Mando Bk. 01: Good Ass/Badass Ch. 10

"I like that idea."

"Stupid question: Any survivors?"

"Survivors? What's that?"

"LOL. That's a no, I take it."

"Just me and the client are left."

"How many killer boys?"

"Damned if I know. They kept coming. I lost count. Hold on, let me think. Nine in the first round, then Eight more in sets of two...I think... Yep. Eight That makes seventeen."

SEVENTEEN! SEVENTEEN? SEVEN plus. TEN?"

"Emmm."

"How in the goddamn hell did you survive that? Are you hurt?"

"I took some heat, but I'll heal."

He calls. "GOD ALL MIGHTY, MANDO! Are you saying you killed seventeen sociopath killers? By yourself?"

"Seems so. Nobody else came to the party," I chuckled. "Guess the sound of that many automatic weapons firing scared them off. Almost scared me off too."

"Come on. Don't shit the shutter. Seventeen? No way! How many really?"

"Seventeen." I giggled. "That's the story I'm filing, Sir. Have your men give you a head count."

"Wow! It's not like they were boy scouts. Those guys are mean sons a bitches and have a record of kills as long as a freight train. Shit!"."

"Sorry, boss, but it had to be done. They crashed the party without being invited. They were rude, pushy, and just plain mean. Chuck, they had the poor manners and the nerve to shoot live rounds at me. Hell, man. I could have been killed."

He chuckled. "Bad manners indeed. "Wow, Mando. I sure as hell am glad you're on our side. Sounds like a kidnapping that backfired."

I know he is on a company phone and covering his ass. All calls are recorded. His statement and my confirmation put them in the clear for getting involved before shots were fired.

"Definitely sir. They had shooters and snatchers."

"That confirms our intel."

"Chuck, these boys were the Machete gang, like you heard. 'I'll snap some face shots and text them to you for a positive ID if you like."

"Na. You've done enough. I'll ask Agent Jacobs to send me copies of the pictures they take." He whistled. "Whew! The Machetes. We've been after their asses for years. They're dangerous and bad to the bone. You are lucky to be alive. Mando, I mean it. They've put agents from Interpol, CIA, FBI, DEA, Coast Guard, and countless policemen in the ground over the years."

I feel pain from the wounds coming on, so I want to hurry. "Yep. How about I give a verbal statement here and sign it in the morning? The debrief can be recorded."

"OK. I'll have a chopper pick you up on the roof and take the two of you to a safe house. Gino will be safe there for the night."

I stand to go get Gino and freeze. "Oh my god! When Gino sees those heads and headless bodies in pools of blood he'll freak. Every time he sees me he'll recall that bloody nightmarish scene. I'll always have blood on my hands. OH FUCK! I've saved him and lost him forever. His cock too. Damn it to hell. I'm no better off than a monkey fucking a donkey. Damn, damn, damn!

I'll get a drink before I get Gino. Maybe two. I pissed gasoline on a forest fire!  Damn damn damn!

His pacifist ass will be horrified by what I've done. FUCK A DUCK IN A DUMP TRUCK! I want a drink. Maybe a quart of hooch will give me the moxy to at least show him pictures. Shit on a spit to roast a turd! I'll never see that cock again.

After four shots of false courage I make a beeline to Gino's safe room and pound on the door. "Mr G, this is the FBI, you are safe. All is secure."

He steps through the doorway wide eyed and ghostly white. "My god in Heaven! All that shooting and then a long silence. I didn't know what to think. Was it as bad as it sounded?"

I nodded. "Every bit, and then some. You had some bad asses after your good ass Mr Marino

"You can see for yourself if it is important to you. If not, I advise against it."

"That bad?"

"Gruesome'' is the word that comes to mind. Maybe we should find you a barf bag."

He can't stand the suspense. "I've got a strong stomach. Show me."

"If you insist." He followed me into the hall.

The bloody, bodies are surrounded by so many spent brass cartridges they emit a golden yellow halo.

Hundreds of bullet holes perforate both walls and ceiling. Broken ceiling tiles litter the hall. The air conditioning grate hangs lopsided by one corner.

He stands in the doorway, mouth agape and white as a sheet. "All of them were after me? I didn't stand a chance on my own."

"It's a sobering sight, isn't it Senior Marino?"

"Sobering hell, It's a war zone. The guys after my company are much more of a threat than I realized."

The fire doors burst open and a dozen FBI agents pumped by adrenaline made a half circle around us. "FREEZE! FBI. Get down the floor with your hands behind your head now!"

Gino shoots me a quizzical look. I shook my head slightly. I furrow my eyebrows and frown. "On the floor, NOW god dammit. "Hands behind your heads mother fuckers!" Our failure to cooperate puzzles them, but they settled with, "Don't move."

  "Would YOU get down on this floor?" I demanded.

Apparently he was so focused on us he hadn't looked around. "My God!" His gun swiveled back toward us. "Don't move. Don't even flinch!"

I can't stop the grin from leaping onto my lips before speaking to the agent directly opposite me. "Call the agent in charge and inform him you've cornered a commando."

He called on the radio. "Sir, a man in tactical gear all shot to hell and back, and another gentleman refused to get on the floor. He said to tell you I have cornered a commando, whatever that means."

The phone is on speaker. The voice chuckles before answering. "Stand down, agent, he's one of ours. He is on our side."

Gino silently surveys my KZ (kill zone). "Can I look around?"

That response shocked the shit out of me. "Yes, but why?"

"The thugs were after me. I want to understand what I'm up against."

"OK, keep your distance from the bodies and touch nothing so these fellows can contain the crime scene. Once I get my gear we'll wait in the living room until the agent in charge takes our statement." I thought Gino''s idea of looking around was to race to the bathroom to vomit. But he's not racing anywhere. Instead, he asks questions.

"Walk with me, Mando and explain what I'm seeing."

I fell into step beside him.

"Why decapitate the bodies, Mando?" He turned to look me in the eye as we talked.. "What weapon was used?"

I sighed." This is what they intended for you."

He stared at me in disbelief. "What? Chop my head off?"

"Yes, and bag it as proof of the assassination."

"Holy Moses! They are barbarians."

I make a quick shallow dip of my head. "Without a doubt. This is the machete gang, and this is the way they've left every scene but this one. They're machetes have chopped the heads off hundreds of innocent people who had the misfortune to witness their owner's crime, Men, Women and children. No exceptions."

He nods. His forefinger is pressed hard against his tight lips.

I continue, "As to the choice of silent weapons, the muzzle flash from my gun would give away my position in the hallway because the lights were off."

"And the weapon?"

"I used a Japanese Samurai sword."' I pointed to two bodies near the door. "I used throwing knives on those because they were out of my reach. One gun shot from me would result in a rain of bullets from his Uzi machine pistol."

I motioned toward the activity in the room. "Throwing knives for some, and a sword for others."

He is pensive. "Where you shot or cut?"

I silently opened my jacket to show wall to wall bullets in my chest, and blood oozing out. And then drop my bullet studded face shield down for him to see."

He doesn't flinch at the sight of me being shot to shit and bleeding. "How do you survive in a situation like this? He waved toward the walls and ceilings. "Were you hiding in the ceiling?"

I nodded. "For the first volley."

"And did you catch all that lead while in that position?"

"Most of it."

"But you avoided getting hurt, How?"

"I didn't. I'm carrying a dozed or lumps of lead that isn't mine."

Gin scratches his chin as he contemplates what he'd seen and heard. "These cuts on the necks looks like the work of a surgeon. One smooth upward swing, right?

I nodded. His questions and curiosity are the opposite from what I expected. How did he know so much, and why would he?

He walks over to a body with a knife cut in his throat, studies it, and then does the same thing with two more bodies. "Mando, the knife cuts look the same, sort of like an original and a copy. The throws had to be identical." He motions to the other end of the hall. "I imagine those look just like these, don't they?"

I nod again.

Next he points to two decapitated bodies. "Those heads weren't chopped off; they were sliced off between the first and second vertebrae. Are all of them like this?"

Yes sir. You seem knowledgeable about weaponry. How so?"

He grins. "Kung Fu.".

He looked around again and saw the knotted rope hanging from the rafters. "Your emergency escape route?"

Instead of nodding I shrugged my shoulders. "Busted."

He did a three sixty turn around, fixing his gaze briefly on each body. "Seventeen guerrilla fighters are defeated by a single solitary commando? How is that possible?"

I shrug again. "A little skill and a lot of luck, I guess."

He shakes his head. "The reverse order is more on the mark, I think. This could only be accomplished with very refined skills in weaponry through much practice and experience, plus an exceptional aptitude in strategic planning, Am I right?"

I nod a again.." Yes, I practice and train a lot."

This time he nods. "I imagine if we were to count the number of specialist in your field at the same level you are, the exact number would be one. You."

I gaze at him briefly and said. "You, Mr. Priest, are enigmatic."

He chuckles. "Thanks to you, Mando, I am still a living enigma."

We are walking back to the living room when the agent in charge, Special Agent Jacobs, joins us.

Well Mando, it's good to finally meet the legend." He sits in the couch next to us and leans toward me.

Mind filling me in? The agents are all abuzz about decapitated bodies with no bullet holes, and apparently some deaths were caused by knives. It's impossible for one man to defeat so many automatic weapons, swinging a sword and throwing knives; but yet they've seen all the players. One still alive -- shot to shit but still alive and standing, and seventeen dead bodies without a single bullet hole. They're beyond bewildered." They've never seen or heard of anything happening remotely close to that." He shook his head. "Neither have I."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Me either."

He and Gino laugh heartily.

"Special agent Jacobs, this is Mr. Marino, the client these bad boys were after."

Once Jacobs' and Gino complete the handshake ritual Agent Jacobs smiles and beams at Gino. "Mr. Marino, congratulations on being alive." They both laugh. "No kidding. Surviving an assault of seventeen professional killers is something few people have done."

Gino smiled. "That's easy to believe. That was a small guerrilla army this man was up against. Like you said, very few people could have survived an assault by these guys without help."

"Yes, and there is something else you should know. Marino."

"On yes?"

"Yes, these assassins are the most violent, ruthless gang in the world. More violent than the Chechen, even. They have never been caught because they don't leave witnesses. Even when they abduct someone, they kill them." He nodded in my directions. "One thing that keeps bad people like these criminals from becoming an unchecked threat is the few professionals like the commando here."

Gin nods his understanding.

"When he saved your life by putting these guys in the morgue, he saved hundreds of future victims."

Gin's eyebrows shot up. "How so?"

"These assassins, killers, and kidnappers will never kill or abduct anyone again. You have prevented them from taking the lives of countless men and women, and kept many families whole. In addition to the harm to the victims, the kidnappings rip parents and spouses down to their very soles, causing them life long agony, anxiety, depression, phobias, divorces and suicides.""

Gin nodded. "I've known families of kidnap and homicide victims. It rips them to pieces."

'Special agent Jacob. glanced at me, "Mando does what we can't do. He puts them in the ground. A body guard can use lethal force when the client is under threat of harm or death. There is no one anywhere that can do what he does, and I guarantee you no one else would go against this notorious gang."

Gino manages another nod.

"My point is, even without your collar you are still doing God's work by sponsoring the removal of these killers."

Gino takes all this in with a furrowed brow. The agent's comments hit home.

Special Agent Jacobs nods in my direction. I know you have a chopper on the way, so tell me briefly what happened."

I gave him a sanitized synopsis he could file. Then he asks Gino for his statement.

Gin chuckles. "Sure, it's short and sweet. I did what he told me to do. I stayed in the safe room until he told me it was safe to come out. A chuckle escapes before he continues. "Besides, he told me if I came out of my box before he told me to, he'd shoot me."

We are still laughing when a text comes in. "Your ride's topside."

I grab my gear, saying, Time to fly Mr Marino," and pull him to his feet.

"Agent Jacobs, our chopper is here. Thank you for backing us up." Gino walks quietly behind me to the fire escape and up to the roof. The chopper is about twenty feet away. We hurry to it, crawl in, and the pilot makes a bee line to the condominium safe house.

I want pills, a bath, clean clothes, and a few shots of Cutty Sark Scotch. Will the safe house have a bar, I wonder.