Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset (35 page)

“Oh! I wasn’t gambling, Doc. I was getting
all this set up.” Patel motioned to the impressive array of
equipment lining the room.

“Holy crap, Neil!” Cal piped, “Are you
having an Xbox convention in here?”

“I wish. Figured we’d need as much
horsepower as we could get. It was a real pain getting it shipped
and setup yesterday. At least now I’ve got everything I’ll need to
work remotely.” Neil scratched his disheveled hair and fixed his
expensive eyeglasses. His handsome Indian face was lined with
two-day-old stubble. “You guys hungry?”

“We just grabbed a quick bite at our hotel,”
Cal explained. “You wanna order up some room service or give us a
quick rundown of where we’re at?”

Neil gave food a serious thought as he felt
his stomach grumble. He knew better than to make his friend wait
though. They’d know each other since their days at the University
of Virginia, and Neil knew Cal could be an impatient and stubborn
ass when he wanted to.

“Let me give you a brief summary and then
I’ll get some food.”

Cal nodded and followed Neil over to the
main bank of computer screens.

Patel sat down, logged in, and started
clicking away on the mouse. Pictures popped up on multiple
screens.

“Okay. Based on the information I got from
Congressman Zimmer, I’ve started my analysis on this gaming
consultancy: Ichiban Gaming. The only intel I’ve gathered on them
is from their website and public records. I’ve got a couple of my
crawler programs making some inquiries now.” Neil pointed at the
far left screen. “This guy right here is the Congressman’s friend,
Ishi Nakamura. Looked up his records and so far everything checks
out. It does seem a little odd for him to be such a big fish at
Ichiban at his age. Then again, it’s his father’s company so you
never know.”

Cal interrupted. “This guy is dirty, Neil.
No way could he call off the hounds at a murder scene without
having some pull. Do whatever you need to do to find out more.”

“Already on it. I’m pulling his banking
history right now. With that, I can track where he’s been. Should
know more soon.”

“Okay. I’m going to Zimmer’s hotel to take a
look around. Do you have my order?” Cal asked.

“Yeah, it’s all in that box.” Neil pointed
to a black case, about two feet by four feet in size, laying on the
nearest chaise lounge.

Cal kneeled down and opened the case. Inside
were three pistols and plenty of ammunition from the SSI armory.
Nothing less than a .45. Cal ignored them. Walking into a Las Vegas
hotel armed wasn’t the best thing. Instead, he snagged one of four
knives and pulled it out of the sheath. The blade, six inches in
length, was pointed and razor sharp on both edges. He’d heard about
these particular blades in one of his favorite novels and decided
to order them a few months earlier. It was a small weapon but
effective in a pinch. More importantly you could strap it to your
wrist and carry it concealed. Retrieval was easy and deadly. After
the attack in Nashville the previous year, Cal never left home
unprepared. Although he would’ve loved his trusty Springfield XD
pistol, the blade would do.

He looked up at Ramirez, pointing at the
remaining weapons. “You want one?”

“I’m good. I’ll stick with my pennies,”
Brian said, patting his jean pockets.

Brian was talking about the two sets of
rolled pennies, one in each pocket. They weren’t as good as a
firearm, but very effective in a fistfight. Besides, Ramirez wasn’t
a stranger to hand-to-hand combat. He’d spent plenty of time in the
Principal’s office as a kid. Going to an all-white (save one)
school in Nashville hadn’t always been the easiest. There were
always a couple of rednecks that wanted to pick on his Hispanic
heritage. They soon found out that the little beaner was a
scrapper, thanks to hours of practice in the boxing ring.

Cal took off his sport coat, strapped the
knife onto his left arm, and put his coat back on. “You ready,
Doc?”

“Let’s go.”

+++

“Father, the Congressman will be landing
soon,” Ishi bowed to his father.

Kazuo Nakamura, a slightly overweight man,
looked at his son with pride. To think that all their plans were
finally coming to fruition. Years of planning. Congressman Zimmer
was the icing on the cake. Yes, delivered by their contact in
Washington, but designed and executed by Ishi.

“Good. Ensure our eyes are always on him,”
he said as he stroked his graying goatee.

“Yes, Father. There has been one new
development.” Ishi offered cautiously.

“And what would that be, my Son?”

“It seems that the Congressman has a
bodyguard with him.”

“How did you find out about this?”

“Our contact sent me an encrypted email an
hour ago. Apparently, the Congressman contacted a company called
SSI to provide security.”

“What?! The fool! You assured me that this
would not happen.”

“I warned him, Father. There is more.”

All vestiges of Kazuo Nakamura’s calm façade
disappeared. “What else has he done?!”

“Our contact also alerted me to the fact
that there might be additional SSI personnel coming to Las Vegas to
conduct surveillance. He was only able to provide a brief profile
of one man, a Calvin Stokes, Jr. Mr. Stokes is the heir to the
company’s founder; his deceased father.”

Kazuo stroked his beard, thinking. “Did he
provide a physical description?”

“He provided a picture from his military
record. Calvin Stokes is a former Marine.”

“Provide the photograph to the security
staff at each of our hotels. If this Calvin Stokes sets foot in one
of them I want him followed and apprehended…quietly.”

“Should I use one of our teams?”

“No. Use our Russian friends. They know how
to be discreet.”

“Yes, Father. I will take care of it.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No, Father.”

“Our time is coming, my Son. Do well and our
family will soon attain new heights within the empire.”

Chapter 15

Las Vegas,
Nevada

7:40pm, September 16th

Dusk was falling as the
young man prepared. He splashed cold water on his face and looked
into the bathroom mirror. His strong chiseled jaw was now covered
with a shaggy beard. His blonde hair, once cut to military
precision, hung to his shoulders.
I look
more like a mountain man these days
, he
thought. He finished in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom to
collect his clothes and his weapons. Maybe tonight God would answer
his call.

+++

Brian and Cal hadn’t found anything of
interest at the Congressman’s hotel. There were some exclusive
gambling rooms filled with foreign high-dollar players and two
swanky Japanese restaurants, but nothing that stood out. At least
now they had a better idea of the lay of the land.

Cal did not want to be in the hotel when
Trent and the Congressman arrived. They’d already arranged a
separate meeting outside of enemy territory for the next day.

The darkening sky found the duo walking the
strip, meandering with the crowds. There wasn’t any work to do
tonight so they’d decided to see the sights.

“You want to hit that new club over by
Caesar’s? I think it’s free before ten.”

“Which one is that?” Cal asked as he swerved
to avoid one of the thousands of leaflet purveyors trying to get
the attention of wandering tourists.

“Motown Moscow. It’s some kind of fusion of
Jazz and Communism. Rumor has it that an ex-KGB agent runs the
place.”

“Motown Moscow? I don’t know, Doc. I’m not a
huge fan of jazz.”

“Come on, Cal. Where’s your sense of
adventure? Maybe they’ll have one of those crazy, frozen vodka bars
with Miles Davis playing on top!”

“Okay, okay. But if I get hit on by some
seven foot tall Russian troll…”

“Don’t worry, man. It’ll be fun. I promise
to get you home before midnight.”

Brian led the way after quickly glancing at
his smart phone’s mapping app.

+++

“You’re sure it was him?” Ishi asked into
his mobile phone. He listened for the response. “Good. Have the
Russians follow and get rid of them.”

A pre-emptive strike would impress his
father. If things were coming as close to fruition as his father
thought, now was the time to take action.

+++

“Are you sure we’re going the right way? I
think we’re too far off The Strip, Doc.”

“Hold on. Let me check again.”

As Brian checked his phone, Cal got the
nagging feeling that they were being watched. He casually glanced
around, taking in the crowd. Nothing jumped out. Maybe he was
tired. Just as he turned back to his friend, he caught someone’s
eye. The man’s gaze lingered a breath too long. Something about the
bearded man set off alarm bells in Cal’s brain.

“We need to move, now.”

Brian looked up from his phone. “Huh?”

“Don’t look around. Just act casual. We’ve
got a tail. Bearded giant about forty yards back.”

Brian took Cal’s cue and
followed. They weaved in and out of the packed sidewalk.
Let’s see how persistent this guy
is
, Cal thought as he quickly turned down a
small side street.

As soon as they entered the street, Cal knew
he’d made a mistake. What he’d thought was a street was just one of
the many service entrances to a casino. No exits unless the back
door happened to be open.

“Shit,” Cal whispered.

“This is a dead end, Cal.”

“I know. Just keep going.”

“Why do you think this guy’s following
us?”

Cal had no idea. Money? Random thuggery?

He stole a quick look back.
The bearded giant had materialized with two enormous
companions.
Maybe it’s time to find out
what these guys want.

Cal nudged Brian and said loudly, “Dude,
this isn’t the right way!”

Brian took the cue. “Crap! Sorry. I think we
turned one street too early.”

They swung around and saw that the three
giants had quickly closed the gap. Twenty yards separated the two
parties.

“Hey, fellas! You guys know how to find
Motown Moscow?” Cal asked cheerfully. Maybe the whole thing was a
fluke.

Instead of answering, the three men kept
walking forward. Their wide frames moved in unison. They fanned out
to surround Cal and Brian. As they stepped closer, a van screeched
to a halt at the opening of the service alley. The side door banged
open and two more men jumped out.

“I guess these guys don’t want to talk,” Cal
mused.

“Yeah. Any ideas?”

“Hey diddle diddle?” It was a private joke.
Marines were fond of saying ‘Hey diddle diddle, straight up the
middle’, to explain a full-frontal assault.

Brian nodded and put his hands in his
pockets. He gripped his weapons casually. “You sure we can’t talk
about this guys?”

The bearded giant spoke for the first time
in a heavy Russian accent. “No talk. Now we crush you.”

“Whatever you say, Ivan Drago. I think…” the
words stuck in Cal’s throat as he noticed a figure climb over their
attackers’ van and jump down on the two men waiting for their
companions. As he fell, the shaggy stranger pointed two tasers at
the backs of his targets. Their muted screams and Cal’s gaze drew
the attention of the three hulking men. They turned their heads.
Cal and Brian took advantage of the distraction and attacked.

Cal unsheathed his knife and dropped into a
squat, simultaneously slicing a clean line through the man’s left
knee. The man screamed in surprise and bent to grab his injured
leg. As he did, Cal sprang up pulling the man’s head down as he
drove his knee up into the Russian’s nose. The man collapsed
unconscious.

Meanwhile, Brian went to work on the giant
on the far right. As a combat veteran, Brian knew there was rarely
such thing as a fair fight. Use any advantage you can. Instead of
trying to reach a swing at the man’s head, Ramirez directed his
uppercut at his groin. The man quickly joined his companion on the
ground.

The bearded giant was the only one who had a
chance to retaliate. As Cal turned back to the last attacker, the
wild looking stranger sprang on the larger man and landed a brutal
blow to the man’s temple with what looked like a short billy club.
Game over.

“We need to get out of here,” said the
longhaired newcomer. Cal noticed that the man was barely breathing
heavy. His posture looked almost animalistic in its grace.

Not wanting to wait around for the
authorities, Cal agreed. “You lead the way…”

“Daniel.”

“You lead the way, Daniel.”

The three men rushed to the end of the
alley, replacing their weapons as they ran. Once they got to the
van, they squeezed around back and disappeared into the moving
crowds.

+++

After silently following Daniel for fifteen
minutes, the trio approached an old apartment complex. Daniel
walked up the only flight of stairs and opened the third door.

He ushered his guests inside and turned on
the lights.

The apartment was small but spotless. It was
sparingly appointed. No pictures, just a small kitchenette,
bathroom, an old bed and some books on a shelf. It looked much
newer than the exterior.

Daniel took off his trench coat and placed
it on the bed neatly. As he did Cal noticed the large tattoo on the
man’s left arm. It was the trademark skull and arrowhead of Marine
sniper units with the motto: ‘Swift, silent, deadly.’

“You’re a Marine?” Cal asked.

“I was,” Daniel answered quietly as he moved
to the kitchen sink and washed his hands.

“Me too.”

Daniel didn’t respond except with a silent
nod.