King's Ransom (The Xander King Series Book 3)

by Bradley Wright

  Xander didn’t slow down for a second.

  Partying Does Pay Off

  Xander stopped at the open doorway of an abandoned railcar. He had been sprinting for nearly a full minute. The others were coming, but he used the seconds of solitude to form a plan. His mind was focused on locating Natalie, but he was forced to push that aside for the moment. If they didn’t survive and dispose of these gunmen, there would be no point in a plan to find Natalie. He had to work on this situation first. He shined his flashlight around him. There was nothing but rows of tracks running vertically over gravel. The occasional abandoned railcar scattered here and there. He needed his team to distract the others.

  His team?

  Until that moment, he hadn’t really categorized them as such. It had always just been him and Sam. Even Kyle was a late addition. But it was undeniable that the rest of them were part of a full-scale team at this point. None of them, with the exception of Sarah due to her CIA obligations, had any reason to be there. Other than they wanted to fight for what was right.

  For Xander.

  For Natalie.

  More gunfire erupted behind his team. As Sam approached, she was ending a call.

  “Marv?” Xander asked.

  “Yes. He has a good lead. Let’s get out of this situation and then go save your girl.”

  “Sam, have I told you lately that I—”

  “That you love me? Too bloody much. What’s the plan?”

  As the others caught up, Xander quickly explained the play. They all got into place. Sam, Zhanna, Viktor, and Sarah pulled themselves up into the railcar. Xander found one not far away on the right, and he had given Jack the sniper rifle and directed him to another railcar over to the left. Both Xander and Jack climbed to the top of their railcars and lay flat, heads down, feet flat out to the sides. Seconds later, they heard the crunch of gravel. Xander had given Sam his Glock and the go bag. She would know exactly when to use the smoke grenade. Jack was positioned about fifty yards from Xander, with the railcar full of the team in the middle. The clouds of the day had cleared a bit, and the moon showered its dim white light over the empty tracks.

  Xander heard a man’s voice dole out an order: “Spread out. They can’t be far.”

  He couldn’t have been more than thirty or so yards away. Slowly, Xander pulled the SAT phone from his pocket. He had predialed Sarah’s number, so to call it he just needed to press call. He moved without noise and with minimal movement. As he slid his thumb to the call button, Xander closed his eyes and let the men tell him where they were.

  Paris was quiet. Off in the distance he could hear traffic coming from the road. The occasional horn. And sirens, most likely at the crash site by now. A cool breeze blew across the top of the railcar and slipped under the collar of his protective shirt-vest. Goose pimples stood across his arms, and he pricked his ears to hone in on his enemy. Gravel crunched under several different footfalls. Some were farther away, but a couple were close and moving to his left. This is exactly what Xander had hoped for. With minimal ammunition in the Glock, and not knowing exactly how many men they were facing, he needed to separate them. From the sounds of it, they had done it for him. The crunch of the gravel grew closer, and they were just to the left of his railcar now. He glanced to his right, in the direction of the team in the middle, and then out in front of their railcar. It was dark, but the flashlight attachment on the assault rifles of the oncoming gunmen would be like target practice for the accomplished sniper that Jack was known to be. It was time. Men were right below him, and they were getting too close to Sam and company out in front of him.

  Xander pressed call.

  Sarah’s phone rang in the middle railcar, and immediately the gunmen’s attention were drawn there.

  One of them shouted, “There! The car in middle!”

  A split second before their guns blasted Sam’s railcar, Xander watched her throw a smoke grenade right at their feet.

  Perfect.

  The grenade hissed, and a cloud of white smoke rose between the gunmen and the railcars. As Xander slid the SAT phone back into his pocket and slithered to the edge of his railcar, he heard the distinct pop of the M24 sniper rifle. Jack had begun to pick them off, finding them by their flashlights through the smoke. Below Xander, two men reacted to their compadres’ gunfire by turning back toward them and giving Xander their backs. Xander slid his hand inside his pocket to his knife, and as he dropped down behind the gunmen, he pressed the auto-release button, ejecting the blade from the handle of the knife, and drove the blade down into the first man’s neck, just above his protective vest. The knife sank into his skin with zero resistance. Xander knew it was the man’s carotid artery, and after he gave the blade a twist and removed it, blood shot out onto the railcar. The gunfire continued all around him. The rapid fire of the enemies’ automatic weapons, the distinct sound of Sam shooting his Glock, and Jack shooting the sniper rifle all came together in a horrifying symphony.

  The moment Xander pulled the knife from the man’s neck, the gunman in front wheeled around and Xander, with his left leg, front-kicked the assault rifle from his hands. Immediately, Xander crouched and twisted his body to the right, then sprang up and uncoiled back to his left, bringing his knife hand around like a right hook, his blade sweeping through the gunman’s throat. He quickly pressed the button on the knife, pulled back the charging handle retracting the blade, and clipped it to his waistband. He then picked up the dead man’s assault rifle, an HK MP5 submachine gun, and moved toward the cloud in front of him.

  “Move in! Move in!” a man shouted from inside the cloud of smoke.

  Instead of getting in the middle of the cloud and possibly catching a friendly stray bullet, Xander climbed back up the ladder and crouched atop his railcar. The smoke began to dissipate, and he could just make out two gunmen walking out of the cloud. Xander tapped the trigger on the MP5—at nine hundred rounds per minute, it didn’t take much—and a short burst of nine-millimeter bullets landed in what Xander thought should be the man’s chest and neck area. He then heard a couple of pops from the Glock from inside the railcar, and both men were down. He remained crouched, listening for more gravel-crunching steps.

  There were none.

  Xander slowly and quietly descended the ladder at the back of the railcar and rushed across several tracks and to the back of the car where his team was positioned. He looked into the darkness, in the direction of where Jack was supposed to be, and that’s when he heard a man grunting and gravel being kicked around in a scuffle. Xander didn’t hesitate. He bolted across the tracks. Gunmen must have flanked Jack’s railcar as they had his, but Jack must not have seen them. Another grunt of pain echoed to Xander’s ears, and as he turned the corner, one man had just thrown Jack to the ground, and the other leveled his assault rifle on him as Jack slid across the gravel. Xander quickly raised the MP5, but when he squeezed the trigger all he heard was a click. The damn thing had jammed. The two gunmen whipped around, not hesitating to fire. Just before he heard the blast of their guns, Xander threw himself backward onto the gravel and behind the back of the railcar.

  “Get him!” a man yelled.

  Xander kicked back up to his feet, ran around the opposite side of the railcar, and collided head on with the second gunman as he rounded the front end. Xander instinctively lowered his level, picked the man up with a double-leg takedown, and drove him down into the gravel. As soon as they landed, Xander’s right hand found the man’s side piece, removed it from his hip, rolled onto his back as he racked the slide, shot the other gunman twice around the throat and head as he rounded the railcar, and in an axe motion drove the butt of the pistol down onto the top of the nose of the man he’d just tackled. The man wailed in pain and grabbed for his face. Xander pistol-whipped him once more on the forehead, and the man went limp. A flashlight came around the corner in the distance, and again Xander raised his pistol, ready for who was next.

  “It’s Sam!” She held up her hands. “It’s
me! This end is secure. Are you all right?”

  Xander lowered his gun. “All clear!”

  When Xander rolled to his left to check on Jack, and the cowboy was already standing over him, holding out his hand.

  Jack said, “What kind of SEAL don’t check his magazine before he shoots?”

  Jack pulled Xander to his feet; Sam’s flashlight shone on Jack’s smiling face.

  Xander answered, “You and I both know that wouldn’t happen. The damn thing jammed on me.”

  “Are the two of you all right? We couldn’t see a thing,” Sam said as she and the rest of the team caught up.

  “We’re fine,” Jack said.

  Xander dusted the gravel off himself and nodded toward the unconscious gunman. “When he wakes up, let’s see if we can get him to talk. In the meantime, what did Marv say?”

  He didn’t waste any time. Now that they weren’t in imminent danger, Xander’s mind immediately shifted to how to find Natalie.

  Sarah’s phone rang. “It’s Langley. I have to take this. Go ahead, I’ll catch up in a sec.” She walked away from the group and answered the call.

  Sam said, “Marv is sending a possible location for where the dinner boat is located, which he believes they forced Natalie onto. He knows where we are. He is sending two cars for us, away from the crash site that will surely be crawling with police by now.”

  Xander said, “There are too many of us. I’d feel more comfortable if it were just you and me going after Natalie, Sam. Maybe the rest of the team can work on finding Khatib?”

  “You’re right, there are too many of us,” Sam agreed. “But I believe we need Jack as well. Since we have a sniper rifle and we are likely going to have to board a boat in the middle of the river, he would be able to help keep the deck clear for us from shore.”

  Xander looked to Jack. “Suits me. I’ll let you young’uns do the chasing,” Jack said. “I’ll pick these bastards off from afar. It would help if I had a spotter with good eyes.”

  Xander turned to Viktor.

  “Not that crazy bastard,” Jack scoffed. Then he said to Viktor, “Don’t get me wrong, I love your enthusiasm, but I ain’t good at baby sittin’.”

  “Viktor not baby. And Viktor have perfect vision. Good enough to see your wrinkled old face from long way off!” Viktor puffed out his chest.

  Xander knew that Viktor just wanted to help. Since there were no helicopters around, this was as close to helping as he was going to get.

  Jack bowed up. “You better watch your mouth, Vik. I may be old, but I can still put you on your ass!”

  Viktor shuffled toward Jack. “You wish, you old—”

  Xander grabbed Viktor with force by the collar of his raggedy T-shirt. Viktor went silent. Xander said, “This is what Jack is talking about, Viktor. If you’re coming with us, I can’t have any of this Xbox bravado. You are going to have to respect what Jack says and do everything he asks. This man is a seasoned warrior. You hear me?”

  Xander let go of Viktor’s shirt. Viktor cleared his throat and straightened out his shirt. “Yes, boss. Sorry, Jack. I have good eyes and can help get pretty actress back safe.”

  Xander looked to Jack and nodded. Jack returned the nod. Principal King to the rescue.

  “All right, time to move.”

  Kyle stepped forward. “I’d rather stay with you, X.”

  “I know. And I want you there, but Khatib is going to be hard to find. I’m going to need you and Zhanna to work with Sarah and Marv all you can to help find him. It sounds like he is planning something else, I don’t know what—”

  “I do,” Sarah interrupted. She ended her call and walked over to the group. Her tone was worried and the moon’s light revealed the worried look on her face as well.

  Kyle said, “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “That was Director Hartsfield and Marv. She’s tasked Marv to coordinate with me for help, and she’s requesting the help of your team, Xander. If there is anyone to spare.”

  “There isn’t,” Xander answered quickly.

  Sarah continued, “Marv thought you might say that, so he told me to let you know that he believes what Director Hartsfield called about is directly linked to Akram Khatib.”

  “I’m listening,” Xander said. “But make this quick. Every second that we waste standing here is a second closer those steel spears get to Natalie’s head.”

  “The President’s daughter has gone missing,” Sarah blurted.

  “What?” Kyle reacted.

  Sam put her hand on her hip. “All right, that is terrible. But what can you do about that?”

  “Sorry, she’s gone missing, here, in Paris.”

  “Holy shit.” Kyle turned toward Xander. “You think it’s Khatib?”

  Sarah interjected, “Marv does. He believes if we find Adeline Williams, it will lead us to Khatib.”

  Xander huffed. “Well, that’s quite a leap. But regardless, it’s the President’s daughter. You have to find her. If it leads to Khatib, great. If not, that just is what it is. We can’t have something happen to her. It will open up a whole world of terrorists believing they can take shots at America. So, quickly, what do we know?”

  Sarah relayed Marv’s words from the phone call. “All we know is that a half hour ago, maybe less, the Secret Service reported that Adeline had gone missing. When Marv’s team checked the CCTV cameras outside the hotel, Adeline and a friend were seen running from the hotel and getting into a cab. Apparently, she put the slip on her Secret Service guards. The reason Marv is concerned that Khatib could be connected is because his team checked the cameras up the block from the hotel and as soon as the girls pulled away in their cab, two suspicious-looking men across the street jumped into their vehicle and sped after them. After running their plates, the car is connected to a known radical Islamic group here in Paris. Not coincidentally, known to be funded by factions in Syria. Marv believes they are here working for Akram Khatib.”

  “Jesus,” Kyle said. “So what can we do? Or how would I be able to help? I know nothing about counter-terrorism, or finding missing people.”

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said.

  “Any idea where they are going?” Sam asked.

  “Not yet, because get this, the cab they got into didn’t have plates or a cab number on the side of the car.”

  “Because it wasn’t a cab,” Sam registered.

  Sarah nodded. “That is the other reason Marv thinks it’s Khatib’s men. They must have intercepted their cab call, or paid the operator to dispatch one of their men.”

  “Shit.” Xander hated hearing this. He needed to stay focused on Natalie. But this was the President’s daughter. This was National Security. Now his mind was focusing on how to find Adeline, and he needed it not to be.

  Sam stepped forward and addressed Sarah. “Wait, so how old is this Adeline?”

  “Twenty-one. Why?” Sarah answered.

  Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Is she pretty? Does she have any history of liking to party?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, and yes.”

  Sam’s smile widened, and she looked at Kyle.

  “What?” Kyle shrugged.

  “You don’t see? This is perfect for you, Don Juan.”

  “Don Juan? What is this, 1989? I don’t get it.”

  Xander walked over to Kyle and put his hand on his shoulder. “You know all those nights we spent chasing women at bars?”

  Kyle was still clueless. “Yeah. So?”

  Xander couldn’t help but smile himself. “It was practice.”

  “Practice?”

  “Yeah, practice for the moment you had to go find the most important pretty girl you would ever have to find.”

  Kyle was quiet for a moment. Then the light bulb went on. “They snuck out to party.”

  Sam said, “You’ve found your true calling, Romeo.”

  Jack hiked up his pants at the belt buckle. “Excuse me for being the old, out-of-touch guy here, but I don’t get how Kyl
e knowin’ how to party and pick up women helps here.”

  Everyone turned and looked at Kyle.

  “Well, Jack. If I was hot, twenty-one, and never allowed to let my hair down, I’d go to the biggest party in town.”

  “Which is?” Sarah asked.

  Kyle looked at Xander with an ornery smile. “Has to be that place we took those ladies we met in the cafe when we were here a couple of weeks ago. That massive place on the river. What was it called?”

  Xander thought for a moment. “Wanderlust?”

  “That’s it!” Kyle pumped his fist.

  Jack spoke up again. “I hate to be Negative Nancy, but out of all the places in Paris they could go, why do you think it’s that one they’re goin’ to?”

  Sam walked around Xander, unzipped his go bag, pulled out the burner phone, and handed it to Kyle. “Because, Jack. That is exactly where Kyle would go.”

  The Big Picture

  “Ooh, can you turn this up please?” Adeline asked the cab driver.

  The Middle Eastern man did as she asked, and an English lady’s voice filled the interior of the cab.

  This is a BBC world news report. Paris, France, is the talk of the world this evening. American superstar actress Natalie Rockwell was kidnapped from her hotel suite in Paris this morning. No information on her whereabouts was known until just a short time ago, and now everyone all across the world has a front row seat to the terrifying live feed that was brought to seemingly everyone’s attention no more than an hour ago. If you haven’t seen it, consider yourself lucky you’re listening to the radio. The live feed is of Natalie restrained against the wall in some sort of medieval torture contraption, the monster in charge of this terrible act saying she only has hours to live. The contraption has two sword-like spears moving slowly toward her head. It’s truly a ghastly sight. I had a brief conversation with a spokesperson from America’s CIA, John Haversmith, and this is what he had to say when I asked him what was being done . . .

  Adeline looked to her friend Karol, and with a shocked expression she mouthed the letters, “OMG.” A man’s voice came across the radio. His tone was solemn but confident.