Hard Case VII - Red Waves (John Harding Series Book 7) (6 page)

“No problem,” Nick said. “We’ll drive them to hell from here, brother.”

“I don’t want your man, Kabong and his wife, to become casualties in a place we probably should have simply blown to hell. I could tell listening to him and Gus bantering back and forth that he really likes the cartoon nickname. John seems fearless doing this infiltration gig too.”

“My partner Gus has been with me for a while. He created the El Muerto tag from an old comic book. I added him as Payaso, meaning clown, to mess with him and started putting on a face mask while filming some brutal sanctions. We added John as El Kabong after I turned him from the dark side during a terrorist hunt. He’s one of the best gambles I’ve ever taken. His wife Cala is our cleaner, as in dead body disposal. We call her Cleaner Cala. She loves it.”

I enjoyed that information along with Clint, Denny, and Lynn near us in the converted ready van. “We have to keep El Kabong and Cleaner Cala alive for future field work for sure. He’ll be indispensable infiltrating on the Starlight.”

Nick nodded. “Absolutely. He and I already discussed his also having crew credentials to get into areas aboard ship where we suspect Isis moles. His real name is Ebi Zarin, a former terrorist. That may prove valuable too.”

“I wonder how much trouble we’ll have with the Deluxe Cruises line.”

Nick grinned at me. “Not much. If we get any resistance from the Captain or his underlings when we have to move the action along, we’ll make a command adjustment, matey. Hey, Lynn, I watched you showing Jean knife tricks. I’ve already watched your interrogation videos. If we need you to take over command would you like to assume the role of ‘Captain Jack Sparrow’?”

“Oh Muerto, honey!” Lynn edged forward on her seat while gripping Clint’s hand. “Captain of the skyscraper of the seas? I believe you are absolutely right. The ship will need a firm guiding hand through these dangerous waters. Captain Crue to the rescue!”

Clint and Denny muttered, “uh oh,” at the same time.

“You’ve let loose the Kracken this time, brother,” Clint told Nick.

“Actually, I’d rather have Lynn next to the Captain making sure he does exactly what we tell him to do,” Denny said. “Good call, Nick.”

Oh boy, this was going to be one fun cruise. I checked Lucas’s cam feed on the laptop we monitored showing everything Lucas had in sight. The two door guardians were still in position. One assault at a time. Knowing Nick’s friend and his wife faced unknown conditions inside the mosque did not make the waiting comfortable. I wanted Lucas to shoot the door guardians in the head and charge straight in. Nick waited with a fatalistic smile on his face while watching the monitor with me. He turned to me after a moment’s silence.

“If things get started with John in control of Gilani let me take point.”

“Let Cheese do it, Nick,” Lynn told him. “He’ll take the front entrance down and the first hits inside. You and Clint can follow for sharpshooting purposes. Denny and I will watch your backs and sides.”

“That would be my call,” I agreed. “Let me bust it down. I’ll go in low until you guys tame the entrance.”

“Agreed,” Nick said. “I like it. I was worried about trusting Nowhere Man to hit something after he gets in.”

“Very funny. I’ll be sure to shave a little off the top and sides if you get in front of me, Dead Boy,” Clint replied.

“Did you guys really train together,” Lynn asked.

“If by training together you mean going through Lucas hell week with the McCarty albatross tied around my neck like an anchor, then yeah we trained together.”

Nick appreciated the putdown but the humor fled his features in an instant as John’s voice came on line.

* * *

The first guard stepped in front of John and Cala as they tried to enter the masjid. “The Dhuhr is closed for today. You may come for evening prayer.”

“My wife and I are here for prayer and also to see Gordon Gilani. We have important information concerning the martyrs at Fisherman’s Wharf.” John wore a gray Kufi skull cap with loose black cotton clothing. Cala wore a gray burka the same shade as John’s Kufi. He lifted his arms inviting the guards to inspect him.

“What are your names?” The second guard acted as if his suspicions were raised the moment Gilani’s name was mentioned.

“I will not divulge my name to anyone but Gordon Gilani,” John replied with impatience. “Do you know nothing of security?”

The first guard called inside over his headset before waving them in. “He is in the prayer hall. Be ready to identify yourself, brother.”

“I will, brother. As-salamu alaykum.”

“Wa-Alaikum-us-Salaam.” The guards stepped aside.

Inside the prayer hall, they spotted Gilani right away. Cala dropped back behind John as Gilani approached with two bearded bodyguards. Gilani, only slightly over five and a half feet tall, carried at least thirty extra pounds in John’s estimation. He wore a full beard closely shaved to not more than whiskers.

“Who are you?” Gilani asked immediately without fanfare.

John stepped in close as if carrying a vital secret. When his guards sought to intervene, Gilani waved them off. “State your name and business quickly!”

“I am Ebi Zarin. I have news of the martyrdom at the Wharf.”

Gilani stepped back. “Zarin is dead. He died near the Canadian Border.”

“I escaped and have infiltrated with a new cell intact, ready to serve in the Carmel Valley. At the time of my near death I served another master. Surely you have heard of the Washington and Middletown debacles. I lost men in both fiascos to the demons led by El Muerto. Can we speak of this privately?”

Gilani glanced around furtively before returning his attention to John. “Come with me. Leave your woman.”

“I cannot. She carries a hundred thousand dollars in gold coins to be given to you from a benefactor living in Pacific Grove. His mentor was Omar Fontaine.”

Avarice overcame any caution threading through Gilani’s head. “We are indeed poverty stricken to do what we must. Your benefactor’s generosity will not go unrewarded. Come along then and bring your woman.”

Gilani led the way with his bodyguards to a spacious office without windows to the corridor. When they were inside with the door locked, John motioned Gilani and his guards to stay near the large desk at the rear of the room.

“Please stay there while I remove the belt from my wife. Come, my love.” John led her to the farthest corner of the room’s front. He shielded her body from the men while lifting the front part of her burka. Instead of a pouched belt John drew a silenced Glock from a holster built into the belt at Cala’s waist. “Drop to the floor as if fainting as we discussed.”

“You peeked while drawing the weapon you pervert.” Cala giggled at John’s muttered epithet and dropped in a faint to the floor.

John turned with the silenced Glock in a shooter’s crouch finding as expected all three men staring at Cala. He fired two rounds into the bodyguards, while running at them. He fired two more kill rounds from close range into their heads as they writhed on the floor. John threw Gilani to the floor with one hand, forcing his face into the carpeting. Cala, who had been watching from the floor, leaped to her feet. In the next few seconds she restrained and gagged Gilani while John kept the man pressed to the floor. After dragging Gilani to a spot near an outside window, John and Cala sat down on each side of their prisoner. Cala readied their breathing apparatus secured in the burka folds while John reloaded. He then connected with Nick.

“Kabong and Cleaner are green, Muerto. Repeat. Kabong and Cleaner are green.”

“Understood,” Nick acknowledged.

* * *

“Kabong has Gilani. They’re down and safe,” Nick told me as we readied at the van’s large rear hatch. Denny immediately shunted communications in and out of the mosque. “Tap them, Lucas. We are green.”

“Understood.”

I ran straight through the gate from across the street with my team of banditos in close order drill behind me. I watched the guards heads explode through my oxygen breathing apparatus. I barreled into the front door in true Cheeseburger battering ram form. The door never had a chance. Door and frame slammed to the floor taking one man with it. The others near the door never had a chance either. Clint and Nick fired indiscriminately into the heads visible. We had our man Gilani. Everyone else was a liability. Denny and Lynn then threw flash-bangs into the interior in all directions as we ducked back out the door for cover. When they exploded, we waited a full minute and then split into teams with Nick and me together. Denny went with Clint and Lynn. We killed with precision and without mercy.

I heard Gus’s voice calling out targets to Lucas as I imagined there were people smart enough to run for it. Running did them no good but nothing else would have either. Lucas called out four runners down and no one else in sight. We inspected every inch of the small building before congregating at the only locked office. We could hear a voice calling out surrender in Arabic from an open office next door to the locked one. Denny, Lynn, and Clint bracketed the open door at its sides. I knocked on the locked one.

“Cheese is knocking on the door we think you’re at, Kabong,” Nick told him.

“Yes. That is the right one.”

“Hang tight while we get your next door neighbors and find the cellar entrance,” Nick said. “Do either of you know where it is? It’s not on the building plans.”

“I know where it is,” Cala called out. “The entrance is under the desk in the room next to this one. I hear them calling out to surrender.”

“Do not trust them,” John warned.

“Did you just insult me, Kabong,” Nick replied in a comedic outraged voice.

Some quick laughter followed between Cala and John with an apology from John. “Sorry, Muerto.”

Nick walked over to the side of the next room doorway and spoke in Arabic. “Come out with your hands clasped behind your heads.”

“No… you will kill us. I am the Imam here. Take what you want and leave! We will surrender only to proper authorities, not murderers!”

Nick grinned at us. “He knows we’re going to kill them. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

“How do you want to do it, Nick?” Denny watched the proceedings with interest.

“Like this.” Nick aimed his MP5 at the door locked section. He blew a precision semi-circle around the entrance handle and dead bolt. He then turned to us. “Stay away from the front of the door and plug your ears.”

Nick gave the door a kick, pulled the pin on a real grenade he produced suddenly, rolled it in with automatic weapons fire streaming out of the room. He ducked to the side with hands over his ears. “Fire in the hole!”

The grenade ended all opposition inside. Lynn of course laughed her ass off. We waited a moment before I streaked in to the left with Nick behind me. Our comrades went right. There were only mangled debris and bodies inside. The grenade also blew the desk to bits along with the hidden hatch to the cellar. Nick made placating motions at us.

“I know… I know. I said no grenades. I’ll give the cleaning crew a bonus. How’s that?”

“I’ll handle the bonus, Muerto.” Lynn peered carefully over the stairwell entrance going down into the underground area. “That was beautiful. I wonder if we have anyone else to kill below. We can’t trust the flash-bangs. The tear gas canisters will make it tough to complete the action but a hell of a lot safer.”

“We’ll drop one down the stairs,” I said. “We’ll let it work its magic and listen for people sounds. I have my double armor on. I’ll drop down first afterward.”

Lynn popped the gas canister and let it bounce down the stairs. We all enjoyed the resulting curses screamed out from below as Lynn’s military grade tear gas hit home. They tried shooting up into the room through the hatch but had to succumb to abject misery the gas caused. I dropped down in seconds. I didn’t spray bullets haphazardly in all directions. I bobbed and weaved, firing short bursts from my own silenced MP5 into heads of downed targets. After securing the stair bottom, I crouched near it, keeping my eyes on the very blurry interior.

“Stairwell secured!” I knew my comrades wouldn’t rush down on top of me, fogging my real targets. They came down with weapons ready, making sure of my position.

“I have five down here and no sound from deeper in the cellar,” I explained. “This is going well. Throw another down the aisle, Lynn. We’ll wait for reaction to the party favor before proceeding.”

“Oh yeah!” Lynn popped the second canister, throwing it gently deeper into the rather large armory. We could see already they were not storing Korans down here.

The remainder of the crew down here could not suppress their reactions to Lynn’s offering. Cursing, violent gagging and barfing reached a crescendo. A split second later Lynn did her flitting knife appearance act. Without a word she plunged side to side through the tear gas mist with Clint on her six, .45 Colt in hand. I stopped Nick from following on their heels.

“It’s best not to interrupt Lynn’s special knife moments, Nick.”

Nick grinned again. I could tell by the movement of his mask and crinkling at his eyes. “Understood. She enjoys the wet work.”

“Oh brother,” Denny said, “if only you knew.”

“Don’t worry about safety. Having Clint on your six is the same as having the Reaper with a dozen hands carrying scythes to rend and maim. You wouldn’t want to know how many Clint would kill to keep Lynn safe,” I explained. “You know him pretty well, Nick. He’s added the personal element we all try and avoid but never resist completely.”