The Sean Kruger Series Complete Boxed Set

by J. C. Fields

  Turning to JR, Kruger’s expression was grim. “I need to know what was said in the conversation with Thailand.” His voice contained a sharpness JR had never heard before. Staring at the house, Kruger opened the Mustang’s door. “Find it.”

  JR nodded, but remained quiet as Kruger walked toward the group of officers standing behind a SWAT van. Knoll followed.

  Watching as both men shook hands with one of the officers, JR could not hear the conversation, but noticed Kruger stand a little straighter and put his hand to his eyes. Knoll stood behind him, stoic and unmoving.

  ***

  “We’ve evacuated the house.” Corporal Matt Hughes stared up at the house. “The Bryant woman lives in a second-floor apartment. She doesn’t have a land line, so we’re using optics to look under the door. So far, we haven’t seen any movement in the apartment. Door’s locked, no response to our attempts at contact. We’re now using optics to look through windows.”

  Kruger stared at the house. “He’s gone.”

  An officer in a SWAT uniform walked up to Hughes and spoke in a low tone, “We have a body in a bedroom.”

  Kruger stood still and stared up at the house.

  “Get an entry team and go in.” Hughes took a deep breath. “Be prepared. This may be the second one tonight.”

  The SWAT member nodded and trotted back to his team. Hughes turned to Kruger. “Who is this guy?”

  “Long story, Corporal.”

  “Appears we have a few moments. Enlighten me.”

  ***

  Connecting with his servers in Springfield, JR isolated the call from the NSA computers and listened to Bishop’s conversation with the man in Thailand. After his second time listening, he noticed Kruger walking toward the car.

  When he reached it, he turned his back to the Mustang and leaned against the hood. He pressed his palms to his eyes and bent over until his elbows rested on his knees. JR wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw his friend heave. Concerned, he exited the car and stood by Kruger.

  “You okay?”

  Kruger nodded, but then violently shook his head. “No. I’m not. This was the worst one yet. I just saw hardened, veteran law enforcement officers turn away from the scene in revulsion and puke.”

  JR just stood there. It was several minutes before Kruger spoke again.

  “You have any luck with the phone call?”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Kruger’s tone was clipped and matter-of-fact.

  Reaching back into the car, he lifted his laptop from the passenger seat and held it to play the recording.

  “Yes.”

  “I need a new ID and money.”

  There was a sigh and a long pause before the conversation resumed.

  “You are becoming, what you Americans call, a money pit. Where is the return on our investment?”

  “You’ll get it. Until then, the new ID and cash.”

  “Why should we continue to help you? I tire of your excuses and delays.”

  “I can always turn myself in and start telling them about your operation here. They’d like that and all your years of work and careful planning will be wiped out.”

  Another long pause.

  “Call back in six hours.”

  “Four. Just be aware I know more about your operation than you think I do.”

  The call ended abruptly, and JR looked at Kruger. “I’ve confirmed it was Bishop’s voice.”

  Kruger nodded. “He’s desperate.” He pushed off the car and stood looking at the house with his hands on his hips. Without addressing anyone in particular, he shook his head. “How did he get away?”

  “I have a theory.”

  Turning to look at JR, he tilted his head to the side. “What?”

  “I looked at the call record on Mandy Bryant’s phone. There were a series of calls to and from one number just before the call to Thailand. The number belongs to a Sara Ferguson. A quick check on Facebook shows Bryant and Ferguson were close friends.”

  “Are you suggesting she might have been here when Bishop invaded the apartment?”

  “It’s a guess. I don’t have any evidence she was.”

  “But what if she was? Do you have an alarm on the Ferguson phone?”

  “Yeah, and I’ve pinged it a couple of times. It appears to be turned off. No response.”

  Kruger was silent for a moment. “Women her age don’t turn their phones off.”

  “I know.” JR took a deep breath. “Sean, what did the voice from Thailand mean?”

  Staring at JR, Kruger shook his head. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

  “The end of the call, when he said, ‘all your years of work and careful planning will be wiped out.’”

  “Guess I wasn’t listening. Play it again.”

  JR replayed the recording and watched Kruger. His expression remained neutral as he listened. When it was finished, Kruger was silent.

  It was several minutes before he spoke. “Does the Ferguson woman have a car?”

  JR nodded.

  “What about the Bryant woman?”

  “Not that I can find.”

  “We have to assume Bishop has the Ferguson woman’s car, maybe her too. Get this information to Boone.” Kruger tuned back to stare at the house.

  “What about the phone call?”

  Kruger shook his head. “Not sure. We need to take Bishop alive.”

  “Uh… You might want to pass that on to Boone.”

  Without responding to JR, Kruger pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. The call was answered on the third ring. “Allen, we need to take Bishop alive.” He paused listening to the response.

  “Yes, I know, everyone has to defend themselves. But Bishop has information we need.”

  More silence.

  “I don’t know, but I need to question him. He needs to be taken alive if possible.”

  Another pause.

  “Thanks, Allen. I’m going to give my phone to JR. He has information that will help with your search.”

  JR took the phone and passed on the information about Sara Ferguson along with the make and model of her car. He ended the call and handed the phone back to Kruger. “Now what?”

  Taking a deep breath, Kruger closed his eyes and sighed. “Nothing we can do, but wait.”

  Chapter 37

  Highway 63, North of Jefferson City

  Sara Ferguson was a small woman, barely five–foot-two and slender. Her red hair and blocky glasses kept aggressive males away, but allowed the ones really interested to ask her for dates. One of those interested males was now her fiancé. Currently a senior with a major in business and a minor in accounting, her plans after graduation were already set. The previous summer, she interned at a large international beverage company in St. Louis and was slated to join it after graduation.

  At this moment in time, her hands gripped the steering wheel of her ten-year-old Ford Focus so hard her knuckles were white. She stared at the SUV in front of her, not looking at the man in the passenger seat. As he cursed, she wondered if she would live to get married, have a career with the beverage company, and someday start a family. She felt tears forming in her eyes, but blinked hard to make them dissipate.

  “Why the fuck is the traffic backed up so far?” Bishop was not asking Sara for the answer; he was just talking. She remained quiet.

  The Focus was trapped between a large SUV and a tractor trailer unit in unmoving traffic. Guard rails on both sides of the highway prevented any car or truck from steering out of the congestion. They were on the exit ramp of southbound Highway 63 as it merged onto Highway 54 and the bridge crossing the Missouri River. Traffic sat bumper to bumper for at least three quarters of a mile from the bridge crossing the Missouri River north of Jefferson City.

  Sara could smell the sweat of the man next to her as he grew more agitated with each passing moment. Emergency lights on the bridge were visible from their location. A tear flowed down her cheek as
she sat behind the steering wheel, her efforts to make them go away unsuccessful.

  ***

  The growl of the Mustang GT’s 5.0 liter V8 could be heard above the siren as it screamed south out of Columbia on Highway 63. JR glanced over at the speedometer and noted it was showing one hundred ten miles an hour. He looked in the side rear-view mirror and saw Knoll’s Denali close behind. He turned to Kruger, who was concentrating on his driving. “How long before we get there?”

  “Boone told me the car is trapped on an exit ramp. The Highway Patrol has the bridge blocked and is not letting traffic move until we get there. Sara Ferguson’s Ford is between a United Movers semi and a large Cadillac Escapade. We’ll have cover getting to it. We’re about five minutes away.”

  JR nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

  Kruger was silent for a few moments. “Under your seat is a metal box. It has my back-up weapon. If things go sideways and Bishop gets past Knoll and me, shoot the SOB.”

  “Won’t there be other cops involved?”

  “Yeah, but I trust you more than I trust them.”

  JR nodded. His feelings about Kruger were similar, an uncomplicated blind trust.

  Kruger was silent for a few moments. “We have to get the girl out unharmed. I don’t want another innocent woman to be a victim of this monster.”

  “How?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  ***

  Kruger, Knoll and JR advanced slowly on foot next to the right side guardrail. They were several cars away from the United Mover semi and could not see the Ford Focus yet. Three members of the Highway Patrol SWAT team were on the other side of the ramp advancing at the same pace. They were dressed in full assault gear and would be Knoll and Kruger’s back-up. JR held the small Glock 26 at his side. They stopped just behind the semi, and Kruger turned to Knoll.

  “Sandy, as we planned, you handle Bishop, I’ll get the girl.”

  Knoll nodded.

  Kruger moved to the left side of the semi with Knoll moving toward the Civic on the right. He bent down low as he advanced toward his target.

  ***

  Randolph Bishop was extremely agitated. He looked over at the girl and saw her staring at the Cadillac in front of them, she did not look at him. He took a breath and released the catch on his seat belt. “Don’t move. I’m going to open my door and stand. Maybe I can see a way out of this mess.”

  Sara did not respond, but stared straight ahead.

  He opened the door, leaned out and stood on his right leg, his left foot still on the car’s floorboard. The sound of car horns, the semi behind them, and all the engines running around them hid the slight click of Sara undoing her seat belt.

  Bishop looked around. Nothing was moving. The guardrail next to him kept cars from careening down an embankment after an accident, but now trapped him. He removed his left foot from the floor board and now was fully out of the car. His CZ 9mm was in his right hand at his side, hidden from the surrounding drivers.

  Suddenly, the driver’s side door of the Focus flew open, and Sara ran toward the cover of the semi behind them. Bishop brought the CZ up and aimed the weapon at the fleeing woman. He did not see the large man behind him, nor was he aware of the massive elbow connecting with the side of his head.

  The CZ hit the roof of the Focus as Bishop collapsed to the highway.

  ***

  Sara watched as the man sitting next to her opened the door and stood up. The noise from the surrounding traffic was more prevalent with the passenger door open. She realized this might be her one chance to escape alive. She slowly released her seat belt and held it as it retracted. As quietly as possible, she pulled the handle to open her door as she watched the man’s torso turn to the rear of the Focus. She stopped from opening the door, waiting for him to turn back to the front. When he did so, she pushed the door open and sprang from the car, running toward the semi as fast as she could.

  The sound of a gunshot never materialized as she ran for her life to the safety of the massive semi parked two feet behind her car. As soon as she was past the front of the semi, she ran into a man who grabbed her, and swung her around. “You’re okay now, Sara. You’re safe. I’m with the FBI.”

  She gasped and stared up at the tall man who held her, his face illuminated by the headlights of the stalled traffic. It was a kind face smiling down at her. She placed her arms and forehead against his chest and started sobbing.

  ***

  Knoll watched from the shadows of the semi’s tractor as the passenger door of the Focus opened. Randolph Bishop stood up and looked around. Pressing himself against the truck, he kept an eye on his target. When Bishop turned away from his position and started looking forward, Knoll started moving toward the man.

  His peripheral vision caught movement to his left, but he ignored it as he moved forward. Bishop’s head twisted to his left and he brought a weapon up, aiming at something. Knoll sprinted the last two yards as he raised his right elbow. It made contact with the side of Bishops head and the man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Knoll secured the dropped weapon and started binding Bishop’s arms behind him with flex cuffs. Once completed, he did the same to Bishop’s ankles.

  Not a shot was fired.

  ***

  It took thirty minutes for the Highway Patrol to open the bridge, clear traffic and block off the exit ramp. Sara Ferguson was in the back of an ambulance being attended by two EMTs. She was staring at the man who comforted her after running from the Ford. Kruger sat across from the gurney she lay on. “Sara, I have to ask you a few questions.”

  She nodded.

  “Did he attack you or hurt you in any way?”

  “No, he never really touched me except when I walked into Mandy’s apartment, and he grabbed me. But that was the only time. How’s Mandy? Is she okay?”

  Kruger did not smile. “No, I’m afraid she isn’t.”

  Sara closed her eyes and tears flowed from both. “I was afraid he hurt her.”

  “Sara, did Bishop say anything to you?”

  “Was that his name? He never told me.”

  “Randolph Bishop.”

  She gasped. “The man in the news?”

  Kruger nodded. “You were lucky. He needed you for something.”

  The tears flowed faster and she started breathing hard. One of the EMT’s said very softly. “Agent, we really need to get her to a hospital. Can this wait?”

  Nodding, Kruger stepped out of the back of the ambulance and helped close the door. He watched as it drove toward Jefferson City across the bridge.

  JR walked up to Kruger. “I’ve got his laptop.”

  Turning, Kruger stared at his friend and for the first time in several days, felt relief.

  Chapter 38

  Jefferson City, MO

  The Cole County Sheriff’s Office building was located in downtown Jefferson City. Randolph Bishop sat alone in an interrogation room, shackled and chained to a ring embedded in the concrete floor. An hour passed while Kruger and Allen Boone observed him on a video monitor.

  “Can you talk to him?” Boone asked as he stared at the figure on the video screen. “Without doing him physical harm.”

  Taking a breath, Kruger was silent for a moment. “I think so. My first impulse is to walk in there and shoot him. But we know that isn’t an option.”

  Boone chuckled and nodded. “How long are you going to leave him in there?”

  “A few more minutes. JR’s searching his laptop. I need some information before I go in there.”

  “You haven’t changed, Sean. Always know more than the person you’re interrogating.”

  Kruger nodded his head once, but remained quiet as he stared at Bishop’s image.

  Twenty minutes later, Kruger unlocked the door to the interrogation room and entered. Bishop could not see him, but Knoll was outside and could be in the room in seconds. Kruger sat across from Bishop, placing a manila file folder on the table between them.

  Rem
aining quiet, Bishop stared at Kruger.

  “Remember me, Randy?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Sure we have. Parking lot of Harmon, Harmon, and Kinslow. It was a Thursday evening about six years ago.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I want a doctor and a lawyer, in that order.”

  Kruger smiled. “Well… we might have a problem with both. No, that’s not correct. We don’t have a problem. You have the problem.”

  “I’ve probably got a concussion from the brutal attack I suffered. So until I have a lawyer present, I’m not answering your questions.”

  Kruger chuckled. “At the moment, you’ll get neither.” He opened the folder and slid a photo of a man presenting his passport to a TSA agent in an airport terminal.

  Bishop stared at it and shrugged. “So. It’s a picture of a man in a hat.”

  Taking another picture from the folder, he laid it on top of the other one. This time the camera caught the image of the man’s face. It was Bishop.

  “Recognize the man in the picture?”

  Bishop remained silent.

  “It’s you, but you already knew this. Records indicate the man in the picture presented a passport with the name of Everett Stewart.” Kruger watched Bishop. There was a momentary tell of alarm on his face, but it was replaced with a neutral expression just as fast.

  “Unfortunately, Randy, you entered the United States under a false ID. That’s problem number one. Problem number two, Everett Stewart is the prime suspect in the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 24 this past March.”

  Bishop stared at Kruger, his eyes widened slightly.

  “Randolph Bishop and Everett Stewart were on the manifest as a passengers. Bishop’s boarding pass was used. Stewart’s wasn’t.”

  “People miss flights for a lot of reasons.”

  “True, but the real Everett Stewart never returned home. Then, we find you using his passport to enter the United States. Which means, you entered the United States under false pretense for the expressed purpose of terroristic acts. In other words, you’ve been classified as an enemy combatant. We can hold you forever without allowing you access to a lawyer.”