groin, deep enough to allow his intestines to spill out. Lynn poured bleach onto the intestinal loops while Nick made sure he didn’t buck off the floor. They allowed him ten minutes of agony before Nick neutralized the bleach and added a wet towel over the wound. It took another ten minutes before Rupert looked capable of speech. Nick removed the ball-gag.
“Hey there, Mr. Child Predator, your day has arrived. The cleansing you just received was only a preview of what we have planned if you don’t tell us everything. Do you understand?”
Kelly stared into the Terminator’s eyes, knowing this man would not hesitate to bleach him until his eyeballs popped from his head. “I…I will tell you everything. First… I will tell you why-”
“No… you won’t,” Nick cut him off. “I don’t want to hear about your mommy and daddy issues or anything about how you decided to rape, torture and kill children. One more word out of you about why, and you get another ten-minute cleansing. Understood?”
“Yes…yes! Please! No more! I’ll tell!”
Over the next hour, Kelly explained in detail where his souvenirs were hidden. Nick retrieved them from the vent. Eighteen children’s ears were inside the glass separator case. Nick showed them in front of the camera. He and Lynn exchanged glances that foretold an ending without mercy. After Kelly revealed where the burial ground was for his victims, Nick took a shovel out to the indicated place marked by the downed tree Kelly told them about. Once he found one of the bodies, Nick quit and put the shovel into the ground as a marker. He switched back from work gloves to Nitrile gloves and returned. Nick faced the camera.
“El Muerto has identified the burial ground and left a shovel marker where eighteen children are buried.” Nick removed the towel and gagged the squirming Kelly.
Lynn poured on the bleach without hesitation. Rupert stroked out within fifteen minutes of the repeated applications. She and Nick watched the light fade from Kelly’s bulging eyes without mercy, conscience, or remorse. Lynn added the final line for Kelly after reciting the exact location of the cabin.
“Well… bye.”
Nick shut off the video recorder and packed their equipment away. The trip back to New York was a quiet one. They left the CIA owned untraceable car in the same place as the last one.
“Dance night at Brandy’s, Muerto?”
“You bet, Crue. I plan to play, sing and get my drink on until dawns early light.”
“Amen to that.”
* * *
The weigh-in, usually a fake spectacle of threats and poses, turned into a backdrop for Carl Logan to prance around, acting like someone shot his dog. The reporters ganged up on him while the weigh-in progressed through the different weight classes. A couple of fighters got carried away with their threats and poses. They needed restrained, giving the reporters more time to question Carl. He became angrier with each question asked. Most of the media questions highlighted different aspects they studied from the video where I dominated him, proving to be faster, stronger and the harder puncher. Tommy summed up what we were all thinking as we watched him.
“Why in hell did Logan come here today? He won’t be in Rudo’s corner.”
“I think Carl loves being pissed off,” Jess remarked.
Mayor Constantine, who joined us Saturday from Oakland, added a legitimate concern. “We need to watch Carl closely. He should not be allowed anywhere near John. He doesn’t care about Madaki. If he could get a cheap shot in to cripple or end the Dark Lord, I believe Carl would take it.”
“I will be on my guard at all times,” I agreed. “I wonder if the officials would say anything if I wore my MMA gloves… just kidding.”
“Dev’s right though,” Tommy added. “We’ll get in between you and Carl at all times.”
“That works for me. I thought for sure he’d leave us alone after the training match.”
“On the lighter side, I appreciated the entertainment at Brandy’s. Nick and Joan defy description,” Dev said.
I lowered my voice. “Ever since Muerto and Crusader Crue took care of the child killer, Nick’s been entertaining at Brandy’s. He keeps improving, as does Joan. Nick and Rachel doing duets keeps his groupies from forming.”
Dev chuckled. “Rachel doesn’t like leaving Nick solo for any length of time. The entertaining seemed to heal Nick and Lynn. That was one nasty piece of business with Rupert.”
“The FBI issued a statement about bringing the torturers to justice,” Jess replied. “Hell… if we had been back in the Bay, we would have heaved the sucker in for Hook, alive and kickin’. The media did a lot of street interviews trying to stir up sympathy for poor old Rupert. People on the street want the FBI to hire Nick and Lynn as child killer executioners. I think only Sam and Janie suspect the FBI already has hired them.”
“Okay… here we go.” It was my turn to get weighed and measured along with Rudo.
We did the posturing but Rudo was no more into acting out than I was. When we did the glove in each other’s face routine, Rudo mentioned the match with Logan. “Man… you whupped the champ. I’m putting you on the mat and keeping you there.”
“Probably a smart plan, Rudo. We’re hoping Carl doesn’t do anything else stupid.”
“I can tell you one thing: Carl ain’t over it.”
“Understood.”
They separated us. The press conference came next. Logan… with reporters and cameras trailing him, cut me off on the way to the table. “Fight me in the ring! I’ll knock your ass out, Harding!”
My guys stayed in between us. “No. I gave you a shot with the headgear on. I don’t want the boxing crown. Besides, you didn’t do too well the other day, Carl. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”
“You drugged me or something! I know it!”
I waved him off and took a seat at the conference table. Rudo and I would be first to answer questions. The first question echoed Logan’s claim.
“Did you drug Carl Logan before or during the training match?” The ESPN reporter asked.
I shrugged with a smile. “You saw the video. Did it look like Carl was drugged?”
“No… I admit being surprised by the fight, but I didn’t see any sign Carl Logan was drugged. Logan contends otherwise, so I thought to give you a chance to answer his charge.”
I could see Carl seething over at the side. “Carl entered my training facility uninvited, demanding I fight him
under boxing rules. I agreed and we fought. Carl never slowed down until I knocked him out. I did not drug him. I didn’t need to. Now… I have a UFC match with Rudo Madaki. I’m certain he would rather talk about our match rather than a training bout. I know I would.”
Another reporter stood, addressing Rudo. “Harding knocked out the reigning heavyweight boxing champion, Rudo. Does that fact give you second thoughts about your match with him?”
“Not really,” Rudo replied. “Ground and pound will be my plan for fighting Harding in the cage. It always has been. There will be striking with all the tools. He and I will give a good accounting of ourselves for the fans. They won’t be disappointed. I didn’t come here to lose.”
Rudo and I described our training methods with Barclay’s Center management playing my Captain Hook video to the audience’s delight. Afterwards, we shook hands and left the stage to appreciative applause from the people in attendance. A bad moment happened as I led the way down the side aisle.
A guy ran at me with a knife, yelling, “Allahu Akbar!”
Because I was on my guard to be ready for Logan, handling the knife wielder presented no problem. I caught the thrusting arm and hip threw him hard to the floor. I twisted the man’s wrist; because he maintained his knife grip, despite being slammed onto his back. He dropped the knife with a scream as security moved on him.
I backed away, with Monsters charging to my side, ready for anything. Nick and the Unholies streamed down the aisle, providing cover at the front.
A reporter yelled, “Champ! Do you think Rudo is behind this?”
“Hell no! Did you hear what he yelled? Rudo can’t win the title if I get incapacitated or dead. Also… we don’t get paid unless we fight.”
Lynn and Clint moved to the downed man with FBI credentials out for the security guards to see. “I’m FBI Special Agent Lynn Dostiene and my partner Clint Dostiene. We will be placing this man under arrest for attacking a federal officer.”
“I’m glad you can take him, Agent Dostiene,” the lead security guy said.
Clint reached down and yanked my attacker to his feet and restrained him with plastic ties the security officer gave him. Lynn collected the knife after yanking on a pair of Nitrile gloves. Another officer provided her with an evidence bag. Never missing an opportunity, they replayed the attack on the big screen.
“I called Denny,” Lucas said. “He says take him to the safehouse for questioning.”
“I want a lawyer!” The attacker wasted little time getting the call for legal aid on the table.
Lynn patted his shoulder. “Of course, you do. Right this way to our legal department where all your needs will be met.”
“We’ll go outside and recon our path to the limousines,” Nick said. “Give us a couple minutes.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
Nick took Claude and the Unholies with him to check on our dependents. They took the kids to see a Broadway Christmas show. Clint, Lynn, Lucas, and Casey escorted our bandito to the CIA safehouse. I still needed to get in a light workout to stay loose. My cage crew came along with me. I knew Lynn would learn if this guy randomly decided to kill or maim me. I also knew it would be his last moments on earth.
* * *
“Where are you taking me?”
“You won’t be going home to mama. That’s for sure,” Lynn told him.
“I will tell you nothing. I want my phone call and a lawyer.”
“I used to think that line would never get old.” Lucas smashed the man with an open-hand strike that very nearly broke his neck. “That’s a little sample of you don’t always get what you want.”
“That…that is police… brutality! You cannot just beat me!”
Lucas smacked him again. “Yeah… I can. We have much more in store for you. Start thinking of ways to make us happy during this interrogation or we will make you very unhappy. For now… shut up!”
“He carried no ID,” Clint said. “I sent his picture and fingerprints to Achmed for processing. We should know who he is by the time we reach the house.”
* * *
Clint’s iPhone pinged while they readied the prisoner for interrogation at the safehouse. “You’re on speaker, Achmed.”
“His name is Rafa Elbaz. He has ties to Muslims of America. Someone may suspect John of leading the strike-force against the farmhouse near Islamberg. Elbaz came over with the last administration’s brilliant idea of importing refugees from Syria. He has been arrested twice for assault. I have a theory Elbaz meant to kill John and then throw down his weapon and surrender, claiming a religious killing. With the record of throwing out convictions at the first instant a Muslim claims someone offends them, Elbaz figured he could get away with it.”
“You may be right,” Clint answered. “That gives us something to start with.”
Lynn stood over Elbaz. “Here’s how this works, Raf. I will give you a demonstration of what happens to you when we don’t get your cooperation. Afterwards, you will have a chance to avoid any further pain.”
“You are bluffing! You cannot…” Clint put in the ball-gag.
The nightstick stun-gun arc to Elbaz’s groin, applied in calculated doses by Lynn, would have flipped the chair if not for Lucas and Casey anchoring it down. Lynn didn’t stop for fifteen minutes, spacing her jolting arc assaults to allow Elbaz a small respite, before repeating her stun-gun treatment. It took many minutes for Elbaz to appear capable of speech. Clint removed the ball-gag.
“Who sent you to kill John Harding… and why?”
“Toshida… Raab! She…she believes Harding attacked Islamberg! Raab told me… to claim… religious persecution!”
“It seems we got the reason right,” Casey said. “Why would she think that? She’s the foul-mouthed whacko, pro-Hezbollah woman elected to Congress in Michigan, with ties to Muslims of America. How could she know anything about Islamberg?”
“Raab was in New York to meet with Assio-Warez. They…they meant to form a socialist block in Congress. With Assio-Warez dead… Raab stayed to persuade the choosing of another socialist for the Assio-Warez seat in Congress. She visited… Islamberg… the night of the attack and knew John Harding was in New York with his… paramilitary group. One of the survivors claimed a huge man was one of the leaders. Rumors from a contact in Washington DC; that John Harding had been given the mission to destroy the compound, angered Raab into contacting me.”
“Where did she import you from?” Lynn asked.
“Dearborn, Michigan.”
“So, the terrorists in Islamberg did know we were coming,” Clint said.
“Yes… but… it was a massacre. I was told when Raab saw the scene… she lost her mind… plotting vengeance.”
“Who else knows about any of this?” Lynn continued.
Silence. Lynn fired off another arc.”
“Wait! Only Raab and I! Hezbollah and Muslims of America refused her request to mount an attack… claiming it would jeopardize operations everywhere if the farmhouse was investigated.”
“How does it sound, Achmed?”
“Good. Toshida Raab arrived in New York before the rally attended by Assio-Warez. She visited Islamberg just as Elbaz claims. Raab traveled again to New York City in the middle of the week. She’s staying at the Casablanca Hotel in Midtown. Raab has reservations there for a couple more days.”
“Raab will be asking questions about her minion. She will expect some news about his attempt to murder Cheese,” Lynn said. “Oh well. Into each life a little rain must fall. We’ll go with an explanation that our buddy, Elbaz, was shipped to a secure location, where he is cooperating with federal agents and will eventually be deported.”
Lynn injected Elbaz. He died in seconds. Clint and Casey transferred him to a body-bag.
“I like your story, Lynn. This puts a damper on the fight tomorrow,” Lucas said. “What do you think should be done about Raab?”
“We’ll confer with Muerto. No need to get too far into this new mess until after the
fight,” Lynn replied. “I’m sure Muerto can arrive at a decision. No way can Cheese and the rest of us have anything to do with it. We need to be in Oakland when Raab gets hers.”
“I have Denny on the line with us,” Jafar said.
“We should go with Lynn’s suggested story. After the fight, I will personally take Elbaz back to Pain Central and put him in the deep freeze for Captain Hook. We need to make sure he doesn’t turn up anywhere. There is a freezer at the safehouse. Put Elbaz in it. I also agree with Lynn about Raab. We need a consult with Muerto on Raab. I don’t want the Monsters anywhere near New York or Michigan when something fatal happens to Raab. Assio-Warez was a perfect sanction. Let’s hope Nick can do something similar with Raab. If not, we’ll need to leave her be for now.”
“She gets into Congress this coming January,” Casey replied. “We don’t want Sharia Law Mutants in Congress ordering other mutants to run at us or our dependents with knives, guns, or bombs, Denny. When they’re successful, they make bogus claims of religious offense and the idiot judges let them walk. If you don’t want a bloodbath, you better hope Nick can do this quietly, or we’ll do it loudly. Raab only thinks she knows what lies down the vengeance trail.”
“Believe me, Case… I realize everything you’ve stated is on the line. Paul and I are narrowing down a suspect in leaking the Monster and Unholies’ mission at the farmhouse. Between the FBI and CIA people in the know about Dullah and the weapons compound, there were too many people conscious of a possible strike on the compound. It was too important a target to pass on. You saw the weapons they stored there ready to be dispersed. Paul and I will cut out the FBI from any mission like the Islamberg farmhouse in the future.”
“We know the facts,” Casey agreed. “Truthfully, we should be more on the offensive. If we keep playing defense with suspected terrorist strongholds, there won’t be anything of the nation left to save.”
Hard Case 12: Climate of Chaos (John Harding) Page 27