Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (42 page)

Jet warmed to the idea immediately. “Sure I can. I can’t go back even to grab my stuff though. They’ll kill me.”

“You let us worry about that. We’ll have to make a statement so your home-boys don’t cause problems after the filming ends. Les? Do you have room at your place for Jet until we find him his own crib?”

“Yeah, Lynn,” Les answered without hesitation. “He can bunk in with me for as long as he needs. This is a great idea. We can use him. I have plenty of room at my new place.”

“This will be a good training project for him to be with us on,” Kevin added. “Chad… I mean, Mr. Dubrinsky, our lawyer can help you with any law problems you have hanging over your head.”

“Good! Breaks over. Let’s get this last run through done,” Lynn ordered. “I have another feeding in half an hour.”

“Now that scene disruption was what entertainment is all about,” Clint said, patting Jet on the back. “Welcome aboard, matey.”

* * *

The limousine drove alongside the parked private jet as Michael Moronas hurried down the plane’s stairwell with briefcase in hand. He wore his signature glasses, ball cap, and hair sticking out all around the brim. The rest of his clothing could be described loosely as casual. The scarf he wore accentuated his triple chins. Tommy met him at the stairwell base to take the bags from the plane personnel following him. The limousine trunk popped open as Moronas stopped to glower at Tommy.

“Where the hell’s by regular driver?”

“He is ill, Sir. My assosciates and I were sent to make sure you were picked up on time,” Tommy answered with professional courtesy while storing the bags in the limo. He then hurried over to open Moronas’s door for him. Moronas hesitated for a moment, but then leaned in. When he saw Lynn and Clint waving at him, he started to back out. Clint grabbed his coat and shirt at the neck. Moronas tried to cry out as Clint jerked him inside to the floor, but the grip choked off any sound. Tommy followed him in, slamming the limo door once he cleared the frame. Jess sped away an instant later. Clint jammed his shoe down on Moronas’s neck, pinning him to the limo floor.

“Stay quiet, and I won’t have to break something on you, Michael,” Clint said.

Lynn duct taped his mouth with Tommy yanking Moronas’s head back for access. Tommy added a plastic tie to restrain their new interrogation subject. “I’ve been looking forward to sealing that big fat mouth of yours until I could question you personally, Mikey. Oh what fun we’re going to have.”

They exited the airport without incident. Clint eased his foot off on Moronas’s neck. Tommy and Clint helped the bleating Moronas onto the seat between them. Lynn watched the red faced Moronas with professional interest. His bloated body heaved, trying to breathe through his nose, snorting air as if he had ran a marathon race.

“I can tell this is going to be easier than we thought. He’s already close to pissing his pants, and I haven’t even zapped his nuts yet.” Lynn chuckled as Moronas’s eyes widened, and the bleating increased in volume. “I think I hurt his feelings. Did you think I’d ask a few questions, and not make damn certain of the truth, Mikey? My associate is going to show you a few movies of me in action with other uncooperative types. By then, we’ll be at our interrogation warehouse we’ve appropriated just for your visit. Show him the criminal proof our first class research department found concerning photo, video, and documents, proving Mikey has been consorting with known terrorists in action against the United States of America. That should warm him for us.”

Tommy lifted the iPad he already had cued to the desired collage of still pictures, videos, and documents of money transfers to his accounts in illegal offshore banks. After the indoctrination ended, everyone in the limo but Moronas was having fun at his expense. Lynn was the first to notice the furrowed brows, accompanied by the pouty expression she had seen in many of his media photos.

“Uh oh, Mikey thinks this is a joke, and he’s getting punked. I don’t like that expression.” In a split second’s time, Lynn zapped Moronas’s groin for a five second journey into living hell. If not for the restraining gloved hands of Tommy and Clint, Moronas would have launched like a guided missile through the limo roof. He passed out.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me, babe? I can’t stand the sight of this guy,” Clint said, while slapping Moronas into consciousness.

Tommy raised his hand. “That was so good.”

“We loved it here in the front, Ms. Daisy,” Dev responded to much amusement.

Lynn grabbed Moronas’s chin while giving Devon the glare of retribution. “Wake up, pussy. I’m not done with you yet.”

Moronas vibrated into consciousness slowly, small high pitched squeaks of abject terror puffing out the duct tape. He closed his eyes, and started to sob when the only sight he saw was Lynn’s merciless stare.

“When I get done interrogating you, princess, those crocodile tears you’re shedding now will feel like spring rain. Before we hand you over to the FBI, I’m going to teach you respect for this country that you’ve been shitting on since you were born. On the way along our love America first trail, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Phoebe Christova; and honey, I have fact checkers you never in your wildest dreams believed existed. I bet you’re getting hot just thinking about cooperating right now, aren’t you, Mikey?”

Moronas knew two things with absolute certainty: these people would torture him to death, and they would love doing it. He bleated miserably behind his duct tape covering while nodding in assent violently.

Lynn pinched his cheek, sighing with regret. “Yep, that’s what I figured. You’re damn lucky I have a crew of friends in harm’s way hunting for Phoebe. If I didn’t, I’d make you scream for me to kill you, princess. There ain’t no take backs for what you’ve said about our troops. My advice after I get through with you - embrace God, the flag, and most of all every man or woman in uniform. If I ever hear another slimy assed, traitorous spew from your lips again, me and the ‘man from nowhere’ here will appear magically by your bedside no matter where the fuck you think you can go undetected. We will execute you then in a way the devil himself would puke seeing. I hope you take this little talk to heart, princess, because oh my God are you not going to like the consequences if you ignore it. Do you feel me, princess?”

Another violent head nod in the affirmative answered Lynn, complete with nearly hysterical bleating.

Lynn knew she destroyed him with one application of her attitude adjustment policy, but she craved more after having to research the smarmy, traitorous crap, the bastard spewed on a daily basis to the media. That he would garner media attention to his worthless anti-American documentaries by also denigrating the troops fighting for his right to speak in a free country hit a chord in Lynn, not meant for business like acceptance. She ripped off the duct tape.

“Honey?” Clint noticed the death grip his wife had on Moronas’s cheek. “Be careful, babe. We don’t have the info we need for our guys.”

Lynn glanced at her husband as if coming out of a trance. She smiled and nodded, but then grabbed Moronas’s chin again in a hurtful grip. “Please screw us over, princess. I will make your passing from this earth legendary. You have no clue what I am capable of if you don’t do exactly what I say; but honey, I will teach it to you. You, Mikey, are going to become a great American… or you will be dead! As God is my witness, I will make you sing the praises of this great country, or I will have you screaming under my knife!”

Michael Moronas met Lynn’s gaze with nothing short of terrified respect. “From this day forward, I… I will never put a bad light on the United States of America.”

When Moronas saw Lynn’s less than satisfied look, he amended his statement immediately. “America is the only reason I have been allowed to say what I have said. My statements have been unforgiveable.”

Lynn released him with disappointment written over her features. “Sam and Janie are in town. Let’s get Mikey to contact Christova, and then get our film in the can.”

Moronas began to speak, only to get a light slap in the face from Lynn. “Don’t say another word until I tell you to. Got it?”

Moronas nodded.

* * *

Denny met them at the safe-house he procured from local assets. He grinned at Moronas’s head down furtive glances at their choice of venue, noticing Lynn no longer thought he needed restraints. Moronas followed her with hands at his sides. Tommy, Devon, and Jesse took seats in the living room. Dannie and Amara were making the baby smile, making faces, and snorting noises. Lynn’s minions busily engaged in turning part of the living room into a communications network capable of reaching The Sea Wolf while networked with Laredo at their Command Central.

“You handle the rest Clint. I’ll feed the baby. I’ve missed the little bugger already.” Lynn pointed at Moronas. “If Clint has to call me into the kitchen because you’re being uncooperative, you do understand what I’ll do to you, right Mikey?”

A quick head bob of acknowledgement with eyes on his feet answered Lynn’s question.

“Good. You may speak when you get in the kitchen.” Lynn gathered the baby into her arms, adjourning to the bedroom down the hallway from the living room.

Clint accompanied Denny into the kitchen with Moronas. “I take it the warmup was all that was required, huh?”

“Yep,” Clint answered. “Mikey is ready to begin his penance. He wants to help us in the worst way. How are things going in the Gulf of Guinea?”

“Bad start. The first contact they ran into after leaving port in Takorada was a Nigerian patrol boat, looking to make a score off easy pickings as the Wolf entered Nigerian waters. You can imagine how that went, but Jafar sent the footage of the entire event as ordered by the Mistress of the Unimaginable. The minions will have the live feed as per her orders in place shortly.”

“I’ll check the battle after we finish,” Clint replied. He pointed at a chair. “Sit, Mikey. My boss will conduct this interchange. Treat him as if he were Lynn sitting opposite you, and I won’t have to actually have Lynn sitting opposite you.”

“Yes, Mr. Dostiene.”

Denny sat down with his satellite laptop, and a digital recorder. “As you know by now, we’re not the police. Everything you say will be used against you unless we cut you some slack. We’re ending threats to our homeland, which you won’t be from now on. What kind of deal did you strike with Christova, and is it ongoing?”

“She needed to leave the San Francisco area. We had met at parties a couple times, but I knew nothing about her, other than we shared… I mean used to share the same beliefs. Phoebe paid me a hundred thousand dollars, and guaranteed to finance my next two documentaries. I got her on board my private jet, and we went to Lagos in a roundabout route. She talked me into listening to a deal while we cruised on her yacht, The Orion. If I would smuggle in small shipments of items from overseas on my jet, I could write my own ticket for a blockbuster film, or be paid for every shipment.”

“Did you agree to the deal?”

“Yes, Sir.” Moronas knew better than to philosophize about why with the two men he now shared a room with. “My stuff hasn’t been selling. I had hoped my remarks about the troops would stir the notoriety factor for money backers, but the opposite happened. My productions are in limbo now. The deal with Phoebe would have put me back on track.”

“On track?” Clint grabbed the table to keep from choking Moronas. “If you ever managed to pull off this crash of the American system, you do understand useless traitors without any skills other than their lying mouths would be put to death first, right?”

Seeing the rage building across Clint’s features, Moronas held his hands in defensive form. “Please, Mr. Dostiene… I will do whatever you and your wife tell me to do. I believe you can reach me anywhere. Even if you don’t believe I’ll ever change, believe I would never do anything in the future to piss off either of you.”

Clint relaxed with a slow headshake of acceptance. “It is what it is. Sorry, Denny. Go on with what you’re doing.”

“You only said what I was thinking, Clint. Okay… did you put anything in the works for the near future involving meeting with her again, or transporting something for her?”

“Yes. I was to return with items I received after contacting a Nigerian national, Isaac Kalu. I have his phone number.”

“Did you get any of this news, Clint?”

“We were busy prepping a prisoner for interrogation, Den. There is a certain order to things, even in our racket. Mikey had to learn what would be in store for him during the rest of his life if he decided he was a tough guy.”

“Hell of a job you two did. I believe this news is just what we’ve been wanting to give us an edge. How soon were you to contact Kalu, Mikey?”

“Right away, Sir. I was to fly the items into Lagos two days from now. I would be happy to follow through with that plan under your guidance if you wish.”

Denny laughed. “Ah… no, you won’t be going anywhere, Mikey. I believe I’ll ask my companion Clint if he and his wife would like to go confiscate whatever Mr. Kalu has in his possession Christova wants.”

“We’d love to do that, Denny.”

Denny leaned forward with his hands clasped. “Here’s what I need you to do, Mikey. I want you to contact Christova, and tell her you will meet her in three days out on her yacht with the items she requested. In the meantime, you’ll help my associate Lynn Dostiene film your turnover to the FBI. We’ll keep you of course, but the episode won’t air for a while anyway.”