Cold Blooded II: Killer Moves (Nick McCarty Assassin Series Book 2) Read online

  “Really? I’ll have ten thousand words written in it before we get back. That’s proof enough.”

  “She knows you, Nick. Right now, Rachel’s searching the newswire everywhere for people famous or otherwise mysteriously dead in our area of the world we’re cruising in. That Sheik Abdul Nazari is an Al Qaeda kingpin, and how many of his henchmen ate a bullet too, Nick?”

  Nick mumbled something unintelligible.

  “How many?”

  “Six… damn it. You’re right. She’ll have that scoped out before we can get back in the States. I’d call her, but she gets suspicious if I use the satellite phone. I can’t do a face to face yet. I need to keep the beard and scruffiness until we put The Majid back in the hands of those helpful Company guys in the Emirates.”

  Gus made a contorted face at Nick. “Do you have to keep the odor too? You smell like something ate you and shit you out.”

  Nick chuckled and rooted around in one of the cabinets. He retrieved a can of Fabreze, backed away from Gus, and sprayed himself down. “There… I’m April Fresh. Happy now?”

  “It’s an improvement. We won’t make the Port of Fujairah until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. Go get some sleep. I checked the weather reports. There’s nothing bad on the Gulf of Oaman for at least a couple of days.”

  “Wake me if you have any trouble.”

  “What trouble are you talking about?”

  “Anything at all, Gus. What did you think I meant? You’re getting to be like an old lady. This is the last time I’m letting you nag me into taking a contract.”

  “I was afraid you’d start whacking locals if I didn’t get you out of your house,” Gus called out over his shoulder. “You were turning into a damn recluse.”

  “Was not,” Nick called back. “Call me if you need me.”

  * * *

  Nick awoke to explosive rounds rocking The Majid, waves from the concussive aftermath throwing the cruiser violently from side to side. Nick ran up on deck to see Gus with his hands full weaving a course away from an Iranian gunboat. He knew The Majid had the engines to pace the Iranians, but a stray hit would cripple them. Nick accessed a false deck in the engine room, revealing a large case which he returned to the main deck with.

  “Having a little trouble I see, Captain Jinx,” Nick said, as he removed an M136 Rocket Launcher.

  “Hey… what the hell is that? Are you going to get into a battle with a fully armed Iranian gunboat? Are you stupid?”

  “I’m hurt… really hurt, you would think of me doing anything in a haphazard manner with your life at stake, partner.” Nick loaded a round into the launcher. “Slow to a stop now, Gus. When I fire, put the pedal to the metal.”

  Gus didn’t waste time questioning. He backed off on the throttle, allowing the Iranian gunboat to steam towards them. They stopped firing. When they reached a point approximately two hundred yards from The Majid, Nick fired the launcher and Gus went into full throttle. Nick joined him for a moment on the bridge, as the round Nick had fired exploded over the Iranian gunboat.

  “You didn’t even hit them! I…” Gus paused as he watched the gunboat go dark. “What the hell did you do, you wanker? Were you holding out on me?”

  “Need to know, my friend. That is a newly minted EMP round, which can be fired from an M136 launcher. It explodes over the target, and shuts them down completely. Now, let’s shut our own lights off and do a drive-by. I have another load for my M136.”

  “Can’t we simply fade off into the horizon?” Gus looked at his partner’s face, and steered toward the gunboat. “Do you have something under your skin about Iranian gunboats?”

  Nick glanced over at his old friend with all levity aside. “Yeah. I don’t like being hunted… even when I deserve it. I’ve never asked for mercy, and I don’t issue it in return… even if I’m begged to. That’s close enough, brother.”

  Gus throttled down. Nick walked calmly to the main deck, picked up the M136 launcher, and fired the load already in the chamber. The result was a massive explosion amidships at the waterline. Nick’s second launch blew apart the bridge in a spectacular shattering of the ship’s hull. He let it burn. When it didn’t end in the result he wanted, Nick fired the third round. The fuel tanks exploded in a disintegrating fiery blast that rocked The Majid. The gunboat pieces sunk out of sight in seconds afterward. Nick rejoined Gus on the bridge.

  “Full speed ahead, Captain.”

  Gus executed Nick’s order, glancing sideways at the rapidly disappearing gunboat. “I guess we’ll have to hope they didn’t get word out.”

  Nick smiled. “The hell with hope. Full speed ahead, Gus. We’ll ditch the damn boat and go native if we have to.”

  “Fuck you, Nick!” Gus throttled up. “I ain’t going native.”

  “Calm down. They’ll probably scramble a couple jets if the gunboat communicated with anyone. If they see us, it won’t matter. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I left it back at the Port of Shahid waiting for you to come back from walkabout.”

  Nick put a hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “Part of the reason I took this contract had to do with your whiney disregard for my everyday life back in Pacific Grove. We’re living there like kings, and you kept criticizing all my little pranks to make life more entertaining.”

  “Pranks? Hiding Deke’s favorite squeeze toy is a prank. Sneaking into my house and cooking breakfast for me and my house guest was damn disturbing. That Ninja shit of yours is not a toy. You don’t suddenly walk into another man’s bedroom with a breakfast tray. Tina was scared to death, you sicko. When I told you to get back to business, I didn’t mean with me included.”

  “I thought we were partners.” Nick drew away from Gus, pretending to pout. “I thought we were besties.”

  “You murdered a whole Iranian gunboat crew in cold blood, and now you’re hurt because I wanted you to continue your assassin lifestyle without me? Give me a break.”

  “Fine, tell me it wasn’t you that swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker? You were all upbeat then.” Nick took on a singsong mimic of Gus’s words. “That’s excellent, Nick. You have a boat at our disposal and everything. Count me in. When do we leave?”

  “Prick.” Gus left his response to a one word acknowledgement of Nick’s accusation. He took a deep breath. “You’re right… damn it! I should have stuck to us going fishing on my new boat, and shut the hell up about this back to business crap. Maybe it was me going nuts. I watched you walking Danger to school with Deke every day, playing pranks on Rachel and me, and I really thought you were going to lose it. You’re a cold blooded killer, Nick. It was freaky seeing you as a homey husband and dad. I admit I never in a million years figured you’d take a contract for a high ranking Al Qaeda figure. You are one scary individual.”

  “Well… at least I found out I wasn’t a complete psychopath. Having Rachel, Jean, and Deke the dog in my life made me realize I could care for something. Remember though, my plan initially was to use them as a front for killing people.”

  “Yep. You strayed from form there. New York Times Bestselling Author Nick McCarty traveling the assassin trail with lovely wife Rachel and daughter Jean – a perfect cover until you found out you actually cared for them.”

  Nick shrugged. “Shit happens. One thing I learned from this sandy hellhole project is it sucks. I don’t know what got into me, thinking I had something to prove. I put all this stalking crap behind me, especially the heat. In spite of all that… it felt good. Forget me taking on any contracts back in the sandpit though. Until the government gets serious and nukes these assholes from orbit, they’ll keep replacing our so-called targeted hits with other morons just as deadly. Tomorrow, fifty robed shitheads will be scrambling to replace Nazari. Go on, and get some sleep, Gus. I’ll wake you in a couple hours. We’ll be fine. The Iranians will take half a day to investigate the gunboat demise. By then, you’ll be docking us at the Port of Fujairah.”

  “You just wanted to see me sweat.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Don’t wake me if the jets come. I don’t care anymore.”

  “You found something worse than death, huh Gus?”

  “Yep. Your company.”

  * * *

  Nick and Gus sat at a table outside The Harbour Club Bar in Port of Fujairah. They sipped Scotch on the rocks, the first alcoholic beverage since leaving the States. A selection of finger foods covered the middle of their table which they snacked on with relish. After docking The Majid with the usual porting complexities, both men wore plain black slacks, shoes, and dark knitted shirts. They had kept their beards, but trimmed them.

  “Now this is more like it, Nick. It’s nice this business trip to hell could end on an upbeat note. I heard about this place. It’s as impressive as any seaport bar I’ve ever been in.”

  “Our contact should have been here by now. We’ll give it another ten minutes, then we hit the trail. I’ll leave a note on their on-line drop to be more… okay… there he is, Gil Montrose. Keep looking at your drink. He’s maneuvering toward us. Play the part we rehearsed if this end game doesn’t pan out as we’d hoped.”

  “I will, Nick.”

  A few minutes later, the guy Nick had picked out walked over to their table with a drink and sat down. Florid faced, medium height, clean shaven with sparse brown hair, he smiled while toasting with his glass. “I see you made it back, Nick. Nice work. We already have confirmation. I wish you could have avoided the gunboat. That was a bit of a problem.”

  “I’m sure it would have been neater for me to complete the assignment, and then Gus and me to end up at the bottom of the ocean, but we’d rather stick around. Gee, an Iranian gunboat takes on the wrong ship at sea… boo hoo. I’ll light a candle at next Sunday’s mass. Did you transfer our payment, Gil?”

  Suddenly, the aforementioned Gil is frowning down at the table as if in deep contemplation. “About that… Nick… I-”

  Nick batted Gil’s drink into his lap, grabbing the man’s jacket in his fist. He yanked the stunned Gil towards him. “The last thing on earth you want to do, Gil, is fuck with me. I’m not some daisy freshly plucked from the garden. Maybe you’ve heard tell of a certain bureaucrat named Frank Richert who decided he could play me.”

  “I…I thought the rumors were an urban legend.”

  Nick patted Gil’s cheek. “I’ll give you two minutes to put my money into the account it should already be in. If it doesn’t appear in total, I’m going to disappear, and hunt down everything you ever cared about since you first sucked your Momma’s tit. You made a mistake, Gil. You assumed I didn’t double check the people behind you. I know they had every intention of paying me for the outcome I furnished. That means you thought you could screw me behind their backs. Want to guess what happens when you do something in this deal that sets a psycho killer like me on the hunt for what’s owed him?”

  Gus placed a satellite uplinked laptop on the table in front of Gil, opened and on-line. “Here you go, Mr. Montrose.”

  Nick released him. With shaking hands, Gil transferred the money without hesitation. He turned the laptop for Nick’s viewing. “Very good, Gil. Don’t forget what I’ve said about playing me. Now get out of my sight.”

  Nick and Gus watched Montrose’s exit with differing views.

  “Damn, Nick, you sure called that one. What the hell made you think Montrose was going to screw us?”

  Nick chugged his drink down. “Depression mostly, Gus. Except for Rachel, Jean, you, and Deke, the list of people I can completely trust I can count on one hand. This isn’t a business for trusting people, my friend. You’ve known me for a long time. We’re brothers. We’ve done so much shit together, even talking about it would make most sane folks puke. Sometimes, things can’t be left to chance.”

  Gus finished his drink with a blackness creeping into his consciousness. “You’re going to kill him.”

  Nick looked over at his friend with a cold neutral stare, at the same time motioning for a waiter. “Sorry, Gus, maybe this is the time for you to get out on your own in a different city once I get you back to the States.”

  The waiter arrived, all smiles, and with only a hint of an English accent. “Two more, gentlemen?”

  “Yes please.” Nick put a fifty dollar bill on his tray. “Please bring us another tray of your most delectable finger foods too, and a couple of iced teas.”

  “Ah… yes of course, Sir. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  Gus leaned forward. He met Nick’s gaze without blinking. He never doubted for a moment the complexity of Nick’s statement. This was a onetime offer. That Nick would get him safely back to the States he had no doubt. It was entirely his decision what followed, but there would be no take backs. “Thanks for the option, brother. Do you want input whenever I’m involved, or does that carry a death sentence?”

  Nick grinned. “I’d slit my own throat rather than put you down. I would, and could disappear without a trace with my patched together family, but as you know well, I love Pacific Grove.”

  Gus reached across with his hand, which Nick gripped tightly. “No need to go all ‘Silence of the Lambs’ on me. I’m in. You’re right. My nagging you concerning business ventures was out of line. You do know getting out of the country will be a bit more difficult if Gil dies, right?”

  The waiter arrived with their drinks, iced tea, and finger foods. Nick added another fifty onto his tray. “You have been most helpful. Thank you.”

  The waiter thanked Nick profusely, and spun around on his way. Nick returned his attention to Gus, lifting his glass. “Buck up, matey. We’ll be fine getting out of the country. I picked the flight, bribed everyone Gil doesn’t have a clue about, and we won’t be staying here long.”

  Gus toasted in return. “I can tell you based everything in regard to our flight out of here on the assumption our payoff and contract would be going to hell. Ever consider you may be a self-fulfilling prophesy?”

  Nick sipped his Scotch, eyes turning into what Gus liked to think of as his Terminator gaze of icy hell. Jean had branded him with the nickname. It was appropriate. “I’d have been dead long ago ignoring what I’ve learned about people over the years. I’m real damn good at reading people and situations. Montrose made a mistake. You and I made a mistake pretending this was a little jaunt away from urban life boredom, Gus. Sometimes, it’s not a good thing for sleeping dogs like me to get poked awake. You can imagine how the thought of toning things down when I get back after this escapade will hit me. We’ll have to take your boat, The Loose Lady II, out on the ocean again in the less dangerous waters of Pacific Grove.”

  “The Lucky Lady II, damn it! Don’t think for a moment I’ve forgotten about what happened to my first Lucky Lady, which you had bombed from orbit. You need to stop calling my new Lucky Lady pet names. You have Jean calling her Loose now too. Okay, we need to find you something more acceptable in the danger zone. Those marshals are always calling you for tips and questioning you. Why haven’t you worked out something with them?”

  “Too clingy, and they’d put me in prison if I get out of line. Frank Richert had your first Lady bombed from orbit. It was I who made certain we weren’t on it when it happened. I’d like to know how I was responsible for it. I admit I may be influencing Danger Girl a little too much. It stems from Rachel and Jean duct taped in the back of a van, speeding away toward their deaths. Jean understood that when I wasted every one of those sons of bitches, they weren’t ever going to try anything like that again. Maybe she’s absorbing a little too much of my obnoxious side.”

  “Ya’ think? Why don’t you reconsider ending Gil?”

  “Mind your own business. Eat up, and let’s go back to our room. We’ll be leaving very early tomorrow morning.”

  Gus pointed at Nick, while feasting from the finger food tray. “Forget Gill.”

  “You forget, Gill,” Nick replied.

  * * *

  Something in his unconscious mind jagged Gus from deep sleep to wide awake paranoia. He heard the entrance door being opened. Gus moved quietly off the bed before the door opened all the way. Two men in masks took aim with weapons at his bed. Gus cringed as silenced rounds sounded in a muffled deadly conclusion. The two men pitched forward on their faces in the dark. When Gus opened his eyes with the room light flicked on, Nick was waving at him.

  “Hi, sweet pea, how’s that forgetting Gil thing going for you?” Nick shut the door behind him. “I have two more in my room. Guess what? You get to clean. I’ll need to take care of our pesky Gil problem.”

  Gus stared bleary eyed at Nick. He eased onto hands and knees, no snappy comebacks or other banter coming to mind at all. He was in a partnership with the most deadly individual he’d ever encountered at anytime, anywhere. The fact Nick had played the hand dealt him by Gus all the way through spoke volumes in a code Gus could not fathom. He acted instead, helping Nick roll the bodies into the bedding Gus quickly tore off the bed. It was a mess of his own making.

  “My two are ready to be cinched up, Gus. Give me a hand with them.” Nick wrapped the last bundle with duct tape. “I’m calling in some extremely bad men to come over and collect these, and the two in my room. After you help me roll mine, pack your things, and stay out of the collectors’ way when they come. Leave the door ajar.”

  Gus grabbed the duct tape, and gripped his friend’s shoulder. “You go take care of Gil. I’ll roll your bundles on my own. Thank you.”

  Nick waved him off. “A picture is worth a thousand words, Gus. Want to take one while we have the bundles posed?”

  “No… I’m good, you prick.”

  “Good show Quarrel. You survived once again, you old bandit. See you soon, my good man.”

  “I will be here, James.”

  Gus accepted his toasting once again with good humor. The past ‘Quarrel’ name reference had been when Gus referred to Nick’s shenanigans in their last tropical endeavor as a James Bond movie. Nick immediately connected Gus with Bond’s trusty sidekick in the ‘Dr. No’ movie, Quarrel. Gus reminded Nick at the time that Quarrel didn’t survive, so when Nick correctly assumed Frank Richert would have Gus’s boat, The Lucky Lady, bombed from orbit, he issued his first ‘good show, Quarrel’ upon surviving the Richert attack. Gus headed to Nick’s room with duct tape in hand.