Rick Cantelli, PI: Into the Darkness (Rick Cantelli, P.I. Detectives Book 3) Read online

  “Count on it. You and Lo are as close to how I feel in this stupid outfit as I’ve ever met. God… it’s good not to have politically motivated assholes running this op.”

  “Well… okay then… you’ve moved higher on my trust meter with that. We’ll see how you do when they send me to prison. It’s something to factor in when dealing with today’s enlightened CIA. Man, I hope Lo can keep the Yemen air force out of this. We’ve stupidly sold them enough aircraft to waste us a hundred times over. If we see a flyby, we’ll need to go native, kid.”

  “Understood. I know for a fact you’ve been into more shit than I’ve ever dreamed of. You lead, Rick, and I’ll follow. Be careful old man, because I’ll follow your directives to the letter. I go all in.”

  Well okay, I lucked out to find a boot on the ground who thinks the way Lo and I do. “You’re in, Carl. If we all stay out of prison, we may be able to collaborate on a few projects.”

  Carl checked the square and our screamers. “You see what I see, Rick?”

  A supposed ambulance with the half-moon symbol for the Islamic version of our Red Cross drove into the square. It reversed toward a screaming casualty. “Yep. They’re pulling out all the stops. This should be good. Better film this so we have some proof, Carl.”

  “On it.” Carl began recording the ambulance.

  I sighted in on the ambulance’s rear doors with the Barrett. Two nervous guys in white coats ran to open the doors. They tipped us off by opening the doors in sync with each other by signal. They opened the doors, and out popped two RPG launcher guys. I drilled them both in the head. Then I exploded their ammo for them. It was quite a sight. The white coats didn’t get the ambulance out of the way in time. It blew in a spectacular explosion, taking some of the screamers with it. Carl nodded his head at me, meaning the ruse was on video. Guaranteed, Al Jazeera would show the ambulance driving into position, and then the explosion. I searched for another camera target, but didn’t find one.

  “I thought maybe you were wrong on that one, Rick. The bastards are trying every move on us from their repertoire. They want us bad. I wonder if intercepted communiques we might be getting rescued prompted Islamic Jihad into throwing the book at us. So far, you’ve ate their lunch. The Islamo Red Cross ploy is the last one in their game plan. I think darkness will be their hope now.”

  “I like your thinking. Our State Department leaks like a three day old diaper.” The square looked like a war zone, which had its pluses and minuses. Carl figured it right. Playing my Bangkok ploy worked better if they weren’t expecting anything. I doubted our ‘hit them in the darkness’ would play out as we hoped. “Let’s go out the trapdoor, and confiscate the first vehicle we can reach. We’ll pack some water, but mostly we’ll be armored to the max. With our two satellite phones, one of us will be able to clue Lo in on where we pick for an LZ. It may be after we managed to smuggle out the Ambassadorial crew, they’ve been sniffing out how we did it. If you’re more comfortable here, we’ll make our stand right in this spot.”

  “It would make it a hell of a lot easier on Lo if we left this target zone. She could zero in on our signal and do a quick coordinated pickup in the sand. We’re not far from open territory here. I’m in on the trapdoor option, Rick. We’ll pack all our ammo and go for broke.” Carl paused, chuckling a bit. “I bet we kill a lot of assholes if this goes south.”

  “If we’re to make it out alive, we’ll have to see to it we don’t even fire our weapons.” I’m starting to get a little fatalistic in a common sense way. We needed a diversion. I hate the thought of cashing out in some old folks home anyway. “Listen, Carl. Let me go see if I can get past our unknown zone. If I do, I’ll work my way somewhere I can do something impressive that may give us a chance to get to a more feasible extraction point – El Rahaba Airport would be nice. We’ll be connected, so if I tell you things are going to hell in a hand basket, it may be a good time for you to head out on your own.”

  “Hey… what is this, Rick? I’m not letting you go on a suicide mission to save my ass, you old wanker. If I lived, Lo would kill me, and then nuke the area.”

  Okay, that was funny. “Listen, Carl, we have some facts in evidence even a young know it all like you will have to admit need addressing. Night’s coming. Neither of us want Lo flying in here, and getting blasted out of the air. If I can get in the clear for a time, I’ll give these jokers something to do besides worry about us. I’m betting they have a nest nearby. If Lo can get satellite imagery, she could pick out the place for me to target. After what we did to them, I’m thinking they’ve had enough of the frontal assault plan until nightfall. They’re gathering somewhere close by, licking their lips in anticipation of making us scream for a few days. Lastly, the rogue military in this sand-trap will get tired of letting the amateur Islamic Jihad clowns ruin such a high profile torture/killing party. They’ll drop a few artillery shells on our heads to soften us up.”

  Carl nodded, peeking above the parapet at our square of dead and dying true believers. “I think you’re right about them backing away for now. Call Lo, and see what she can do about satellite coverage. If she can pick a target, I’ll do the honors.”

  “Let me hear you speak the language like a native, infidel,” I ordered him in Arabic.

  Carl caught enough words to cuss me out.

  “Exactly, newbie,” I said in English. “You don’t know enough of the lingo to move through the streets. Keep watch while I call the harpy.”

  “Put her on speaker,” Carl replied, keeping eyes on the square. “This ought to be good.”

  “You’re toast, Hooterville! I’m nuking the tracks and the station, you old turd!”

  “Gee, Lo… a little louder. I don’t think they heard you out in the square with the dead and the dying. Although Carl’s enjoying this more than he should, can we talk shop for a moment?”

  “Spit it out and make it interesting. Know this… you turn your damn phone off one more time, and I send a Reaper Drone in to blow your geezer ass to hell and gone!”

  “If you could send a Reaper Drone we wouldn’t be in this mess, you cranky old cow.”

  The cackle first, and then the sigh. “Okay… I’m a long way out in time, Rick. I take it you have an idea… I hope.”

  “Do we have a bird overhead, so I can find the nesting spot of this vulture getting ready to peck our asses into oblivion before night comes?”

  “Damn… hold on… call you back.”

  “Sounded like she thought your suicide mission might be feasible, Rick.”

  “One more suicide mission reference, smartass, and I clip your toenails at the ankles. Lo’s like a mother hen. Don’t give her any ideas.”

  “She told me to watch out for you,” Carl admitted.

  Damn it! Okay… up periscope. “What exactly did she ask you to be watching out for?”

  Carl shrugged, while keeping the range finders on the square. “Don’t worry about it, Rick. It had something to do with a woman you were close to back in the states. She was worried you’d go off the deep end taking unnecessary chances because you’re an old love sick puppy. I don’t see it. You’re no more moody than any other geezer your age.”

  Shit… the Harpy’s worried about Trish. Just like I figured, it’s the mother hen syndrome. It’s no big deal. Hell… Trish kept working for us. I had no intention of doing a suicidal ‘oh woe is me’ ending… ever. Trish was too young for me anyway… like many of the women I knew. Lo took it badly, because Trish is the same type of badass Lo was, with the same hardcore shell. Lo knew I loved Trish, but so what? At my age, nothing’s ever unicorns and rainbows. I do love Trish. We spent some quality time together, and we will in the future, but not in a couples’ type, romantic way. “Listen, kid, Lo was trying to get into your head. She worries when youngsters work with us. Plus… she figured you’d shoot your mouth off about it, thereby tweaking me too.”

  Carl liked that comeback. He flipped me off without looking away from the square. “So, y
ou’re saying you didn’t have a woman back in the states super close to you?”

  “I’m sixty, nitwit. What the hell makes the difference? The truth is I had an affair with a contract killer who still works for us. In fact… she’d ace your ass if I asked her to without batting an eye.” Ah, what the hell, it’ll take Lo some time to get info to us anyway. “I’m way past the lovesick puppy age, Carl. Trish had a neat thing happen. Thanks to a case we were doing, she garnered a movie role that fit her perfectly. The movie became a hit, seen by millions, including a young man from her checkered past. End of story.”

  “I heard you found them in bed together at your house. Lo wouldn’t tell me what you did when you found them. How do you over the hill geezers handle a situation like that, ‘Mr. I’m above and beyond all earthly things’?”

  “You’re enjoying this too much, you worthless little yuppie larvae.” I admit it. This was entertaining due to our deadly predicament. How many times does an old fart like me get to lecture on his love life misfortunes? “You must have had someone, Carl. Nothing’s permanent. Things change, people change, and we move on. My girl Trish is still my girl. He surprised her at my house. They had an affair long ago. The memory swept through them like a forest fire. He was the guy she never wanted to leave. Seeing him caught her off guard. It was bad luck me coming home at that moment. Nothing happened. Trish was embarrassed. Sam was embarrassed. I was embarrassed. I said, ‘sorry’, and left. I went fishing on our boat for a few days. The worst part was going back to work. Lo reamed me for going dark; but while I wasn’t damaged, that didn’t mean I wanted any chit chat either. Anyway, Sam moved Trish into his estate. Here I am, living the high life in Sana’a, Yemen. What a world, huh?”

  “I know what you mean, Rick. Life’s a bitch… and then it rains.”

  “Exactly.”

  My phone beeped. “We’re not getting any younger, Lo.”

  “Shut up, you old cuckold. Sending target info to your phone. What’s the plan if you survive with young Dennis the Menace.”

  “We’ll head full bore to El Rahaba Airport, but not until you get a lot closer. We’ll have to stay low on the move in the desert until you tell us you have Rahaba in your headlights. What do you think?”

  “I like it better than landing in that damn free fire zone you’re in. We’re getting signals the military is growing uneasy. They’ve decided to stop pretending they give a shit what happens to our embassy. Our bosses, however, are working toward a diplomatic solution. You know what that means.”

  “Yep. They plan to let the mob make crispy critters out of us, but they will be outraged by it. Maybe they should simply cut out the middleman and kill us themselves.”

  “I believe you have the main gist of this consulting gig, Rick. I don’t have a better plan than your Bangkok diversion. You wouldn’t listen to reason anyway. Since we’re out of alternatives, happy hunting. I hope to hear from you, Rick.”

  That sounded like goodbye. Here I was getting optimistic about my Bangkok diversion, and Lo shoots me down like a rabid Chihuahua. “If not, it was one hell of a last show.”

  “I’m going to toast someone for this, Rick. Count on that.”

  “I have no doubt, Lo. Talk at you soon.”

  “Want me to… you know… tell Trish anything?”

  “Yeah… tell her I got a hard-on thinking about her today without a pill.”

  Lo enjoyed the hell out of that one and disconnected. Dennis the Menace appreciated my rejoinder also. I took the opportunity to check the target location. I plotted my course, figuring time to target, and time allotted for returning with a vehicle. I looked at the growing dusky sky as only a tip of the sun remained, hearing the first calls to prayer by a religion sending fanatics to torture us to death. I admit I grinned inappropriately. I planned to thread my way through the streets of this small Mecca, and blow the shit out of more than a few hypocritical kneelers, who will get to test their belief in heaven for carrying out blasphemous inhuman acts.

  “What the hell are you grinning at, Rick?”

  I met Carl’s curious look with a shrug. “Just the usual, kid. I’ll be traipsing through the backstreets soon, one lone old fart infidel, on his way to show a bunch of true believers the way to hell. It’s all good. Be right back. I have to go dress the part.”

  “I hope you can find us a ride out of here. The first thing the bastards hit was our embassy vehicles. Lo told those idiot staffers to plant the vehicles in different areas around the compound like we did our getaway vehicles. We’d be set if they had done what they were told.”

  “Don’t dwell on that shit, Carl.” I stood up. “They were scared, and the three of us didn’t have time to investigate further before Lo had to fly out to Riyadh with the last of the sheep. I’ll find us something. I’ll return for loads before I go. You’ll need to check me over. Make the square into a kill zone from this minute forward.”

  “On it.”

  Carl nearly shot me when I returned, indicating my disguise would pass muster on the streets. I rubbed my gray black scruffy beard I’d been growing since before we arrived at Sana’a with amused contemplation. “Not bad, huh?”

  “I swear to God, Rick! I nearly opened up on you with the M4.”

  I threw down a bag for him. “Put these on while I’m gone. Let’s test our com units out first. I’ll load my armaments later. I hate like hell leaving you without the M32, but I’m going to need that. My advice is kill everything with multiple firings from the Barrett the moment you sight movement in the square.”

  We checked out our ear pieces before I loaded the M32 under my robes with all rounds left arranged in pockets built into my disguise robes. I had already put on my vest underneath with easy access to my elongated .45 Colt with silencer. The vest pockets held ten clips for the Colt. Yeah… I was sweatin’. I would be lightening my load soon though. I planned to use every M32 load I had. “How do I look?”

  Carl was impressed. “Real good, Rick. I don’t know how you’ll get your used up old ass where you need to go with all that weight, but you’ll look fabulous doing it.”

  “I’m dragging the trunk down to where we can load it for the trip out. Take all the ammo you estimate you’ll need until I give you the signal. Can you carry the Barrett and the M4 down when you leave? We may need them both.”

  “I’m not leaving here without these two pieces. If we get hung out on the fence to dry, I plan on some serious wet-work.” Carl grabbed my arm. “Just like back in the days when the troops were fighting Apaches, don’t let me get taken. Put a bullet in my head. I’ll do the same for you. I don’t want the bastards given the opportunity to do me like they did Ambassador Roberts. I want your word you won’t let them Benghazi my ass.”

  “You have my word, kid. It will be touch and go at the airport. Our plus will be they won’t want to damage the airport. We won’t have any such restriction. Wherever Lo can land will be our LZ there, and we need to protect it. I’ll try and save at least ten M32 loads for the airport. I plan to make them very unhappy they made us exit this way. I’m taking the grenades too, but I’ll leave you two. Pitch them into the square if you get a gathering. Otherwise, save them for the ride out.”

  “Let’s get a piece, Rick.” Carl shook hands with me in a quick solemn acknowledgement of shared shit.

  “I’ll be in touch. Don’t hesitate to rattle my ear with whatever you see from your vantage point. I’ve already sent the target map to your phone, so you’ll know where I’m going. I wish to hell I’d thought of bringing a tracker along. We’ll have to pull the batteries on our satellite phones until we get where we’re going. We have to chance our com unit’s signal being intercepted. Pick a language you know more than ten words in.”

  “Do you know Russian?”

  Oh yeah… good one. “Da… comrade. We’ll go with Russian. Open your laptop, and check on our backdoor for me.”

  Carl opened his laptop keyed into our surveillance cameras. “No movement, Rick. Our two
upper level cameras pointed at the building our passageway exits into are clear too. Either they have a sniper’s nest waiting for the door to open, or they don’t know about the building or the passageway yet.”

  “Keep an eye on it until I’m clear of the door. I’ll play whack-a-mole with them a few times. Fire a clip into the square. Then if you don’t see any movement, I’ll hit the bricks.”

  “Good luck, Rick.”

  “Geezers don’t rely on luck,” I retorted.

  “What do they rely on?”

  “Prayer and Vicodin.”

  Carl got a kick out of that as I started down the stairs with the damn trunk. By the time I made it to the landing, I was praying, and wishing I’d popped a couple Vikings before I started this trek. The old joints were groaning. At least the stupid trunk had wheels, so when I reached the lower levels, it was smooth sailing. After dropping the trunk outside our secret passageway door to the outside, I popped the door open a few times while having Carl fire into the square. He reported the area outside the door clear into our tunnel. It was a dark, creepy, hug the wall flight through the tunnel to the structure it opened into. Carl gave me the all clear for inside the structure… at least what the cameras could view. Show-time.

  Our underground tunnel exited on the other side of Alnesser Street in a building owned by a CIA asset who was flown out with the rest of the embassy personnel. My target meeting was in an open area at the corner of Musaik Street and Ring Road where Lo’s satellite photo showed a large contingent of heat sources. I exited the building. Once on the streets, I headed for the meeting, taking purposeful strides, holding my silenced .45 Colt under my outer robe. It didn’t take long to run into the outer fringes of lunatic ravers.

  They had a triage area in operation where real ambulances were loading my victims. I joined a loose group heading in the direction I needed to go. As Carl and I suspected, the real military had arrived in armored Humvees we probably gave them. They were in observation mode while a foaming at the mouth looney-toon screamed at the growing crowd. I needed one of the Humvees with a machine gun mount. I chanted appropriately while jostling myself through to a place at the outskirts of the crowd on the right. I pulled the pin on a grenade, and heaved it on stage with our big mouth jihadist. I moved left as the grenade exploded. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men wouldn’t be able to put that Humpty Dumpty back together again. Ducking down while shouting with the rest of the crowd, I pulled the pin on another grenade, and heaved it into the middle of the crowd without standing up.