Xander King BoxSet

by Bradley Wright

  “Everything is going according to plan,” the supervisor offered.

  The man in the turban took a step toward the contraption, giving it a more scrutinizing inspection. “How long until it is finished?” he asked as he stroked the steel gear on its left side. He moved his hand along the massively oversized stainless steel needle, feeling its tip and giving a satisfied look when he felt how outstandingly sharp it was. The workers halted their jobs so the men could speak without raising their voices. The man in the turban raised his hand and addressed the workers. “Please, continue.”

  The men did as he asked, and he turned back toward the supervisor.

  The supervisor replied, “Fifteen, maybe thirty minutes, tops.” The man was French, his accent thick.

  The man in the turban nodded, waved the supervisor away, and walked from the construction to the middle of the open room. There, he looked up at the ceiling. There was a gold chandelier hanging from the black ceiling tiles that stretched the length of the room.

  “Place them here,” he said to the man on his right. “I want multiple cameras here. I want the ability to show a wide view and a close-up view simultaneously. Just make certain the wide view does not extend farther than the wall. We do not want anyone watching to discern our location from anything they could possibly be able to see if the windows are in view.”

  “Of course,” the man agreed.

  “This will be a live video feed. Make sure there is nothing that can keep this broadcast from airing live. I want a backup camera on each side wall as well, both of them solely focused on the machine.”

  “No problem. We will connect the cameras wirelessly so there will be no feed to cut. You’ll have twenty-four hours of continuous footage on these cameras. Will that be long enough?”

  The man in the turban smiled, more to himself than to the man who asked the question. “Oh yes. That will be more than enough time. The show will long be over by then. Now, get to work. I want to see everything up and running in one hour. It is time to make history.”

  Just then the phone belonging to the man in the turban made a sound. He walked away from the two men as they began to install the cameras and opened his phone. It was a text from Melania. The man hadn’t known her very long, but she seemed to share his wishes for the end of Xander King. He didn’t like working with women—it was very foreign to him; however, he would do anything to destroy King. When Melania first contacted him a week ago, she had told him about Vitalii Dragov’s plan to put an end to Xander. The man was skeptical, so he continued his own planning. But when she called him yesterday afternoon, explaining that Xander had managed to escape, he immediately put his plan into motion. He sent some of his men to kill the horse and leave the message on the wall. He sent some of his men to kidnap Natalie Rockwell, and he flew Melania to Paris from Moscow, on her promise that she knew Xander well enough to put an end to him once and for all. She had said Dragov wouldn’t listen to her. She had said Dragov underestimated how dangerous Xander and Sam could be. Melania told him that if he brought her on board, she would ensure that they would be able to outsmart Xander by playing on his weakness: his loved ones.

  Melania still was not proven to him, but so far she had helped him orchestrate what he knew was the perfect plan to exact revenge on Xander, and send a message to America that the world would no longer allow the US to keep the world under its thumb. He opened the text from Melania.

  Xander is here. We have him cornered at the warehouse. How shall we proceed?

  He typed his response and closed his phone. He turned back toward the men finishing up the construction of his machine and glanced at the men installing the cameras. He had Xander right where he wanted him. He knew his brother would be proud. Not only was he going to make Xander pay, but he would be able to finish what his brother had started. Better than that, he knew that when America saw their beloved movie star murdered live on the Internet, their fear would rise to a whole new level. The recruits to the cause would be much easier to gain, and it would be the very thing to build the army that could finally teach the world the way life was supposed to be lived.

  His way.

  And if his intel proved right that the President’s daughter was really coming to Paris and if he could manage to find where she was going, he could possibly even bring America to its knees, tonight.

  A smile once again grew across his face. His chest swelled with pride. It was going to be an incredible night. America’s sweetheart, America’s hero, and quite possibly the President’s daughter, all squashed under his power.

  The new world power.

  8

  It’s Your Lucky Day

  Xander took a deep breath, raised both his Glock 19 and Joe’s pistol out in front of him, one aimed to the left and one aimed to the right, as he stood up straight behind the chest-high cubicle. He had the entirety of the open room in his view. He immediately squeezed both triggers when he saw movement coming down the left and right sides of the room. Bangs from his pistols echoed through the warehouse. Both men dove behind the makeshift cubicle walls, and Xander zeroed in on the group of people in the middle of the opposite side of the warehouse. Four of them. As soon as they heard Xander’s pistols, they ducked for cover.

  “Come out and play, Melanie,” Xander said in a singsong but sinister voice.

  “Hold your fire!” Melania shouted. “Xander, I do not wish to kill you here.” The elevator at her end of the warehouse binged, and the door opened. “Check your phone. My boss wishes to speak with you. I just sent you his location.”

  “Why did you bring me here if you didn’t want a fight?” Xander shouted, confused.

  “To make sure you were stupid enough to come alone.”

  “I am single, but I don’t think it would work out for us. It’s not you, it’s me.”

  “Just be at the coordinates I sent you in two hours. Then maybe you will get to see your precious Natalie before she is dead.”

  “If you touch her—”

  “What?” Melania interrupted. “You will what, Xander?”

  Xander didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he jumped up on the desk and then over the wall of the cubicle. He sprinted around the right side of the last row of cubicles. The man he had shot at a moment ago stood up, but Xander put two bullets in him before the man could even lift his arm. At the sound of Xander’s gun, the group of men and Melania made a break for the elevator. Melania was in front, and she made it in. Xander hit two of the four men who followed, but because he was sprinting, he didn’t think they were kill shots. The elevator door began to close as Xander began to close the distance. He was about twenty yards away. He wasn’t going to make it to stop it from closing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the man from the left side of the room running for the elevator. They had left him behind. Xander slid feetfirst on his right side, his pistol extended in front of him. If he couldn’t keep the door from closing, he could at least get a shot off inside the elevator. As his eyes met the six-inch open slit left in the closing door, he fired inside and heard a man squeal in pain.

  Bingo.

  As he continued to slide along the slick concrete floor, he rotated 180 degrees and shot the man left behind in the warehouse, right in the stomach, just before he fired a shot at Xander. Finally, Xander came to a stop as his feet hit the brick wall at the end of the room. The gunman dropped to the floor holding his stomach, groaning in pain. Xander got to his feet, holstered one of his pistols in his waistband, and walked over to the man he had just shot.

  “Well, apparently she didn’t think much of you, huh?” Xander stood over him as the man writhed in pain. He was wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a brown leather jacket. The man didn’t speak; he just scrunched his face in pain and continued to try to catch his breath. “Ouch. Looks like I got you good there.”

  “Fuck you,” the man said with a French accent.

  Xander looked around the empty room. “Who? Me? Wow, okay. I thought we were going to be fr
iends, but—”

  Outside Xander could hear sirens coming down the street. Whatever he was going to do, he was going to have to hurry.

  “Fine,” Xander said to the man. “I’ll let you live if you tell me where Melanie is going.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “A man of many words.”

  Xander put his foot on the man’s stomach, directly on top of the bullet wound, and pressed his weight upon it. The man let out a mighty scream and then began to plead. His face turned pale and sweat began running down his face.

  “Fine! Okay! I don’t give a shit about her, I just met her. I don’t know where she is going! I swear!”

  Xander pressed harder.

  The man screamed in pain.

  “I swear! I don’t know! All I know is that there is parking below us. That is where the elevator goes. But I don’t know where she is going!”

  The sirens drew closer, and Xander believed the man. He removed his foot from the man’s stomach and backed away toward the elevator.

  “It’s your lucky day. But if I find out you knew where they were going . . .” Xander didn’t finish his threat; he just punched the button on the elevator and backed his way inside as the door opened. He waved his gun at the man on the ground and made a tsk-tsk gesture. The door closed in front of him, and he hit the button with the letter P on it. The elevator lurched downward, and Xander could see blood on the floor below him. He had definitely hit someone with his slide shot a moment ago. The door opened in front of him, and with his pistol extended he gave the empty parking garage a once-over. There was nothing but pavement and concrete all around. Not a single car. They had gotten away. Xander put away his gun and pulled out his phone. When he turned it on, he saw the message from Melanie. He didn’t recognize the location she had sent, and he didn’t have time to look it up. He could hear commotion above him. Just then, two police cars came swerving around the corner of the parking garage and squealed to a stop in front of him. Four men posted up behind the opened doors of their patrol cars, and one of them shouted for him to put his hands up. Xander didn’t speak French, but he was sure that’s what they had yelled. He did as they asked. Other than killing them, there was no other option. And he wasn’t going to do that. Getting back in the elevator wouldn’t help either; he knew that by then they would have the upstairs covered as well. As he raised both hands, he managed to finger his way to Sam in his text list. And he managed to text her the word Jail.

  Xander hadn’t wanted to involve his friends, but he knew they were already on their way. That’s what they did. And he knew if he wanted to see Natalie alive ever again, being stuck in a jail cell in Paris, France, sure wasn’t going to get the job done. He just hoped that Sam could once again work her magic, and he hoped she could do it fast.

  9

  Cause for Concern

  Sam, Kyle, Zhanna, and Sarah had been in the air for more than four hours. Only Zhanna had been able to fall asleep. As Sam looked around the cabin of the CIA’s private jet, she felt good about the team that had organically come together. Sure, she didn’t know Zhanna very well, but they had only known each other for a couple of days, and it wasn’t like they’d had time for tea. Or vodka, which Sam assumed the Russian would most likely prefer. So would she, for that matter. Zhanna was a beautiful woman, and according to the old CIA cowboy, Jack Bronson, she was equally as adept at fighting. Sam hadn’t seen it yet, but as she looked over at Sarah Gilbright, she knew you couldn’t judge such a thing like fighting by the way someone looked. Because as pretty as Zhanna was with her long red hair and perfectly curved body, Sarah Gilbright made her look like the spokeswoman for average. Sarah was a knockout. And because they had already been through a couple of battles together, she knew Sarah was also a badass. A wolf in model’s clothing. Sam definitely understood how Xander could fall for the buxom blonde. The bravest blonde Sam had ever met.

  Then there was Kyle. Until the last couple of weeks she only thought him to be an immature playboy. And most likely that is still all he was, for the most part. But she did get to see the heart in the man. The heart that reminded her of Xander. Most people would think Xander heartless because of his ability to take a man’s life. But Sam saw it as the opposite. His ability to risk his own life for those he didn’t even know was as noble a thing as a man could do. And she had seen Kyle take up arms in much the same way now. For Xander, for her, and for the rest of this merry little band of misfit killers. Sam had found herself in private moments thinking of Kyle in a way she hadn’t over the last few years she had known him. His adorable and frustrating charm had always been there, but mix that in with a man who would lay down his life for you, and you have a recipe for disaster. Disaster, because Sam thought all relationships of the love/lust variety to be a terrible idea. Xander was the perfect example right now. If he had not let his feelings for Natalie Rockwell blossom, he would be at his home celebrating the end of the search for his murdered parents’ killer. Instead, he is in Paris, throwing caution to the wind, willing to do anything to ensure Natalie’s safety. Sam never approved of mixing business with pleasure, yet here she was, contemplating such notions for Kyle.

  Stupid.

  She should be on her couch reading the latest Stephen King novel, but no, here she was on her way to war because of feelings. Xander’s feelings for Natalie. But she knew she was being a complete hypocrite, because if she got a call that Kyle was in danger, she would come running like a devil for his due.

  “Everything okay, Sam?” Kyle asked from the seat beside her.

  Sam jumped a bit, not prepared to hear anything but the hum of the jet engines. She turned in her seat toward Kyle, tucking her right leg under her left, and let out a sigh.

  “Not really. I can’t for the life of me imagine who could have taken Natalie. Haven’t we rid the world of Xander haters yet?” She recovered quickly, not letting on that she had been thinking of Kyle.

  “I know what you mean. I’ve been racking my brain. But I don’t know the people Xander has been involved with over the years like you do. I was hoping you would have an idea.” Kyle leaned toward her. Concern for his friend hung heavy on his face.

  Sam wasn’t sure that she had ever noticed the scar that ran through the dark hair of his left eyebrow. It wasn’t very big, but it was definitely there.

  “It could be a number of people, Kyle. We have taken out some of the worst human scum on the planet. They are bound to have some disgruntled family, right?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. You think it could be someone in Dragov’s camp?” Kyle asked.

  Sarah leaned in now from the chair across from them. Her concern was evident as well.

  Sam answered. “I really don’t think so, Kyle. I believe this had to have been planned. Think of the orchestration of coming to Lexington and killing King’s Ransom, and simultaneously kidnapping Natalie in Paris. That couldn’t have happened in twelve hours. Someone has been considering this for at least some amount of time now.”

  “I think you’re right, Sam,” Sarah chimed in. “I’ve been running this through my head since we took off. I e-mailed Marv and told him to check into the background and family of Sanharib Khatib. I just have a feeling it could have to do with him. This feels like revenge.”

  Sam nodded. “It certainly does. Marv will find something if there is anything. Xander has said on multiple occasions that he is the smartest man he’d ever met.”

  “What about Jack?” Kyle asked. “Have you heard from him?”

  “Not yet,” Sam said. “But he could have already been in the air when I messaged him. I don’t have the number to the phone on the chartered plane, but I have messaged the charter company to get it. It’s probably too late now, though.”

  “Damn it.” Kyle was clearly dejected. “Do you think Xander is okay? I know he’s Xander, but he isn’t himself. He’s running on rage right now. And while I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that rage, I do worry that it could cloud his judgment. Why didn�
��t he just come and get us when he found King’s Ransom?”

  Sam let out another sigh as she readjusted her ponytail. “You know how he is. He thinks he has endangered us enough. He—”

  Before Sam could finish, her phone chirped a text alert.

  “It’s Xander.”

  She unlocked her phone and went to his message. Everyone else leaned toward her in anticipation.

  “What’s it say, is he all right?” Sarah asked.

  “Jail.”

  Kyle’s face scrunched in confusion. “Jail?”

  “Jail?” Sarah repeated. “What else?”

  “That’s it,” Sam said. “It only says the word Jail.”

  “You think he’s been arrested?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t know what else he could mean,” Sam answered.

  “What the hell?” Kyle squirmed in his seat. “If he’s been arrested, that’s good news for him, safety wise, but that is terrible for Natalie. Sam, do you know anyone in Paris?”

  “I do, but let’s just say, an ex-MI6 agent isn’t exactly a friend. More of a rival. I don’t think I can get far.”

  Sarah said, “I’ll call Director Hartsfield. The CIA is bound to know someone who can let Xander get a phone call to us at least.”

  Sam nodded. “Good idea. I’ll try Jack again, and Kyle, you give Marv a heads-up and get him working on this. Xander needs our help now more than ever. Whether he wants it or not.”