Monster (68 page)

“I’d trade my stripes for a crack at that bearded turd anytime,” Bocelli stated wistfully.

“Nobody is going to lose anything. We’ll get ‘er done and no one will be the wiser. Trust me.”

“Shoot me now, Jed,” Dominguez ordered Bocelli.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Bocelli counseled, shifting his weapon and putting his arm around Dominguez’ shoulders as both Marines turned away from McDaniels. “The firing squad will take care of that little detail.”

“I’m hurt, boys,” McDaniels complained. Dominguez and Bocelli continued walking away from him. “Hey… are you two shunning me?”

“I’m talking to you two ingrates.” McDaniels followed finally when he saw they weren’t going to stop.

* * *

“He didn’t bring his crew along?” McDaniels asked quietly, sighting in the small house he and the Marines had been observing as part of their freelance mission for over a week.

“Nope,” Bocelli answered in a whisper, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “They dragged the family over to the Mosque. You know, that holy place our friends in the local police keep cleared of all nefarious actions by the cruel insurgents.”

McDaniels glanced at Bocelli, chuckling in appreciation. McDaniels and Dominguez’ squad of Marines were spaced out in the darkness overlooking the small town they had reached unobserved. McDaniels had tutored one or two of the Marines each day in shadowing ‘Rasputin’s’ movements. The Cleric terrorized the local people daily, protected by a small group of heavily armed men. It had been a grueling exercise for the Marines, inching into positions where they could stalk their prey without revealing themselves.

After eight days, McDaniels was satisfied with the Marines’ progress. He was also confident of the Cleric’s movements. McDaniels accompanied by the complete squad of Marines had spent the last five hours working their way into position. It was now nearly two thirty in the morning. Only the excitement of this final phase in McDaniels’ improvised mission had eased the rigors of freezing temperatures and intricate movements. The house below belonged to a woman living with her two small daughters and an older lady McDaniels figured was the woman’s mother.

The Marines had thought the Cleric was having an affair with the woman. They were surprised to see the Cleric’s thugs threatening the children and older woman in front of her. The Cleric’s followers then took the children and older woman away each time he spent the night. Visiting at odd hours both day and night, ‘Rasputin’ seemed to take pleasure in terrorizing the mother and her family. Neighbors of the woman fearfully hid out in their houses when the Cleric arrived with his ragtag gang.

From his position next to McDaniels, Dominguez saw the big man’s hands tightening on the night vision field glasses. McDaniels turned finally to address his Lieutenant.

“Leave Jed with me. You take the squad over to the Mosque. Make sure the child molesters don’t move until I get Rasputin.”

“Yes, Sir. Will you be keeping your headset on?”

“Yeah, but don’t break silence unless absolutely necessary,” McDaniels instructed. “We’ll join up at the Mosque. We’ll settle with his crew then. Don’t start out for the Mosque until I give you the signal.”

“I’ll be watching, Colonel. Are you sure it’s wise to try and take this prick alive?”

“We’ve been over this, Abe. We want to leave this area in good shape for our operations. I don’t want Marines ducking bullets twenty-four/seven. I need to find out if he’s the big cheese or not. We need to know if there are any other little groups hanging out around here we’re unaware of. See ya’ in a little while.”

McDaniels was up and moving a moment later with Bocelli and Dominguez trying to track his movements in the darkness with their night vision goggles.

“Shit!” Bocelli exclaimed in a fierce whisper. “I’ve lost him already. How about you, Lieutenant?”

“Same here. We might as well focus on the house and wait for his signal.”

“Mama Mia, the Colonel freaks me out.”

“I hear you, brother,” Dominguez agreed. “Just when I think we’re getting skills, Cold dematerializes right in front of our eyes. There it is, Jed.”

A single flash, repeated five seconds apart, beamed from near the target house. Bocelli flashed a single acknowledgement instantly.

Dominguez clapped Bocelli on the shoulder. “See you later, Jed. Why do you think the Colonel wants you to stay here?”

“I don’t know. If I get a chance to kick Rasputin in the teeth he won’t be Rasputin any more. He’ll be Gumby.”

Dominguez laughed. “Roger that.”

Dominguez and the rest of his squad headed in silence toward the Mosque where ‘Rasputin’s’ gang kept the rest of the family hostage. Bocelli focused on the house, smiling in anticipation of what he knew McDaniels would do.

Chapter 48

Unexpected

The woman awoke as McDaniels’ hand sealed her mouth. He whispered for her to be silent in her native language. She felt herself lifted as if weightless from next to the snoring ‘Rasputin’. McDaniels took the near naked woman to the farthest place from the bedroom where she had been.

“Please stay here and be silent,” McDaniels said.

“Who… are you?”

“I am here for the man in your bed,” McDaniels explained. “I…”

“He has my Mother and children,” the woman interrupted with McDaniels gesturing for her to be quiet. “We will all be killed. Leave before…”

“Your family will not be harmed.” McDaniels brushed his hand over her mouth to hush her. “I will explain in a moment. Can you stay here and be silent for a few moments while I deal with this man?”

“Yes, but you do not know him. He is a devil. He…”

“Will you stay silent?” McDaniels gestured with his hands as he straightened up.

The woman nodded. McDaniels turned immediately to the next task at hand. ‘Rasputin’ had begun to stir. His snoring pattern snorted to a stop. The Cleric reached to his side where the woman had been moments earlier. Feeling only the empty bedclothes, ‘Rasputin’ sat up stiffly, looking around. A huge shadow detached from the wall nearest the bed. ‘Rasputin’ began to move away. Instead, he was ripped from the bed by his robes. As the Cleric began to shout out, McDaniels smashed him across the face with his open hand, the blow tripled in impact by the fact ‘Rasputin’ was held immobile by the hand at his throat. McDaniels laughed in surprise as the notorious Cleric began to sob, holding his hands out in supplication.

“Please… do not harm me. I…I can give…”

“Silence!” McDaniels dragged the Cleric into the next room.

The woman, shivering across the room where she huddled next to a divan, gasped as McDaniels pitched the over six foot in height Cleric against the wall. McDaniels walked over, ignoring the screams of pain emanating from the Cleric and helped the woman to her feet.

“You may go and get dressed,” McDaniels directed. “As soon as you are ready, I will take you to your family. Dress warm, because we will have to deal with the men holding them when we get to the Mosque.”

McDaniels strode over to the Cleric as the woman hurried into the bedroom. He kicked him under the rib cage. This turned ‘Rasputin’s’ cries of anguish into gasps for air, coupled with intermittent moans of pain. When the woman returned to the room fully clothed against the frigid conditions outside, McDaniels plucked the Cleric from the floor with one hand.

“Get your feet under you, my brave little man,” McDaniels hissed at the Cleric, evoking an instant response to his orders. “Let us go and get your shoes on for this walk. I do not want your feet to get cold.”

Stepping outside the house, McDaniels flashed a beam toward Bocelli. Bocelli had already begun his approach when he saw the light. Speeding his descent, he joined McDaniels who was standing near the entrance of the house with ‘Rasputin’ and the woman. Bocelli grinned at his bearded adversary with undisguised pleasure, enjoying the bleats of anguish coming from the Cleric.

“You…you are Americans,” the woman whispered in awe.

“Jed, take charge of this piece of shit.” McDaniels handed over his burden to the big Marine.

“We are Americans.” McDaniels turned to address the woman in her native tongue. “We know this man has been terrorizing your family and causing much of the trouble in the area.”

“Kill him now!” The woman begged, suddenly holding her hands out in front of her, fingers entwined. “He…”

“Silence, woman!” ‘Rasputin’ cut her off.

The woman cringed back toward her house. McDaniels faced the Cleric with murder in his eyes.

“Wait, Colonel.” Bocelli released the Cleric who had balled up his hands in fists at his sides, looking less fearful since hearing the identity of his captors. Bocelli began dusting the Cleric off, straightening his robe, and patting him on the back.

McDaniels put an arm around the frightened woman.

“Okay, Jed, he’s all yours, but I want him able to speak when you get done.”

“Does he have to keep his teeth? Me and Abe would like to start calling him Gumby instead of Rasputin.”

McDaniels began laughing while the woman he comforted looked on in total confusion. ‘Rasputin’, his whole body vibrating in rage at what he perceived as slights at his expense began slapping at Bocelli’s hands. Bocelli quickly let the Cleric go and stripped out of his outer armament and gear, pausing only to look longingly at his razor sharp field knife. Sighing, the big Marine threw the knife aside too.

“My comrade here is going to give you a chance to go free, dog,” McDaniels told the Cleric. “Get past him and you have my word, I will free you.”

‘Rasputin’ looked at the grim Marine in front of him with disdain.

“You will surely kill me after I beat your friend to death,” ‘Rasputin’ growled at McDaniels, spitting on the ground between them. “Americans only fight with tanks and bombs. A holy warrior of Jihad cannot be defeated by women dressed up as men.”

“He will kill your man and then go free to murder us all in revenge,” the woman warned. “I have seen him kill men with his bare hands over the slightest offense. If you are going to let him go, at least help me escape with my family.”

“What’s he sayin’, Colonel?” Bocelli asked the chuckling McDaniels.

“He told me Marines are pussies and I’d break my word to let him go and kill him once he beat you to death. The woman wants me to at least guarantee I will help her and her family escape once ‘Rasputin’ goes free. They don’t like your chances, Jed.”

“Take the woman and go about fifty yards toward the Mosque, Cold,” Bocelli said with determination. “This ain’t going to be pretty anyway. You can watch with your infra-red’s.”

McDaniels nodded in agreement. He urged the woman along with him while Bocelli watched the Cleric, who was gaining confidence by the second. When McDaniels stood far enough away, he stopped, released the woman, and took out his silenced nine millimeter automatic.

Bocelli gestured at the Cleric, pointing with his other hand at the pile of armament and weapons. Without a moment’s pause, the Cleric launched himself at Bocelli, his rapid hand movements showing expertise at unarmed combat. Bocelli slapped away hands and kicks with practiced ease. As the Cleric drew back for a moment, Bocelli dropped down slightly and drove the pointed fingers of his right hand in a stabbing motion directly into ‘Rasputin’s’ groin.

Even as the Cleric collapsed with a scream of agony, Bocelli twisted smoothly into a position of defense. When he saw ‘Rasputin’ on the ground howling in pain, Bocelli sighed with disgust. He kicked the Cleric in the kidney. This unraveled the man instantly from the fetal position into a jackknifed grope of pure agony toward his lower back. Bocelli dropped instantly with elbow leading. Teeth gave way in a bloody froth as Bocelli expertly gauged the force of his blow.

“Oh my,” McDaniels grunted in appreciation, watching the fight intently through his infra-red field glasses with relish, “that had to hurt.”

McDaniels put away the glasses and his weapon. Turning to the woman, McDaniels patted her shoulder. “Fight’s over. Do you need anything else out of the house?”

“No… but…” the woman stuttered, trying to make out the blurry figures in the darkness by her home, “but… is he dead?”

“I need him alive for a while. He will not be threatening you anymore. My friend just knocked all his teeth out.”

The woman smiled for the first time. “That makes me very happy. May I see?”

“Of course.” He accompanied the woman to her house once more where Bocelli was putting on his equipment and weapons. ‘Rasputin’ rolled on the ground in agony, pausing only to spit teeth fragments and blood on the ground. McDaniels clapped the young Marine on the back.

“Feel better now?”

“Colonel… if only you knew how much better.”

“Let’s get Gumby up. Let him rinse out his mouth a little inside the house. Better soak an old towel down too, so we can stuff it in his mouth when the little lamb begins bleating again.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Bocelli pulled the Cleric, now named Gumby, to his feet.

* * *

“Good Lord, Cold,” Bocelli complained as they neared the Mosque. “We’re going to have to gag this pussy or something.”