Imprisoned: A Jason King Thriller (Jason King Series Book 2)

by Matt Rogers

  Raul had emerged from one of the side rooms, still brandishing his own rifle. The HK417’s stock rested on his shoulder. His eyes were wide. He’d been ready to fire.

  ‘All clear,’ King said.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if he saw me,’ Raul said. ‘I ducked into the room. I was about to shoot him when I heard you two speaking. Some kind of truce?’

  ‘Not anymore.’

  Raul glanced at the railing that the body had disappeared over. ‘Clearly not.’

  ‘Where is Rico likely to be?’

  Raul’s face paled. ‘I … I don’t know. Upstairs. I know he has an office up there somewhere.’ He trailed off, staring into space, eyes tearing. ‘Fuck, man … what if we don’t find him? What if they’re dead?’

  King slapped him across the face — distracting him from what-ifs — and took his rifle. ‘We don’t know that yet. Until we do, pull yourself together. He could be anywhere.’

  The pair took off running, taking the stairs three at a time, ascending the gargantuan stairwell. Around them, the structure groaned. The opioids still flooding into King masked the pain in his ribs just enough to enable full function. They would wear off eventually, and then the waves of agony would begin. He would have to move fast.

  As they ran, King felt a sense of dread creeping into his chest. Whether from the eerie sounds of the long-dormant cruise ship and the unnerving nature of their surroundings, or the fact that they were likely heading for a pair of dead bodies that would change Raul’s life. King hoped to hell that there would be a different outcome. He couldn’t imagine losing everyone dear to him in the course of a single day.

  Their rasping breath echoed off the steel walls. There were no other sounds except for the clanging of their feet against the steps. If Rico was around, he would hear them coming from a mile away, but they had no time to employ the benefits of a stealthy approach. Roman’s interference had cost them what little time they had.

  It had also raised a dozen new questions.

  If José is running a rival gang, then what on earth was he doing visiting Raul’s family?

  There wasn’t time to mull over the technicalities. They could do that later. King shot a glance down one of the many corridors branching off the stairwell, just as he had done for the last dozen. All were entirely unoccupied. The sheer size of the ship began to dawn on him. There could be an army of Movers living within and there would be little chance of him stumbling upon one of them.

  Then he noticed a flash of movement heading through a doorway. It occurred at the edge of his peripheral vision. Someone darting into a room. A leg disappearing from sight.

  ‘There,’ King said quietly, and exited the stairwell into a corridor that was well into the process of falling apart. There was much more natural light up here. It poured in through the windows in each room, which he guessed faced out over the shipyard. He assumed the movement he’d seen had been Rico, darting into his office or personal living quarters.

  He kept the HK417 trained on the space in front of him. Any sudden movements would warrant a reaction the instant he recognised them as hostile. He approached the doorway very slowly. Raul stayed behind him, quiet as a mouse, his heart more than likely pounding in his chest. The next few seconds would answer a lot.

  King tapped into his reflexes, recalling memories of hundreds of hostage rescue situations he’d been through in the past. He knew how shaky the situations were. One stray bullet would spell complete failure. Raul would be even more devastated if King accidentally shot a loved one in the process of trying to save them.

  He would not let that happen.

  He paused by the doorway and listened for any sounds from within.

  Nothing.

  He took a deep breath. Employed tunnel vision. Checked Raul’s position, verifying that he was out of the line of fire. Then he spun into the room as fast as he could, taking in all his surroundings in the blink of an eye, sizing up the threats…

  … of which there were none.

  Rico sat on the surface of an enormous oak desk in the middle of the large room. Behind him, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a balcony that faced out over the shipyard. Far below, battle raged. King heard it in the form of relentless gunfire and saw a few dozen muzzle flashes, flaring over the dock. Small figures darted to and fro amidst the haphazard cover that had been erected in the form of spare vehicles.

  No battle raged in the room.

  Because Rico was unarmed.

  He sat cross-legged, staring at them with a resigned smile of acceptance.

  ‘What?’ he said as the two of them entered the room.

  He was the room’s sole occupant. There was no sign of Raul’s mother, or his sister. No sign of other Movers.

  Rico noticed them searching the room for signs of life and laughed cruelly.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, and raised a finger in Raul’s direction, pointing at him. ‘That’s right. Your dearest loved ones. Did you really think I ever had them?’

  Cold silence descended over the room.

  CHAPTER 46

  ‘Where are they?’ Raul whispered, his voice cold.

  Rico waved a hand around the room. ‘Not here. They never were.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Raul repeated.

  Rico made to answer, and then noticed something. He stared long and hard at the HK417 King had trained on him, barrel pointed directly at the drug lord’s face. He paused, thinking. Then his eyes widened. ‘José sold you that?’

  ‘He didn’t sell us anything,’ King said. ‘He used us to front the assault out there. Turns out he’s in bed with your competition. He was never loyal to you.’

  Rico turned and looked out the window at the carnage below. He shook his head, almost in disbelief. ‘No shit. So that’s what brought me down. Crazy world.’

  ‘It’s over, Rico,’ King said. ‘Just tell us where you’re keeping them.’

  Rico turned back to them. ‘Oh — you don’t get it?’

  ‘Get what?’

  ‘José isn’t loyal to anyone. Especially not you.’

  ‘How so?’ King said.

  Rico looked past him, locking eyes with Raul, speaking directly to him. ‘Who do you think I sent to kill your mother and sister yesterday? The man who knew them. Who trusted them. That way it was easy. They just went along with everything he told them to do. They happily followed him to the middle of nowhere. Then he shot them. And I paid him well for it.’

  Before King could process the new information, he heard a thump behind him. He turned, keeping Rico in his sight the entire time. He saw Raul on the floor, his legs buckled, his face whiter than King had ever seen it before.

  The man’s feet had given out from underneath him as he heard the news.

  Raul stared at Rico with more hate than King thought humanly possible. The man had been clinging to a shred of hope the entire time. Now it was gone. He’d lost everyone close to him. He was struggling to process it.

  He would be for a while.

  King’s stomach sank and he turned back to Rico, who leered at the utter hopelessness of their situation. He relished their failure. Even though his operation had been destroyed, he’d still had the last laugh.

  ‘Why don’t you put the gun down?’ he said to King. ‘Why don’t we settle this man to man? You seem eager to hurt me. Do it with your fists. I didn’t get the opportunity to prove myself in El Infierno. You caught me by surprise. Let’s see who really would come out on top.’

  ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ King said.

  ‘I would.’

  ‘The two of us settling our score the old-fashioned way?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Shame this isn’t the movies.’

  He unloaded thirty rounds into Rico’s skull and chest and stomach and legs. The man was dead within three shots, but King continued to hold the trigger down, letting out the anger flooding his veins. The shots tore through soft skin and sent geysers of blood arcing across the room. As Rico fell bac
k over the desk, carried by the momentum of the shots, an automatic pistol spilled out of his belt. He’d had a hand around the weapon. Even in his last moments, he’d tried to manipulate King.

  King had decided he wouldn’t give him the chance.

  Blood swished over the surface of the desk, spilling across the oak. Emptying the clip of such a powerful weapon in the confined space would normally result in temporary hearing loss, but King had found himself in the midst of such an incomprehensible amount of automatic weapons fire over the last hour that for a moment he wasn’t sure if his hearing would ever properly return.

  With Rico dead, the only sound in the room came from Raul. A helpless sobbing, racked with pain and dread. King turned and crouched and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  ‘Hey.’

  The man was inconsolable. He stared vacantly at the ground, completely tuned out. King gripped his shoulder a little harder.

  ‘Hey,’ he said again.

  Raul looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his lip quivering. He was a mess.

  ‘It’s going to feel like your whole world has ended,’ King said. ‘But it hasn’t. It’s going to be hell for months. I’ve seen almost all of my close friends die on the battlefield. It feels like everything is pointless and that you’ll never recover and that there’s no point to living anymore, so why not just join them? I’ve had the same exact thoughts. And I’m telling you … it gets better. Okay?’

  Raul said nothing. King didn’t expect him to. In this moment there would be absolutely nothing that would change the way he felt. But hopefully, somewhere down the line, he could begin to move on.

  King knew he could.

  He was tough. Tough enough to survive a gruelling spell in one of Venezuela’s toughest prisons. He would get through this. Some way. Somehow.

  King scooped a hand under Raul’s arm and hauled him to his feet. The man could grieve when they were safe. Right now, they were still in a warzone.

  He started to reach for Raul’s pants leg with his other hand, about to switch to a fireman’s carry, unsure if he could support himself.

  ‘I can walk,’ Raul whispered.

  King nodded and let go of him. He needed his space.

  King gathered the empty HK417 and pulled a fresh round of his rear pocket. He ejected the old magazine and slammed another thirty-round clip home.

  They’d need it if they hoped to make it through a gang war alive.

  Before they left the room, he took one last look out Rico’s office window at the shootout still unfolding on the shipyard’s dock. If José was down there somewhere, King would make sure he ripped the man’s throat out for what he’d done. He’d slaughtered Raul’s family in cold-blood at the request of a man who he planned to usurp, and then used Raul and King like pawns to ensure he achieved his own self-interests.

  King tightened a finger around the HK’s trigger and made for the stairwell.

  The corridor was desolate. It seemed every Mover in the vicinity was out on the dock, attempting to stem the wave of attackers. Likely failing, given Roman and José’s effective strategy. Even King hadn’t wised up to how he was being manipulated.

  Raul followed him down the corridor and out into the stairwell. As King stepped into the space, he turned to descend.

  And found three automatic weapons aimed his way.

  All three men were Spanish. Two were thugs, sporting similar neck tattoos and wearing sleeveless vests that exposed muscular arms devoid of fat. The veins running along their forearms bulged as they clutched their weapons. They were high off the thrill of combat.

  King wondered if they were Movers, and considered the possibility that their gun barrels might be the last sight he ever saw.

  Then his gaze drifted to the third man, who noted King and Raul’s presence with a satisfied nod of acknowledgement.

  José.

  CHAPTER 47

  ‘Nice to see you two again,’ he said. Then he noted the expression on Raul’s face, and paused. ‘What happened?’

  ‘What the hell do you think happened?’ King said.

  He kept his rifle remained pointed at the ground, and there it would stay. If he tried to raise it in the midst of such a tense standoff, he would wind up dotted with lead. That was an outcome he would prefer to avoid.

  ‘We made it through the Movers’ forces,’ José said. ‘We came up here to kill Rico.’

  ‘Way ahead of you,’ King said.

  He screamed internally. He’d never been so determined to make an attempt on a man’s life until now. José deserved nothing more than a shallow grave.

  ‘Are you surprised I’m still here?’ José said. His voice stayed composed. Calm. Rational.

  ‘Things clicked a while ago,’ King said. ‘Your partner is dead.’

  ‘Roman’s dead?’ José said, and for a moment he bowed his head. ‘We knew the risks trying something like this. Casualties were inevitable.’

  ‘Was he close to you?’

  ‘We were close, yes.’

  ‘Good. I threw him over a railing. If you go down twenty storeys you might see what’s left of his body.’

  José paused. Blood rushed to his face. A vein protruded from his forehead. ‘Why the fuck would you do that?’

  ‘That’s rich coming from you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We know what you did,’ King said. ‘Raul’s family. You piece of shit.’

  José’s eyes widened as he recognised what was causing Raul such distress. ‘Oh, of course… I assume Rico told you I killed them?’

  King heard a noise behind him, like a foot scuffing along the ground. He realised that Raul was about to explode off his feet, making a suicidal charge. King held out a hand, open-palmed, urging the man to stay put. It would be no use killing himself while trying to avenge his family.

  Raul stayed put.

  At least for now.

  ‘I’m not the monster you think I am,’ José said.

  ‘Oh?’ King said.

  ‘It’s true that I used you,’ José said. ‘I saw an opportunity to create a distraction that would help us in our attack. So if you want to argue that I recklessly threw you into the firing line, then fine. But it was your choice to come here. You were going to do it, no matter what I said. If I’d turned you away, you would have found another way to carry out an attack. I could see it in your eyes the second you stepped foot on my property. So yes, I lied to you. And yes, I deal drugs. I enjoy money. I provide a service to the addicts of Maiquetía that a million other people just like me would be happy to do. And I lied to my main client and used the inside knowledge he provided of his operation to approach the competition and plan a takeover of his business. If you have a problem with that, then go right ahead and kill me. I’ll give you my own gun to do so. But I’m not a heartless fiend.’

  ‘You took his family away and shot them in cold blood,’ King said. ‘How can you possibly be trying to defend yourself?’

  ‘Because that’s not what happened.’

  ‘That’s what Rico said.’

  ‘Of course it is. That’s the story I told him.’

  King paused. ‘What?’

  ‘Why do you think my number was in their apartment?’

  ‘Because you were helping them. And they trusted you. Which is why Rico told you to kill them. Because it would be easy.’

  ‘You’re right. It would have been, if I’d decided to.’

  Raul let out a whimper. It was a guttural noise filled with confusion and an underlying tone of hope. Maybe there was a possibility that…

  ‘I swear to fucking God,’ King said, ‘that if you’re lying to us, I’ll personally rip your head off.’

  ‘Use common sense,’ José said. ‘If I really was the person you think I am, I’d have shot you the second I saw you. It wouldn’t have taken much effort. In fact, I’m still tempted to. You killed my business partner. And a close friend.’

  ‘A close friend who left me to die in the worst pr
ison in the country.’

  ‘Noted,’ José said. ‘Which is why I’m letting you live. All’s fair in war. But now the war’s over. Most of the Movers are dead. We control the shipyard. We’ll comb the city over the next few weeks and pick off the rest. But that’s none of your concern. If you want to wage a war against drug gangs in Venezuela, you’ll be here for the rest of your life.’

  ‘That’s not my concern,’ King said.

  ‘Good,’ José said. ‘Rico was your concern. Now he’s dead. Raul’s family was your concern. So here you are…’

  He reached into his back pocket. King hesitated, tensing up. If José came out with a gun, he would raise his own HK417 and unload. It would create a blazing roar of gunfire from all sides and every man in the stairwell would die in the crossfire. But it was better than José having the last laugh. This way, his forces would be leaderless. They would fall apart. Their meticulous planning would have all been for nothing.

  King would die, but he would die satisfied.

  But José did not produce a weapon. He produced a keychain. Four indistinguishable gold keys were attached to it alongside a plastic replica bullet.

  ‘What is this?’ King said.

  José looked at him long and hard. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t.’

  ‘I know I shouldn’t. But I do. Which is why I’m giving you these.’

  He tossed the set of keys over. King took a hand off the HK417 — foolish in hindsight — and caught them. José could have shot him right then. Caught him off guard. Put a round through his skull. Finish the job.

  But he didn’t.

  ‘Once again,’ King said. ‘What is this?’

  ‘Those are the keys to my house.’

  ‘Why the hell are you giving me the keys to your house?’

  ‘There’s a couple of people staying there that Raul needs to see.’

  King’s eyes widened. He made to respond, then thought better of it. He simply nodded. If what José told him was true, then King could most definitely see the situation from his perspective. In fact, most of his actions were entirely forgivable if Raul’s family were indeed unharmed.