The Exterminator

By David Callinan

A Mike Delaney thriller:

Action-packed Mike Delaney thriller as the ex-assassin, ex-cop, and ex-warrior monk is targetted for extermination

His past as a U.S government covert assassin catches up with Mike Delaney. He thought he'd retired. He's spent time as a novice monk to release his spiritual side, and he fights injustice as part of the citizen's crime-busting website confess-confess. And he's made himself a promise – never to kill again (unless he has no choice). But, when his former G-Force commanding officer is murdered at West Point Military Academy, Mike Delaney is sucked into a race to find the murderer. A worldwide organization close to the U.S administration identifies Delaney and believes he has information that could expose their secret plans for population control and mind seduction. So Mike Delaney needs to be exterminated. A bizarre husband and wife hit squad is sent to eradicate Mike Delaney.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Callinan
• Release date: Oct 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463909270

David Callinan

David Callinan is a novelist and musician/songwriter. He is the author of the sci-fi classic 'Fortress Manhattan' and has recently released the first of a thriller series featuring ex assassin, ex cop and ex monk, Mike Delaney titled 'The Immortality Plot'. Other near-the-knuckle thrillers include: 'Knife Edge'; 'An Angel On My Shoulder' and 'Bodyswitch'.He has re-released the bestselling holistic guide to health, wealth and happiness 'The 10-Minute Miracle'.He also writes for young adults and children. The first of his scientific/magical, dystopian trilogy 'The Kingdoms Of Time And Space' has been published' 'Kingdom Of The Nanosaurs' and also the first in a chapter book series for 7-10 year olds 'The Weather Kids And The Rainbow Superhighway'.David Callinan is Anglo-Irish, born into a family from Limerick in the west of Ireland who grew up in the UK. After busking all over Europe he rediscovered Irish music and formed The Spalpeens playing all over the UK, Europe and Ireland touring with The Dubliners, Sweeney's Men, The Chieftains and many others.He appeared in films such as The Lion In Winter (Peter O'Toole, Katherine Hepburn) and Sinful Davey (John Hurt) and scores of television advertisements (was even directed by the late, great John Huston).Later, he formed Urban Clearway, touring and performing with artists such as Elton John, Billy Connolly, Rod Stewart and Long John Baldry.He co-wrote a Celtic rock opera for the Edinburgh Festival. 'Pucka-Ri' starred a young Pierce Brosnan and became one of the hits of the Fringe, before transferring to the Arts Theatre in London.Latterly, an earlier spacey, folk-rock album, 'Freedom's Lament', recorded by Callinan-Flynn, has emerged as a highly sought after title on the Internet - and new wave Irish chanteur Sean Tyrrell has recorded a number of his songs on recent albums.All David's books are available via his website as are downloads of recent music tracks and earlier, 60s, material.Print this

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THE EXTERMINATOR

David Callinan

First published as ebook in 2019 by Ocean House Press

Copyright © David Callinan 2019

David Callinan asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Also by David Callinan

Fortress Manhattan

Knife Edge

Bodyswitch

An Angel On My Shoulder

Misconception

Mike Delaney thrillers

The Immortality Plot

Torn Apart

One False Move

Captured

The Exterminator

Harry Chance thrillers

Or Else She Dies

YA fantasy

The Vanishing

(The Creation Game trilogy)

For children

The Weather Kids and The Rainbow Superhighway

Non-fiction

The 10-Minute Miracle

DEDICATION

Although many people have helped, encouraged, critiqued and advised me over the years, as a writer I have ploughed mainly a lone furrow. Self-reliance is a wonderful and fortunate quality to be blessed with. Special thanks to my one-time screenwriting partner, David Chitty, whose imagination fuelled mine and opened my inner eye.

But I dedicate all my books to my family; my wife Rosie and children Amy, Toby and Beth, as well as my present and future grandchildren who may one day read my books.

CHAPTER 1

Dawn light came creeping across the dust plain. It sent shimmering slivers of red and gold along the empty desert track on the edge of Los Padres. Mike Delaney narrowed his eyes against the rising sun. Before him, a weather-beaten iron bridge spanned a dried up arroyo. Behind him loomed a range of rocky outcrops. The low hills, dusted with sand and dotted with sagebrush, signaled the beginning of a low escarpment that stretched out towards distant mountains.

Delaney parked his rental Buick between two hillocks, hiding it from view. He left the driver's door open in readiness for a quick getaway. Delaney reached in and took a brown valise from the passenger seat.

He stood foursquare in the center of the road. He wasn't expecting traffic. This location was the spot chosen by the people he was waiting for. He'd taken the precaution of arriving in the vicinity a day early to reconnoiter the locale.

A prairie falcon circled overhead, scouting for its first meal of the day.

Delaney gripped the valise. Inside was half-a-million dollars in used notes.

He waited.

A film of sweat broke out on his forehead. The temperature was rising. Soon it would be unbearable and he would have to seek shade. Delaney checked the Smith and Wesson pistol tucked into his waistband. He didn't think he'd have to use it, but you never could tell how a ransom exchange would pan out.

A reflection flickered on the horizon. And another. A fast moving vehicle in a plume of dust was approaching the rendezvous.

Delaney loosened his shoulders and waited.

He could thank Confess-Confess for this job. The client had asked for the one they called the Monk especially. Delaney still did not regard himself as being a committed member of the crime busting website, with its roster of amateur sleuths investigating every sort of crime or misconduct. He'd become involved when his friend and partner in the Hong Kong Police élite, Bob Messenger, created the site. This followed their respective secondments from the US military and UK Special Forces. The website had grown to be a major force. Love it or hate it, Confess-Confess had helped solve some spectacular crimes and miscarriages of justice. It annoyed the hell out of organized crime and law enforcement agencies equally.

The column of dust grew closer and Delaney could make out the shape of a black sedan. He gripped the handle of the valise and felt his knuckles crack.

The falcon swooped and flashed across Delaney's field of vision, but he kept his eyes fixed on the black sedan as it slowed and came to a stop on the other side of the bridge.

Delaney had no instructions on who was to make the first move. He stayed where he was and stared hard, straining to see through the darkened windscreen.

Delaney imagined he could hear his wristwatch ticking.

He was standing around fifteen feet from the bridge. He took one step forward.

The car doors opened and two men got out, one was the driver; the other exited from the passenger side. Both wore short-sleeved white shirts and jeans. Both wore wraparound sunglasses. Delaney could see handguns attached to their belts.

Finally, the bigger of the two spoke. ‘Do you have the money?’

Delaney couldn't place the accent, but figured it sounded Romanian or Armenian.

‘I have the money,’ he called back and lifted the valise.

‘Bring it here,’ ordered the spokesman.

‘No chance,’ said Delaney. ‘Not until I inspect the merchandise.’

Silence.

The driver nodded to his partner who opened the rear door. Another man got out. He was shorter and swarthier than the other two. He could be Greek, thought Delaney. The third man pulled a woman out of the car. She was tall and pale, thin as a breadstick, and around thirty, Delaney guessed.

And terrified.

He compared her to the briefing photographs. He wasn't close enough to scrutinize her face and check out the telltale birthmark. In every other respect, this was the woman.

This was Annabel Court.

She shivered in spite of the heat.

‘Okay,’ said the guy Delaney took to be the leader. ‘Now, nice and easy, hands where we can see 'em, walk over here.’

‘Still no deal,’ said Delaney. ‘I have what you want and you have what I want. We meet halfway across the bridge. I'll open the case and you can check the money. And I can check out Mrs. Court.’

‘Our instructions...’ the leader started to say.

‘My instructions,’ interrupted Delaney, ‘are to make sure Mrs. Court is unharmed before releasing the money. Once we make the exchange, we both walk backwards to make sure no one gets any last minute ideas.’

The first guy turned to the other two and they exchanged whispers. The woman stared at Delaney as though he was an angel sent to save her.

‘The odds are not in your favor, my friend,’ said the leader.

‘You're right,’ said Delaney, ‘but I'll take you with me. How do those odds sound?’

‘Please,’ Delaney heard Annabel Court say in a quavering voice. ‘Let me go. My husband has the money...’

‘Shut up,’ said the swarthy one.

The leader called out to Delaney. ‘Okay, so walk.’

The three men and the woman began to amble across the bridge. Delaney followed suit.

Shadows from the cross girders dappled the dust track that had once been a road. Delaney never took his eyes from the three men. When they were within spitting distance they stopped. The first two men stood in front of the third man who gripped the woman's arm.

Delaney looked at Annabel Court. Close to, he could see the small birthmark on her cheek. She was far prettier up close than in her photographs.

‘Mrs. Court, have they harmed you?’

She cast her eyes downward and shook her head.

‘We no touch the woman,’ said the Greek-looking guy.

‘I asked Mrs. Court,’ said Delaney.

‘No,’ she said. ‘No, they haven't.’

Delaney lifted the valise, flipped open both clasps and opened the lid. He watched the eyes of the men as the focused on the dollar bills. The leader nodded to the second guy who walked over, looked up at Delaney and expertly rifled through each stack of notes making a rapid calculation.

‘All there,’ he said.

‘Bring her here,’ the leader called over his shoulder.

The third guy brought a relieved Annabel Court to stand in front of Delaney. He took a good look at her. Her eyes begged him to take her away from this situation.

Delaney handed the case over.

‘Take my left arm, Mrs. Court and we will walk backward. Okay?’

She nodded and took his arm. Delaney let the men see his pistol.

The kidnappers appeared satisfied and began to walk backwards towards the sedan.

‘Mrs. Court,’ said Delaney. ‘I want you to listen to me carefully. My car is about twenty yards away. We keep walking, facing forward in case our friends want to play a dirty trick on us. If they do, we will run at an angle to the bridge. We have cover behind us.’

‘Okay,’ she whispered.

They were across the bridge when it happened.

Delaney watched as the third man threw the valise into the back seat of the sedan.

Then all three pulled out their handguns and started back over the bridge.

‘Run,’ snapped Delaney and pulled Annabel Court to one side so that the ironwork of the bridge gave them temporary security. He picked her up in his arms, turned and sprinted to the outcrop where he'd parked. He pushed her down behind the trunk, told her not to move. Then he whipped out his Smith and Wesson, dropped to one knee and peered around the hillock.

The three men had spread out. A bullet zipped past Delaney's head. He leaned out; saw one of the men lining up to shoot. He squeezed the trigger. The target went down in the dust.

One down, two to go.

The other two would come at him from different directions.

Delaney edged his way around the rock formation, indicating to Annabel Court that she make no sound. He peeled off his lightweight jacket and, reaching the end of the hillock, threw it into the air. A stream of bullets ripped the coat to shreds and threw it high into the air like a berserk kite.

Remaining close to the ground, Delaney dived out of his hiding place and spotted the second man trotting forward with gun arm outstretched. Delaney fired twice from ground level and hit the target's shoulder, spinning him around as he cried out.

His peripheral vision picked out a shape climbing the outcrop. He scrambled back to the car and reassured the terrified hostage with his eyes. Delaney watched Annabel Court's eyes widen as she looked up towards the sky. Her mouth started to open.

Delaney felt a presence from above, dropped his weight and spun on his heel. A bullet pinged the trunk of the car and a second shot took out the rear tire. Delaney tried to aim, but the Greek-looking guy had launched himself down the hillock spraying stones and dust and screaming obscenities.

He landed on Delaney with his gun raised. The two of them rolled in the dust. Delaney found himself underneath the other man, biting the earth. Annabel Court screamed as the two of them writhed together and crashed into the Buick. Somehow, Delaney managed to glimpse the other man's gun hand close to his head. He forced his arm through the tangle of limbs and grabbed his opponent's wrist. He yanked it away from his face as the gun went off. With his ears ringing from the explosive force of the shot, Delaney heaved his shoulders, taking heavy blows to his back and neck.

He managed to wriggle out from the weight of the Greek-looking guy's body until he was staring into his face. His opponent was deceptively strong. He grinned at Delaney through bubbles of sweat.

‘You're a dead man,’ he grunted. Then his head exploded in a shower of hair and blood.

Delaney was quite suddenly free of his embrace. He scrambled to his feet to find a weeping Annabel Court holding a heavy rock in both hands.

The kidnapper lay on the ground, stunned. Delaney knew he wasn't out for the count.

‘Okay, Mrs. Court,’ Delaney said, grunting with exertion. ‘Put the rock down.’

Annabel Court dropped the large stone as though it were contagious. ‘Is he dead?’

‘No, he's...’ Delaney began.

The man on the ground kicked out and swept Delaney's left ankle from under him. Delaney's giant shadow swayed over the dusty earth as he tottered off balance.

‘I'll kill you both,’ roared the swarthy kidnapper, as with rivulets of blood streaking his face, he scrambled to his feet and charged Delaney into the hood of the Buick.

But he'd left himself exposed with no defense.

Delaney wrapped an arm around his neck and applied a stranglehold while ramming his knee into his opponent's groin. It took under a minute for asphyxiation to render him unconscious. Delaney dropped him on the ground and, for good measure, slammed his jaw with a huge right fist.

‘I thought I'd killed him,’ Annabel Court whispered in a tremulous voice.

‘You did right,’ said Delaney. ‘Thank you.’

He kicked the rear tire of the Buick. ‘Out of action.’

‘How do we get out of here?’ she asked, still with desperation in her voice.

Delaney put his arms around her. She sank into his embrace like a stone entering a lake.

‘We'll be fine. We'll take their car. Then I'll get you back to your husband.’

‘What if?’

‘Stick close to me. Come on.’

Delaney led Annabel Court out of their temporary sanctuary into the blazing, sun-drenched plain. A desert wind cooled their faces. Delaney stared at the area around the bridge and behind the outcrop. He saw two bodies, one as still as a vulture's prey, the other moving in a slow crawl into a patch of shade.

‘Let's go,’ said Delaney.

They trotted back to the bridge with Delaney checking for any sudden movement behind. In two hundred yards they reached the sedan with its doors swung open.

Delaney thanked the gods when he saw the keys in the ignition. The kidnappers had felt secure with odds of three against one. He saw the valise containing the ransom money on the back seat.

‘Okay,’ said Delaney. ‘Strap yourself in, Mrs. Court. It's a couple of hours to Santa Barbara.’

Annabel Court had, by now, regained most of her composure. She sank into the passenger seat then she looked at Delaney as if seeing him for the first time.

‘Annabel, please,’ she said. ‘I don't know how to thank you. I don't even know your name.’

‘Delaney,’ said Delaney. ‘Mike Delaney.’

Delaney was aware of her eyes on his face as he fired up the sedan. Then, in a squeal of tires on stones, he hit the accelerator pedal.

‘Keep your head down just in case,’ he warned his passenger.

The black sedan hurtled over the bridge in a vortex of dust. Delaney risked a glance to his left. He saw the shape of a man standing. A bullet whined across the trunk. Delaney wrenched the wheel and pushed harder, till the three-liter engine revved to screaming pitch.

Seconds later the outcrop and the bridge were a memory. As they drove, and climbed up out of the plain, the landscape around them transformed from rugged, sun-scorched rock to verdant greenery. Soon they came to a well-maintained asphalt road that wound its way down through the light and shade of the Los Padres forest towards the Pacific Ocean. Delaney checked his cell phone and grunted.

‘I'll call your husband as soon as I get a signal and you can talk to him.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘You must be hungry,’ Delaney said.

‘The food was disgusting,’ she replied. ‘Yes, I am.’

Delaney glanced at the woman from time to time. She looked as though she was de-stressing, trying to expunge some painful memories.

‘Two weeks must have seemed like two months,’ he said.

‘I didn't think I'd get out alive,’ she stumbled over her words.

Delaney said nothing more.

Minutes passed, then Annabel said. ‘I really am indebted to you. We both are, I mean.’

‘You're safe now. You live in LA?'

‘Yes, well, Venice. You?’

‘I have a boat moored in Boston.’

‘You live on a boat?’

‘It's a cruiser and, yes, that's home sweet home,’ he paused. ‘When I saw your photograph, your face looked familiar.’

‘I'm an actress, at least I used to be. I gave it up when Daniel's career took off.’

‘He's a producer, that's all I know.’

‘He is now. But he made his name as a director. Have you seen Final Curtain?’

‘I haven't seen a movie in years,’ Delaney said. ‘The name rings a bell. It caused a stir, didn't it?’

‘You bet,’ agreed Annabel. ‘It caused more than a stir.’

‘You were in that movie?’

‘I played the lead. It's how I met Daniel.’

‘Wasn't it about...?’

‘A suicide pact? Yes, well, it was about a lot more than that. It dealt with how suicide, and choosing to take your own life, can have a domino effect.’

‘Self-sacrifice,’ said Delaney.

‘For the greater good,’ she replied.

‘Not because of depression or chemical imbalance?’

‘That's part of it. But it's more than that. It dramatized the psychology of suicide. It was powerful stuff. Some audiences couldn't take it. Whatever, it made Daniel the flavor of the year.’

‘Why did you give up acting?’

She remained silent for a moment. ‘The movie made Daniel a star. I got good reviews, but no offers came in. I took that to be a signal. I'm more than happy being Mrs. Daniel Court. We have two kids and I love being a mommy.’

A diner appeared on the right and Delaney pulled in.

Delaney smiled as they both got out of the car. ‘Your husband will be happy to have you back,’ he said. He pulled out his cell phone. ‘We have a signal here. I'll speak to him now then you can talk to him. I'll go inside to order so you get some privacy. Anything you'd like?’

‘I've been dreaming about salad,’ she said.

Delaney stood up and walked away a few paces, then made a call.

‘She's safe,’ was all he managed to say. The rest of the time he listened. Finally, he said. ‘I'll pass you over.’

He gave the phone to Annabel and went inside. As he reached the entrance he heard her sobbing into the receiver.

Ten minutes later Annabel Court sat nibbling on a chicken salad while Delaney attacked a man-size steak. She smiled as she watched him eat.

‘You obviously need plenty of protein to keep that body of yours in shape,’ she said with a teasing grin.

‘You're right there,’ he said. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

As they ate, Annabel Court told Delaney a little of her ordeal. They'd snatched her close to her family's beachfront hideaway near Solvang a fortnight ago. They'd kept her in a remote farmhouse that stank of animal dung. They were rough, but hadn't harmed her.

Delaney told her that her husband had employed hostage negotiators, but they had only managed to open a dialogue. The kidnappers were not going to bargain. In desperation, he had turned to Confess-Confess.

‘He called you the Monk,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Are you some kind of holy Joe?’

Delaney laughed as he rose and picked up the check. ‘Afraid not. I joined a monastery a couple of years back, but I wasn't cut out to be a full-time monk. I go back most years to clear my head and vacuum clean my spirit, if that makes sense. I got involved with Confess-Confess by accident. It's my way of doing some good in the world.’

Back on the road, Delaney headed for the ocean. For a while they told each other more about their lives, then conversation petered out as the big sedan ate up the miles.

Next time Delaney looked at Annabel Court she was asleep.

Several hours later, Delaney pulled into the parking lot of the Santa Barbara Beach Resort, a luxurious complex facing the ocean. Daniel Court and a group of associates were already outside the entrance. Suntanned, with steamed and massaged skin, he was older than his wife by quite a few years. He ran to the car and pulled open the passenger door.

Delaney found himself sidelined as Daniel Court wrapped his arms around his wife and allowed