Bishop's War (Bishop Series Book 1) (30 page)

Meecham put on a black silk robe monogrammed with his initials and ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair. The cocky, statuesque blonde bomb shell that had so confidently walked into his stateroom an hour before now lay curled up in the fetal position, shaking uncontrollably on the king sized bed. Indifferent to her sobbing, he stood there admiring his work. The Madame who sent the girl over had insisted on no scars this time so he’d only used a belt instead of his preferred whip. Part of him was disappointed that the bright red welts across her back, buttocks, and thighs would heal in a few weeks and she wouldn’t have a permanent mark to remember him by. Meecham made a mental note to have her again. Next time he would brand her for life and gladly pay the agency the extra fee for damages.

She was already gone and back on dry land when he came out of the bathroom after a long hot shower. His assistant came in and informed him that his dinner guest had arrived early, as Meecham knew he would. Dressing quickly, he put on a pair of jeans with a white dress shirt and loafers.

The sun was setting, sending golden rays across the Hudson when Meecham came topside. He stepped onto the lower deck of his luxury yacht and saw the massive figure of Connie Bellusci standing near the rail smoking one of his Cubans.

“Stealing my cigars again Connie,” Meecham said, looking down at the three foot high glass humidor. It had a four digit combination lock on the door that was now wide open.

“I’m glad you buy the best. Nothing worse than stealing a cheap cigar.”

“How did you crack the code so quickly?”

“It’s one of my many talents.”

“You’ll have to teach me that one.”

“Maybe someday.” Connie didn’t mention that the humidor in Meecham’s home office had been left unlocked just like this one on the yacht. Nothing wrong with letting a rich client believe he had magical powers to crack a four digit combo in five seconds.

Yeah dumbass, opening an unlocked door is one of my many
talents.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Meecham said, pouring himself a glass of wine and sitting down in a pillowed deck chair. “I paid you to kill Gonzalo Valdez, not wound him.”

“Well, he’s more than just wounded. I hit him in the head. Don’t know why that bandito is still alive, but he’s in a coma on life support.”

“I want him dead, but he wasn’t even number two on my list. I only added Gonzalo at your suggestion and paid you quite well for it, as I recall. Bishop and Felix are my priorities.”

“Understood. The Don is off the board for now which is a good thing. It leaves the family weak and vulnerable. If he doesn’t go on his own in the next few days I’ll personally finish the job.”

“And the cousins?”

“Bishop is off hunting terrorists with his Special Ops pals, but they must be keeping him in the dark about his uncle, or he’d be at the hospital right now. They can’t keep it a secret much longer. Maybe you can nudge things along. This has been big news here in the northeast, but there’s not a lot of national or global coverage. Can you spread the word so our boy comes running home?”

“That I can.” Meecham got on the phone and gave quick instructions to his son Caleb. After he hung up he asked, “And Felix?”

“No sign of him yet.”

“Frankly Connie, I’m disappointed. Based on your stellar reputation I expected faster results here.”

“Mike, when it comes to taking lives for a living the most important of the many lessons I’ve learned is that it pays to be patient. Targets don’t usually stand still and say shoot me when you want them to. I understand we’re just getting started here so let me reassure you. I’ve completed every single assignment I’ve ever accepted, and believe me, these three clowns aren’t going to be around much longer. As you said, I have a stellar reputation to uphold.”

“Okay, just understand that I have my own reputation to maintain and everyday those two cousins are still breathing puts a big shit stain on me.”

“Understood.”

“Where are you with the witnesses?”

“The teams are about to go in. The contractors will all speak Spanish during the assault just as you instructed. I have to hand it to you on this one, Mike. Brilliant plan. Everyone’s going to blame this on the Valdez mob.”

“As long as there are no more slip ups. I want these witnesses gone and Gonzalo cuffed to his bed in the ICU.”

“These guys are pros. All ex-military and heavy hitters. You want to listen in?”

“Really?”

Connie nodded. Pulling a small radio out of his pants pocket, he switched on the speaker button so they could both listen. Meecham’s eyes were wild and wide. Connie killed for a living, but seeing Meecham lick his lips and eagerly rub his hands together in anticipation of a family being slaughtered made his stomach turn. He knew he would have to be very wary of this man in the future.

The Upper West Side
The Goldstein residence

Three hard looking men with light backpacks all wearing dark jeans and black shirts stepped out of a Land Rover double parked a few feet past the building’s entrance. The driver kept the engine running and ready to move. He stayed behind the wheel, peering through the windows, and scanning the mirrors for any sign of trouble.

“All clear,” a voice said in Spanish over the radio.

“We’re going in,” was the quick response. Meecham sat on the edge of his chair listening to the action unfold.

An elderly woman screamed, then collapsed on the sidewalk. She cried out for help and the uniformed doorman ran out to assist her. The three men moved fast. They entered the building without being seen, crossed the empty lobby, and headed up in the elevator. They exited on the Goldstein’s floor, and checked the hallway in both directions before removing their packs. Opening the folding stocks on three matching machine guns, each man slapped in a thirty round clip, cocked his weapon, put it on full auto and disengaged the safety. In front of the Goldstein’s door one of them stepped forward and blasted the locks with a short burst before he kicked it in.

They ran in firing at the four figures sitting on a couch in the living room. The shooters were stunned when the mannequins they had just killed exploded into white dust. The last thing they heard were the three shots that ended their lives.

Christmas walked over to the dead assassins while his team looked down the hallway for more targets. It wasn’t necessary to check any of them for a pulse. All three had big ugly gaping holes in their heads. He quickly went through each man’s pockets, placing everything he found in a large plastic bag. When he was done he reached down and removed the only earpiece that wasn’t covered in blood. He put it in his own ear and spoke into the mic.

“These guys were chumps Connie. Hope they weren’t you’re A Team.”

“Who is this?” Connie asked.

“We met a few years back.”

“Refresh my memory.”

“A dark alley in Barcelona.”

“Christmas?”

“That’s me.”

“I put a bullet in you the last time you interfered with my business. You should’ve learned your lesson pal. Now I’m gonna make a very nasty example of you.”

“Hey Connie, you and Meecham enjoy the cruise. I’ll be you seeing you both real soon,” Christmas said, then ended the transmission.

Connie looked at Meecham and shook his head.

“What the fuck just happened here?”

“It was a set up.”

“So the Goldstein’s are still alive?”

“Yep, either in protective custody or more likely in a Valdez safe house. I’m sure the two other teams that went after the witnesses in Connecticut and Boston are dead too.”

“That’s unacceptable. Goldstein along with the other witnesses all have to die so they can’t contradict Brendan’s testimony. How are you going to fix this Connie?”

“Don’t you see what’s happened here? Christmas is Gonzalo’s top soldier and he’s one of the best there is. The game just changed in a big way. They knew we were coming. My troops are dead and there’s a team of Valdez hitters coming for me… and you.”

“Me?”

“You heard what the man said. When a man like Christmas says he’ll be seeing you it ain’t for a social visit. I’d advise you to get off this boat and hire an army to protect you. Your rent-a-cops won’t cut it in this fight. ” Connie got up and headed to the rail.

“Where are you going?” asked Meecham, his brow wet with fear.

“It’s a war now. I’ve got to kill them all before they kill me. Good luck Mike. If you live I’ll come back for the rest of money when this is over.”

Connie climbed over and launched himself off and away from the fast moving yacht. He went feet first into the dark waters of the wide Hudson River. Meecham ran to the spot where he’d jumped. His eyes straining to see, he got a brief glimpse of Connie swimming hard towards the Jersey side of the river more than five hundred yards away before the night swallowed him up.

Meecham shivered. He told the Captain to stop and within minutes he was motoring towards the 79th Street Boat Basin in a dingy with a four man security team. They tied up to the main dock and bolted up the stairs, two guards in front and two following, with Meecham in the middle. Guns drawn and ready, they ran over to a stretch limo that was decorated with pink and white flowers waiting to pick up passengers from a wedding party. The short Latin driver with a pock marked face put up only token resistance against the force of armed men. He even tipped his chauffer’s hat and held the door for them after Meecham pressed a thick wad of cash into his hands. He was whistling beautifully when he got behind the wheel.

“Driver. What song is that?” Meecham asked.

“It’s called ‘Pedro Navaja,’ a ballad by Rueben Blades. From his early days.”

“It’s lovely. Now stop the fucking whistling and raise the divider so I can speak to my men in private.”

“As you wish sir,” the driver said pleasantly. He pressed the button on the dash board to raise the partition.

Sitting back comfortably in the plush rear seat, Meecham let out a sigh of relief when the car pulled out and sped away. The men on his security detail relaxed as well. None of them noticed the solid click from the door locks being set or the thin wisps of smoke that rose up from the hidden vents until it was too late. They all hammered away at the tinted, shatter proof windows until one by one they passed out in a heap on the floor.

Benji Medina resumed his whistling while he drove the limo through Central Park. He continued east until he reached the southbound entrance of the FDR Drive, then headed downtown to LES with his five passengers sleeping peacefully in the back.

Chapter 36

Dinner

Gonzalo Valdez’s normal
routine was a series of daily rituals designed to keep his mind sharp and his body strong. Each morning he was up at 5AM for a two hour workout followed by a steam, shower, and shave before breakfast. But the war had kept him busy. He hadn’t exercised or steamed in days, and this morning, for the first time in more than twenty years, he forgot to shave.

It was time to get back to basics, though tonight he was changing the order of the routine. At nearly 10PM he was shaving first before he entered the gym. Gonzalo shaved the way he tried to live his life. Slowly and precisely. He carefully drew the straight razor across his skin, scraping off the stubble and avoiding the numerous scars that marked his face. When he was done he removed a hand towel from a bowl full of ice water, closing his pores with the cool cloth. Continuing the daily the ritual, he dipped the towel in again and applied it to his face once more.

Still taking his time, he put on black shorts and laced up his black boxing shoes. Flexing his feet to test the shoes as he walked, he made his way over to a massage table where he sat down and held out his hands.

Felix’s leg was swollen tight and throbbing from Omar’s knife wound. He’d been sitting in a metal chair with his leg up on a stool in front of him watching Gonzalo prepare. He got up, used his cane to hobble over, and began taping his uncle’s hands. His uncle grew up fighting without protection in bare knuckled matches. The knuckles were still covered in callouses and the strong dark hands were like stones, but Felix taped them anyway. When he was done he helped Gonzalo put on the thin gloves that were designed to inflict the maximum amount of damage.

“Hurt him, Tio. Make him suffer,” Felix said.

Gonzalo didn’t say anything. His smoldering eyes held those of his nephew and adopted son. Finally he nodded his head in response and hopped down from the table. Bare chested, he walked out of the locker room with Felix limping behind.

The Lower East Side gym simply called “Gladiators” was usually crowded and noisy with hard-core training going on twenty-four hours a day. Tonight the gym was deathly quiet and empty of everyone except the Valdez mob. And the man who sat in a chair in far corner of the ring.

The Valdez brothers, Antonio, Benji, the Pro KEDDS team and Christmas eagerly watched Gonzalo make his way over. He passed through them and climbed into the ring without a word being spoken. His opponent, also dressed for battle in white shorts and black shoes, jumped up from his chair.

“You? This is impossible! You were shot in the head.”

“The man you hired shot my brother, Sesa. He fights for his life, just as you are about to fight for yours.”

“I know you’re low life street scum, Valdez, but you can’t be serious. Let me go now and I promise I won’t say anything to the authorities. Otherwise, I can assure you that you and everyone in this room will be arrested for kidnapping. Do you hear me?” he said, spreading his arms to address everyone outside of the ring. “You will all be incarcerated for the rest of your lives. I walk out of here now I will protect you. You have my word.”

“Your word?”

“Yes. I am an educated man with a family history that goes back hundreds of years. My word counts.”

“Our family history goes back much farther than yours and education comes in many forms. All that matters here is that I am a man of honor and, as you say, my word counts. There is only one way out of this for you.”

“I fight you.”

“No. You kill me.”

“Kill you?”

Gonzalo nodded. “That’s the only way you walk out of here.”

“I doubt it, old man. After I beat you to death your men will rip me apart.”

“Every man in this room begged me to let them torture and kill you. I refused them all. I’m the head of this family and what I say goes. My commands will be honored… even after death. Kill me here in this ring and you live.”

“Fair enough,” Michael Meecham said.

“There is only one condition.”

“Which is?”

“Confess.”

“Confess to what?”

“There’s no point in lying, Meecham. We already know most of what you have done, but I need to hear it all here and now. Tell me everything, truthfully. Then we will see if you are man enough to end my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

Gonzalo pointed across the room. “You go there,” he said. “We all sit and watch you die. And I have one more promise for you… it will last a very long time.”

Meecham stared at the long table that looked like it came straight out of a torture dungeon from the Dark Ages. He recognized his limo driver when Benji Medina lit the mini blow torch and tightened the flame. He held it up in a menacing display and with his free hand he silently beckoned Meecham over.

Michael Meecham, like many of the Meecham men before him, was born without the key ingredients that allow human beings to socialize effectively. He didn’t feel empathy or compassion. He was incapable of compromise and he rejoiced in the suffering of others. These defects of character or missing strands of DNA had been swapped out for an innate ability to sense weakness in his fellow man. He preyed on those weaknesses to advance his own position and to hurt as many people that he could. On the flip side, he was a calculating man. For those that were too strong or too powerful he lay coiled like a viper, waiting for the opportunity to strike them down.

He stared down into the hard, hate-filled eyes of the men surrounding the ring. He knew each and every one of them wanted him dead, but these were street thugs and small time gangsters far below his station. Dying by their hands was not an option. It would dishonor his family. And he still had so much to do. He was going to change this country, perhaps the entire world.

Meecham knew his superior breeding and intellect would keep him alive. He weighed his options and quickly went on the offensive.

“Before I say anything I think you all owe me some gratitude.”

“What!” Felix shouted.

“Please explain,” Gonzalo said.

“My team did extensive research on you and your family. In the course of the investigation we uncovered something very interesting.”

“I’m listening.”

“It seems extremely likely that our families have crossed paths before. My great, great, great grandfather was a ship’s captain. He sailed regularly to Panama and kept meticulous records, which I still have. One of his clients was a wealthy land owner named Porfirio Valdez. I believe some of your ancestors were in his employ.”

Gonzalo stared at Meecham in disbelief.

Could it
be?

Can this be
true?

“So, he was a slave trader.”

“Importer, exporter,” Meecham said with a smile.

“And he sold his human cargo to the murderer Porfirio Valdez.”

“Porfirio is credited with taming vast portions of the Panamanian frontier. He was and is a hero in the history of your country.”

“Not to us.” Gonzalo said. Outwardly he remained calm and in control. Only the heat in his yellow eyes intensified as he recalled the stories about Porfirio. Horrific accounts of suffering and death passed down through the generations by the lucky few who managed to escape into the mountains. The plantation had been a death camp where the then Don Valdez raped, tortured, and murdered his own slaves.

“You need to stay objective,” Meecham said, edging closer and gaining confidence. Gonzalo was almost thirty years older than he was and the man was clearly rattled by their dialogue.

“At the very least you owe the man a debt for your name. More importantly, you owe me and my family your thanks. Without my forefather’s help you would not be where you are today enjoying the luxuries of life in this great country. You would still be living in your natural habitat.”

“Our natural habitat?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? Africa of course. Eating termites, and climbing trees like the monkeys that you are.”

Though Gonzalo had anticipated the attack, he was surprised by Meecham’s speed and accuracy. He dodged two of the blows, but the third, an overhand right, caught him on the side of the head.

“And so we begin,” Gonzalo said, baring his teeth.

“You underestimated me Valdez. I’ve been training in the ring for years.”

“On the contrary.” Gonzalo stepped in and peppered Meecham with four light punches to the face and body before moving away. “Now let’s see if you’ve trained hard enough.”

Meecham was amazed by Gonzalo’s speed and balance, but was unimpressed by his punching power. Visualizing a quick victory he charged forward. He didn’t see the punch that stopped him in his tracks. The body shot sent him backwards and dropped him to his knees.

“Stand up so I can keep thanking you.”

Meecham realized that it was he who had underestimated his opponent.

“If you can’t rise on your own my men will hold you up for the remainder of the session.”

“I am a better man than you in every way,” he said, steadying himself and bouncing on his feet like a pro boxer.

“Prove it.”

Gonzalo moved in again, ducking and blocking Meecham’s increasingly desperate blows with his shoulders, wrists and elbows. Growing bored with the charade he fired back one devastating shot after another.

“I thank you.” Two vicious punches sent Meecham’s front teeth flying from his mouth.

“The Valdez family thanks you.” Thwack, thwack. Meecham felt his ribs break.

“My brother Sesa thanks you.” Bam, bam, bam, bam. Meecham managed to block those four, but the bones in both his forearms fractured from the impact.

“My nephews thank you.” Crack. His nose was broken.

He ran, but there was nowhere to go. Gonzalo followed his every twist and turn, hitting him again and again. Finally Meecham stopped and leaned heavily against the ropes. Blood poured from his nose and mouth. His broken arms dangled uselessly at his sides.

“No more,” Meecham said, shaking his head.

“Final offer. Confess and you live. Otherwise we continue.”

“You swear to let me go?”

“I promise you will live.”

Meecham stared hard into the eyes that glowed like fires in Gonzalo’s dark face. He knew he was out of options. His only hope was that the old Don was a man of his word.

“Okay, okay. It’s not like I’m telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“Say it.”

“Yes, I hired Connie Bellusci to kill you.”

“Me alone?”

“You, John and Felix.”

“Why?”

“They insulted me and got me fired.”

“So this was all about your pride and ego?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It is who I am.”

“You had already hired the hit man. Then why bring up the case against my nephew with the DA?”

“Just being efficient. Making sure I had a backup plan in case Connie didn’t come through.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Meecham said.

Gonzalo cracked him again, breaking another rib. Meecham screamed in pain and began crying hysterically.

“No, no, no! You swore.”

“There is more. What else?”

“The witnesses.”

“We know about them. Tell me what I don’t know.”

“Palmer… and… Kolter,” Meecham blubbered out in between sobs.

“General Palmer and Director Kolter are on your hit list?”

“Yes, yes, yes! That’s everything, I swear! Now let me go so I can see a doctor.”

“Yes, you will get your doctor. Later. First you will join some friends for dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes Michael Meecham. After all you’re the guest of honor.”

Christmas and Antonio climbed into the ring and roughly dragged him out. His legs were gone so they carried him to the locker room and stripped him before throwing him in the shower. Naked, terrified and suffering terribly from the pain he managed to speak in a shaky child-like voice.

“What’re you going to do?”

“Just getting you cleaned up man. You know it’s important to wash before every meal,” Christmas said.

His body was vigorously scrubbed with a long handled brush until his skin was red, then soaped and rinsed in scalding hot water. They weren’t really concerned with Meecham’s hygiene. They were removing any of Gonzalo’s hair, skin, or DNA that may have been transferred in the one sided fight.

Despite the heat from the shower Meecham was shaking uncontrollably. “I need a doctor. I think I’m dying.”

“Not yet. This will help with the pain,” Benji said. He injected Meecham with a short needle that sent him floating into oblivion.

The Bronx, New York

“How long do you think they will wait?” Felix asked.

“Not long,” Gonzalo said.

The Valdez men and their soldiers stood together watching through the high fence. No one else spoke. They watched and waited in the darkness. All of them stared at the lone figure that lay unmoving in a field of green grass on the other side of the fence and across a wide moat.

Mike Meecham opened his eyes and was immediately shocked by the intense pain in his nose. That pain was quickly overshadowed by the agony of each breath as his lungs expanded into his broken ribs. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond. He could blink. He could open and close his mouth. He could even move his head from side to side. Other than that he was completely paralyzed.

He felt the wind on his skin and knew he was naked. All he could see from his prone position at ground level was thick grass and tall trees around him and a cloudless night sky above.

“Where the fuck am I?” he said aloud.

He thought he heard movement in the bushes to his left.

“Help. Help me! I’m over here!”

Other than the loud screeching of birds in the distance his calls went unanswered. Then from behind his head and out of his line of vision he felt the impact of footsteps running towards him.

“Thank God! I’m here. I’m badly hurt. Hurry.”

Meecham strained to see who was coming to his rescue, but the steps came to an abrupt halt beyond his line of sight.

“Please, please. I can pay you. Anything you want. Just help me!”

The heavy feet moved closer.