ALL ACTION THRILLER BOXSET: THREE MURRAY MCDONALD STANDALONE THRILLERS

by Murray Mcdonald

  “Shit!”

  “We’ll just have to knock and hope for the best,” offered Rebecca.

  “Yep. Ready?”

  Rebecca raised the Walter PPS and stood ready behind Sam.

  “Go!”

  As Sam raised his hand to knock, Rebecca suddenly remembered the keycard taken from the concierge. She grabbed Sam’s arm and inserted the card, the light turned green. It was a master keycard.

  Sam opened the door silently and moved into the vast lounge area. The two guards sat with their backs to the door, sitting in front of the TV. From the position of their heads hanging limply, they were obviously sound asleep. Sam crept towards them, waving for Rebecca to follow. It seemed these guys were even larger than the two at the door. Sam motioned for Rebecca to slide in behind the guy to the left, while he went behind the guard to the right. He mimed what he wanted to do. Rebecca shook her head. There was no way she’d manage if the guard woke up. But Sam insisted. She shrugged her shoulders and would give it a try. Unlike Sam, she kept the Walter PPS in her hand. If he moved, she would shoot, despite Sam’s protestations about not killing unless required.

  Sam went first. His right arm slipped round the massive neck, locked with his left arm on the other side and he placed his left hand on the guard’s head for leverage. As the guard struggled to comprehend what was happening, Sam squeezed and pulled the guard’s head down. Between the slumber and the strength of Sam’s hold, the guard drifted into an unconscious slumber.

  Rebecca, having about half the strength of Sam, was absolutely correct in her assumption that it was a ridiculous plan for her. As her arms took grasp, the guard woke up and easily dislodged her grip. Watching his colleague collapse, the guard spun towards Sam in a vain attempt to assist. Almost certain of her failure, Rebecca was ready, she grabbed the pillow, and placing it in front of her pistol fired, the bullet caught the diving guard in the one part of his body she could see above the back of the sofa, his ass, the pillow muffling the noise. He screamed as he crashed into his unconscious colleague, but despite the wound, he clambered up. This time, Rebecca aimed and heeding Sam’s words, shot the guard in the kneecap, eliciting an even greater scream, but stopping him in his tracks.

  An irate Lawson crashed through the bedroom doors to chastise his guards, only to find Sam kicking the screaming guard in the head and Rebecca pointing the small pistol at him, with a finger instructing his silence which she obtained instantly.

  As Sam’s kick knocked the fourth and final guard unconscious, he turned and admired the sight of Lawson as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. Sam left Rebecca to watch the three as he returned to the hallway and dragged the other two guards into the suite. Curtain-tie backs made excellent ropes and before long, the four guards were trussed up so well, it was going to take Houdini to undo the knots. Meanwhile, not one word had been uttered and a rather panic-stricken Lawson awaited his fate, still blissfully unaware of who had just dispatched his very capable and expensive security. Finally, as he pulled on the final knot and elicited a satisfactory “humph” from his captives, Sam turned to Lawson.

  “Mr. Lawson? James Lawson?”

  Lawson nodded his head. There was no point denying the obvious.

  “I met an employee of yours recently,” said Sam menacingly. “He wasn’t very nice. In fact, he wanted to kill my brother!”

  Lawson looked in horror, as he realized he was staring at Charles Baker’s brother.

  Lawson remained silent and Sam continued. “Obviously, I don’t take kindly to people trying to kill my family.”

  Lawson, still silent, now looked at the wall rather than Sam.

  “He’s dead. That’s how unkindly I take to people trying to kill my family.”

  “Fortunately for him, he had nothing to do with the death of my wife and son!”

  Lawson remained impassive.

  “So, his death was quick, relatively painless.”

  Lawson twitched nervously. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

  “Now, before you think all is lost, I will give you a promise. I won’t kill you, if you tell me everybody who’s involved in trying to kill my brother.”

  Lawson laughed as the futility of Sam’s quest hit him. He was still trying to save his brother.

  Sam looked at Rebecca. Rebecca suddenly realized why Lawson was laughing. She had, because of everything that had happened, forgotten to tell Sam about the bombing.

  “You poor fuck, you’ve come all this way to save a brother who’s already dead!” laughed Lawson.

  The words hit Sam like a sledgehammer and he slumped onto the sofa. He looked at Rebecca who, avoiding his gaze, moved towards him and embraced him.

  “Sam, it’s okay,” she offered and smiled at Lawson, picking up the phone on the nearby table and making a call. After a second, she handed the phone to Sam.

  “Hello?”

  Sam instantly recognized the voice, it was his sister-in-law.

  “Hi, how are you?” he asked solemnly.

  “Fine, is everything okay? You sound awful.”

  “God, I’m so sorry, I’ve just heard the news.”

  “What news?” she asked, suddenly realizing. “Oh yes, such a shame, massive heart attack, they think.”

  Sam was stunned at how well she was taking it, and the news that he had died naturally was just as shocking. Charles was a very healthy guy.

  Rebecca watched, worried as Sam’s mood failed to lift.

  “When did it happen?” he asked.

  “Hmm, not quite sure, hold on a sec…” she shouted “Charles!”

  Sam hardly heard the question about when the President had died. All he heard was that his brother was alive and well.

  Senator Charles Baker took the phone and spoke at length to his brother, assuring him he was fine. They had received a call on the cellphone his wife’s friend had given her when she was hiding in her friend’s lodge. The lodge she had been originally hiding in was highly secure and the call they had received was of course, meant for Beth’s friend. Nonetheless, the call from the alarm company that there were intruders on the grounds of the other lodge had spooked them all the same.

  Sam talked for a few more minutes before replacing the handset and turning to a far more subdued Lawson, who having heard the whole conversation, knew Charles Baker was very much alive and well.

  Rebecca pulled Sam from the room and apologized. She had forgotten to tell him about the explosion. She’d had to phone in their location, but gave the house where they’d picked his wife up, not their new location. It seemed there were very few people they could trust. However, it seemed like they thought the Senator was dead which was a bonus, she said with a smile. Sam was too elated to be angry. He walked back into the lounge and looked at his watch. It was 3:20 a.m., 9:20 p.m. in the US.

  “Okay, Lawson, you’ve got approximately ten seconds to start talking, or I’m going to end your life in so much pain, that you’ll be begging me to kill you for the next twelve hours.”

  Lawson was a man who told people what to do and he scoffed at Sam’s threat.

  Three second later, his little finger snapped like a dead twig and he began to talk. It was probably the first time in his life he had ever felt pain, thought Sam. Even he was surprised at how quickly Lawson talked.

  Sam listened as Rebecca noted down a total of six names, four names they had never heard before, one name they both instantly recognized, one that she had been ordered to protect, and one other that, Sam had known from the very start, had to be involved, Allan Johnson.

  Sam noticed a laptop lying nearby and opened it up. A videoconferencing page was the last thing to have been used and it gave Sam a wonderful idea. He booted up the system and selected the names that had been given from a drop down menu. Unfortunately, only four names were available. He clicked ‘conference call’ and waited as the system contacted the others.

  “What are you doing?” asked Rebecca, as she watched him play with the laptop.

 
; Sam disabled the camera and watched the screen as it offered a ‘waiting for attendees’ note in the middle of the screen. It took about five minutes before the four faces stared back at him, obviously waiting for Lawson’s face. After all, he had called them.

  Sam did not disappoint them and moved the laptop in front of Lawson and enabled the camera, revealing to the other four attendees, his rather disheveled and pained expression.

  “James, are you okay?” asked Walter Koch.

  “James!” asked John Mellon.

  Lawrence Harkness moved closer to the camera, obviously having noted there was something wrong with James and taking a closer look.

  “James, what’s happened?” asked William Hathaway.

  Sam switched on the mike and let Lawson speak.

  “Sam Baker’s here, his brother isn’t dead!” he announced. Sam stepped into view and waved at his audience.

  The four men stared back in horror.

  “I just wanted to say hi and let you know, that I’ll be paying each and every one of you a visit very soon.” Before they had a chance to respond, he raised the pistol and shot James Lawson in the stomach. A shot that he figured would not only ensure his death, but would take at least a couple of hours of total and complete agony.

  Sam stepped out of the camera’s view and beckoned for Rebecca to follow him as he exited the suite.

  “Why did you do that? We just lost the element of surprise!” she said, as they closed the door on Lawson’s cries of pain.

  Sam shrugged. The look on their faces and the panic they would now be experiencing was well worth it.

  Chapter 59

  “Mr. President, it’s Walter Koch, again,” said Honey. “He’s not going to give up, Sir.”

  “Okay, put him through.” Russell had avoided him all day, but he had called incessantly for the last thirty minutes.

  “For God’s sake, Walter, it’s 10pm. Will you please call me in the morning?” demanded the President.

  “Before you say another word, look at the link I just mailed you,” insisted Walter breathlessly.

  Having never, in the twenty years he had known Walter, heard him in such a state, Russell obliged and clicked the link.

  The live feed of the dying James Lawson shocked Russell to the core.

  “Jesus?!” He hit the disconnect button on the computer.

  “Sam Baker,” offered Walter, by way of explanation.

  “But, I thought we got him with his brother?”

  “We didn’t because we didn’t get his brother!” exclaimed Walter exasperated and panicking.

  “Sorry?”

  “You missed him, you idiot. And now he knows who we are and it seems pretty clear he’s coming for us next.”

  “Shit!” Russell thought back to Johnson’s warning and how if he wanted to kill the President, Sam was the man he’d get to do it.

  “Exactly. We’re obviously hoping you’ll offer us some assistance!”

  “Of course,” he said quickly. “I’ll get some men to you straight away. Will you let Lawrence and William know?”

  Walter suddenly realized there was a problem. John Mellon was also on the hit list, but not on the President’s radar. They’d have to cover John some other way. It was not time to admit to the plan about John Mellon becoming VP.

  “Fantastic, thank you, Mr. President.”

  “They’ll be there within the hour,” promised the President.

  Walter realized he had not mentioned one thing. “Sorry, they’re in Paris, Mr. President, so the next few hours will be okay.” He’d rather wait and get the best, than the first few men that came to hand.

  “What, James is sitting, dying in Paris as we speak?”

  “Yes!”

  “Have you not called an ambulance or a doctor?”

  “We don’t know where he is, we just know he’s in Paris!”

  “Dear God!” Although, the more he thought about it, the more he thought it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. James Lawson was a particularly unpleasant man.

  As President, he could probably pass the videoconference link onto the NSA and they’d track him down, but he also didn’t want to tie himself to Lawson’s death in any way. He closed his laptop and began to worry about himself, not some old cantankerous prick that was beyond saving in any event.

  He called Johnson. He had missed again and as a result, he would need to get the men to cover the remaining Horsemen. He then called the Secret Service and requested that his own security be doubled. Thinking better of the request, he trebled it.

  Chapter 60

  Sam and Rebecca arrived at Charles de Gaulle in plenty of time to catch the first transatlantic flight of the day, the 8:20 Air France to New York. While Rebecca went to buy two tickets, Sam wondered what had happened. The airport had taken on the look of a refugee camp. Sleeping bodies were strewn everywhere and queues seemed to stretch off in every direction. He checked his watch. It was 5:30 a.m. Rebecca returned and Sam could see she was sporting a quizzical look similar to his own.

  “There’s not a plane available for a week!”

  “Sorry?” Sam was certain he had misheard her.

  “Every single transatlantic flight is full for the next forty-eight hours.”

  “But you said a week?”

  “Yep, and then, there aren’t any!” she said bewildered.

  “What the hell do you mean, there aren’t any?!”

  “Something about a solar flare. All planes are being grounded for the rest of the week.”

  “Jesus, we could take the train to London…”

  “No, all flights across the world are being stopped,” she interrupted, realizing she hadn’t explained fully.

  “I’ll call Ben,” she offered.

  “Would that be the same Ben that gave up the address of where my sister-in-law had been hiding?”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

  “Ben?”

  “Rebecca, I’m sorry I don’t have much time, I need to get to a meeting.”

  Rebecca quickly explained the predicament. Five minutes later, she received a call back. They had two first class seats on the American Airlines flight leaving at 11.05 a.m. to JFK.

  “Excellent,” announced Sam, making his way to the executive lounge. There was just enough time for a shower and a good breakfast before they boarded.

  ***

  The US Secretary of Transportation had relayed Ben’s request directly to the CEO of American Airlines, despite the late hour. As ever, the request was granted. Two American Airlines crew were going to be spending a little more time in Paris than they had thought, and two ‘Million Miles’ members weren’t going to get the free upgrade they had craved and was grudgingly awarded by the airline.

  The conversation, despite the unsocial hour, was business-like and as it came to an end, the Secretary expected at least some reference to the upcoming grounding of the aviation industry, but it never came. The Secretary of Transportation sat back in his chair and stared at the phone. For days he had sat, waiting for the onslaught from the airline chiefs, but it had never happened. Four or five days’ grounding of all their flights had hardly elicited a squeak from them, despite the fact, he knew they were being lambasted by the public at large. It just didn’t make sense. The volcanic ash debacle had cost him nights of sleep when every transatlantic carrier had stormed his office by mail, phone, and in person. His own scientists were telling him that the chance of any issues occurring, as a result of a solar storm, were around one in a billion, but the papers and all the media were convinced it was a cataclysmic event that would bring planes down. As such, they had no option but to go with the majority, and like every other air traffic control network around the world, they had to close their skies.

  Was he missing something? Despite the hour, he called the CEO of American Airlines back. He had to know what was going on.

  “Chris, I’m sorry to call again.”

  “Not at all,
Mr. Secretary.”

  “I just wondered, when the ash thing happened, you were almost camped on my doorstep.”

  “Yep, cost us millions!”

  “But, surely the solar storm is the same?”

  “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely not? Why would you say that?”

  The US Secretary listened in disbelief, before thanking the CEO profusely and arranging his driver to take him to the White House, first thing in the morning.

  ***

  At 7:00 a.m., the Secretary of Transportation waited in the anteroom for the Oval Office for his President. He had been there since 6:30 a.m., and the President had been informed of his arrival.

  “Come on in,” he offered as he entered the office.

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “I can’t say that I’m surprised to see you. I’d imagine it’s chaos over at transportation,” said the President, offering the Secretary a seat on the sofa across from him.

  “That’s why I’m here, Mr. President. I’m here because it’s not chaos.”

  “Sorry?” Russell had lived through the ash storm and as VP with the President’s ear, he had received almost as many calls as the Secretary of Transportation had.

  “Exactly. However, I got a call from Ben Meir this morning. He needed a couple of seats on a plane. I called the CEO of American and managed to get a couple of seats for him, but at no point, did the CEO moan about the solar storm. Then it hit me full on, nobody’s moaning about the grounding. Well, a few from some small companies, but none of the big boys; American, Delta, United, Continental, not a peep. Not one mention of lost revenue, disaster, bankruptcy, nothing!”

  “None of them?” questioned Russell, having spoken to them all, at least three times a day during the ash crisis. He was stunned and the ash crisis had hardly impacted America, mainly just Transatlantic flights.