Death to America (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #4)

by Kennedy, J. Robert

  Starling laughed heartily as the door opened.

  “Mr. President, they’re ready for you now.”

  Starling nodded then shook the hands of the Bravo Team members that had helped save him. “It’s too bad—what was his name, Agent White?—couldn’t be here.”

  Niner lowered his voice. “He doesn’t really exist.”

  Starling nodded, tapping his nose. “Of course he doesn’t.”

  Dawson and the others saluted, Starling returning it then heading to meet the press, free once again.

  Chris Leroux & Sherrie White Residence, Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

  Kane tapped on the door, it opening almost instantly, a beaming Leroux standing there to greet him.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were expecting me.”

  Leroux gave him a hug, an uncharacteristic hug, Leroux not one for human contact from Kane’s experience. Leroux didn’t say anything, instead just holding on. Kane patted his friend’s back. “It’s good to see you too, buddy.”

  “Thanks for saving her,” cracked Leroux’s voice, and Kane knew his friend was crying, still hanging on so Kane wouldn’t see his face. He decided to save him.

  “You’re welcome, buddy.” He turned opposite Leroux’s face, giving him a chance to break away and wipe his eyes. “I don’t think you’ve met Miss Lee Fang.”

  Leroux smiled, his eyes red and shook Fang’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I understand in no small part thanks to you.”

  Leroux shrugged, not one to take a compliment well. “I played a small part.”

  They stepped into the living area of the apartment to find Sherrie lying on the couch, her face swollen, bruises covering much of her body, her left leg in a cast. “Rough day at the office?” asked Kane.

  She flipped him the bird, wincing. “That hurt, but it was worth it, asshole.”

  Kane roared in laughter as he and Fang sat down.

  “Can I get you anything?” asked Leroux.

  “Scotch for me. Glen Breton Ice, on the rocks.”

  Leroux frowned. “I’m not sure I have that.”

  Kane pointed toward the kitchen where Leroux kept the liquor. “Top shelf on the right, in the back.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed as he stepped into the open concept kitchen, reaching into the back of the cupboard and producing a bottle. He held it up. “How the hell did this get here?”

  Kane winked at Sherrie. “You guys are heavy sleepers.”

  Leroux poured Kane a glass, shaking his head. “Are we all allowed to partake in this smuggled scotch, or is this just for you.”

  Kane shrugged. “I guess I’ll share for today. But if you guys finish it, replace it for the next time I’m here. I don’t want to have to wait for you two to fall asleep before I can leave next time.”

  Leroux blushed and Sherrie laughed. “You’re a perv!”

  “Absolutely!”

  “What’s a perv?” asked Fang.

  “If you spend enough time with him, you’ll find out,” said Sherrie, taking her scotch and wincing as she took a sip of the Glen Breton. “That’s good!”

  “Nothing but the best for me and my friends,” said Kane. He looked at his watch. “Oh, I hope you don’t have any friends at Kunlun, Fang.”

  She shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

  “Good. Your government would have just got their ten minute warning.”

  “Warning for what?”

  “We’ve got half a dozen hypersonic weapons about to obliterate that complex. They’re already in the air as we speak.”

  “What are those?” asked Sherrie.

  “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” laughed Kane.

  “Well, I can tell you,” said Leroux. “Conventional Prompt Global Strike. They’re an experimental hypersonic weapon that can reach a target anywhere in the world within sixty minutes. They’re basically a massive warhead that uses explosives and kinetic energy to obliterate a target. Half a dozen of them should level the complex and destroy any F-35 parts that might be there. A rapid response without needing to use nukes.”

  “You’re not worried about retaliation?” asked Fang.

  Kane shook his head. “No. Langley sent them the footage I took from inside their complex and the President told them that if they reported anything other than an earthquake, there’d be hell to pay.”

  Sherrie sat up, yelping then waving off an ever attentive Leroux. “It’s too bad you killed Booker. I wanted him for myself.”

  “Sorry, but I need all requests in at least fifteen minutes before my own kill opportunity. Besides, I think BD technically killed him.”

  “I’ll thank him next time I see him.”

  “So what’s going to happen to you?” asked Leroux, looking at Fang.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I can’t go back to China. Your government has agreed to provide me with a new identity and a pension in thanks for trying to save President Bridges. I only regret that I wasn’t able to.”

  “You did your best,” said Kane. He turned to her. “If you’re not doing anything, how about you join me in Costa Rica for a few days. I’m going for some R and R.”

  “R and R?”

  “Rest and Relaxation,” answered Sherrie.

  “Nope, Rum and Rubdowns.”

  “Oy!” exclaimed Sherrie. “Be careful with this one, he’ll break your heart.”

  Fang blushed noticeably, looking away and Kane smiled as he felt a warmth inside him at the thought this beautiful woman might actually like him. And what scared him was it wasn’t just a sexual attraction.

  There was an awkward pause for a moment when Leroux saved them all.

  “I wonder what ever happened to General Thorne?”

  Unknown Location

  “You failed us, General.”

  The voice was disembodied, deep, the reverberation in the room as the man spoke adding an almost menacing quality. He had been held for hours, if not more. He was tired and sore and had been in this chair the entire time since being abducted. The moment the hood had been removed he had recognized the meeting place immediately. He had been here once before, four years ago, when he had first conceived of his plan.

  A plan he had told almost no one of, yet somehow they knew.

  They knew everything.

  He had been picked up one night from the Pentagon, his regular driver apparently sick. But that wasn’t the case, the driver activating some sort of knockout gas that had him out in seconds, unable to escape, the doors locked.

  He had awoken in this very room, a large round table seating about a dozen men and women, all cloaked in the shadows, none of their faces visible to him.

  They had called themselves The Assembly.

  He had never heard of them but they were apparently powerful. Very powerful. And they claimed ancient, but he couldn’t prove that. All his attempts to find out who they were had failed, and those attempts were few. A note on his wife’s pillow one night had been succinct and terrifying.

  ‘Stop asking questions.’

  “Failure will not be tolerated. We told you that from the beginning.” It was a woman’s voice this time.

  “But I didn’t fail,” he said, his mind reeling as he tried to figure out some way to get out of this alive. “I did gain power, I did implement the changes you wanted.”

  “Yet you are here.”

  “Send me back so I can continue.”

  “All was lost the moment you failed to contain the CNN broadcast. You should have shut down all news broadcasters as we ordered.”

  “But it would have raised suspicions!”

  “Raised suspicions are always better than the unwelcome truth. If the broadcasters had been shut down, the American people would never have seen the footage of their President under arrest.”

  The woman’s voice returned. “You should have killed him as we instructed you to.”

  Another voice. “If you had followed our instruction
s to the letter, we would still be in control of the country.”

  Thorne leaned forward. “But I thought you already were in control? You told me you controlled everything.”

  “We said no such thing!” yelled the woman, her voice sounding almost defensive, her control however quickly returning. “We influence everything over time, but sometimes we need to take direct action to protect our interests.”

  “And this is such a time,” said the first man. “And you have failed us.”

  “But you were supposed to control the CIA!” cried Thorne.

  “They reacted too quickly and their operative was simply too capable.”

  “Their analyst too,” added the woman. “Perhaps it’s time we put an end to his meddling.”

  “He has been looking into our affairs far too closely as of late,” agreed the man, Thorne sitting back in his chair, wondering who they were talking about. The conversation was terrifyingly revealing, which could mean only one thing.

  He wasn’t going to be alive long enough for it to matter whether or not he heard it.

  The conversation paused, then the first man spoke. “Your work for us is done, General Thorne.”

  “Wh-what does that mean?”

  He felt something jab into his neck from behind then a sudden warmth spread through his body as things slowly turned to a fog.

  “You are fortunate we kill our failed operatives humanely, General,” said the woman. Her voice changed, as if no longer concerned with him as he felt his heart pound in his chest, slower and slower. “Now, what should we do about these problems?”

  The first man spoke, the words fading into the background of white noise.

  “Perhaps it’s time to eliminate Agent Kane and Mr. Leroux.”

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For those of you who have read my books over the years, you know I am hugely pro-military. I love our troops and think they are the finest men and women our countries have to offer. This book should not be misinterpreted as being anti-military. As I was careful to try and illustrate, there were few actual military officers involved in the conspiracy. The military involved in securing the streets, rounding up the Muslim population and violating territorial integrity were doing so under lawful orders, or at least orders that were lawful at the time under martial law. Remember, the President and Congress had requested General Thorne take over, and the men and women under his command then began to secure their country from a threat only those few involved knew was from within. Private security was used for the truly heinous acts.

  In no way should any of what was written be interpreted as anti-military, but should anyone have felt it was, I apologize for that wasn’t the intent. Just as with any organization, there will always be bad apples, but as with most groups, one bad apple does not spoil the whole bunch.

  Now a little fun anecdote. When my daughter was about five or six, her cousin, about a year younger, came to visit for a couple of days. It was a two hour drive one way to return her and the two girls were being a little rambunctious in the backseat. I was getting a little annoyed so I proposed the sleeping game. Within five minutes both were snoring away for the rest of the drive.

  It’s a miracle game that unfortunately doesn’t work on teenagers.

  And since I’m giving out free parenting tips, for those of you with young ones trying to learn to ride a bike, here’s one that my late friend Paul Conway told me (it being passed on to him by another father). The keys to learning to ride a bike are balance and confidence. Remove the training wheels and remove the pedals. Have your kid sit on the bike and use their feet to propel the bike forward. If they begin to lose balance, they just lower their feet (since there’s no pedals to put their feet on, they won’t fall). As they learn to balance, they’ll pick up more and more speed, and they’ll gain confidence, getting over their fear of falling. When they’re ready they’ll ask for the pedals to be put back on.

  My daughter had been on training wheels for months, too scared to have them come off. I came home after hearing this story, removed the training wheels and pedals, told her what to do, and left her in the driveway. Two hours later she asked for the pedals to be put on then promptly rode up and down the street for the next two hours.

  Every single child that has used this technique (that I’ve heard about) has been biking within no more than a day or two, usually within hours.

  Of course in these litigious times I am not suggesting you try this, in fact I discourage it wholeheartedly. I’m just telling you what worked for my child. If you do decide to try it, keep your lawyers on their leash should little Tommy still scrape a knee.

  And that ends the parenting portion of my presentation.

  As usual there are people to thank. Chief "Gramps" Michael and Fred Newton for their naval expertise, Brent Richards for weapons and tactics info, Joanne Sisetsky for some info on her hometown of Moose Jaw (yes, it’s a real place!) and of course my dad for research. As always thanks to my wife, daughter, parents and friends for their continued support.

  And to those who have not already done so, please visit my website at www.jrobertkennedy.com then sign up for the Insiders Club. You’ll get emails about new book releases, new collections, sales, etc.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has written over twenty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series, the first installment of which, The Protocol, has been on the bestsellers list since its release, including a three month run at number one. In addition to the other novels from this series including The Templar's Relic, a USA Today bestseller and #1 overall bestseller on Barnes & Noble, he writes the bestselling Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers, the Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers, and the Detective Shakespeare Mysteries. Robert lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.

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