Bernard DeLeo - Cold Blooded

Rachel shook her head, still somewhat disbelieving this could be happening as if they were using Nick’s template. But there was no denying the facts. Two days after Nick’s prediction, a sniper team had arrived in the very room where Nick’s sniper rifle was aimed. He had explained the angles, wind shear, and all the reasons for their appearance, as if he had called them to the very spot he anticipated. He’d spent two days finding every inroad to the sniper team’s room without being seen. Rachel looked again at her watch, breathing deeply as Nick had suggested. Her job was backup: relay positioning and movements in the room when Nick went in. She was only to shoot if he went down.

Five minutes later, Rachel scoped the sniper team’s room, waiting for Nick’s signal with her headset in place. She had all the lights off in her hotel room. Only a faint glow illuminated the sniper team’s room. They had one man on watch twenty-four hours a day, which is another reason Nick had waited this long.

“All the reasoning, inside information, and final positioning in the world won’t get it done,” he explained to her after observing the team for a day. “Waiting, covering all the angles, and patience is the only way to get the shot and protect your ass. They’ll be hot to trot at first, but as hours and days pass, they’ll get sloppy. I can tell they haven’t worked together long. They’re already getting antsy. No way to get the drop on them if the spotter’s doing his job, but as you’ll see, I will get the drop on them.”

“Confidant, are we?” Rachel had kidded him.

“I better be,” had been Nick’s grim answer.

Rachel heard Nick’s single click in her headset, which meant she needed to be in position. It was a hundred meter shot Nick had told her he hoped to God she wouldn’t have to take.

“It’s not that I don’t think you would,” he’d said. “It’s because my hoped-for setup will be history if you have to take the shot. Remember, first pad of the finger, slow movements only, and squeeze the trigger. I should have at least one of them down, even if I’m dead. Put another round through him, too, anyway. Repeat the procedure striking both men. Pack up. Get in the Escalade with Jean and Deke. Head for parts unknown. I’d suggest Idaho, North Dakota, or Utah. Find a very small community. There’s a hundred grand in the false bottom of the Escalade I showed you. It’ll get you through until you find work.”

Rachel grabbed his hand before he left, moving her body into him. “What made you decide to adopt me and Jean?”

“When you invited yourself to sit down with me at the restaurant,” he answered with a grin. “I like a woman who shows an interest.”

Nick repeated the single click, meaning he was at the door.

“Hold.” Rachel sighted in on the shielded sniper nest covered with bedclothes. “One man at the gun. Other out of sight…he’s approaching the gun…back turned to you…”

Rachel jerked in spite of knowing what would happen next, glad she had remembered to keep the pad of her finger off the trigger until ready to shoot. Two crackling charges felled both sniper team members. Nick stayed low to the floor, jolting the men until they were unconscious.

He closed the door and hurried to the fallen men. He disarmed each of them, while keeping the silenced muzzle of his own weapon covering them.

“Everything’s okay, Rach. Neither of these boot camps is armed. This is an insult. How dare Frank send ‘Beavis and Butthead’ after me?”

Rachel laughed.

“I’m going to be a few minutes longer than I’d hoped. Without any silencers, I’ll have to rig this up the old-fashioned way. Pack up. I’m going to hit the good Senator tonight.”

“What?” Rachel yelped incredulously, cringing as Nick put a knife into the fist of one downed man and forced it into the chest of the other. “We’re…we’re not in position for the shot.”

“The most righteous Senator Ambrose is in bed with his mistress,” he explained, while positioning the stabbed man over his comrade and using his hands to crush the man’s skull under him with a stone flower vase. “That’ll teach you to stab me, you varmint.”

Rachel laughed again, unable to look away from the horrendous killing of two unconscious men, ending in a cartoon dialogue joke. She glanced again at her daughter guiltily. Go straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. You’re as big a monster as he is.

Nick waited for twenty seconds more, making sure the two men were dead. He took a black plastic bag out of his pocket, and loaded in his two Taser guns, H &K.45, jacket, and gloves. Taking out a fresh pair of Nitrile gloves and donning them, he left the room, making sure the door locked. With the ball cap down low over his face, he made his way out of the building by his planned route.

“I’m going to the Cad. I’ll drop off this stuff and pick up my next outfit for the visit to Senator Ambrose.”

“Why do you have to kill the Senator?”

“Because Frank was right about one thing: Ambrose is trying to kill us.”

The tone of his answer prompted Rachel to dispense with the questioning.

“We’ll be packed and ready to leave when you get back.”

Nick parked the Escalade around the block from the apartment building where Senator Ambrose’s suite was located. Putting on a dark blue windbreaker and ball cap, Nick carried a small shoulder bag with him to the alleyway entrance. He used the access code stolen during his first days in Denver, and made his way up the stairwell through the predawn silence. Outside Senator Ambrose’s door, he listened intently for a few moments, before using his access card to get in. After shutting the door silently, Nick took off his shoes. Seconds later, he stood at the entrance to the Senator’s bedroom, where the outlines of two bodies breathed in varying degrees of sleep.

Nick crept over to the woman’s bedside. He placed the chloroformed white pad next to her nose. When her breathing changed, he removed the pad and moved to the Senator’s side. He gently pulled the cover back from the Senator, who was lying on his back, snoring slightly. Nick position himself above the Senator and jammed his knee into Ambrose’s Solar Plexus, driving the breath from him. Ambrose’s eyes popped open as he gasped and flailed. Nick put a gloved hand over his mouth, easing the knee back until Ambrose could breathe.

“Hi, Senator. Stay quiet. Keep your arms at your sides and legs still, or I’ll crush your chest. Nod if you understand.”

Ambrose nodded. Nick removed his hand.

“I’m Nick. I have some questions for -”

“Nick…McCarty?” Ambrose managed to interrupt with a wheeze.

“One and the same,” Nick confirmed. “How many other people besides you and Frank know about me?”

“You…you murdered the only others who knew about you.”

“If you’re the lone boss man, why does Frank always make it sound like there’s a board of directors?”

“No one has all the pieces. I formed the group after -”

“Khobar Towers. I know. Do you deal all this shit out on a whim, or do you actually run it by a committee?”

“We’ve split off from everyone…but everyone reports to me in some way through Frank. How did you find…Frank…? Frank gave me up?”

“Yep. I believe old Frank is tired of taking orders from you and shit from me. He rigged it up so I’d kill you and another team would kill me. It didn’t work out. Was Tanus a real national security threat?”

“We have to take some bad with the good. Come on McCarty, you…you can’t be that naïve,” Ambrose blustered, starting to move around. “To get intel, we need bad men to get it for us, and bad men like you to end the lives of ones who cross the line. Now get the hell off me.”