Red Horizon Page 10

I think the Nick and Claude approach fits. “Denny’s plan works for me as well. If we can get Nick and Claude inside before the men frisk them, they can hold the entrance until we double time inside. Then it may get wild. I’d like to gas them through their ventilation system like we did the mobsters that time in Tahoe, but if Al-Kadi does have guards, it would be nearly impossible to do it without discovery. Then we’d be back where we started with a shootout at the ‘Okay Corral’.”

  “We’ll stream the satellite footage and make a final decision after reviewing what we get,” Denny said. “Now, that aside, why the hell do you need to fight Knowly tomorrow night?”

  “We have to keep the Nejem family and their plots in our sight,” I replied. “Knowly saw a chance to snag some money and get a shot at making a splash in the UFC. The Nejem family turning over fifty grand for him to put a whoopin’ on me goes beyond suspicious. I wonder if a few of their representatives will show at fight time.”

  “This is my fault,” Denny admitted. “If I hadn’t turned Daddy Nejem and his crew over to the police after he answered my questions, this wouldn’t have happened. I thought with the video and audio evidence he wanted to kill his own daughter he’d be in lockup for at least a year.”

  “Don’t worry about Amara,” Clint said. “Lynn and I will make sure she’s safe. We’ll take her to the classes she has over at the college. Maybe we’ll spot some suspicious guys paying too much attention to her. The fight will be a key place to start looking tomorrow. I wonder if Papa Nejem is stupid enough to attend the fight. After what Lucas did to him, he’d piss his pants if he saw Lucas. I’ll take sniping duties if you want to attend the fight inside, Lucas.”

  “Hell yeah! Thanks Clint. I’d love to see that woman beater again. This time he goes on a cruise. Amara doesn’t have to know. Better yet, Jafar can practice his helicopter skills. He can fly us way the hell out over the ocean so I can drop Daddy into the drink alive.”

  Lynn in particular enjoyed Lucas’s final solution for Mohammed Nejem, Amara’s Father. “I wonder what he thought would be accomplished by this fight. He knows John won’t be the only one he has to contend with. His demands for a challenge smack of stupidity so deep as to be laughable. I’m thinking there must be more to this – a diversion maybe.”

  “Case? You take sniping duties,” Clint said. “Lynn’s right. Nejem would know we’d all be at the fight in anticipation. I’ll stay at the house with Dannie, Amara, and Clint Jr. Lynn needs to be at the fight. Achmed? I want video of Lynn stirring the Farrakhan dupes into a rage.”

  “Will do,” Jafar agreed.

  “I’ll handle the sniping,” Casey added. “I should have been spelling Lucas in the nest anyway. Do you want the minions to back you at the house, Clint?”

  “Did you just insult me, Case?”

  Hilarity ensued.

  * * *

  Oh yeah! I smelled the perfume of desperation, excitement, and fear. When politicos and rich celebrity types mix with gamblers, street goons, and mobsters, they create an ambrosia of anticipation which permeates the cage battleground. UFC fights in the spotlight of giant video screens, howling thousands, and filtered air conditioning acted as a tame entertaining background; but this sheet-metal warehouse surrounding still awakened my origins with a splash of violence unattainable anywhere else. I was home.

  Our entry into the fight night building went without incident. Although a large crowd filled the upgraded cage facility, security from Earl and ‘Rique, along with Alexi’s force, provided enough presence to keep interactions at a quiet drone of gambling exchanges and fight talk. Jack Korlos, Alexi’s right hand man now, led my corner crew to the cage with my Monsters in the background, assessing the crowd. Out of nowhere, a phalanx of bow-tied dupes blocked our way to the cage with some weirdo in front, featuring some inner rage he must have been whipping into life on the sidelines. He spiked a fist at me, I imagine as a gesture. Unfortunately for him, Jess planted the idiot with a right that probably broke his jaw.

  Jack Korlos stepped out right away. “Don’t know what you assholes have in mind, but it won’t work. Get out of the way or the crew with John Harding will make this your last night on earth.”

  Devon Constantine waited three seconds before wading into the small mob, throwing posers to the side as if they were bowling pins with forearm blows and elbows to maim and kill. “Back the fuck off. We’re the non-lethal warning. The people following take lives. What the hell are you posers doing blocking our way?”

  “We…we’re showing solidarity with Reverend Knowly,” one of the posers said, holding his arm where one of Dev’s elbows probably fractured a bone. “Allahu Akbar! We-”

  Lucas streaked forward and smashed the speaker’s face in, propelling him to his back out cold. “Anyone else with a catchphrase best keep it to themselves. When I hear that particular one I get violent. Get the hell out of the way pussies!”

  That was the end of an entertaining distraction. The small mob, already in fearful disarray, moved back with my Monsters searching visually for hands reaching, or out of sight. Lynn in particular wanted to arrange some pre-fight entertainment. Any Knowly goon who didn’t move back far enough in Lynn’s perspective received a bitch slap to increase the spacing. One recipient reached to grab her blouse. She cut him in a downward slash nearly impossible to follow. He gripped his wrist in horror, fleeing the building. I didn’t get involved. My Monsters lived for this stuff. In a moment more I stepped into the cage with my corner crew, anticipation building with every step. I smiled across at my opponent, who had been following my progress from the entrance. Knowly stupidly thought the usual intimidation tactics would chill my confederates. He knew better now. Knowly smashed his gloved hands together.

  Korlos checked his watch a few moments later. He signaled us to the cage center. Knowly and I waited for Jack’s usual pat-down for unseen weapons or chemicals on gloves. Jack had added on his own an inspection for chemicals after Marko Hristov, The Assassin, tried to blind me in the cage. I killed him, but Jack never forgot the added check now. Knowly endured the inspection without looking away from my face. I smiled. I never did get into the gnarly stares of death. Time enough for intimidation when the blows start landing. Jack recited his pre-fight warnings and rules.

  “That’s it, gentlemen. I expect you two will at some point put me in a position to do a final calling of the fight. Don’t force me to use my sap. No one dies in the cage tonight. Am I clear, John?”

  “Yeah, Jack.” I tried to show some outrage at being singled out for my prior transgressions but I simply shrugged in compliance. Knowly apparently didn’t know about that part of my cage past. His features showed it.

  Jack motioned us back with the crowd roar growing for the fight to begin. “Nod, if you’re ready, gentlemen.”

  We indicated readiness. Jack signaled us to start. Knowly was no dummy. He didn’t know me other than my YouTube videos. Those obviously made him reluctant to rush in on attack. No such hindrance slowed my opening. I ran straight at him, right arm cocked for a haymaker. Knowly jutted into a side pose to counter my attack. I dropped at the last second to the mat, lashing a pile driver roundhouse kick to my favorite target at the back of his forward knee. Oh my, did that blow change the fight vista. Knowly screamed out in pain, hitting the mat on his back. I scrambled to full mount and pounded him with forearm blows, body shots, and general mayhem until Tommy called out time from my corner. I rolled away to my feet. This was, after all, a training session. I don’t give a crap about Knowly’s MMA Heavyweight Championship Belt. I’m a ‘show me’ type of guy. Violence, pain, and brutality define me. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.

  My complete wipeout of Knowly silenced the crowd. In the dead still of the cage, Knowly writhed from side to side before realizing I was waiting for him on my feet. Jack didn’t like it.

  “Damn it, kid,” Jack whispered at me from where he stood next to me. “What the hell do you have going here… a training exercise again?”<
br />
  I held my gloved hands in formal defensive position. “I’m surviving, Jack. Tommy’s calling the shots. Complain to him.”

  Jack stifled his amusement. “Okay… I got it.”

  Knowly finally figured out he needed to get up or pretend he was out cold. He stood, to his credit. With hands held in stolid defensive posture, he moved towards me, jutting out respectable jabs, kicks, and combinations. I measured his responses and power, countering with form. My counterpunches utilized combinations and speed. I took nothing for granted. Knowly was big enough to take my head off if I got cocky. Knowly began accumulating a bit of confidence so I blasted a left hook counter to his overhand right that I misjudged and nearly ended the fight. He stumbled quickly backward against the cage, his face a mask of pain. The round ended with me following him there with left jabs and short rights.

  It’s dark beyond the well-lighted cage and front seat area. I didn’t bother wasting my time looking for Nejem family members. I knew my Monsters would be taking a Nejem family census during the fight. I sat down in my corner while Dev and Jess applied wet towels and salve. Jafar gave me a drink and Tommy gave me directions for the next round. Lucas, I knew had a seat behind my corner. I could hear him yelling ‘Recon’.

  “I see you’re not playing with this guy,” Tommy said. “Stay covered. He’s had a bunch of knockouts to his record. Can you take him down for some hold work?”

  “Sure, but a guy that big will have to go down like he did in the first round. I’ll have to buckle him, T. If I miss the takedown, he could smash me with an elbow to the top of my head. He felt the left hook. I’ll nail his ribcage with another and take him down.”

  “Good plan, DL. I see Jack’s not happy.”

  “We’ll be hearing it from the crowd too pretty soon. Too bad. We didn’t ask for this. Besides, he insulted Lucas. If I don’t get payback, Lucas will make my life miserable.”

  “Take your time,” Dev said. “Screw the crowd. I liked your work last round. He’s fast and you set him up for that left hook perfectly. A little harder and Jess would have been nagging me to give him ‘Last Rites’.”

  “Don’t make him see SpongeBob, DL,” Jess added as I stood. “That’s gross.”

  “There are Nejems in the audience, brother,” Jafar said. “They are not happy. Daddy Nejem’s one of them. Lucas walked by him and spilled a beer on his head. It was very funny. A slight altercation followed. Two more Nejems were knocked out by Casey and Lucas when Daddy’s four companions wanted to rumble. They sat back down.”

  “I’ll bet. See you guys in a few.” I waited for Jack to signal us to start. Knowly looked a bit too confident for a guy who just got his ass kicked. If not for the fact that Jack Korlos was the referee, I’d suspect the fix was in.

  Jack started us. I went to work even more carefully. I pounded Knowly’s arms with blacksmith type precision and patience. He threw the right. I nailed him with the left to the ribcage again. This time, it dropped him to his knees. I measured him and shot a knife-hand strike to his left temple. It spilled him sideways, nearly unconscious. The crowd howled for blood. I worked as Tommy directed. Knowly didn’t know yet I was playing with him. He struggled gamely, trying to glance upward while writhing inside the myriad submission holds I locked on him, but then released. It bugged me a bit, wondering what the hell he kept searching for. I-”

  “Roll, Cheese!”

  I reacted instantly to Lynn’s scream at the cage. I heard something hit the mat where I had been a split-second before. I held a hand over my eyes to shield the lighting as I looked upward in time to see a dark figure in the rigging above. A shot sounded. The dark figure in the rigging pitched out of his nest silently to the floor below. I crab crawled to the spot I heard hit. I plucked a tiny dart from the mat while Knowly tried to get to his feet, still groggy from the naked choke I practiced on him before the dart incident. I took the dart to the cage where Tommy took it from me.

  “Be right back,” I told him. I scrambled around between Knowly and his crew as he regained his feet. I saw Gus Denova, Casey, and Lynn move on the corner crew.

  “Hey, Betty,” Lynn called to him from his corner. Casey covered the crew. “Best if you kneel and say your prayers, pussy. Lucas told me to tell you not to worry about any more payback. He’s pissed though because Nightshot here nailed the prick in the dark right between the eyes. Denny and Lucas have the Nejems.”

  I heard Casey chuckle in the dead silence after his killing of the dart shooter. No one in the crowd moved. I smiled at Knowly with a hand wave acknowledgement to Lynn. Knowly searched for escape no longer available. Alexi stood near Tommy on my side of the cage, motioning Jack away. “It looks like it’s just you and me, Mohammed. Tell me how you came to this dirty business and I kick your ass but let you live. Dummy up, and I kill you right here in the cage.”

  What made Knowly an MMA Champion surfaced in a mean faced determined look. “The fifty grand was to make sure we had a shot at ending you, Harding. The Nejem’s didn’t want you beat. They wanted you dead. I plan to complete the contract no matter what.”

  I heard Lynn’s cackle behind me. “Take my advice, Betty. Get on your knees and pray. Cheese has a soft spot for Christians.”

  “I ain’t no fuckin’ Christian! Allahu Akbar!” He charged.

  I leaped to land a flying knee square on his charging face, smashing it to pulp. He dropped as if hit by a sledge hammer in the side of the head, spurting blood from his ruined face. I could see he could still suck wind at the mouth so I turned him to his side. I motioned at Jack to call the fight. He did, while beckoning to the medical team Alexi employed now on a regular basis. They entered the cage from my corner with collapsible stretcher/gurney. While they began triage on Knowly, I walked over to where Lynn and Casey entertained the Knowly crew of bow-tied idiots.

  “Thanks, Nightshot. Good call, Lynn.”

  “We knew something was up,” Lynn said. “We watched the Nejem bunch like hawks. They started glancing into the rigging above between rounds. So did we. What do want to do with these other pussies?”

  “I think I’ll let Denny have them. I don’t know what we could get out of them. We have no choice with the Nejems.”

  “Agreed. See you outside. Lucas, Denny, Sylvio, and Quays have the Nejems. C’mon, Nightshot, let’s get these clucks ready for transport while Earl and ‘Rique are busy mooning over your handy-work.”

  “On your knees with fingers locked behind your heads, boys,” Casey ordered. “Drop now or I shoot you all in the head. You’ve heard of James Bond, double zero designation with license to kill, right? I’m double ought Nightshot. I have the same license in reality. Don’t test me.”

  Knowly’s crew dropped. He grinned at me. “We’re even again, brother, from the ocean save.”

  “You know you weren’t on the pad for that, brother. We’re hitting The Warehouse after this mess is over.”

  “Amen to that.”

  * * *

  We arrived at The Warehouse in style after shipping the bowties, dart, dart-gun, and dart shooter with the police. The minions escorted the Nejems to Pain Central for a debriefing on Sunday. We picked them up at Pain Central in the limo with Jafar driving after the deposit in our holding cells. The Warehouse was Saturday night busy, so we snuggled into our corner at the very end of the bar with Marla already serving shots, beers, and wine for Lynn and Samira. It was only after jovially clinking glasses to my survival that I noticed the hulking figure at a table near us with bowler hat and two companions dressed in dark suits and ties. He grinned at me. It was Rock Costigan, the UFC Heavyweight Champion, in my damn bar once again. Lynn of course noticed. She notices everything.

  “Well damn, Cheese,” Lynn whispered to me with Clint chuckling at her side. “Aren’t you just a font of entertainment tonight? I didn’t get to kill anything at the fight. Let me slice these three bozos into bite-sized bits for deposit later.”

  It dawned on me how in sync with her I felt. This Rock Costiga
n was beginning to annoy me. Lynn noticed. She gripped my arm with fervent passion.

  “Oh Cheese… please… let me do ‘em. Clint will help me clean up afterward. He does anything I say since he made me clean a milk spill off the kitchen floor this morning.”

  After raucous enjoyment of Lynn’s ownage of Clint, I shook my head. “I’ll handle this, but not until I throw down one more Beam brother.”

  My telepathic barkeep, Marla, had already refilled my Beam brother. “Bless you, sister of The Warehouse sanctuary.”

  She laughed, waving and returning to where Alexi nursed a beer.

  I sipped my Beam half down, drinking in the ambiance of the bar, my Beam brother, and the Monster family around me. Then a voice pierced my brain, obliterating the moment.

  “Do you have to get drunk to talk with me, Harding?”

  Even Lynn choked on her wine at that remark. Rock’s blurting stupidity silenced our merriment. I noted it drew tenseness amongst the Oakland PD patrons near enough to hear his words too. I turned while standing away from my barstool to face his table. Maybe it was the Bud and Beam brothers, the earlier escape from death, or the Monster rising. Who knows? All I knew at the moment was the bullseye I’d had on me all day annoyed the hell out of me. I planned to share.

  “I’ve fought tonight. I’ve had a couple of shots and beers. I don’t need drink or anything else to kick the living shit out of you, poser! If you want me, we don’t need no Las Vegas meeting place. I’ll take your life right outside this bar, Betty. Get on your fucking feet and let’s do this right now!”

  One of his behemoths who thought he had a card to play jutted in front of me as I moved to Rock’s table. Oh baby. I planted him in between the tables with a left uppercut that nearly severed his head from his shoulders. You could hear a pin drop in the place other than the attractive music playing in the background. I leaned on Rock’s table with both hands.

  “Repeat the insult, Rock. If you do, or don’t take my challenge, I’ll drag your ass outside where I can end you for all time.”