Hard Case VI: The Killer Inside (John Harding Book 6) (41 page)

The area around us went dark, including Nino’s place. That happening drew the roving guard on the run to the front as I pulled the gate apart before the manual override latched it again.

“Roving guard down,” Lucas said. “The dog’s on a leash at his side. Make your approach.”

When we were twenty feet from the dog, it whined while tugging at the leash. The appearance of Agent Tonto cut off the whine as they stared at each other curiously. Clint darted it, and we moved on for Lynn’s multiple electromagnetic pulse shots.

“All signals dead inside,” Achmed told us.

Our plan was to allow Agent Tonto to lead us from one bad guy to the next. We wore all black outfits, including masks. If possible, Tonto would spare the prostitutes. Casey would remain in center position to guard our backs. Achmed guided us with heat signature indications we’d studied before approaching Nino’s place. It was quick deadly work. Where possible at first, Tonto would sniff the figure in a bed, sit as an indicator, and Lynn would put two rounds through their heads. We reached one of the prostitutes in the third bedroom. Tonto jumped atop her, jaws shutting off the beginning scream while Lynn used a knockout shot, duct taped her mouth, and restrained her wrists and ankles. Clint shot the sleeper next to her in the head. So it went with deadly precision as we erased the Nino Romanski Mob’s inner circle. There were no trials, no pleas, and no mercy.

We saved Nino for last – not for any reason in particular. His master bedroom was at the end of our list. I checked the knob. It was locked, the only one so far. I backed up a few steps. My Cheeseburger battering ram action smashed the door down flat, tearing it away from its mooring completely. Tonto raced in, sniffed around, and dragged the screaming prostitute off the huge king-size bed. Lynn took care of her needs while Clint and I moved near the awakening Nino. These operations cost money. That meant Nino had to pay for our pest extermination. If there had been complications we would have simply carried out the strike and left. We were way ahead of schedule.

Nino scurried away from us, jamming his back into the headboard. “Who…who are you? What the hell do you want? Do you know who I am?”

Bonus time as everyone on our network enjoyed that humorous interplay.

“Yeah, Nino, we know who you are,” I answered. “You gave us all a good laugh so I’ll make you a deal. Tell us where all your house money is and give us all your squirreled away funds. Then, you can simply pass into hell without any added pain.”

“Fuck you! I ain’t givin’ you bastards shit!”

“Ah… so sweet,” Lynn said. “You’re old school, Nino, so I’ll do you old school. I brought my old school utensils with me. Cheese? Would you be so kind as to help Nino into that chair over there?”

I saw Lynn pointed at a straight backed chair near a dressing table. I ripped Nino away from his bed and tossed him at the chair. He sort of landed on it. I followed my tossed gangster to adjust the groaning Nino into the chair as Clint handed me restraints. I locked him down tight with his silk pajama bottoms down at his ankles. He watched Lynn approach him with the click clacking accompaniment of pliers used in a Rumba dance motion that had Clint and I entertained. I would say Nino definitely began to suspect he was in trouble.

Then Lynn took out the small propane torch from the holder at her waist. “Tell me something, Nino. We’re all curious. Did you find out anything about John Harding before you decided to send guys to take pictures of his family? Why didn’t you take Alexi Fiialkov’s advice and settle for the money?”

“Harding? That’s what this is all about? I don’t get warned off by has been gangsters and fairytales about UFC pugs with delusions of grandeur. I wanted that bitch who conned me dead! I didn’t care about the money! I wanted everyone connected to that slut to pay!”

Lynn glanced at me with a grin. “Yep. He’s stupid, but the skank drove him nuts.”

I nodded. I took off my mask. “I’m John Harding. You screwed up, Nino. The woman you know as Sandra Coburn has cost you your life. Make it an easy passing. We don’t normally give dummies like you an extra chance, but as my assistant said, the skank drove you nuts. I’ve only been around her a few times and I want to kill her. Give up the money in the house and your accounts. In return, my assistant won’t be forced to make you her little helper.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“Perhaps a little demo, Lynn.”

Without further preamble, Lynn grabbed the head of Nino’s tool in the jaws of her tool and lightly passed the propane torch flame over his balls. Needless to say we did get everything we wanted before putting Nino to his final rest. The plane trip home was an easy flight knowing we Monsters were now officially on vacation, except for the Cheeseburger training regimen for a short time. Even that seemed okay with the added entertainment of assaulting the dock with our new Sea Wolf theme song. We had only one agreed upon loose end to take care of.

We arrived at Pain Central in good spirits. The minions met us near the door, unhappy to say the least. As we listened to the cling-on’s shrill voice nonstop we knew why.

“Please tell us we will be rid of this female devil,” Silvio pleaded.

Lynn patted Silvio’s shoulder. “Just a bit longer, my treasured minion.”

I walked into the living quarters after dropping off my equipment bag. I gestured for Chuck to follow me out as cling-on shut up for a moment at my appearance. I guided Chuck next to Gus. “Drive Chuck to my house to see Al, Gus.”

Gus smiled, taking Chuck’s arm. Gus was beginning to understand what was going on. “Please make a video for me, Quays.”

“Of course, brother,” Quays agreed.

“Wait. What about Trista?”

“She’ll join you later, Chuck,” I told him. “Enjoy your time with Al. I’ll bring Trista home in a little while. Don’t give Gus a hard time or I’ll ask Agent Tonto to accompany you.”

Clint made a hand gesture, and Agent Tonto leaped to Chuck’s side in deadly werewolf form. Chuck left with Gus. Lynn turned to Silvio. “You and Quays go prepare the ‘Bride of Frankenstein’ for her beauty treatment. Give her a little jolt first to help calm her.”

“Right away, Mistress of the Unimaginable,” Quays and Silvio agreed in sync.

Lynn turned to the rest of us. “Have a drink boys while I show you how to make a skank into a wonderful wife, here on earth only to be a pleasing presence for everyone around her.”

She didn’t have to tell us twice.

* * *

We enjoyed the week in Las Vegas prior to the fight in every way, shape, and form. The huge Monster entourage went on helicopter scenic tour rides over the Grand Canyon, kayaking down the Colorado River, zip-lining in Bootleg Canyon, and even a cruise on Lake Mead. Naturally we also played around with a large portion of money Nino donated to us along with seeing some of the entertainment shows. I of course worked out at the private facilities offered for the purpose during a UFC scheduled event. We all cooperated with media requests for interviews and pre-fight promotions. A sports reporter from my supposed hometown of Plano, Texas asked me to do an interview. I agreed.

They scheduled it in a comfortable setting with the cameras not too intrusive or annoying. I had been asked to come alone which irked Tommy. He knew they would try to get fodder for making my fight into a grudge match of some kind. The sports reporter, Julianne Phillips, was a very attractive early thirties blonde with a model’s cheekbones and flair. That irked Lora. My little scamp of a daughter decided to play off Mommy’s insecurities in a dangerous game in which the Cheeseburger would have to walk the minefield of innuendo.

We went down to breakfast at the Mandalay Bay’s Bayside Buffet. The views of their tropical water gardens made for an invigorating morning treat while eating. My interview was scheduled early at 9 am, so we came down to breakfast shortly after the Buffet opened. Naturally, the late night hours of Sin City reduced the number of early morning risers, allowing for a relatively quiet time.

“I saw pictures of the lady doing the interview with you this morning, Dad. She’s hot!”

I nearly blew coffee through my nose. Gee… thanks, you snot. I peeked at my wife who had been converted from a smiling bubbly and alluring presence instantly into a furrow browed frown face. “I have to do interviews.”

Al helpfully showed her Mom pictures of Julianne on her iPhone while smiling brightly at me in between crossing her eyes.

“You know of course that our daughter is playing you, right babe?”

Lora returned my questioning stare with the same displeased one. “It’s working. You forget I enticed you from my younger sister with one hug. You’re susceptible to strange females.”

“Okay then, I’ll limit Julianne to just one hug hello.”

Al laughed.

“Not funny, Dark Lord! Why would a supposedly legitimate newspaper send this bimbo to interview a UFC fighter?”

“No reason other than to stir trouble for an article between Rutger and me. Besides, it’s a newspaper in Plano, Texas. She’s probably very good at what she does.”

“And that would be,” Lora asked.

“I’m not having this conversation.” I noticed Al with a big smile, hands propping her scheming head, elbows on the table, and deviltry in her heart. “Let’s finish our meal. Are you feeling insecure or something this morning?”

“Maybe.”

“Then maybe you should consider how well I handled a certain Eastern problem your ex was having, in addition to fixing his wife into a sweet human being.”

I got her with that reminder. She reached to cover my hand. “Sorry John. You’re right. You have that big rough looking thing going on.”

“That would explain why you suspect the reporter might take a second look at me. It doesn’t explain why you would think I’d be checking her out for anything more than nuances she planned to include in a hit piece. If it’s really you transferring insecurities about my being attracted to you from the time of your first wanton hussy hug in the parking lot of your young daughter’s school, that would be your problem not mine.”

I smiled as the gasp of indignation turned to laughter.

“You…you’re not very nice, DL.”

I switched immediately to Dark Lord mode. “The Dark Lord is not nice. He is the Dark Lord, not Mickey Mouse.”

Thus ended another tight spot for the Dark Lord, but turned into a precursor to my Julianne meeting.

* * *

As I walked into the comfortable room I had been shown before to take part in the interview, Julianne rushed over to hug me. Awkward.

“I’m so glad you could do this interview, John.” She held me at arms’ length as if I was an old friend.

“I’m happy to do it, Julianne. How do you want to do this?”

“Have a seat right here facing me.” Julianne indicated the comfortable armchairs arranged for the interview while she attached some electronic gear to me. Once we were seated, she gave her cameraman the signal to begin filming. That this was being put on video should have been enough of a warning for me. “Now then, John, you’ve fought in MMA, street brawling fights, and UFC matches. You’ve killed three men in and out of the cage. How do you feel about that?”

Lady, if you knew how many people I’ve killed, and how little I cared one way or another, you’d be running screaming from the room. Instead of that thought I issued the general statement of concern. “It’s an unfortunate hazard in a violent contact sport like Ultimate Fighting.”

“You seem to have the record for deaths in the sport, John.”

Oh boy. “Was there a question in there for me, Julianne?”

“The Berserker, Rutger Northman, was a good friend of Van Rankin, a fighter you killed inside the cage. He claims to have watched the scene many times. He states you smiled while doing it, and that you killed Rankin on purpose.”

I sure did, baby, and it was so good I get misty eyed thinking about it. “It was probably a grimace rather than a smile, and I have no comment on Rutger’s perception of Rankin’s tragic death.”

Julianne leaned forward. “I’ve watched the scene too, John. Rutger’s perception seems accurate. You’re an ex-Marine. I read your record. You have been in combat for long periods of time, and have probably killed many men. Wouldn’t you say with your military experience life means little to you?”

Actually, my life means a lot to me. My enemies lives… not so much. “There is no such thing as an ex-Marine, especially not in my case. I am still in the Marine Reserve. I have no comment on your perception of my feelings toward life.”

The first indicators of annoyance appeared on Julianne’s features – a slight tightening of her pasted on smile. “I don’t mean to be rude but-”

“Yeah, you do,” I cut her off. “Would you like to ask me about the UFC, my training, or what I’ve been doing to prepare for the fight with The Berserker? I don’t see what serving my country has to do with ultimate fighting.”

“Are you not involved with numerous government agencies?”

Uh oh. “Because of my military background I have been asked to consult with different federal agencies. I have experience in tactics, hostage situations, and terrorist threats – none of which has anything to do with the UFC. Why don’t you think of a question that does have something to do with my upcoming fight.”

This time she smiled in genuine form. “Rutger claims you tried to attack him in an unprovoked manner during a meeting outside the cage.”