Cold Blooded III: Sins and Sanctions (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 3) (39 page)

Matger tried to curse the fading form over him, his mouth working without sound until darkness descended in a final black curtain.

* * *

At a few minutes after five in the morning, Nick and Gus sat on beach chairs, watching the slate gray horizon, crashing waves, and rocky Otter’s Point beach with solemn faces. Gus replenished their high octane coffee, pouring carefully into each of the mugs. In a few hours, they would walk Jean to school with Deke, who lay near Nick’s side, his empathy for the humans who cared for him in tune at all times. Deke sensed frolicking in the sand was not in line with the day ahead.

Gus never questioned the mission when Nick called. “What do you think will happen when Rod and Saul are discovered mysteriously dead within the same time frame?”

Nick sipped his brew, but remained silent. He couldn’t describe the ache he mentioned to Matger. Instead, Nick absorbed the unfamiliar emotion with a predator’s recognition of reality. He wasn’t meant to feel things, and yet now he did. His choice to wipe Matger and Korbin from existence would remain a visceral statement he would deal with at a later time. For now, he enjoyed the company he shared, and the fogging elixir in the cup at hand.

Gus sighed at Nick’s silence, smiled, and leaned back. “It’s okay, partner. You don’t give a shit. I texted Paul to erase their names from the database. He was inquisitive about why we called Easy Loans into question at all if we planned on putting them down like a rabid dog. I merely agreed due to circumstances beyond our control Rod and Saul found out why sometimes it’s just plain bad Karma to be assholes. He texted back an LOL, and that he’d fix it. I like that guy.”

Nick held his cup in toasting position. Gus quietly tapped it with his.

* * *

Nick followed Dan, Dan Jr., and Sally toward the beach, watching the old man’s erect form carrying his wife’s ashes in a backpack he had insisted on shouldering. The Pacific Grove coastline at night surged in majestic form under the bright sliver of moon. The fog, a usual participant along the coast, took a time out as if ordered by a higher authority. Nick had requested Sergeant Dickerson keep the usual coastal patrol cars away for the evening.

“It’s a small thing, Sergeant.”

“Consider it done, Nick. If any uniformed wankers intrude, put them on the phone with me. It won’t happen, but if it does, you have my number.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a small thing, my friend.”

So now, their cadre of mourners treaded silently down the hill. Crossing the coastal road, they approached the nearly pitch black darkness with care. Dan led the way to a large rounded rock near the low tide emptiness.

“This was Carol’s rock. She could sit here for an hour without moving,” Dan said, as he scraped the sand at the rock’s base away into a deepened indentation. He then withdrew the plastic bag carrying his beloved’s ashes from his pack, removed the small twist tie at the top, and spread some down below the rock. Dan stirred the sand, covering his wife’s small occupancy with gentle strokes of his hand.

Dan straightened, and moved forward toward the ocean to a small tide pool where even in the darkness, the mourners could see the silvery glint of ocean water under the moonlight. The old man knelt, and poured the remains of Carol’s ashes into the tide pool, stirring with steady strokes until all of her physical remains lay absorbed into the pool.

Dan stood again. “Carol loved Clint Eastwood movies. She never got to meet him, although we would visit the restaurant he owned at the time called the ‘Hogs Breath Inn’ in Carmel frequently. Once, I went there at nearly closing to have a drink with a friend. Clint was there, and I stupidly mentioned it to her. I don’t think she ever forgave me.”

Dan chuckled at the memory. “We saw the movie ‘Outlaw Josie Wales’ many times. There is a line in it she liked very much when Clint’s character Josie finds his young companion has died from wounds received. I think she’d like the slightly revised line now for this moment – She was born in the time of blood and dyin’, and never questioned a bit of it. She never went back on her folks or her kind. I rode with her, I’ve got no complaints.”

The old man then knelt, his hands clasped. “If you’d like, please join me in the Twenty-Third Psalm, which was also her favorite prayer. We shared it every night for the last two months.”

Beneath the moonlight, amidst the sound of waves smashing onto shore, the small group followed Dan’s lead with only hushed sobs and solemn recitation. After many remembrances, and shared touching moments, the small cadre of survivors paced up the hill towards Dan’s house. At the point where Nick’s journey home split away, he moved forward to put an arm around Dan’s shoulders.

“This is my road home, Dan. Thank you for inviting me along to settle Carol on her way. It was magnificent. Please call on me first if you need anything. I will not intrude in any way unless you ask.”

Dan gripped Nick’s shoulders, his eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for coming, Nick. It meant a lot to me. I will speak with you at a more pleasant time in the future.”

“I understand completely. Until then, my friend.” Nick shook hands with Dan Jr. before giving Sally a quick hug goodbye. “Stay well, kids. Dan has my number if you ever need anything. You have only to ask.”

* * *

Dan and his kids watched Nick walk away until darkness obscured their view. Without another word, Dan started home once again, only to be brought short by his son’s hand.

“Did you read the papers today? That Easy Loans guy Matger and his associate are dead. The news claims one had a heart attack, and the other had a tragic fall at his apartment. Dad, who is this guy McCarty?”

Dan glanced at his two kids with a wan smile. “Nick is someone you never want to meet in anger, revenge, or violent intention.”

When their father continued on, Sally hurried next to him. “What the hell does that mean exactly, Dad?”

Dan didn’t slacken his pace. “It means justice sometimes arrives in a mysterious form, cloaked in darkness. The funny part is, that particular justice doesn’t give a crap what we think about any outcome it considers justified. If you’re looking for answers beyond that, I don’t have any. My advice, although he is a God blessed friend, leave Nick alone.”

Sally exchanged vivid glances with her brother, and then followed their Dad silently.

* * *

When Nick walked into his house, he faced the contingent waiting for him. “It was simple and heartbreaking. Carol would have loved it. If you bunch are looking for something more tangible, forget it. I have some drinking to do.”

Rachel walked forward with a large shot glass filled with amber liquid. “We loved Carol. She was a beautiful person without peer. We minions are here for you. I know I’d like to hear all the exchanges you must have had with her over the years. I also know you have a photographic memory to provide them. Care to share?”

Nick took the glass and drained it. He walked toward the stairs with Deke immediately shadowing him. “I will be on the deck, recounting tales of deception and laughter shared about one of the most impressive women I’ve ever encountered. If you wish to be enlightened, then follow me… with the Bushmill’s bottle.”

Jean ran her head into Rachel’s side, wrapping her in a death grip of angst and loss, swallowing her sobs in quiet imitation of Nick. Rachel stroked her hair. “I know, baby. Let’s all put our game faces on and hear what only Nick can tell. I know this about that cold blooded zombie, he will make us all cry before he finishes his retelling of interactions with Carol.”

“Amen,” Gus said, putting an arm around Tina, who covered her face, wracked with sobs. “It didn’t take long to become someone who loved Carol. She will be missed unconditionally… and her loss… unimaginable.”

Chapter Fourteen

Training Camp

“We must have more funding!”

John shrugged without stress. “I am sorry, but I have already provided you with a place to train, live, and recruit. My benefactor cannot at this time offer anything more in the way of money. He must account for expenditures with this country’s IRS under the radar. If he does something stupid, we will all be at risk.”

“I would meet with this supposed supporter of Allah, who wishes to serve under his own conditions,” Faris Nagi stated with angry tone. “Not all moneys can be scripted to individual’s preferences. Are you not dedicated to this cause?”

John reined in his initial knee-jerk reaction as Nick had schooled him to do. “Surely, with all my benefactor has done, he should not be called into question on some trivial gambit you endorse without circumstances and facts which can lead to his death. Think clearly before you go on, Faris. My benefactor protects me, supports the cause with land as well as food and clothing, and asks nothing in return. What have you done in any way other than blaspheming with your arrogant mouth?”

John recognized he would get form over substance in a second while Nagi sputtered, caught without cliché to fall back on. John waved a dismissive hand in front of Nagi’s face. “Do not negate my true words with bluster. You will find you have turned an ally into an enemy.”

John’s strong words enraged Nagi, who poked him in the chest belligerently. “You are but a lowly stepstool in our endeavors! Are you a soldier of Allah, or are you but one more infidel nonbeliever?”

Nagi perceived he had gone too far. John’s face blasted from a contemplative adherence to fists clenched rebellion in a heartbeat, Nagi did not miss in body language. “I mean only to remind you of the true path.”

The true path in Nagi’s vision dissipated into nothingness as John kicked the unsuspecting Nagi in his groin, followed by a kneeing into his facial region which broke everything of a fragile structure: teeth, nose, and the orbital bone on Nagi’s right side. John allowed Nagi’s body to fall away from him to the floor, where Nagi spit blood, and curled into a fetal position. John called Nick, enlightening him on what had transpired. To his surprise, Nick began chuckling.

“You have put up with this long enough, John. You’re stressed out because you drew attention from terrorist bunglers. Then you house them under my roof in Carmel Valley, unsure what the hell to do with them. Insult upon injury, this Nagi guy busts your chops no matter what you do. End him, my friend. Gus and I are on our way. This scenario using my property is finished.”

“Thank you, Nick!” John put the phone on speaker, spun to the helpless Nagi, kicked him full in the face, and then plunged the stiletto knife he drew from his pocket down powerfully through Nagi’s right eye. “Allah be praised! Yet another addle headed miscreant has achieved hell. Let Maalik, the true hell’s angel deal with this annoying piece of camel dung!”

“Bag him out of sight. Stay on the down low until we can help you with the others. Will they miss this Nagi guy right away?”

“No,” John answered. “They are at the Masjid, including Ansar Pasha. There are five of them besides this pig I killed. You have at least one hour before they return. Do you wish to take prisoners?”

“We can’t, John,” Nick answered. “They all know you. I will not lose my El Kabong. We have a lot of work to do. After we question them, we’ll make our first kills as El Muerto, Payaso, and El Kabong. Then we’ll make them disappear. We’ll let the FBI decide about this Masjid, and a continued role for you there. Did anyone else at the Masjid know Nagi and his goons were at my Valley place?”

“No. They met resistance there from the Imam, who was becoming increasingly suspicious of Nagi. Ansar went tonight because he needed to try and smooth relations with the Imam. That is the main reason Nagi stayed here to harass me about more money while Ansar handled public relations. How will you make them disappear? Do you mean to bury them on your land?”

“Payaso and I will take them out to sea far enough if they are found, the location of their deaths will be a mystery still. We’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Muerto, El Kabong will be ready.”

* * *

When the Taser needles hit into the men as they entered Nick’s Carmel Valley Home, the ensuing pileup of bodies caused some inappropriate hilarity. Their three costumed captors cranked up the juice, Nick and Gus using a two Taser gun attack, while John fired on one, but kept a stun-gun in his other hand in reserve. Once their initial attack incapacitated the men, John and Gus put them into restraints while Nick watched them with his 9mm Berretta.

Nick received a text message from Paul, requesting a talk. He waited until the prisoners were restrained before leaving the room. “Yeah, Paul, what’s up?”

“Egypt is most anxious to have this bunch. I’m thinking we can do a rendition without exposing you superheroes. You’re all in costume, right?”

“Sure, but this is our first operation with El Kabong. I wanted him to make a statement,” Nick said. “What happened with simply making them disappear?”

“I put the pictures John has been taking of the cell members out to security agencies around the world. Three of them are on Egypt’s most wanted list, with Ansar Pasha the star. It would mean a few favors to be named later if we could deliver them. You have final say though, Nick. I’ll send a team to get them immediately, and they would be held incommunicado until sent to Egypt if you let me have them.”

Nick considered the request. His hesitation involved allowing five Isis cell members to be taken alive from his custody after living in his Carmel Valley home. “John’s already killed one of them. The others haven’t seen him yet, so I guess we could stay in costume. You’ll be stressing my directorial role. I’ll let you know whether to send a team or erase their faces off the database.”