Dead End

by R. J. Patterson

  “If everyone viewed strangers that way, maybe we wouldn’t have so many strained relationships.”

  “And we’d have a community of wealthy con men,” Kyle added. “Look, I get it. We don’t scrutinize people we care about as much as we do strangers, but I thought Scott was loyal to the end. It’s hard to accept that when you gloss over a corrupt colleague.”

  “To be honest, I’m sure this is what got Yuri Listyev killed,” Cal added. “My wife mined it out of the files I found on the flash drive Yuri passed to me through his daughter just before he died.”

  Kyle’s eyebrows shot upward. “So, he has no idea that someone else has this information?”

  “I think they suspected it existed somewhere, but I played dumb—and they let me go. Some man claiming to be an FSB agent was the one who interrogated me, but to be honest, I don’t know if he was. It was all so surreal.”

  “I think we can handle it from here,” Kyle said, taking a picture of the list of names and numbers with his phone.

  Once Cal finished putting his computer back into his bag, the guard standing watch outside their suite collapsed to the floor. The guard who’d been inside, rushed to the door and peeked outside to see what was going on. A bullet to the head felled him.

  “Get down,” Kyle said as he directed Senator Daniels and Cal behind the couch. “Whatever you do, stay down, and don’t try to go anywhere. I’ll handle this.”

  Cal peeked around the edge of the couch and watched Kyle rush over to the edge of the door and crouch against the wall. He ripped a tie off one of the dead agents and tossed it into the concourse. Immediately, the tie was riddled with bullet holes.

  Kyle fired several shots into the concourse, while Cal listened intently to the gunfight, hoping to hear nothing but silenced guns and moans from the attacking party. But instead, Cal heard more gunfire. At that point, he realized his survival depended upon his own ability to be creative.

  Scanning the room, he noticed several jars of unfinished bourbon. Despite the dire situation, he hated to waste good liquor. But he didn’t mind in the moment since it came at the expense of creating a device that could save their lives—a Molotov cocktail. He ignored Kyle’s orders and ran over to the doorway. Cal launched the bottle into the concourse, filling the hallway with fire and smoke.

  “I’ll lay down cover for you both while you two make a run for it,” Kyle said.

  “But, Son, what happens if—?” Senator Daniels began.

  “Just go, Dad. I’m not going to let these bastards down without a fight. Now, move it.”

  Cal and Senator Daniels hustled away from the firefight, keeping their heads down as they ran. A couple bullets whizzed past Cal, but he didn’t stop to find out who was firing shots and where they were coming from. The pair rounded the curved wall and waited for the shooting to stop and smoke to clear. The small firefight seemed to go on for hours, though later Cal admitted it was probably only about five minutes.

  When it ended, Kyle emerged from the smoke with both his weapons drawn and a small parcel of bodies piled up lined front of him.

  “I’m not done with those bastards yet,” Kyle growled.

  Chapter 38

  Two Weeks Later

  Ganyushkino, Kazakhstan

  PRONE AND PEERING THROUGH A SCOPE, Kyle Daniels watched and waited. He preferred to do this mission alone, but it wasn’t politically feasible. The Kazakhstan government had become an important partner with the U.S. in the war on terrorism, and leaving Kazakhstan out of such an operation would jeopardize the relationship between the two country’s tasks forces. So, Daniels offered the intelligence under one condition: He wanted to take out Niko Bazarov.

  Utilizing all the information retrieved from the file Cal Murphy had shared with the agency, Daniels was able to track Niko’s subsequent moves, brazen as they were. The dead mafia leader’s son had his eyes on expanding the family business. With Ivan Mortuk no longer meddling in the Bazarov distribution chain, Niko appeared to be beaming with confidence based on his initial movements following his father’s death. Niko spent no time grieving; rather, he began assuring customers the Bazarov weapons supply was still operational and viable. He’d even moved forward with a deal initiated by the organization Jamaat of Centra Asia Mujahedins, or more commonly known as JCAM.

  But Kyle monitored each move with keen interest. The assignment went far beyond the norms of standard procedure for him. Kyle had been mourning the loss of his partner, Scott Melton, wanting nothing more than to avenge his death. While Scott’s undocumented interactions with Russian organized crime bosses gave the agency brass reason to pause, Kyle was sure it wasn’t what it appeared to be. He concluded that even if it was, the facts were clear—one of Bazarov’s men ordered a hit on Scott, resulting in his murder. But traitor or not, Scott’s life would’ve been worth redeeming, even if only for what he knew about the inside workings of the Bazarov clan.

  Kyle blinked hard as he spotted Niko walk into his field of vision through the scope.

  “I have the target in sight,” Kyle said into his com.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” the Kazakhstan commander said.

  “Are your men ready?” Kyle asked, looking up at the leader tapped to run point on the operation.

  The commander nodded.

  There was a slight curl around the corner of Kyle’s lips as he zeroed in on Niko. The new self-christened arms dealing boss leaned back against the side of the shed and looked around, unaware that he was in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle.

  Kyle gentle squeezed the trigger and watched as the bullet struck Niko in the head. He immediately went limp and slid down the side of the building. A flurry of activity ensued as JCAM operatives scurried across the abandoned property, rushing toward their vehicles and attempting to escape. But they didn’t get far as the Kazakhstan military swarmed .

  Kyle kept one eye closed while looking through the scope so he could see what was happening. It didn’t appear that a single terrorist escaped.

  That was for Scott . . . and for Yuri.

  Chapter 39

  Three weeks later

  Seattle, Washington

  CAL RETURNED HOME to a hero’s welcome, at least by his standards. While he’d avoided any significant injury in his escape from Bazarov’s henchmen, one bullet managed to rip through the outside of his left leg, leaving a nasty scar. The friends and co-workers who’d gathered to celebrate his return gushed with effusive praise for Cal’s writing and bravery. These same people also heaped sympathy on him. Cal didn’t need the handkerchief tied around his leg or the pair of crutches he was leaning on. But it made him feel tougher and more rugged—and he was fine with that characterization, as inaccurate as it might have been.

  He almost gave himself away when Maddie nearly bowled him over when he exited the secure area and hobbled into the airport.

  “Did you miss me?” he asked as he picked her up, dropping the crutches.

  She nodded and handed him a folded sheet of paper. “I drew you a picture.”

  Cal put her on the ground and unfolded the drawing. He squinted as he studied the image before rotating it slowly in an attempt to orient it.

  “It’s me fixing your boo-boo, Daddy,” she said.

  “Oh, now I see it,” he said with a grin. “This is beautiful, honey. Thank you so much.”

  He bent down, and she hugged him again before planting a wet kiss on his cheek.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Cal greeted and thanked those who’d been supportive of him and especially those who’d helped Kelly while he was gone.

  Kelly gave him a hug and whispered in his ear. “Promise me you won’t ever go away that long again?”

  “I think we should bring that up with Buckman,” Cal said.

  She drew back and glanced at his knee. “I think you’ve earned the right to refuse an assignment that long again.”

  Cal shrugged. “I don’t know. The next World Cup is being held in the Middle East. Wouldn�
��t you like to join me for that one?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Once Cal made it to the car, he fell into the driver’s seat.

  “Are you okay to drive with your leg like that?” Kelly asked.

  Cal nodded. “Had to give them a good show,” he said with a wink and snatched the bandage off his leg.

  She playfully hit him on the arm. “Calvin Murphy! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Maybe, but I sure am proud of you,” he said.

  “Me? How come?”

  “Without your help, we wouldn’t have been able to figure out what Yuri Listyev was trying to give us. The stadium plot was one thing, but the contact list with protocols enabled the CIA to squelch a powerful arms dealer in a timely manner. It’s possible they would’ve been able to figure that out eventually, but Niko Bazarov wasn’t able to continue his father’s legacy, not even for one sale.”

  “That’s great, honey. I’m glad I could help.”

  “It all meant that Yuri Listyev didn’t die in vain.”

  Kelly patted him on the leg. “Speaking of Yuri, I received a package from Russia this morning from a Natalya Listyev.”

  Cal furrowed his brow. “Really? What did she send?”

  “This,” Kelly said, holding up a newspaper clipping. “Her first byline. She wanted to send you a paper copy and tell you thank you for encouraging her to pursue her passion and follow in her father’s footsteps.”

  “Well, if she’s anything like her father, Russian crime bosses better be on alert. She’ll be a one-woman wrecking crew.”

  “Sounds like my kind of woman,” Kelly said.

  “There’s no doubt you two are cut from the same cloth. I’m sure you’d both get along famously.”

  “Let’s just hope we never have to. I’d prefer you stay on U.S. soil from now on.”

  “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.”

  “You always do.”

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  I am grateful to so many people who have helped with the creation of this project and the entire Cal Murphy series.

  Krystal Wade has been a fantastic help in handling the editing of this book and making sure my Russian characters don’t sound too American and my American characters don’t sound too Russian.

  I would also like to thank my advance reader team for all their input in improving this book along with all the other readers who have enthusiastically embraced the story of Cal Murphy. Stay tuned ... there's more Cal Murphy coming soon.

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  About the Author

  JACK PATTERSON is an award-winning writer living in southeastern Idaho. He first began his illustrious writing career as a sports journalist, recording his exploits on the soccer fields in England as a young boy. Then when his father told him that people would pay him to watch sports if he would write about what he saw, he went all in. He landed his first writing job at age 15 as a sports writer for a daily newspaper in Orangeburg, S.C. He later attended earned a degree in newspaper journalism from the University of Georgia, where he took a job covering high school sports for the award-winning Athens Banner-Herald and Daily News.

  He later became the sports editor of The Valdosta Daily Times before working in the magazine world as an editor and freelance journalist. He has won numerous writing awards, including a national award for his investigative reporting on a sordid tale surrounding an NCAA investigation over the University of Georgia football program.

  Jack enjoys the great outdoors of the Northwest while living there with his wife and three children. He still follows sports closely.

  He also loves connecting with readers and would love to hear from you. To stay updated about future projects, connect with him over Facebook or on the interwebs at www.IamJackPatterson.com and sign up here for his newsletter to get deals and updates.

  DEAD END

  © Copyright 2017 Jack Patterson

  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 written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First eBook Edition 2017

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  Published in the United States of America

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