Cold Blooded Assassin Book 6: Red Horizon (Nick McCarty Assassin) (38 page)

“This is a beautiful place. Once we get a nice landing zone built, this could turn into a regular weekend retreat.”

“Our thoughts exactly,” I agreed. “We’ve never dumped this many bodies on you, Den. How tough is this situation?”

“They ain’t getting Muslim burial rites if that’s what you’re askin’,” Denny joked. “They’ll be lucky if we don’t cremate them in pig fat.”

“That’s very civilized of you, Den.”

“It’s a better fate than what they did to Ambassador Stevens in Benghazi. We don’t ever forgive and forget about that travesty.”

“We won’t. We’ll chalk up a bunch more notches on this op and move on to the next. Maybe we’ll get enough shit off those computers, coupled with the sheer number of soldiers in this Isis training compound, to finally get the idiots in DC to stop importing them.”

“I’m not that progressive in thought,” Denny sarcastically pointed out. “Seriously. This op might make the difference. If we could report this incident in its entirety, I think there would be a day of reckoning for Islam. If I hear one more word about moderate Muslims, I’m going to puke.”

“Hey, the cleaning crew’s picking up a whole bunch of moderates as we speak,” Lynn pointed out.

Chapter Twelve

Kader Finality

Nick relaxed in their suite at the Trump Soho Duplex Penthouse with Gus, Johnny, and Samira. He normally would have done everything differently, but this way Nick knew he could find a way to get Eliah Kader under the radar. His crew sharing the straight through drive helped considerably. Gus rented the Penthouse under his name. They would enjoy a couple of days comfort while Nick worked through the information gathered from the flash drive Ishmael Kader’s wife had given him. Nick planned to hit this nail with a hammer rather than his usual detailed operation.

“You’re really serious about this, Muerto?”

“It’s the best solution, Gus. Think about it. We can make Eliah disappear with us and take our time questioning him on the road back home. I don’t want to do a hit here in New York. A missing person works much better for us. If I manage to take Eliah in secret, no one will be in any rush to look for him. We know his address. The old prick lives in a one bedroom condo on East 85
th
.”

“Let me go in with Cala,” Johnny said.

“No! Let me do this with Muerto.” Cala hugged Johnny sitting next to her. “We will get this man I am related to in blood only. Seeing he has me, we can gain entrance. I will sell my part at the door. I will wear a hijab so he can see fear on my face. Muerto has a rough black gray beard. With ball cap and hoodie and speaking Arabic, he will be perfect as my deliverer from Al-Kadi. The letter Tonto made Al-Kadi write will get us inside for sure.”

“Cala’s right,” Nick agreed. “Not this time, Johnny. We have to keep you on the down low for the time being. We’ve worked the Ebi Zarin identity too many times lately. I don’t even want to do this with Cala but with the letter and my disguise, all will be well. I will not let harm come to the Cleaner, but I leave the final decision to you, brother. If you have any reservations we’ll find another way.”

“I want this, husband,” Cala added.

Johnny nodded. “It will be as you wish. I trust Muerto. Payaso and I will be ready with the trunk open for my in-law to ride in. Those satellite feeds Paul tied us into show Eliah moving around with two other men in suits and beards. They look like pros. That is a tight fit in a one bedroom walk-up condo. They are undoubtedly not fine law abiding citizens.”

“If they stay with him when Cala and I visit, that will work out well for my plan. I will call Lynn a half hour before we knock on the door. She told me Al-Kadi would be ready to receive calls if need be from Eliah.”

“That will make your door greeting nearly foolproof with Cala acting unhappily,” Gus said. “I wish we could chance having a cam on you, Cala. They will be very surprised when you faint to the floor. Muerto has pulled that prank before. All eyes will be on you a split second before they gain a .45 caliber created third eye.”

“I will perform brilliantly and we will finally be rid of my Kader curse. Do you believe Eliah is the last one doing this, Muerto?”

“According to Ishmael’s wife, Eliah has been responsible for everything that’s happened. He’s the one who blocked the payoff I offered to leave us all the hell alone. Eliah threatened Ishmael’s family because he tried to change the other elders’ minds.” Nick lifted his glass. “Let’s have a toast to Ish. He was born into the wrong family, but maybe now his wife and kids can escape Islam’s curse. I wish he had called us.”

They toasted Ishmael.

Cala sighed and sipped her wine. “At least I had one decent male relative.”

“Lynn’s assistant, Amara, had the same family problems. I believe the Monster Squad has made a severe reduction in the number of male Nejems. They were tied into our Pilot Hill bunch. I don’t think there was an Ishmael in their family reunion in hell.”

“I wonder if Lynn cured Florence,” Gus said.

“My guess would be it’s a guarantee,” Nick replied. “There’s something about the way she breaks someone down in interrogation. I’ll bet Senta resisting the cure gave Lynn pause for thought. I know they’ll have Chuck and Sal keeping a close eye on Flo. This is a dangerous business leaving enemies alive at your back.”

“I figured you would have killed Flo,” Johnny said. “Did Senta really turn on you or did you seize the opportunity?”

“A little of both. I needed to distract the gunmen. We’ll know what happened when Lynn finishes with Al-Kadi if she hasn’t already.”

* * *

Claude asked to sit in on Al-Kadi’s interrogation. He helped Clint and Jafar sift through the mountains of information to judge what could remain for Nick’s visit with Al-Saud. He earned the time. I could tell he wanted to ask a question when Saran became pliable. I noticed something bothering the assassin from the moment he heard our operation involved Saran Al-Kadi. Although Al-Kadi wanting to have Claude killed I’m sure was enough reason for Chardin to want Saran dead, I knew it wasn’t the only reason.

Saran pissed Lynn off on the way home. He thought because he was still alive that we planned to let Al-Saud or someone have him. No one explained what Nick had done to him. Saran figured we were suddenly scared of lawyers and lawsuits because Nick beat him like a red headed stepchild. Lynn listened to him whine and threaten us with everything under the sun. It was amusing at first. Then it dawned on Lynn that Saran didn’t know his men were all dead. That’s when the fun began.

Lynn clapped her hands together with delight. She took Jafar’s iPad over to Saran. We record everything we do with video and audio. It’s sick in a way, but we’re monsters. Anyway, Lynn sat next to Saran and said, “I bet you’d like to know what happened to your army of misfit Muslims, don’t ya’?”

“They will be freed soon,” Al-Kadi stated with confidence. “We merely defended our land against invaders. You will all end your days in prison for this outrage. I will never be handed over to Al-Saud.”

Lynn was amused to no end as were we all. When she managed some breathing control, she stated with some excitement, “oh, Saran, you’re right on all counts… except about us ending our days in prison. First off, your soldiers are all free. They did defend what they thought was your territory. It wasn’t, but that’s neither here nor there. Thirdly, you’re right – you will not be handed over to Al-Saud. That letter I dictated to you was for another reason I’m sure you have suspicions about. Let me show you this to fill in some of the blanks.”

Oh boy… the look of horror on Saran’s face as he watched the bloody annihilation of his men, their screams, and Laredo’s cockpit video of the survivors in the woods blown to bits – priceless.

“Murderers! My men were trying to surrender!”

“Really?” Lynn grabbed the iPad as if she cared, squinting at the screen and replaying the section that offended Saran. “Oh damn. Look at this, you guys.”

We put sad frowns of concern on our faces as we scooted to a position in the UH-60 where Lynn could enlarge the part and put it on replay. It was hilarious. We oohed and awed, shaking our heads, seemingly heartbroken over the fact that murderous swine, without a uniform or country, tried to give themselves up when they knew we were going to kill them all. Lynn threw the iPad into my lap. It was a tight fit for all of us. Lynn glared at us with hands on hips.

“You monsters!”

Once Lucas lost it and started braying, we were lost. Then it was the monster mash for the next few minutes with Saran gasping in outrage. Lynn sighed finally and took a deep breath.

“Look at this from our point of view, Saran. Your men were ambushing us, with full intention of doing a Benghazi on our asses. We didn’t rape your guys, burn them alive unarmed, or drag their bodies through our streets. We killed them. Now you… you’re different. We goin’ to teach you, sucker! I have questions for you when we get to the place we call Pain Central. If I were you, I’d start thinking of anything to tell me from your birth on that will make me happy. I don’t have a hard-on for you yet, but you give me a bad time in interrogation, and I’m going to show you the new rules of engagement for handling the Muslim horde, pussy!”

Lynn’s speech, complete with Cruella Deville death stare, shut Saran up for the rest of the trip. No more protests or any other nonsense. He realized the facts in evidence. We didn’t care about his feelings and he was going to die at some point: screaming or sighing. So, here we were with the minions and me handling strap and equipment duty, while Claude looked on. In a half hour, Saran Al-Kadi was in love with the thought of death. He called for it like a lover. He didn’t get it though. Lynn introduced him to our ‘Truth or Consequences’ game with Denny, Clint, and Jafar crosschecking everything using the intelligence gathered from his computers at the compound.

We left Saran for a time to allow his brains to seep back into place. Lynn gestured at him. “I don’t want to go too far. Muerto may need an introductory phone call for that Kader guy. We have to make sure Al-Kadi’s voice returns somewhat to normal. He’ll be calling shortly if he needs the call done. I know you want something answered, Claude. Would you like to ask it after the phone call?”

“Yes. I did not want to interrupt. Do you think it’s promising that he knew nothing of any other major network or cell compound?”

I exchanged glances with Lynn and the minions. We’d been through this before. “I don’t think so. They are smart enough to keep most of their operations compartmentalized for this reason. Importing thousands more of the Muslim horde is insanity for just that reason. Many may be already secretly in cells transported as refugees. They will have only to affiliate with a mosque wherever they are injected into a community. We know for certain the Muslims are stockpiling weapons in the mosques. What was it you wanted to ask?”

“It’s not important on the network scale, but I would like to know what happened to a woman I knew in Paris before the Arab Spring. The good guys nearly killed me. I took a contract on a French diplomat. It didn’t go well. I fled to Paris with a bullet in my leg. The woman I knew there from long ago named Felicia Martel is a cousin on my Mother’s side of the family. We met as children for a time when my Father was killed in Morocco and we needed to live in Paris for a time with relatives. Felicia and I became friends. We stayed in touch over the years. She became a nurse. Felicia helped me until my leg healed enough to make my way to England.”

When Claude paused while glancing over at the moaning Al-Kadi, Lynn became impatient. “Very cool story, but what does it have to do with Saran-wrap?”

Claude smiled. “She lived alone. Men in Al-Kadi’s employ took her during the riots. Felicia was very beautiful and only twenty-eight at the time. I didn’t find out the story until months after the Arab Spring travesty. My Father was a Saudi national, but he was not an Arab dog filled with hatred. He left to live in Morocco where he met my Mother. He was a common laborer but a good man. I would have followed his example. I took many contracts from Muslims to kill other Muslims because they killed my Father for leaving the death cult. This is the first chance I have had to get close to Saran-wrap as you call him. I would like to know what happened to Felicia.”

“No problem. If he knows, he will tell me.”

“I’ll get us some coffee,” I volunteered. “C’mon, Quays, you can help me.”

“We spend so much time in here, we should install a Cappuccino machine,” Quays suggested.

“Good idea, my treasured minion,” Lynn said. “Make it so.”

* * *

Nick and Cala looked good approaching Kader’s walk-up. Nick wore blue jeans, black windbreaker, black Giants baseball cap, and had his hood up. Cala wore an ankle length, dark blue dress with a light blue headscarf. She had practiced her terrified scowl and dialogue to match with Johnny until even Nick thought he was a bad guy. They knew from satellite imagery Eliah was home with two of his men. Nick prepped Lynn to set up the call with Al-Kadi if necessary. Saran was ready. Nick rang Kader’s condo.

“What is it?” A gruff voice sounded ready to descend the stairs and mug them.

“I am Momar Bata,” Nick said in fluent Arabic. “Saran Al-Kadi sent me with the woman Eliah Kader has asked for: Cala Kader. We know you do not wish to take chances. Here is the phone number Al-Kadi gave me for you to call and confirm.”

The voice grunted while taking down the phone number given. “Wait there.”