He pressed the blade to the man’s neck. “I obviously don’t have a lot of time, so don’t bullshit me. Who sent you here and why?”
The man’s eyes were wide, and he wasn’t the least bit defiant. “I don’t know the why, but Marcus Christian sent us.”
The man’s accent was definitely American. King looked up at Sam who’d walked over. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say she’d never heard the name. Then he looked back down as he dug the knife into the man’s skin. A trickle of blood started down.
“I said no bullshit. What was your objective?”
“To kill you . . .” the man said; then his eyes moved to Sam. “And her.”
“Why?”
“I swear to God I don’t know.”
King held the knife steady. He keened his ears to his surroundings. They needed to go. If it wasn’t the other men coming back who caught them, it would be the police soon. Even though he had no idea why they might care if he and Sam were there.
“Who is Marcus Christian?” King said.
“A rich guy who lives in Turkey. Exports gems and other stuff. That’s all I know.”
“We have to go,” Sam said. She walked over to the door and peeked into the lobby. “Now.”
King stood up.
“Please don’t kill me.”
“How did an American get involved with an exporter from Turkey?”
“Xander!” Sam prompted.
The man scooted to sit upright. “He’s connected to a lot of former agents. That’s all I know.”
“Were you really going to kill me? A fellow countryman?
I-I-I have a family. They’re—”
King interrupted the man’s plea with a kick to the head.
“Really?” Sam said.
“He’ll live. Besides, he was going to kill you too.”
Sam didn’t wait for King to finish; she was out the door and moving to her right. King slipped out the door, but when he looked left, back toward the lobby, three police officers saw him running.
A policeman shouted something in French when he noticed them running.
King sprinted for the now open exit door and surged through. He was right behind Sam as the two of them darted left toward the ocean and dodged several cars as they maneuvered across the street. The light was dying, and the glare from the headlights around them kept King from seeing clearly as he glanced behind him. The policeman was kind enough to shout again, letting King know they were still nearby. The pavement turned into brick below his feet, and he followed Sam toward the large stone railing that wrapped the stairs down and around to the street below.
“You guys all right?” Omari spoke into their ears. “I’m at the restaurant, car’s running.”
“Be there in two!” King shouted as he and Sam made it to the road below.
They crossed the street to the sidewalk adjacent to the water. Under the glowing streetlights, King could see the boats docked just beyond the rail. He ran up beside Sam and matched her pace.
“How we going to get out of here?”
“You’re thinking our plane will be grounded, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. But why? Why so many police? How’d they even know we were here?” King took a deep breath. “Not to mention we didn’t do anything!”
“Looks like somehow you’ve become a fugitive again,” Sam said through labored breath.
“You and me both.”
16
Outside Mexico City, Mexico
Juice, Luc, and Marcus Christian’s man, James, were still a couple of miles away from the airport. If it could even be called an airport. It was clear it was no longer in use, but the runway sufficed for Juice’s pilot to make an easy landing. Juice had been worried about the job for Marcus since the beginning. Now he was even more concerned. The fact that Raúl Ortega hadn’t been at the airport where they’d landed was problem number one. The second problem was that Juice had to go even farther out into the middle of nowhere to meet not Ortega but Ortega’s man. Which meant the rest of Juice’s team was alone at the airport. And the longer the Jeep ride back took, the deeper the shit he was afraid they were in. Especially knowing Ortega’s men were already there.
“We should have waited for Ortega back there,” James shouted over the wind from the backseat. He was still rubbing his head from being hit so hard a few moments ago. The side and back windows in the Jeep, which had been left for them at the airport to go and meet Andre, had been zipped out, but the soft top had remained. It was their only relief from the hot sun. “We have to make sure he pays for these weapons.”
Juice turned in his seat to face James. “Ortega wasn’t going where we just were.”
“What do you mean? Andre said—”
“It doesn’t matter what Andre said. Ortega wasn’t going to meet us there.”
James shook his head. “We should have stayed put. Why wouldn’t he meet us somewhere away from the weapons. It just makes sense. It gives him a degree of separation if something went wrong with the transfer.”
“You’re right, James,” Juice said. “And it also gets us away from the weapons. Making it easier to take them without paying us.”
Juice watched as James’s face morphed to surprise. “You don’t think . . .” James was quiet for a moment. “You think that’s why Ortega’s men showed up at the airport? To take the shipment and not pay for them?”
“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out. You know how to shoot?”
“What?” James jerked his head back to Juice. “Of course I do. But you think that’s what this is coming to?”
“I don’t know, James, but we have a problem. And it might not be solved by discussion. This is why Marcus wanted me and my team for the shipment. We specialize in solving things without discussion if we have to.”
Juice’s phone rang. “Did Ortega make it there yet—”
Juice could hear gunshots in the background. “Juice! Where are you? They’re moving on us!”
“Almost there! Just hold them off!”
Luc stepped on the gas as soon as he heard Juice shout. Juice left the call going. He could hear Charlie shouting orders to the three other men on the team. All of them had served together in the US military at one point or another. They were like brothers. They had trusted Juice on taking this shady job, and not only had he let them down, but he wasn’t even there when they were getting attacked. He picked up his M4A1, then pulled and released the charging handle, locking in a round.
“You with us, James?” Juice turned again to face him. He found James locking a magazine into his pistol.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. Just stay behind me and Luc, and try not to get yourself killed.”
Juice turned back to the front and lifted the latch over his head. Luc recognized what he was doing and did the same on his side. Juice then pushed up on the bottom of the soft top, and the wind caught it, blowing it off entirely. As they rounded the final turn for the airport, Juice pulled himself up to his knees in his seat. He was tall enough to be shoulders out, a perfect height to rest his automatic machine gun on the top rail to achieve a steadier shot. Even through the wind he could hear the gunshots from the airport. He placed the butt of his M4 against his shoulder and rested the barrel on the rail.
There was a chain-link fence that surrounded the runway. Luc veered off the path in the dirt and headed right for the fence. Juice grabbed the rail as he jerked when the Jeep ran through the fence. Then he quickly found their plane, then the grouping of vehicles Ortega’s men had arrived in. They were turned facing the Jeep, and that’s because Juice’s men were right in front of him, shooting it out from behind a storage shed.
“Pull up to them and turn to face where we came from. We’re getting the hell out of here!”
Juice had all but made the decision just to cut and run when he heard the gunfire through the phone. He’d risked the lives of his men enough already. But he was sure they were cutting bait when he saw just how ou
tmanned they were. There were at least a dozen of Ortega’s men in the distance. And they had a lot more firepower. He could tell that by the size of the blasts coming off the belt-fed HMGs they were shooting from beside their vehicles.
“What?” James shouted. “We can’t just leave, Juice!”
Juice ignored James as Luc swerved the Jeep in a 180-degree, dirt-kicking turn. Juice jumped out the back and ran over to Charlie. He could see Jeremy leaning his back against the storage shed, his stomach red with blood.
“They hit JJ!” Charlie shouted. “It’s bad!”
Gunfire was clapping all around them.
“Get him in the Jeep!” Juice said. “We’re getting out of here!”
Juice took Charlie’s spot so Charlie could grab JJ. He aimed down his rifle and found one of the vehicles. He squeezed the trigger and laid down some cover fire. His other man—Rick—was doing the same on the other side of the shed. Juice felt something tug at the back of his shirt. When he turned around, James was standing there.
“We can’t leave, Juice!”
“Get back in the truck! Now!”
Juice turned back and fired more rounds at a different vehicle. Then he felt James tug harder. Juice turned and shoved James so hard that when his ass hit the ground, his momentum carried him through a full back roll. Juice thought that would be the end of it, but James popped right back up.
“Juice, we gotta go!” Charlie shouted from the back of the Jeep.
James ran up. There was panic on his face now. “Listen to me, asshole! We can’t leave the weapons behind with these men!”
“Why?”
“Because these aren’t Ortega’s men! Raúl Ortega is dead.”
“What?” Juice turned back to the shed, fired off a few rounds to let the gunmen know they were still shooting back. He sprayed until his magazine was empty. Then he turned back and grabbed James by the shirt, nearly lifting him off his feet. “What the hell are you talking about, James? How do you know they’re not Ortega’s men?”
James ripped free from Juice’s grip, took out his pistol, and pointed it at Juice’s head. “Because those men are mine.”
17
Monte Carlo, Monaco
King and Sam jumped into Omari’s rental Peugeot sedan. They were sweaty and out of breath from their sprint from the hotel.
“I’ll go where you tell me to go, but I don’t suggest the airport. If your plane’s not already grounded, it will be before we can get there.”
King had the same thought and had already pulled out his phone and dialed his pilot. His stomach dropped when he saw missed calls from Kyle, Dbie, and Langley, Virginia. “Just start driving west.”
Omari threw the car in drive and sped out of the parking lot.
“Xander, I’m taking off,” Bob answered the call. King could hear the jet’s engines whining. “When I saw the news, I went ahead and filed a flight plan to be ready if you came back, but I had to leave unless you wanted it stuck here in Monaco. I wish you would have told me to be looking out for trouble, I could have been prepared.”
“Bob, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” King said as he hit speaker so Sam and Omari could hear.
“What? Yeah, you and Sam are all over the news. Whatever happened at that bank in London, they’re blaming you.”
King looked up and found an exasperated look on Sam’s face.
“We didn’t go after them, they came after us,” King said.
Bob thought King was talking to him. “I believe you, X, but the guys were ex-British intelligence. There’s a video they keep looping of you and Sam threatening one of the bankers after going out the back door.”
“Shit,” King said.
“Hey listen, I’m going to lose you,” Bob said. “I’m taking off here, but I’m going to fly VFR over rural airspace until I need to make a turn back for Mandelieu, a mostly private airport in Cannes. I told the tower I was heading for the Riviera Airport northeast of here, so I thought coming back south might throw them off. If I stay VFR, they can’t track me on radar, but I will have to contact the tower in Cannes to fly into their airspace. They’ll be able to track us then as more than likely all towers will be given a heads-up to listen out for you. It’s the best I could come up with on such short notice.”
“That’s brilliant, Bob. Let me find out how long the drive is to Mandelieu and then—”
“It’s one hour,” Sam said. “I just mapped it.”
“We’ll be there in one hour, Bob. Divert accordingly. We’ll be in touch if we hit any snags.”
“Okay, I’ll—”
The line went dead.
“He’s out of range,” King said. “Sam, I’m assuming you had all the same missed calls I did over the last ten minutes?’
“Yes. Dialing Dbie now.”
“Sam, thank God!” Dbie’s voice shouted through the speaker on Sam’s phone. “Are you all okay?”
“We’ve been better. We hear we’re on the news, can you fill us in?”
“I swear to God I’m having déjà vu with this from Mexico City when Xander was being framed. Is this really happening again?”
“Dbie, I need you to focus. Our pilot just told us we have been set up? For what happened at the bank?”
“Yeah, sorry. Focus. It looked bad on the news. Especially with you all sneaking out the back and Xander roughing up the banker. The camera on the building behind you guys caught it all. I swear you can’t even breathe without being on camera anymore—”
“Dbie?”
“Right. Then Director Lucas called Kyle. Here, I’ll let Kyle tell you.”
“Guys,” Kyle came on and said, “what the hell? This shit again?”
“What did Lucas say?” King said.
“He wanted to know where the hell you were, of course, and what the hell you were doing. British intelligence tracked your plane to Nice, so I’m assuming you’re running from the cops now?”
“We are,” Sam said.
“You’re in a spot then. They’re going to have everyone on this. Those two guys you killed in the bank? They were—”
“We know,” King said. “Ex-British intelligence. But they came after us.”
“I know, but man, it looks bad with what happened out in the alley behind the bank. And they apparently can’t find that banker you were threatening. No sign of him.”
“All right, well, we are dealing with it as best we can here. Only call this phone again if you have to. I’ll try to get a burner, but I’m not sure we’ll have time. Call Omari if you can’t get me. He will text you from his number.”
“Do what you gotta do, man. Just get the hell out of France if you can.”
“That’s the plan,” King said. “Make sure you tell Director Lucas to stand down. He knows we didn’t do this, so tell him to try to buy us some time or something.”
“Already did. It’s a no-go. He gave me the ‘since you guys left the CIA’ speech about how he can’t help us now.”
King looked at Sam. “What the hell is his problem?”
Sam took over. “Kyle, we’ll be in touch. We’ve got to go.”
King stayed with his thought. “I mean, all we’ve ever done was give to the CIA and our country. How could Lucas be holding a grudge about anything?”
Omari swerved around a couple of cars and hit the gas. They were flying down the road toward Cannes.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Omari said, “but what’s the play at the airport? You don’t think there will be at least someone standing by in case we try to leave from there?”
King was still stuck on Director Lucas, so Sam answered. “I think they’ll be fixated on where the plane is going at first. That isn’t to say they won’t hedge their bets, but if it’s British intelligence working through the Monaco, Nice, or Cannes authorities, there will be some lag time in response. They have a lot of ground to cover here, and as far as I know, they have no idea what we are driving or if we even have a car. Having you here, Omari, was
a big help.”
“Especially keeping me a secret,” he said.
King caught up to the conversation. “I think it doesn’t matter if they have someone at the airport or not. I say we get on the plane while it’s still moving if we have to, and if Director Lucas won’t buy us some time, I’ll call the president.”
Sam agreed. “I think if we can get off the ground in Cannes, in your airplane, that’s pretty much the only hope we have.”
“All right,” Omari said. “Get on the X jet by any means necessary. I’m good with that.”
“Omari, you can split once you drop us off,” King said. “No one even knows you’re here. You shouldn’t involve yourself in this. Who knows how it’s going to play out.”
“Hell with that. You said I was on the team, right?”
“You are.”
“Then I’m not leaving you. Not how us SEALs are made.”
“Hoorah,” Sam said. “Or whatever it is you boys say.”
King fished the flash drive from his pocket and held it up. “Next thing we’ll need to know is just exactly what the hell is on this.”
“That came from the vent in the hotel room?” Sam said, her eyes wide. “There was actually something there?”
“Yep. And it must be important for someone to come after us in two different countries. I’ve got my laptop on the plane, so just in case you needed it, here’s a little more incentive for us to make it out of here.”
“And hopefully whatever is on that flash drive will help us get a little more support from one of our agencies in letting us run it down.”
Power Move (Alexander King Book 4) Page 7
