Cold Blooded Assassin Book 6: Red Horizon (Nick McCarty Assassin) (7 page)

“Sure, Cala. Fenric will talk easier than anybody we’ve had for interrogation. Once he wakes on a gurney in our funhouse, Fenric will cooperate for anything we have to offer. Look… we have no conscience, no loyalty, and no compassion.”

“You do, Nick,” Gus said with solemn emphasis.

“I could pretend for you, Gus. Unfortunately, my inner dark side doesn’t disappear at will. Harding calls his people the ‘Monster Squad’. He differentiates his crew between Monsters and Snow Whites. Consider me in this way. Depending on the circumstances everyone is a Snow White to me.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Gus replied. “I also know loyalty strongly influences every one of your actions.”

“That is so, Muerto,” Johnny agreed.

“Let’s leave the morality lessons alone for now. Take us to the Funhouse, Cleaner.”

“Yes, Muerto.”

* * *

Fenric ached all over. The application of Taser needles until he passed out affected his short term memory. He kept his eyes shut while quietly taking stock of his physical attributes. Cursing himself internally without showing any outward sign, Ballesteros concluded his limbs as well as his head were restrained with straps he could not slither away from. He thought for a moment as to his choices, wondering about who or what he could barter away to keep his life. It was then three men approached, dressed in black, one with a vicious clown mask, and the other two with black silk face masks. A woman accompanied them, dressed in black, with a red eye mask and a red headband. One of the black silk masked men checked the video camera mounted directly behind the four. He nodded at the one at the other end of the line, who came forward with a water glass and straw. Fenric drank with hard to pretend thirst.

“We know you were staking out the Dickerson house,” the man said, stripping off his mask. “I’m-”

“Nick McCarty! Oh sweet Jesus! You killed Felix Moreau. Listen, Nick… I don’t have a contract on you. This is business, compadre. My employer doesn’t even know you. I’m here for the Dickerson family across from where you snatched me. I would never have taken a contract on you. Sure… I would shoot you in the back of the head if I saw you. I damn well wouldn’t go hunting you. I heard you took down the Frank Richert Cartel inside the NSA. How can I make this right?”

“You can’t, Fen,” Nick answered. “I’m willing to forget you were going to hit the target bought and paid for by Fernando Carone. It’s nothing personal. It’s just business. You know reality, brother rat. You’re not walking out of here. Let’s get the finances out of the way first. Cleaner? Come over and scope this out.”

“Yes, Muerto.” Cala streaked into position, staring at Fenric. “I’m ready.”

“This is ‘The Cleaner’. She’s a living lie detector. We’ll need all your bank accounts first. Please don’t play make believe with us. We’ll keep you alive for a time until we confirm everything. Then, I’ll give you a peaceful, painless death. God help you if we don’t get the truth or your account information doesn’t check out. In that case, I will give you a glimpse of hell. My other compatriot, El Kabong will be using his satellite uplinked laptop to transfer your funds first. Begin quickly, Fen. You have ten seconds to comply with your account locations and numbers for transfer. We’ll get to the rest later.”

Fenric recited in precise terms everything McCarty asked for. He observed for over a decade what can be done to a man in interrogation. The choice was clear – he either gave them everything they wanted or they would torture him until he did. He recognized McCarty immediately. Fenric had laughed when watching reports and videos of the ‘Unholy Trio’. Never did he think to cross their paths. Unlike other observers to the videos, Fenric knew they were not fake. The Middle East idiots, he had watched the destruction of an Isis cell in Ohio with, claimed it was a fake, vowing to find the filmmakers responsible. Fenric told them, ‘Allah help you if you do’. Carone had hired him for a simple kill in quiet Pacific Grove. If McCarty wanted Carone, Fenric would help him. He didn’t know if Carone knew about McCarty or the Unholy Trio, but if he had sent him into their hunting grounds without telling him, Fenric wanted him to pay for it with his life, as he himself soon would.

* * *

Johnny nodded at Nick after finishing transfer of accounts from Ballesteros’s holdings into their own offshore accounts. “It is done. He had nearly five million as he claimed.”

“Very good, Fen,” Nick said, turning to Ballesteros. “You may have guessed we want the guy who hired you. Fernando Carone put the hit on our police friend and his family. We know where he is and what his plans are. You were to kill the Dickerson family tonight. Is that correct?”

“Yes. I will help in any way I can for you to get the bastard who put me in your sights. Our kind do not have friends. Why make this personal?”

In most instances, Nick admitted to himself, Fen was right. His career as a writer, and moving to Pacific Grove as a base, changed him. Then, along came Rachel, Jean, Deke, and now Quinn to cement the change into place. He knew explaining it to Fen would be a useless exercise. “Shit happens. I never took a contract on a family. I don’t hold that against you, but we were never the same kind. We need you to confirm information gathered from two of Carone’s other henchmen.”

“Of course,” Fenric agreed, relaxing his head back while staring up at the horrific ceiling. He smiled. “This is a very nice setting, Nick.”

“Thanks, Fen. I’m glad we won’t have to introduce you to some of the room’s more nightmarish implements.”

“I appreciate the chance to buy an easy death. Some of us would have tortured me simply to hear me beg for death.”

“Do you have any family? I will send them most of your money.”

“Thank you… but no, I have happily been alone. Keep it… hey… now that you mention it, I had to be a homeless bum in New York City once to cap a mobster. His name was ah… Willie Fangona. Anyway… I scavenged on the streets in front of Fangona’s apartment building, trying not to get rounded up by the cops. A woman who worked the Salvation Army pot on the corner started giving me coffee and donuts when I’d walk past. She always smiled and said, ‘good morning, I have something for you’. I’d tell her I didn’t need it, and she answered the same way, ‘of course you do’. Give the Salvation Army whatever you want to, Nick. Would you do it in my name too?”

“Sure, Fen. I’ll have to wait a while though.”

“No problem. Thanks.”

Gus brought over his tablet with the schematics of Carone’s yacht, including variations of where Burt told them Carone spent most of his time. Fenric looked over everything carefully. He also named the hotel he was staying at in Monterey.

“The hotel keycard’s in my wallet. It looks like you have everything I could tell you. He likes hanging out on the bridge. The three times I have met with him in person, Fernando took the meeting on the bridge, dressed in a ridiculous white captain’s outfit like he was on the ‘Love Boat’ or something. He keeps a skeleton crew of about fifteen on board all year. They’re handpicked cartel killers, with other skills for crewing a yacht like The Tempest, and handling the Panga boats with whatever transaction’s going on.”

“Good info,” Nick said. “I’m surprised you ever met with him.”

“Yeah… not too smart. I was getting careless. I should have retired with my money but I’m a psycho. Sooner or later I would have killed someone… just for the hell of it.”

Nick chuckled. “We don’t retire well. What would you like? I have a hotshot of heroin or I can give you the usual instant mix.”

“Oh man… give me the H. That would be great. You guys really do some nice work. I saw the Ohio Isis cell video with the guy dancing around in front of the hangar before you blew it to hell and gone. The Middle East fruit-loops I was stuck with at the time thought it was fake. I knew better. Well… good to meet you, Nick. Shoot me up, brother.”

“I’ll see you soon, brother.” Nick gave him the heroin death dose.

“I hope not… ahhhhhhh…,” Fenric’s eyes closed as he smiled a final time. “It’s going to be hot where I’m…”

Nick unstrapped Ballesteros, allowing the fading assassin to lie without restraints in the final moments. “Fen went with his boots on. We’ll need to go collect his stuff before we call it a day. I think it may be a good time for Ebi Zarin and his lovely wife to get decked out in traditional cave dweller Islamic garb for confiscation of Fen’s earthly goods, at least his electronic ones.”

“Good idea, Muerto. Maybe we will be done in time to watch the sunrise at Otter’s Point,” Johnny said.

“With a bit of Irish?”

“Of course, Payaso,” Johnny answered. “We had a very good day and night. I am glad Fen decided to cooperate, even though I didn’t get to do a movie.”

Cala grasped Nick’s arm before he and Gus lifted Fen into a body-bag. “Did you think of letting him go, Muerto?”

“Not for a second,” Nick answered. “He would have killed all of us at the first opportunity. Fen wasn’t a lost puppy we were putting down at the pound. He was a top echelon killer. We don’t forgive and forget.”

“You spared Johnny.”

“I needed Johnny. Also, he didn’t kill families. Besides, I liked him.”

“I was recruited as a soldier of Allah,” Johnny added. “They wanted me to be a murderer. We were not being persecuted. A few of the believers asked me when I hid out in their mosque why I was a terrorist. They did not dare ask anyone else, but I seemed more open. I told them I served Allah to keep Islam free. They would whisper, ‘but we are free here’. The longer I stayed, the more disillusioned I became. I became angry with the quiet believers who said nothing. I asked them why if they thought what we were doing was wrong… then why did they not speak out. They were too frightened. I grew up in a small village. Sharia Law was meaningless there. I learned the true face Sharia Law shows in secret, with honor killings, female subjugation and mutilation, stonings, murders, suicidal death on a whim while Islam’s leaders live like kings.”

Johnny drew Cala into his embrace. “I will die before I allow such blasphemy here. If Cala is approached even one more time by her idiot Kader family, I will hunt them down like the jackals they are. I will do El Kabong movies of each death.”

“Count me in,” Gus said.

“El Muerto will be at your side, Kabong. Let’s get Fen in the freezer. I think we’ll have a short time to enjoy the beach before we have to move on Fernando. It’s the weekend. I’ll pack a bag and bring Jean, Quinn, Rachel, and Deke with me.”

“Until we deal with Fernando, maybe you should drive everywhere,” Gus suggested. “We’re not even sure Carone wouldn’t have added you onto Fen’s hit list.”

“Those ‘bangers will be out this morning in spite of their lawyer’s unfortunate passing,” Johnny reminded everyone. “I think Payaso is right, Muerto. It may be dangerous for you to walk around. What about your new ascendency to number one assassin in the world?”

Nick shrugged while they placed the Fenric bag on the gurney for transport. “There’s a bunch of notes on my drop, some from my fellow assassins. Apparently they figured rightfully I was no longer taking contracts since ending Frank Richert’s NSA power grab. Since learning the fate of Moreau, I’m getting very popular. Moreau’s old employers are a bunch I’d like to deal with for one reason: to get into a position to put a bullet through their heads. There are Saudi potentates with numerous wives who would rather a professional assassin murder their wives. I swear to God… sometimes… I feel like doing a hit list through the Saudi royal family. Their money funds chaos throughout the world, along with the shitheads who follow that murderous cult of Islam: Wahhabism. I admit I’d take a hit on a Saudi royal family member in a heartbeat.”

Gus stopped the procession. He pointed a finger at Nick. “That means you’ve been recruited to do exactly that. You’re warming us up for the trigger. Bad Muerto… bad.”

Nick shrugged. “I was offered a million dollars to take out a Saudi royal prince. It’s flaky by a source I’m unfamiliar with. It’s just one of many I’ve gotten since suspicions were confirmed by Felix’s handlers. They want to adopt me too. I don’t answer the drop e-mail unless it comes from our close personal contacts. I’ve lit up the ‘Dark Web’. Every suspicion about how Felix met death has been gone over in significant detail there, with me as the star.”

“What name do you go by on the ‘Dark Web’, Muerto,” Cala asked.

“Terminator,” Nick answered with a grin. “I know Gus introduced Rachel and Jean to the tag long ago. It’s a game. So many departments scan me, measuring prosecution, it’s funny in a way. I hope they’re actually paying attention to the real enemy.”

“I remember a time when your tag on the ‘Dark Web’ was funny,” Gus said. “After the first time you helped me rescue my brother and friends, I knew the Terminator tag was absolutely accurate. It has proven true in every single op we’ve ever taken. I don’t talk Muerto out of various venues of course. It doesn’t mean I don’t know all he’s done. It means I trust him to be on the right side of every single action in his name. He has been, and I trust he will be so until we end this. The more we talk, the thirstier I get, and the more I desire that damn cold beach. Plus, I get to watch Kabong dance with the goofy birds.”

“I shall dance the dance of birds in flight,” Kabong said. “Especially, since I will bring them special treats today.”

“One of these days we’ll watch the birds cluster about you in those waves you’ve drawn and then you’ll simply disappear on their upward flight.”