Power Move (Alexander King Book 4)

by Bradley Wright

  “I don’t like that face,” she said. “What the hell is going on?”

  Then Sam ducked her head so she could see the sign on the building through the window on King’s right. And when she saw it, she wasn’t happy.

  “We’re not going in there.”

  “We have to.”

  “No, we do not have to, Xander. And we’re not. I’m not. Why can’t you just leave well enough alone?”

  “Can I be honest?” King said.

  “Could I stop you?”

  “No. And honestly, the way you are trying so hard to avoid what your late husband left for you makes me want to know what it is even more.”

  Sam folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. “I know this will come as a shock, but the world doesn’t revolve around Alexander King, and it just so happens that I don’t give a damn what you want.”

  “Come on, Sam. I never ask you for anything.”

  “You literally ask me for everything. I’ve nearly given a decade to your whims. Now this is my life, the part that has nothing to do with you, and I’d like you to kindly stay out of it. Someone is waiting for us to meet with them, it’s rude to keep them waiting.”

  “I postponed the meeting, Sam. We have nothing else to do. If you don’t want to see what is in that safe deposit box left to you by the undead, just take me in there with you and I’ll open it. You don’t even have to look.”

  Sam released a heavy sigh. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Because, all we ever do is work. We never stop to have a little fun. And a mystery box from a husband none of us ever knew about, that you desperately don’t want us to open, sounds about as intriguing and fun as it gets.”

  Sam looked down at her watch, then stared out her window. “Mark my words, this is a terrible idea.”

  “Noted. And I’ll take full responsibility if it is.”

  Sam opened her door while looking back at King. “No you won’t. You never do.”

  King took the dig in stride as he exited the car. He was so excited he nearly forgot to tip the driver. When he turned to catch up to Sam, a man nearly ran him over. The two bounced off each other, but the jogger just spun and continued on his way. King looked before turning this time, and when he caught back up to Sam who’d walked on without him, she was answering her cell phone.

  “It’s Director Lucas,” Sam said. She answered the call and put it on speaker. “This is Sam.”

  “Sam, Director Lucas. Just giving you a call back.”

  “Hello, Robert. Xander is here with me. Did you got my voice mail?”

  Lucas responded, but neither Sam nor King could hear him due to the street noise.

  “I can’t hear you, hold on just a second.”

  King rushed over and opened the door to the bank. Sam stepped inside the massive lobby, and he followed. They walked over to the corner of the room away from the people inside.

  “Try it now,” Sam said.

  “I said I did get your voice mail, and I can’t talk about the subject. You know full well there are plenty of classified things that go on here that I can’t talk to you about. Especially now that you both are no longer employed by the CIA.”

  “Hey, Robert,” King spoke up. “No problem. We’ll just let the list of undercover agents get uncovered. But don’t call us to clean up your mess.”

  “What are you talking about?” Director Lucas’s voice went to a hush.

  Sam fielded the question. “We’re running down a lead a former contact has given us that caused us great concern. Multiple agents’ identities could be involved.”

  “Multiple? Is that why you’re asking me about a clandestine group?”

  “If what we’ve heard is true, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Unless of course you are the one shopping the names of undercover agents.”

  “If there is such a group, I still can’t tell you about it. This is a matter of national security.”

  “No shit, Robert.” King was annoyed. “That’s why we called you. To help secure the nation.”

  “You know you have a real smart mouth, King,” Lucas said.

  “Listen,” Sam said. “If you can’t tell us, then we’ll drop it. But my suggestion is, if there is such a program being run right now, with multiple agents from the US and abroad, you’d better bring them in. All of them. Because if we know about this list, so do plenty of others who only mean harm.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Sam. Undercover agents can’t be pulled on a what-if. We will lose our progress where they are embedded, and worse, they could be killed.”

  It was King’s turn. “Sounds like you need a team of experts who could help find the person with the list before anything happens to the agents.”

  Director Lucas was quiet.

  “Not on this call,” he finally said. “Get to a secure line. I’ll text you a number to my secure line. Give me till four o’clock eastern time to gather some info.”

  “Talk to you at four,” Sam said as she ended the call.

  The two of them looked at each other, then shrugged. King let a wry smile grow.

  “So what do you think is going to be in the deposit box?” King said. “A ring? A wad of cash? Maybe a treasure map?”

  “You’re a child.”

  “Come on. If we’re going to do this, at least have some fun with it.”

  “It’s more likely to be a massive debt he’s left me. That or a lump of coal. He always thought he was funnier than he was.”

  “A practical joke?” King said. “Nah, you wouldn’t marry someone with a sense of humor, Sam. It’s beneath you.”

  Sam rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “Are we not even going to talk about the fact that Kyle and Dbie are sleeping together?”

  The man who gave Sam the envelope yesterday at the graveyard perked up when he saw her, and began walking their way.

  “Old news, Sammy,” King said. “Let’s stay in the moment.”

  “Ms. Harrison, I’m so happy you’ve decided to come and see me.”

  “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

  The man took back his hand that he’d extended for a shake, then turned toward his desk. “Of course. Follow me.”

  Sam and King did as he asked, and they watched him grab a key from his desk. He waved them on, and they all walked past the lobby, through a door being watched by an armed guard, and on toward a vault. At the last moment, the man took them right, down a hallway, and into a small room.

  “Wait here, please, and I’ll bring your box. I’ll only be a moment.”

  Sam took a seat on the small love seat. King followed and sat beside her. The only other thing in the room with dark red wallpaper and dark hardwood floors was a coffee table. Sam waited patiently, but she could tell by the way King’s leg was anxiously shaking up and down that he was not. He was excited, but she couldn’t wait to just see what it was and have this little side attraction over with.

  6

  After a fairly long several minutes the banker came back into the room holding a metal box and a set of keys.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  He set the box down on the table beside Sam and handed her a key.

  “Since it was in Thomas’s will that the key be left to you upon his death, we are allowed to let you have the key.”

  Sam didn’t care about the reasons she was able to open the box; she just wanted to satisfy Xander so they could move on. She took the key from the banker and placed it in the keyhole without turning it. She looked up at the banker and stared.

  “Oh, yes. I’ll leave you to it then.” He stepped outside the room and slid the curtain shut.

  “All right, let’s get this over with,” Sam muttered.

  As she twisted the key, King leaned forward in the chair opposite her to get a better look. Sam lifted the top of the box an inch after unlocking it, then stopped to look up at King.

  “You sure you—”

  “Just open it!
” King interrupted.

  “Fine.”

  Sam flipped open the top, and it clanged against the table when it landed on the other side. The entire box was empty except for a small three-by-five photograph sitting in the middle. The photo was black and white, and without picking it up, King could see that it was a man and a woman standing in front of an ocean, whom he assumed was Sam and her late husband.

  “A picture?” King said with a slump of his shoulders. He’d hoped for something much more interesting. “That’s it? All this hoopla to try to make you miss him?”

  Sam didn’t speak; her eyes were fixed on the photo. King watched as she slowly picked it up and brought it closer to her face. He watched for her expression to change, maybe into a smile, maybe a tear. Instead, she was stone-faced as ever. That was when King noticed something written on the back of the photograph.

  “Flip it over. There’s something on the back.”

  Sam did as he asked and narrowed her eyes on the back. “323?”

  King stood and moved to look over her shoulder. “323? That mean something to you?”

  Sam turned the photo back over. King was closer now, and he got his first glimpse of Thomas. He was a handsome man, and in the picture he was standing behind Sam with his arms wrapped around her waist. The ocean appeared vast behind them, and a seagull was crossing the setting sun in the distance. Sam looked like a teenager, and she looked . . . happy.

  “Well?” King prompted.

  “No, it doesn’t mean anything to me. Why would it?”

  “Let’s see here, Sam. Your dead ex left you a picture in a safety deposit box of the two of you, with a number written on the back, and oh, by the way, when he told you about the secret picture in the secret box, the only thing he said about it was ‘Only you would understand.’ That’s why it just might mean something, Sam.”

  Sam glanced up at him, her expression cross. “It’s just a number.”

  “Yeah. A number that he expressly said that only you—”

  King cut himself off when he heard what he thought sounded like a suppressed round being fired, followed by the grunt of a man. He glanced down at Sam, and she’d apparently heard it as well because her hand was on her concealed pistol tucked inside the shoulder holster under the blazer she was wearing. King’s hand was already resting on his at the back of his belt line. He put his finger to his lips, but before he could peek outside the curtain, the tip of a suppressor can inched into the far side of the curtain and fired twice.

  One bullet ricocheted off the metal deposit box, and the other splintered the wood of the chair Sam was sitting in. Out of reflex, Sam kicked her foot in the direction of the gun, but she missed. It was King pinning the gun against the inside wall of the tiny room that kept the third bullet from making a mess of his friend. Sam sprang from her seat and took King’s place pinning the hand holding the gun. King reached around the curtain and grabbed the body attached to the gun and yanked it inside. King didn’t want to risk stepping out of the curtain in case someone else with a weapon was watching.

  The man he pulled inside wasn’t very big, so it wasn’t hard for King to wrap him in a rear naked choke.

  “Stop fighting me and I’ll stop squeezing,” King said, his voice in a hush.

  But the man’s survival instincts outworked his voice of reason, and he flailed about as he tried to escape. King sat back in the chair and pulled the man down on top of him. He wrapped his legs around the man’s waist to hold him in place.

  “Last chance, or you’re going unconscious.”

  The man didn’t stop fighting, so King intensified his squeeze until the man went limp. King released the choke, stood, and put the man in the chair. Sam nodded to King as she stepped forward. The man sucked in a large breath, but before he could gather his wits enough to make a sound, Sam placed his own gun to his head. The choke hadn’t helped the man relax, but the gun to the forehead suddenly had him all ears. He was breathing heavily but staring at Sam, waiting for his orders.

  King took his first glance out into the hallway. As expected, the security guard was on the ground in puddle of his own blood. What King hadn’t expected was to see business as usual out in the lobby. The way the guard had fallen was out of sight from anyone in the lobby, but King had been ready to see chaos. Instead, the crowd of people were shuffling along in the long lines as if nothing was happening at all. He had a fairly good view of everything, and as he scanned for more enemies, instead of seeing men moving quickly toward him with guns, all he noticed were bright orange shorts with stark-white piping worn by a man standing behind a forms table in the middle of the lobby.

  The shorts didn’t catch his eye because of the bright color amongst the mostly gray and navy business attire of the other patrons; it was the fact that he’d seen the same bright-colored shorts just a few minutes ago out by the street. The jogger who’d run into him had been wearing the same pair, and when King moved his eyes to see the face of the owner of the shorts, it, too, was familiar. The roughly five-foot, ten-inch man had mahogany skin, broad shoulders that filled his white T-shirt, and a salt-and-pepper beard with more salt than pepper. It was the white beard against his dark skin that made King’s mind jump to the file of the man he and Sam were supposed to meet with earlier to discuss joining their team. It was him. Former Navy SEAL Omari Broussard.

  At first King’s mind jumped to the worst, that Omari might be part of the attack, but that was quickly erased when he noticed Omari holding up three fingers against his chest. King’s eyes bounced back up to Omari’s, which were hard to see under his ball cap. But Omari gave him a knowing nod. King nodded back. They were on the same team.

  “What’s our move?” Sam said.

  King was about to answer when Omari pulled one of his fingers down. He bounced his hand giving King the indication of “two.” Then he pointed toward the bank’s entrance behind him. Without moving anything but his fingers, he pulled another finger down indicating “one,” then pointed to what seemed to be the left side of the door King was looking through. King took the gestures as “two men outside, one by the door.”

  “Our interviewee I postponed has decided to make his pitch for joining the team in the form of a real-world tryout.”

  Sam was quick. “Omari Broussard is here?”

  “Yep.” King nodded to the man Sam held at gunpoint. “And he just pointed out this guy’s three friends.”

  “That’s one way to ensure a spot on our roster.”

  “It is. Now, let’s find out what he’s got.”

  7

  King poked his head back out of the curtain. He watched as Omari casually strolled toward him. He already liked Omari. He could tell they spoke the same language. No doubt it was the training they’d both received before and after becoming Navy SEALs. King knew Omari was walking their way to be the distraction. As soon as the man waiting around the doorway focused on Omari, King would strike.

  “Hand me the suppressor. It’s time to move,” King told Sam.

  Sam pulled her Glock from its holster, then handed King the suppressed pistol the man had tried to kill them with earlier. King wanted to try to keep this as quiet as possible. If he alerted the dozens of customers now inside the bustling bank lobby, they would never get to the two other men who Omari had gestured were waiting outside.

  The doorway back to the lobby was about ten feet down the hall. Omari was the same distance from the man King couldn’t see.

  “You can’t be back here, sir,” the unseen man said to Omari. Then King saw the tip of his gun after he raised it. “Stop right there!”

  King stepped over the dead guard with his gun held at shoulder height in front of him. Then he surged forward, and as soon as the gunman came into view, King put two rounds through his neck. The claps of the suppressor weren’t loud enough to rise above the noise of the crowd. Omari had continued walking toward King, and as the man began to collapse, Omari scooped under his arms and helped King drag him into another safe deposit
box viewing room.

  “Direct deposit works best for me,” Omari said. “But cash works, too, if you want to save me some taxes.”

  King smiled. “Already counting on a paycheck, huh?”

  Omari smirked and shrugged his shoulders as he looked down at the man he’d tipped off King to.

  “When I take care of the other two outside for you, you can give me a nice signing bonus. I like muscle cars.”

  Sam stepped in front of the open curtain. “What? No invite to this little party?”

  “Where’s the other guy?” King said.

  “He thought he could overpower me.”

  “How’d that work out for him?” Omari said.

  “He’s unconscious.”

  Omari smiled. “Ooh, I like her.”

  “Yeah?” King said. “Give her a few more minutes. That’ll change.”

  “Okay,” Omari nodded his head. “I like how you two get down. Give me five minutes to take the last two guys, then come out. You get what you needed here?”

  Sam answered for King. “We did. But you’re staying here.”

  “Come on now,” Omari said, disappointed. “I’d like to finish what I started. They’ll never see me coming.”

  “Told you to give her a minute,” King interjected.

  Sam gave King a scolding with her stern look, then brought her attention back to Omari. “I’m counting on them not seeing you coming. That’s why I need to make sure no one sees you working with us here.”

  “I don’t understand,” Omari said.

  Sam looked at King. “I know what Thomas meant by the number on the back of the picture.” Then to Omari. “We’re going to have to go check something out in a different country. We need you to shadow us in case it’s some sort of trap.”

  “So I got the job?” Omari said.

  “You’re off to a good start, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Omari looked at King. King just gave a shrug.

  “Go back out into the lobby, then out of the bank like you are just another customer. I know how to get ahold of you. Grab a go bag full of your things and meet us at the private sector of Hartsfield Airport in an hour.”