Muerte Collection: The Complete Series

By John W. Wood

All three books in John W. Wood's Muerte series, now available in one volume!

Muerte - Death, It's What I Do: Ricardo 'Rico' Garcia, also known by his Marine handle, ‘Muerte', is known as a Speed Killer. Assigned to infiltrate the Mexican Cartel, Rico is given free rein to do whatever needs to be done to destroy the drug trade. But when someone from his past gets stirred into the mix, things get complicated. The two end up on a one-way ride into the desert, the results of which will wreak havoc across the United States and redefine the balance of power in the country.

Muerte Resurrected: After terrorists acquire a suitcase bomb, a team of specialists is reactivated and assigned the code name 'Resurrection'. Their mission is to neutralize both the bomb and the terrorists. In command is Captain Rico Garcia. His handle is Muerte, and his Military Occupational Specialty is MOS 2666: Speed Killer.

It's War You Want? I Accept: After inheriting the Guzman Cartel from her brother, Angela Guzman - also known as La Llorona - discovers that Rico Garcia was responsible for her brother's disappearance. She decides to set a trap for him in The Darien Gap: a strip of land between Panama and Columbia filled with mountainous jungles , swamps, guerrillas and drug traffickers. After the dust settles, who will make it out of the inevitable standoff alive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Jan 6, 2024

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Muerte Collection

Muerte Collection

The Complete Series

John W. Wood

Copyright © 2023 by John W. Wood

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

Contents

Muerte - Death, It’s What I Do

Muerte Resurrected - Death’s Return

It's War You Want? I Accept

About the Author

Muerte - Death, It’s What I Do

Muerte Book 1

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

Rich Wildbur (Editor) John W. Lesich Curt Beckner

Don Dupay Robert Muccigrosso Michael J Schroeder

James Farrell Steve Esparza

DEDICATED TO

My Partner, Mary Felix Thank You, Mary,

For Your Love, Encouragement

And Insight

Chapter One

Afghanistan

Ricardo (Rico) Garcia, Marine handle, ‘Muerte’ was concealed in a ghillie suit, watched as a two-and-a-half-ton truck drove into the enemy encampment below. The terrorist commander, a tall, slender, bearded man, dressed in khakis, greeted the driver. Another man stepped out of the truck from the passenger side. Carrying an AK47 rifle, he joined the commander and the driver. Rico clicked the talk button on his radio twice and then picked up a laser designator. Using the sight on the designator, he painted the truck below with an unseen laser light source. A group of men and chattering women came out of a cave a few yards away. They went to the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. Moments later, a laser-guided bomb destroyed the truck, killing all of the men and women standing next to it. Picking up his radio, Rico clicked the talk button three times. After packing the targeting device into a canvas camo-bag, Rico removed a pair of nightvision binoculars. Scanning the target area, Rico’s stomach knotted; pain and anguish forced a sob from his throat. Bits and pieces of what once were children covered the ground. The truck was not only carrying munitions, but also the children of the terrorists’.

Chapter Two

Las Vegas, Nevada - Three Years Later

Rico Garcia staggered down Las Vegas Boulevard, known as The Strip. Rico occasionally bumped into people who looked with disdain at the apparently drunken tourist. ‘What a shame,’ some thought, ‘a nice looking young man acting like that in public.’

Unnoticed by the pedestrians were the three men following the drunk. One, a large man, spoke to the others, There’s an alley up ahead, we’ll take him there. The two accomplices nodded their heads in understanding. The big one slipped his hand under his shirt and felt the handle of the pistol tucked in his belt.

When the attack came, it was done smoothly, drawing little or no attention from the passersby. But what did draw their attention was when Rico Garcia exploded into a fury of controlled mayhem. Before the would-be muggers knew what happened, two were unconscious, and the big one wished he was, too. His broken nose and the empty space where a front tooth used to be, hurt like hell.

Reaching into his back pants pocket, Rico withdrew coiled flex cuffs, cuffing the big one first and then the others.

On the street, in front of the alley, two unmarked Metro police vehicles screeched to a halt, and four men in jeans and T-shirts jumped out. The four pushed through the gathering crowd and entered the alley. Sergeant Barnes, Las Vegas Metro, looked down at the three cuffed men and then at Rico. Dammit, Rico, now we have to take them to the hospital before we book ‘em.

Rico replied, with a smirk, I was attacked by three guys, one of them was armed. You should have gotten here faster. The other officers, who were helping the battered muggers to their feet, unsuccessfully suppressed their grins at Rico’s reply. Barnes saw the smiles but said nothing.

Barnes said to Rico, You alright? You need to go to the hospital? I’m good, said Rico, pulling a pair of latex gloves from his pocket.

After pulling on the gloves, Rico reached down and picked up the mugger’s pistol. Pressing the magazine release, Rico removed the magazine and then pulled back the slide, ejecting a nine-millimeter round from the chamber. Handing an evidence bag to Rico, Barnes said, Be sure to tag those as evidence to justify why these assholes have broken noses and nickel-sized knots on their heads.

Barnes eyed Garcia as he bagged the evidence, thinking, ‘He hasn’t even mussed his fricken’ hair, and his clothes look like he just put them on.’ Good job, Rico, said Barnes, taking the offered tagged evidence. That makes ten you’ve arrested this month.

Could have been more, said Rico.

Yeah, right, replied Barnes, But I want to keep my job, so we’ll just keep doing it according to the book.

Grinning, Rico patted Barnes on the back, By the book.

Chapter Three

Metro Offices

Charles Conrad, of Las Vegas Metro, the commander of the Major Crimes section, sat behind his desk with his phone to his ear. Yes, sir, I’ll get on it right away. Yes, sir, Barnes called saying they were on their way in. I’ll talk to him when he gets here. Yes, sir, I’ll call intel. Conrad hung up the phone and then sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Well, what do you know! We’ve been given the green light for Task Force Serpent!’ thought Conrad. ‘This wouldn’t have happened this soon if we didn’t have Rico working for us.’

Rico quickly became Major Crime’s number one UC (undercover). Rico was trained as a grunt when he joined the Marines. But he hadn’t been a grunt for long. Rico’s intelligence and quick thinking caught the eye of someone in the Corps. He was reassigned to a unit so classified that even Metro couldn’t do a full background check on him. A Marine officer was sent to answer questions for the personnel department. Then when Rico went through the police academy, he aced all of the academic and physical tests. He fired expert with every weapon his instructors handed him to shoot.

Conrad smiled, thinking, ‘But Rico Garcia wasn’t arrogant. One would never know how good he was unless you worked with him and saw him in action.’ A knock on his office door got Conrad’s attention. Sitting up in his chair, he said, Yeah, come in!

Barnes opened the door and entered Conrad’s office. You wanted to see me?

Come in, close the door, and have a seat, Conrad told Barnes.

After closing the door, Barnes sat down in one of the four chairs in front of the commander’s desk.

We have the green light to move on the trafficking, Conrad told Barnes. We will use Rico as the UC. I’ll get ahold of Intel, ICE, and the FBI for a briefing. We’ll meet in the conference room tomorrow at 0800. I want Rico and the rest of your crew there, too. Anything you have planned is to be tabled. You’ll be working this to its completion, which could take up to a year, maybe longer.

Rico got three more muggers down on the strip, said Barnes.

Conrad, with a lop-sided smile, replied, Did he take them by himself again?

Yeah, we took all three to the hospital before we booked them. The one with the gun, a big sucker, had a broken nose and a front tooth knocked out. The other two are just gonna be sore for a couple of weeks; nothing was broken.

Barnes, you talk to him. I don’t want Rico crossing the line and being accused of brutality.

I’ll have a talk with him. By the way, I hear homicide had another murder in the hood. Do they think it’s the same guy? Any chance that we’ve got a serial killer offing these guys?

Actually, it was two dead guys, and yeah, they think they have a serial killer working the hood. The body count is now eight, at least that they know of. Keep it to yourself though; homicide doesn’t want it out yet,

Right, replied Barnes. See you in the morning. Oh, and I’ll talk to Rico.

Chapter Four

Homicide Desk

Homicide detective, David Kowalski, sat at his desk. His index finger was wrapped through and around the handle of a thick, white, coffeestained mug. The mug was a gift from Cliff, the owner of Devlin’s Bar. Devlin’s was a convenient place where David used to eat most of his meals while going through his divorce. Taking a sip of the cold coffee, David frowned. ‘Shit,’ he thought and stood up. He reached down, closed the file on his desk, and headed for the lunchroom.

Detective Kelly Campbell, a leggy forty-year-old blond, and the reason for David’s divorce saw him coming. David, if you’re getting a warm-up, would you do mine, please?

Angling towards Kelly’s desk, David smiled at her. Sure, he replied. Kelly handed David her cup, asking, Anything new on your serial? Shaking his head no, David said, Not a thing, except for two more mutilated bodies. One had his jaw ripped off. What kinda animal would do such a thing?

Kelly shook her head, There are plenty of them out there. Put a spoon of sugar in that will you?

Yeah, sure, said David, and then headed once again for the lunchroom.

As David walked away, Kelly eyed his butt. It never got old to her, seeing how David’s slacks hugged his firm cheeks. The two of them were assigned as partners three years ago. After a couple of months, their sexual chemistry became too much for either of them to fight. The first time was in their police car. From that time on, they met whenever and wherever possible. But they met once too often. They were photographed by a private detective hired by David’s soon-tobe ex-wife. David gave his wife a no-contest settlement, half of his retirement, the house, and their new Chrysler. In return, she didn’t complain to the PD about Kelly. David and Kelly got to keep their jobs, but each was given a new partner. David moved into Kelly’s house, and they cooled it at the office. A year later, they were married.

David walked into the lunchroom and saw his new partner, John Foster, a rugby player with a great sense of humor. Morning, John, said David.

Coffee cup in hand, John looked up and said, Morning, you’re in early.

Kelly got called in early, so I rode along with her. I’ve been going over the serial killer file. You know, it’s just strange that there have been no leads or any usable evidence. I think this guy has some training in forensics.

I think you’re right on the forensics, replied John, Maybe an ex-cop?

That’s a thought.. . or maybe a working cop?

John filled David’s coffee-mug, saying, Man, wouldn’t that be something?

Taking a sip from his mug, David smiled at the jolt of caffeine and then said, Well, the un-sub (unknown subject) probably watches a lot of reality cop shows on TV. It’s a good training place for wanna-be criminals.

Chapter Five

The Next Day

Rico Garcia, asleep and dreaming, tossed and turned in his bed. His mouth moved as if speaking, but only muffled grunting could be heard. A cry of anguish came loudly across his lips. Rico sat bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping from his body.

Rico grabbed his head with both hands, his body shaking. Letting go of his head, Rico angrily threw the sheets aside and got out of bed. Naked, Rico went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, feeling the water with his hand for temperature. In the bedroom, his alarm went off, its irritating buzz getting his attention. Ignoring the alarm, Rico stepped into the shower and stood under the needle spray, the water beating down on his head and shoulders.

Flashes of his dream played in his head, of children, children he destroyed with the push of a button. As the images began to fade, Rico turned off the water. Rico reached out to the towel rack, retrieved a bath towel, and started to dry off his body. When he stepped from the shower, the images were gone. But there was anger and self-loathing at what he had done. Rico walked into the bedroom and turned off the alarm.

He dropped to the floor and began doing pushups. As the count reached 100, Rico pushed the negative feelings from his mind. He stood up and returned to the bathroom to shave and get ready for work.

At the police station, Rico headed toward the conference room, passing by detective Kowalski’s desk. Detective John Foster’s desk faced David’s and was butted up against his. The two looked up as Rico walked past, Morning, said David to Rico.

Morning, replied Rico. How’s your case coming along?

Got two more, said John, flipping open a file on his desk. Found them in the hood the other night.

Rico looked down at the file, seeing photos of the two dead men who appeared to be Latinos. Looking closer, Rico said, Military. I’d say the guy who killed them was military.

David got up and went to John’s desk. Looked at the photos and then asked, How do you figure that?

Rico pointed from one photo to the other, This man was stabbed in the kidney, his throat was slit, and then he was stabbed in the heart. That series of knife strikes are standard for sentry removal. The one with his jaw ripped off, I’d say the un-sub (unidentified subject) also practices what we in the Corps call tearing karate. When you get the autopsy results back, I’ll bet they’ll say the victim’s sternum is crushed, and his heart is damaged.

David looked at John, and then the two looked at Rico. You’ve done this, haven’t you? asked John.

Rico looked at his watch and replied, Gotta go, I have a meeting in the conference room.

The two detectives watched Rico walk away, and then they both looked more closely at the crime scene photos. Picking up a picture, David examined it, A military guy; it makes sense.

John, lowering his voice, said, Flow, in personnel.. . she told me a little about Rico; she was at the special interview.

Special interview? asked David.

The Marines sent an officer to answer questions about Rico; he’d left some blanks on his application. He said he wasn’t sure how much he could share.

So what did Flow say?

Rico was in a particular unit that we still don’t know the name of, and the Marine officer refused to share; said it was classified. The officer did say that Rico received a Silver Star and four Bronze Stars with combat V. Can you believe it, he has three purple hearts? It seems he was good at whatever it was he did and that he usually worked alone. All in all, the officer told personnel that Rico is, loyal, intelligent, and a nice guy.

Yeah, a nice guy. . . if he’s on your side, replied David. I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to piss him off. Have you ever shook hands with him? His hands are hard as a rock. No, sir, I wouldn’t want him pissed at me.

In the conference room, everyone had poured their coffees and were now in their seats. Two outsiders had joined the group, FBI agent Willis Smith, a tall, handsome black man of about forty and Dominic Del Porto, from ICE who had a swarthy complexion and biceps that stretched the sleeves of his sports coat.

Commander Conrad, sitting at the head of the conference table, introduced everyone and then said, Our goal is to destroy a significant operation of human trafficking and drug smuggling that is centered here in Las Vegas. This group is bringing in girls, many of them youngsters in their early teens, across the Mexican border. There are also young women and teens kidnapped off the streets from across the country. The FBI and ICE will handle the Intel. Sergeant Barnes and Dominic will run surveillance and be Rico’s handlers. Now then, Willis, will you give us some background, please?

Willis stood and opened his laptop. With a few keystrokes, a picture of a man came up on the large screen on the wall for all to see. The image was a surveillance photo of a stocky man with a soul patch beard under his lower lip. He wore his thick graying hair slicked back and tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a flowered shirt and slacks and was standing by a Mercedes sedan. This is Angel Hernandez, fifty-five years old, said Willis. "Hernandez is a cartel chieftain. He has a passport stating he is a Mexican citizen. They call him, ‘La Cobra’ or ‘The Viper.’ He is ruthless and is reported to kill if he thinks he’s been disrespected. He likes to gamble. He plays poker and baccarat for high stakes. Angel likes young girls and often takes possession of a new girl that is brought in."

Willis gave his laptop a few more keystrokes, and another picture appeared. The man looked like someone out of central casting for bad guys, Willis continued. "This is Victor Gonzales, known as ‘El Puño’ or ‘The Fist.’ He is Hernandez’s security, Intel guy, and Angel’s enforcer. They are seldom apart, except when Angel is with his wife or one of the young girls. Victor, as you can see, is a large man, standing six feet eight inches. He is a karate expert and likes to hurt people. I also have a list of nineteen cartel soldiers, and their photos, that I will hand out to you. But these two are the head of the snake. We want them all, if possible, but these two for sure. Before sitting down, Willis said, "I’m available twenty-four seven and will have contact numbers for those of you in need.

Conrad said, Thank you, Willis. Dominic: your turn.

Dominic stood up, reached down, and picked up his coffee cup. He took a drink from it and then placed it back on the table. I will be working with your UC, preparing him for his contact with the traffickers. I know you are all professionals and already know this, but I have to say it: Do-not-discuss-this-operation-with-anyone! These guys enjoy the kill. They will not hesitate; they kill first and think about it afterward. Dominic looked down the table to where Rico was sitting. Rico, I will want to meet with you after we’re finished here.

Chapter Six

Surveillance Briefing

The meeting in the conference room went on for another hour before it broke up. Dominic and Rico stayed behind, waiting for the others to leave. As Sargent Barnes passed by, Dominic reached out and caught him by the arm, If you can, I’d like you to sit in on this.

Barnes came around and sat down next to Dominic, who was now sitting at the head of the table. Rico sat across from Barnes. Dominic watched as the last person out the door closed it behind him. Alright, said Dominic, we three are going to be spending a lot of time together. Barnes, it will be our job to protect Rico’s back and keep him alive. Rico, your new apartment, is being wired for sound and video. You will also be issued new firearms; these weapons, if traced, will come back as stolen. In the beginning, you will not wear a wire; they’ll be watching you closely and checking you often in the beginning. For the next several days, we will meet at a safe-house we have set up. There you will be briefed on your cover story, and a few changes will be made to your appearance. A look on Rico’s face made Dominic smile, No, no plastic surgery, hair extensions and stop shaving, you’ll need to grow some facial hair. Okay, I’ll need your cell numbers, and I’ll give you mine. I’ll contact you later with the address, and the time we’ll meet. Any questions?

Barnes asked, What about my team and the surveillance?

Right! The vehicle is being finished as we speak and will be available to you tomorrow. You, your team, and I will be given instructions on the equipment. Several other vehicles will also be made available to your team. Again, I’ll contact you with the meet time and the place.

Chapter Seven

Mexico

Angel, ‘The Viper’, Hernandez, felt his heart racing. His ears seemed to be plugged, but his gun-hand did not shake. He always felt this way when he saw the realization come to the man he was about to kill. ‘Fucking mule,’ he thought, ‘skimming some powder from the pack he was carrying across the border. Peons, nothing but peons, you have to teach them a lesson, or they will steal you blind.’ The gold plated forty-five bucked in Angel’s hand: the mule’s head exploding out the back. Blowback from the dead man’s forehead speckled Angel’s shirt and face.

Angel, handing the pistol to Victor, ‘The Fist,’ Gonzales, said, You make sure his body is seen, and that the story gets around that this is what happens when you steal from me.

Si, I will see that it is done, replied Victor.

And, Victor, we will be going to Las Vegas next week. We have a shipment coming in from California. I want to go in quietly and watch ese pedazo de mierda (that piece of shit), Brendon. I hear bad things about him and the ways he treats the new girls. I will not abide by my property being abused.

I will have the jet readied. I shouldn’t tell anyone we are coming? No, tell no one. It will be a surprise visit; yes, let’s make it a surprise.

Chapter Eight

Into Character

A week later, Rico looked at his reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown quickly, and he shaped it into a Van Dyke. Using his electric trimmer, he kept the thick black beard short and neat. But it was his hair, it had been a bit long for his undercover operations, but now it was shoulder length with a moña (bun) at the nape of his neck. His brown eyes were now green, thanks to contact lenses. Randolph, the FBI’s Special Operation’s Specialist, stepped up behind Rico. What do you think?

I can’t believe the change in my looks, replied Rico. You can’t even tell that all of that new hair is extensions.

Luckily, you can grow a beard quickly; it really fits the image. Come on over to the table, and we’ll give you your tattoo.

Rico followed Randolph to a small table that had an assortment of bottles containing different colors of ink. Randolph indicated a chair for Rico to sit on, and he took the other. Give me your left hand. Rico held his hand out, palm down, and watched as Randolph took a cotton swab dipped it in medical alcohol and cleaned the web of his hand. Randolph picked up a toothpick and dipped it into a bottle containing a blue-black ink. Using the toothpick, Randolph made three dots on the web of Rico’s hand. The three dots tattoo is a prison tattoo. It represents ‘mi vida loca’ or ‘my crazy life.’ The symbol is not associated with any particular gang, but with the gang lifestyle itself. Kinda like a motorcycle Nomad, a guy who may or may not belong to a gang.

Rico looked at his hand, How long is the ink good for? Randolph picked up the ink bottle and began replacing the cap, Oh, it’s yours. That shit never comes off.

The look on Rico’s face made Randolph quickly added, Just joking, just joking. I’ll give you the bottle, and you can renew it ever so often.

Rico stood up and offered his hand to Randolph, Thanks. Oh, and by the way, what do I do as my hair grows longer?

Randolph got up from his seat and said, I’ll cut the extensions as your hair grows out. Eventually, I’ll be cutting your own hair. Just let Barnes or Dominic know when you need a cut, and they will contact me for an appointment. After a while, you can go to whomever you want for a cut.

Minutes later, Rico stood outside the building in the hot Nevada sun. He slipped on his Jaguar Sunglasses and then went to the new black Jaguar XJ that had once been owned by a white-collar thief who had run a Ponzi scheme in New York. Rico smiled and pressed the start button of the Jag and felt the torque of the engine.

Looking at the speedometer, Rico wondered if the Jag would really do the 190 miles per hour indicated on the speedometer. He knew he’d have to try it sometime.

Rico pulled away from the curb and headed toward his meeting with Barnes and Dominic at his new apartment.

Chapter Nine

Just Like Rico Said

Homicide Detective David Kowalski, and his partner John Foster, watched as the coroner pulled back the sheet covering the corpse. The dead man, his chest cavity open, with his interworkings exposed, stared at the white ceiling with dead eyes. David and John both looked away, sickened by the fact the man’s lower jaw was missing. The coroner, appearing unaffected by the scene, said, The victim died of blunt force trauma to the chest that stopped his heart. . . or from shock after his jaw was ripped from his face. In my eighteen years at this, I have never seen such a brutal murder. It appears to me that this was done by bare hands, no weapons were used.

John and David forced themselves to look at the body. The coroner said, See here where the ribs are broken? I believe that was done with a closed fist. Then, pointing to the remaining teeth of the deceased, he continued, the teeth were knocked out by a punch followed by a grab and twist, removing the lower jaw. Your suspect is a martial artist, probably trained in some form of Karate."

David looked at John and said, When I was in the Navy, I heard stories about Japanese karate guys that could do this sort of thing. They called it tearing karate; said the heart could be ripped from a man’s body with their bare hands. Rico told me there would be trauma to the chest. Maybe we should talk to him and get more info about this.

John turned to the coroner, The other victim was stabbed. What can you tell us about that one?

The coroner said, Three stab wounds, one to the kidney; his throat was cut from artery to artery, and then he was stabbed in the heart. A sharp, heavy blade was used, possibly a combat knife.

David thought, ‘Just like Rico said, killed militarily.’ Okay, Doc, thanks, we appreciate your time.

You are welcome. You should have my report on your desk tomorrow morning.

Outside the coroner’s office, David and John walked across the parking lot and got into their police unit. As David started the car, he said, The Vic with the stab wounds was standing guard on a dope house, right? As John fastened his seatbelt, he replied, That’s the way we have it figured, and we think the other VIC showed up unexpectedly and was killed.

The car radio crackled, a woman’s voice came over the speaker, 774.

John picked up the microphone, 774.

Dispatch replied, Meet the officer at 702 north Bronson Avenue, a reported 419 (dead body)

John keyed the mic, 774, 10-4 we are en route.

Chapter Ten

An Airstrip, Mexico

Victor Gonzales walked to his Mercedes, opened the door, and got in behind the wheel. In the background, the whine of jet engines and the roar of a twin-engine prop aircraft could be heard. Victor closed the car door, nearly cutting off all outside sounds. Pulling his smartphone from its holster, Victor said, Cobra.

A female voice on the phone said, Calling Cobra. A moment later, the phone was answered, What?

Victor replied, The bird is loaded and ready; I’ll pick you up in thirty.

Bueno. And the phone call ended.

Unseen by Victor, a man dressed in coveralls stood by the aviation fuel pumps. The man punched a speed dial number on a cell phone as he watched Victor leave. This is Delta 68; the Snake has filed a flight plan for North Las Vegas. ETA is 2000 hours. The man pocketed his cell and then stepped out of sight behind the fuel pumps.

Chapter Eleven

Rico’s Apartment

Rico parked the Jag in a space marked Visitors. The building, a tenstory apartment building, was located just blocks from the Strip. Rico could see the tips of Palm trees peeking over the edge of the roof. ‘Must be a penthouse up there or maybe a pool,’ he thought. Scanning the parking area, he saw several high-end automobiles in covered, assigned parking spaces. Rico headed toward the front entrance, where a uniformed doorman of about sixty years watched him approach. The doorman stopped Rico at the door, Yes, Sir, can I help you?

Rico looked the man up and down, ‘This guy is a retired cop,’ thought Rico as he reached for his wallet. Yes, replied Rico, I’m Rico Banderas, I’m checking into my new apartment. Rico opened his wallet and showed his new driver’s license with his new last name. The doorman examined the license and then smiled, We have been expecting you, Mr. Banderas. Welcome to the Oasis apartments. I’m Ben. If I can ever be of assistance, just call. Ben handed Rico a business card and two keys on a ring and then opened the door for Rico and said, If you go to the elevator, it will take you to the tenth floor. Your friends are waiting for you.

Rico looked at the card, which was printed only with a phone number. Thank you, Ben.

Mr. Banderas, in the future, you can park in your assigned parking spot, ’10-A’.

Inside, Rico went to the elevator and pressed the up button. A moment later, the elevator doors opened, and Rico stepped inside. He saw that the tenth-floor button required a key. Looking at the two keys Ben had given him, Rico inserted the smaller of the two and turned it. The doors closed, and the elevator traveled upward. Moments later, the elevator stopped, and the door opened. Across an ornate foyer was a highly decorated door. Rico inserted the other key, turned the knob, and entered the tenth-floor penthouse.

Barnes and Dominic were there to greet him. Barnes smiled, Damn, Rico if I saw you on the street before now, I’m not sure I would have recognized you.

Dominic said, Come on in, we have a lot to go over. I want us to be at the airport by 7:30. Hernandez and Gonzales are due in at 8:00 PM, and I want you to see them.

Rico stepped into what appeared to be the living room of the penthouse. The décor was a light gray with chrome and glass. The floors were a glossy black tile with gray grout. Rico could see through some French doors to a swimming pool surrounded by flowering bushes and palm trees. Dominic saw the look on Rico’s face.

This was recently owned by another fellow who was running a Ponzi scheme. He had so many houses and apartments that he never stayed here. The FBI quietly took him down with little press coverage and so the place is yours for the duration. It is 2,500 square feet with three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a full kitchen. Outside, as you can see, are a pool and a patio with a view of the strip and mountains. The entire living area, and the outside, is wired for sound and video. Except in the master bedroom; figured you needed some privacy.

Rico moved into the living area where a well-stocked wet bar, with a large wall-mirror behind it, was located. Rico felt the soft black leather of one of the barstools. His mind momentarily flashed back to his father’s small house in Texas. I’m not used to such luxury, I might decide to run off and join the Cartel.

Barnes and Dominic laughed, but neither liked the picture that was placed in their heads by Rico’s statement. Dominic stepped behind the bar. From a shelf, he brought out a briefcase and set it on the bar.

Opening the case, Dominic said, "Okay, we better get started if we are going to make it to the airport by 7:30.

Chapter Twelve

North Las Vegas Airport

Former British SAS sniper, William Glasgow, watched as an armed security guard passed by below. Glasgow checked his watch, another half-hour before the plane was due.

Settling down with his back against the roof’s parapet, he pulled a black gun case to him and opened it. Inside, was a sniper rifle, a suppressed Ruger77/44, chambered for a 44 magnum caliber round. The gun was designed to remove deer from airport runways. Glasgow had just one target. At less than one hundred yards, an easy shot for the Ruger. What bothered Glasgow was he had planned to take the shot further back, in the dark. But the target would be too close to the building, and the roof’s parapet would hide the quarry. Glasgow would have to take the shot with the barrel of the rifle protruding over the edge of the parapet. ‘Not good,’ he thought, ‘but necessary.’ This Cobra guy had pissed off Glasgow’s Patron, who was paying Glasgow $50,000 for the hit.

At the end of the building Glasgow was using, a black SUV pulled in and parked behind a four-foot-high chain-link fence and turned off its lights. Pulling in beside the SUV was a black Jaguar XJ. Rico got out of the Jag and joined Barns and Dominic in the SUV. Overhead, a Bombardier Global 8000 private jet came in for a landing. We got here just in time, said Dominic. That’s his plane coming in now.

On the roof, Glasgow peeked over the parapet and then brought the rifle up and readied it as the jet taxied to the building. From the building, an agent from customs stepped out, ready to board the plane to check passports.

The men in the SUV got out of the vehicle and watched. As the door opened on the jet, and the stairs were lowered, the customs official climbed the stairway and entered the aircraft. Fifteen minutes later, the customs man walked down the stairway and into the building. Soon Victor stepped out with Angel behind him. On the roof, a frustrated Glasgow couldn’t take the shot because Victor was in the way.

Rico automatically went on alert when Victor and Angel stepped out of the plane. His Marine training kicked in, and he began scanning the area and the rooftops. That’s when he saw the barrel of the sniper rifle protruding over the edge of the roof.

Barnes and Dominic stood opened mouthed when Rico, without warning, did a one-handed vault over the fence and began racing toward the jet.

As Victor and Angel stepped off the stairway, they were startled to see a large man racing toward them. Victor stepped in front of Angel to protect him.

Gun, gun! yelled Rico, pointing at the roof, his voice muffled by the sound of another jet taking off. Angel turned to look just as Rico slammed into him, knocking both Victor and Angel to the ground. The sound of the silenced bullet could be heard hitting the metal stairway of the jet.

On the roof, Glasgow swore, dropped the rifle, and headed for his escape route, wondering who the son-of-a-bitch was that ruined his payday.

Barnes and Dominic watched in disbelief at what had just happened. Let’s get the hell out of here. Rico won’t need any introductions now, said Barnes. Dominic took one last look at the men near the jet, and then he and Barnes got in the SUV and drove away.

Angel and Victor immediately understood what had happened. Only they heard the bullet strike, but no one had heard a shot fired.

The confusion of the small gathering crowd of airport employees was complete. When Angel stood up, he said to Rico, I’m happy to see you, too; but next time, don’t run! With that, Angel hugged Rico, It’s good to see you. Victor eyed Rico and stuck out his hand in greeting. Considering himself as a karate expert, Victor was aware of the strength and calluses on Rico’s hand. Victor said, Quienquiera que seas gracias (Whoever you are, thank you).

Rico replied, I am Ricardo Banderas. I saw the barrel on the roof; I guess my Marine training kicked in.

Angel looked at Rico. He noticed the three-dot tattoo on the web of his hand. ‘He is one of us, I think,’ thought Angel. Señor Banderas, I am Angel Hernandez. I have a house here in Vegas. Follow us there. I would like to thank you properly.

A man dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit came out to the Jet. The man, handsome and well-muscled, said, Mr. Hernandez, I have your car ready. I will gather your luggage and meet you in the car.

Angel said, "This is Señor Banderas, he will follow us to the house.

What kind of car are you driving?" asked Angel.

I have a black Jag; it’s parked over by the fence. Good, good. Then you will follow us?

Yes, Sir, it will be my pleasure.

Victor noticed that Angel seemed to immediately like Banderas, something he seldom did. In Spanish, Victor said to Angel, With your permission, Jefe, I would like to stay and check the roof. I can catch an Uber to the villa.

Angel nodded his head, Yes, I think it is a good idea, we will meet you at the house.

Victor watched the limousine drive away, followed by the Jag. Victor turned and went to the side of the building, where he found a metal ladder attached to the side of the building. Checking to be sure no one was around, Victor quickly climbed the ladder to the roof.

Unseen by Victor, a quarter-mile from the airport, a black SUV, pulled out and followed Rico’s Jag down the street.

On the roof, staying in the shadows, Victor walked over to where he saw a rifle lying in the shadow of the parapet. Cautiously, so as not to be seen, Victor went to the gun, and after placing it back in its case, he zipped the case shut. Moving back into the shadows to an air-conditioning unit, Victor took a seat on it. From his jacket pocket, Victor removed a pair of latex gloves, pulled them on, and waited.

A short time later, Victor heard someone on the ladder. Victor slipped off of the air-conditioning unit and stood in the shadows, waiting.

Glasgow couldn’t believe his luck. No one heard the shot, and no coppers were called. Glasgow made a mental note to find that asshole that had ruined his aim. He’d teach him a bloody lesson or two.

Glasgow immediately went into fight mode when a voice said, You fucked up, Glasgow.

As Victor stepped out of the shadows, Glasgow relaxed, It wasn’t me; it was that asshole that butted in. Otherwise, it would have been a clean shot. I’ll get him next time.

In the dark, Glasgow never saw it coming. The long, slender blade of Victor’s dagger caught the assassin just below his sternum and drove up into his heart. With a look of disbelief on his face, Glasgow fell to the rooftop dying. Victor removed the latex gloves from his hands, turning them inside out as he did, so no blood would get on him. There will be no next time, Glasgow. I have zero tolerance for failure, said Victor to the dying assassin.

Chapter Thirteen

The Viper’s Nest

Angel’s residence encompassed the top of a hill. The mansion was 8,000 square feet, with four stories of living space overlooking the city. To say it was luxurious would be an understatement. As the vehicles pulled into the drive in front of the house, several men appeared, one opening the door for Angel and another held the door for Rico. Inside the house, Señora Anna Hernandez, a woman nearly six feet tall, a former Columbian fashion model, greeted Angel. Angel introduced her to Rico, Anna, this is Ricardo Banderas, he saved my life tonight. Anna replied, My gratitude, Señor Banderas, for saving my husband’s life, welcome.

Rico imagined he could feel the heat from Anna’s eyes as she visually examined his body. I am pleased that I could be of service, Señora.

Angel smugly watched the interaction between his wife and Rico, many men lusted after his wife, but none dared cross the line for fear of discovery. On the other hand, Anna enjoyed taunting men knowing full well none would cross the line. It was a game she and her husband had played from the beginning. Come, Rico, let us have something to eat, and we can talk.

The large dining area could seat eight, more if need be. When Rico and the others entered the room, a well-dressed man with a scarred, deadpan face, stepped up to Rico, Your jacket, please.

Rico smiled, and reaching under his jacket came out with a military forty-five. Perhaps you would hold this for me until I leave, Rico said. He then removed his coat and handed it to the surprised bodyguard. Angel, who had been watching, said, Please, have a seat.

A servant brought out a large bowl of mixed fruit, a plate with different kinds of cheeses, and a pot of coffee. The table was set with cups, small plates, and sharp, short-bladed knives to cut the fruit and cheese. Picking up a pear, Angel began to peel it. Angel asked, Rico, where are you from? Were you born here in the US?

Yes, I was born in Modesto, California. My mother was a domestic, and my father a foreman on a ranch. Early on, I decided I didn’t want to work on a ranch. But what I had in mind ended with me up before a Modesto judge, lied Rico. He told me I had a choice: go to jail or join the Marines. I took the Marines and did ten years. When I got out, I went into business for myself. I have done well, but not as well as this, said Rico, as he made a slow, sweeping gesture with his outstretched arm. Angel, sliced off a piece of pear, and then holding the piece of pear between his thumb and the blade, he took a bite. So Rico, what are you called?

Rico picked up the coffee pot and poured the strong, black, liquid into his cup, "I’m called ‘Muerte’ (death); it’s what I do."

Angel had been about to take another bite of pear but stopped and looked hard at Rico. Across the table, Anna looked at Rico with renewed interest."

Angel took the bite of the fruit and asked, Where have you done time?

With a smirk, Rico replied, I haven’t, I don’t believe in it, and then took a sip of his coffee.

Anna watched her husband as he asked Rico more questions, she thought, ‘Angel likes him, I have a feeling I may have the opportunity,’ smiling to herself, ‘to see more of Señor Banderas.’

Rico left when Victor came to the house. Reporting to Angel, he said, I found the sniper’s rifle, and then I waited to see if he would return for it. He did return but put up a fight, and I was unable to question him before he died. I don’t know who he was working for, only that he was a Brit.

Reverendo hijo de las mil putas (fucking son of a thousand whores), who would dare to do such a thing? You look, you search, and you find out who thinks he has the cojones to try to kill me!"

Si, Jefe, I will do this, but do you think this Rico could be a part of the plan to kill you? Could Rico have set this up to get in your good graces? Perhaps he’s a cop.

Angel stopped and thought about what Victor had said. I’m not sure, but you check him out. He says he’s never been in jail. He says he doesn’t believe in it. Oh, and his street name is Muerte.

Victor thought, ‘Muerte? Bullshit. Rico, you’re going down as a cop whether you are one or not.’ I’ll check him out, said Victor, and get back to you, Jefe.

Chapter Fourteen

Homicide

David Kowalski and John Foster sat before a long corkboard. Pinned across its surface were crime scene photos with descriptions attached to each picture. David said, We have four crime scenes with nine bodies, but two things are the same in each one.

John stood up from his chair, saying, We actually have three things in common here: one, they are all gang bangers; two, they were killed without weapons; three, we’re pretty sure they were all killed by the same guy.

David stood and joined John at the board, I don’t think this un-sub is killing for fun.

John, nodding his head, replied, He’s on a mission; we may have ourselves a vigilante.

David went back to his desk and sat down. Turning in his swivel chair to face John, David said, I was talking to the sergeant over at the gang section; he says the gangs are confused and more than a little scared. If the killings continue, this could blow up into a gang war. With 360 gangs in Vegas, we could see a blood bath that will make Chicago look like the ‘City of Peace.

Turning his back to the board, John returned to his chair, We’d better come up with a suspect soon, or dust off our uniforms. We’ll be out in that hot desert sun writing tickets.

Chapter Fifteen

Making Friends

Rico didn’t go to the penthouse, but to his apartment. Parking the Jag down the street, he walked to his apartment building, entered, and then took the elevator to the fifth floor. Getting off the elevator, Rico went to the stairwell and then walked up to the sixth floor. Quickly walking down the hallway, he went to his room and went in.

Inside the apartment, he went to his bedroom. On the bed was a cardboard box filled with personal items and a full clothing bag. These things were to be picked up by one of the members of the support team and delivered to the penthouse. Rico went to a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it out to the center of the room.

Standing on the chair, Rico removed a ceiling tile. Reaching up into the opening, he pulled out a green canvas bag. The bag was heavy, and Rico was careful not to let it catch on the edge of the framework supporting the tiles. Stepping down from the chair, Rico placed the bag on the bed. Returning to the chair, Rico replaced the ceiling tile and took the chair back to the corner, careful to place the chair in the indentations in the carpet. He then took care to remove the indentations left by the chair under the replaced tile.

From the bed, Rico picked up the large, ten-pound buckwheat pillow from Japan. He grabbed the canvas bag and the pillow and then headed for the door.

It took Rico twenty minutes to get to his new digs and park the Jag in its assigned, covered parking space. Grabbing the bag and pillow, Rico headed across the parking lot toward the front door of his apartment building. Rico saw someone standing inside in the lobby watching as he approached. As Rico neared the door, a uniformed man opened it. This doorman was younger and more substantial than Ben, Good evening Mr. Banderas, may I help you with your things?

No, no thanks, I’ve got it.

By the way, I’m Jack, said the doorman, handing Rico a card with a phone number on it. If you need anything, please give me a call. You haven’t met him yet, but the midnight to eight doorman’s name is Chuck.

Rico set the bag down, looked at the card, and slipped it into his pocket. Picking up the bag, Rico said, Jack, in the next few days, I’m expecting some folks to follow me home. They might even wait for me to leave. If you or Chuck see them, please give me a heads up. I sure would appreciate it.

Sure, you bet. I’ll pass the word.

Rico headed for the elevator, and up to the penthouse.

In the penthouse, Rico went directly to the master bedroom. He replaced the pillow at the head of the bed with his own and placed the bag on the floor. Rico pulled his cell phone out of his left pocket and punched in a series of numbers. The screen opened, and Rico said, Call Clout, a woman’s voice with a British accent replied, Calling Clout.

The phone rang once, and a man’s voice said, You have reached a secure line, how may I help you?

This is 420, all secure, wish contact with Delta 458. I will be at this location until 0800 hours.

I copy 420, all secure; wishes contact with Delta 458; available your location until 0800 hours.

Roger that, replied Rico, and then hung up. Next, Rico took another cell from his right pocket. After punching in another series of numbers, Rico hit speed dial. Almost immediately, the phone was answered, Yeah.

Well, that’s just rude, said Rico, "Is that any way to greet