“Get the hell out of our vehicle!” Grace turned to sit rigidly in her seat. “I’ll need a few moments before Tim and I say hello to Rachel and Jean. I have to erase your presence from my memory banks. Mr. Gilbrech warned us you’d pull this crap! There is no way in hell we’re letting you play out your comic book fantasies on this operation, so get your fucking El Muerto ass out of my backseat!”
“Nice seeing you two.” Nick exited the vehicle, barely containing his laughter, knowing Paul had shared his El Muerto identity with the marshals. He had reached down deep for his inner uncaring psychopath, and felt relieved when his cold blooded killer surfaced. “Have a nice day, kids.”
Nick returned to his chair with a look of satisfaction that elicited worried looks from his partner, Gus.
“Uh oh. What did you do Muerto?”
“I think I separated us from a cluster fuck of biblical proportions, Payaso.”
“Oh.” Gus settled into his beach chair. “It’s good you’ve grown a set, and learned how to say no. I’m sure Rachel and Jean will be thankful. I know I am.”
“I am confused.”
“And I, John.” Dan leaned forward in his small beach chair, pausing as he saw Tim and Grace walk down to the shoreline before meeting with Rachel and Jean in a happy reunion. “Care to share, Muerto?”
Nick explained the parameters, complete with comical insights about Tim and Grace sharing not only a vehicle, but also a bed. He outlined the Marshals’ problem then in detail. “I like this for our secret identities.”
“He butchered a fourteen year old girl, Muerto. Is that some kind of comic book collateral damage?”
The Terminator surfaced in spite of the silence, the ocean, and his beloved adopted family nearby. “Listen to me carefully, Dan. I’m not a robot someone launches like a weather probe. I do things within a multitude of unknown circumstances. I pick and choose the way and the how I do it. Don’t confuse me with a social worker or a government incompetent, who can spout all the politically correct jargon, but get nothing done. Mark what I say now. Timmy, and Grace Slick will take what I said back to the Attorney General. That’s when we find out how desperate they are to get this ‘Ripper’. If they decide they want this prick at all cost, I’ll gladly go collect him… as El Muerto. Payaso and Kabong follow my lead. Maybe this would be a good time for you to shed us as a business entity, Dan. We’ll all be friends no matter what you decide. I will cover anything to do with your living costs as separation pay. Hell… the unholy trio will pick up the morning bar tab, right guys?”
John reached out to grasp Dan’s hand. “I am always your friend. I admit I have done violence on a number of levels, and in a number of circumstances. With Nick, I know I am on the right side of what I believe. We can still be friends, Geezer.”
“I don’t do touchy-feely, Dan,” Gus said. “I respect any decision you make. Because of circumstances beyond even your combat and real life experiences, Nick is my brother. I trust him beyond any outside source. That will never change. This is a good point for you. Now’s the time to bail. No matter what though, we don’t kill our own. You can walk away clean.”
“Amen to that,” Nick said. “We’re your friends forever. I can envision how you feel. In a case with a child killing asshole attached, there is a temptation to spread the cape, and goose Superman in the ass. Unfortunately, we have our own kryptonite to deal with. I believe Tim and Grace to be fine upstanding, and trustworthy human beings. The people they work for and control this country… not so much. If lies were nickels, I would have been smashed flatter than the Road Runner under a cartoon boulder. Here they come, family… and the government ding dongs. Think about it, Dan. There’s no hurry.”
Nick stood as Deke reached him, exuberant and sandy from tail to snout. “Oh hell, Deke. I’m going to spend the rest of Sunday morning separating you from the beach.”
“We’ll be talkin’ at you, Nick,” Grace said on the way by.
Tim shook hands with Nick. “Good to see you, Nick. We need you on this, but I believe you’re right for holding out. Even Grace and I don’t know what the hell the FBI’s end game is on this. If they could have thrown us under the bus already, we’d be wearing tire tread marks from one end to the other.”
“Watch your six, Timmy. It ain’t over yet.”
“Understood.”
Jean and Rachel joined Nick then, both wearing the suspicious masks of past occurrences. “Okay, what have you done, Muerto?”
“Nothing, Dear. In this case of the Grace and Timmy show, it’s what I refused to do. All will become clearer. It’s a process.”
“Grace was really pissed, Dad.”
“Sometimes we have expectations that can’t be met, Dagger. Grace found herself wishing for candy and the Easter Bunny, but instead her Easter basket was filled with Brussel sprouts and canned spinach. You look tired Hon. Why don’t you sit down in my chair, and I’ll jog to the house with Deke, spray the bugger off, and come back with the car?”