Power Move (Alexander King Book 4)

by Bradley Wright

“You think it will be something that big?” King said. “’Cause all this time you’ve been downplaying it.”

  “No.” Sam was annoyed. “All this time I’ve been saying it will be trouble. And in the land of I-told-you-sos, judging by all the shite we’ve stepped in since going to retrieve that safety deposit box, I have the biggest I-told-you-so to deliver of all time.”

  King was going to argue, at least just for fun, but she was far too correct to make anything work.

  18

  Outside Mexico City, Mexico

  “Okay everybody!” James shouted. “Hands up! Nobody make any hero moves or the big guy dies!”

  James had stripped Juice of his weapon, moved behind him, and held his gun to the back of his head. Luc, Charlie, and Rick all looked over at them in shock.

  James pulled out his cell phone and spoke to one of his men. “Hold your fire. Half of you load the weapons, the other half come to me. I’ve got them covered.”

  The gunfire ceased from the vehicles behind them. Charlie started to reach for his M4, but James moved his gun toward him. “Nope. Don’t even think about it. I will gladly shoot Juice here in the back of the head.”

  “All right, stand down everyone,” Juice said. “Don’t give him a reason. James, what do you want?”

  “I’ve already got what I want. Thanks for the safe ride.”

  Juice was genuinely confused. “You did all of this for a shipment of guns, ammo, and small-time explosives? I could have got you all of that without Marcus Christian. And why didn’t you just buy them directly from him if you wanted them? Why go all the way to Mexico City?”

  “It’s okay, Juice. They can’t teach you to be smart in the military, can they? I’m happy with the way I got my small-time explosives.”

  Juice didn’t like the way James emphasized the word small-time. Had he smuggled something else onto the plane? Regardless, he didn’t want his men to die, but he also couldn’t let James, or whoever the hell he really was, leave with whatever he’d smuggled in with the weapons. Because to go to all of that trouble, he must be planning something big. And if he was, Juice and his men would be implicated in whatever happened if it was used to hurt people. The problem was, he didn’t see any way out.

  As the vehicles approached, James began backing away. Three pickup trucks with two men in each pulled up. A Hispanic man with a rifle slung over his shoulder got out and walked over to James. James smashed his nose with the butt of his handgun.

  “I told you I wanted them dead before we got back! We should already be on the move!”

  The man wiped the blood from his nose and nodded. “We’re already loaded and ready to go.”

  There was no way they could have loaded all those weapons in such a short amount of time. It was clear now that James had put something else on board the plane without Juice’s men knowing it.

  “So what is it, James?” Juice said. “You’re going to kill us anyway. So tell me, what did you put on the plane? C4? Some sort of chemical weapon?”

  “Don’t worry about it, soldier. Just know it will make quite the impact. I’ll be sure to let everyone know you and your flag-flying boys here were responsible for its transport.” James pulled himself into the pickup truck, then leaned his head back out to look at his man with a broken nose. “Kill them all, except the big guy.”

  The pickup with James inside backed away. “Enjoy the slaughter of your entire team on your conscience.”

  Juice looked over to his left, and the other vehicles were pulling away from the plane. The hot sun was beating down overhead. Whatever they were taking from that plane was meant to hurt innocent people, Juice could just feel it. And if he was going to get himself and all of his men killed for the bad decision to take the job, he was going to die trying to stop whatever James was planning.

  Juice looked back at the man with the broken nose. Blood was still trickling, and he was now pointing his gun at Juice. Three other men stepped out of their trucks, all carrying the same rifles. Juice looked to his right at the back of the Jeep. Charlie gave him a nod. He was thinking the same thing. But before any of them could make their move, JJ—bloody stomach and all—grabbed Charlie’s sidearm and walked straight for the man with the broken nose, firing until the man dropped.

  Juice took two steps and dove behind the shed. As he pulled himself to his knees, he saw Charlie, Rick, and Luc all scramble behind the Jeep. Then he watched his friend take bullet after bullet from the three remaining gunmen. Juice pulled his Beretta and fired at the man on the right. He could hear his own men all firing at the other two gunmen. JJ, whether he would have survived his gunshot wound or not, sacrificed himself for his team. The gunfight was all over in a matter of seconds, but Juice knew the scars from this job would never heal. And they still had a long way to go before it was over.

  “JJ!” Charlie shouted as he ran toward his friend. Charlie was the closest to JJ. They were in the same company in the army. “JJ, no!”

  Juice got up. He was concerned about JJ, but he knew he was already dead. So he focused on the train of vehicles now circling and making their way back toward Juice and his men. They had seen what happened, and James wasn’t going to leave without finishing them off.

  “Get JJ in the Jeep! We gotta move! They’re circling back for us!”

  Another thing bit at Juice’s brain as he jogged to the Jeep. There was a vehicle missing from the ones coming back for them. It was the red Hummer that had been closest to the plane a moment ago. Juice walked around the other side of the shed. Sure enough, it was driving away all alone. Surely it was the vehicle loaded with whatever James had smuggled on the plane inside it. Something valuable enough to kill a lot of men for.

  They needed to survive the coming onslaught for a lot more than just saving themselves. Running down that Hummer before it got lost might save a whole lot of other lives too.

  19

  Cannes, France

  Omari, Sam, and King sat in the rental car about a hundred yards from the entrance of the Mandelieu Airport in Cannes, France. It was a fairly small regional airport. It reminded King of the Bluegrass Airport back home in Lexington. While waiting on Bob to land the jet, they were scouting the parking lot and the entrance, trying to see if anyone was watching for their arrival. So far, nothing tipped them that the authorities were hanging around. But the darkness made it a lot harder to see anything.

  The drive to the airport had been relatively quiet—all thanks to Omari and his unknown rental car. Their escape had been thanks to him too. He had been an absolute godsend since he’d decided to turn his delayed interview into an unsolicited tryout. King still didn’t know a lot about the guy, but he was checking all the boxes. Like any former, hardened military man, King knew Omari had his demons, but so far he’d kept them in check.

  “All right,” Omari spoke up. “So we do whatever it takes to get on this plane, right? Jump fences, knock out security guards, all that, because y’all got the hookup with the CIA, right?”

  “Right,” Sam said. “We can get this trouble erased once we prove we were the ones attacked in the bank. Which we can do if we get enough distance from those chasing us. I’m certain of it.”

  “Okay, I believe you on that. But you know who doesn’t give a shit about whether we are innocent or guilty?”

  “Who’s that?” King said.

  “Hertz Rent-a-Car.”

  “I don’t follow,” Sam said.

  “Well, when we jump out of this car to race for your jet, this rental car stays right here. Unreturned. And I rented it in my name. So, you see my problem.”

  Sam laughed. “All that’s going on around us and that is what you’re worried about?”

  Omari smiled. “Look, I’m not Batman back there. I don’t have a big expensive Batcave to go home to. I’ve got credit card and light bills. You feel me?”

  The three of them laughed.

  “See, you all are laughing, but I’m serious.”

  “I know you are,” Kin
g said. “I can appreciate that. But don’t worry about it. We’ll have someone from one of the agencies or something get it back to Hertz.”

  “It’s gonna be late, though. You covering that too?”

  “You’re not going to have to worry about these sorts of things anymore, Omari,” King said. “I’ll take care of everything like this going forward.”

  “All right. No big deal. We’re just new together here, and I didn’t want to assume anything.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  King’s phone rang. “Showtime,” he said, then answered it. “Everything okay?”

  “You tell me,” Bob said.

  “Looks clear here.”

  “Okay, good. I had to check in with the tower. I didn’t know if they had flagged me or not. I’ve been VFR since I took off so no one could track me, and I didn’t have to check in till just now because I’m coming in for a landing.”

  “Sounds good. Like I said, so far so good here. After you land, just look for three good-looking crazy people running at you. Then do us a favor and drop the door.”

  “Sounds like my kind of pickup!” Bob said.

  “I’ll call you if we have a problem.”

  “Roger that. I should touch down in ten minutes.”

  King ended the call. “There we go. We’re all set.”

  “Except, where are we going?” Sam said.

  “I suppose it’s safest to get back to the States,” King said. “But whatever’s on this flash drive might change that. When we see the lights on the plane coming in for landing, we’ll go.” Then King changed the subject. “Hey, O, why were you in London anyway?”

  “I was flown in for a gun safety seminar for some of the undercover agency men in London.”

  “I told him that,” Sam said. “He just doesn’t listen.”

  “So when I contacted you to postpone our meeting, did you start following us immediately or what?”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Sam said.

  “’Cause I know you didn’t ‘accidentally’ run into me while we were jogging.”

  King could see Omari’s smiling face in the rearview.

  “I was wondering when you were going to ask me that.”

  “You know, through a certain lens, it could look like you had something to do with what happened at the bank. You conveniently being there and all.”

  “That’s why I thought you would ask,” Omari said. “Our meeting was supposed to be only a couple of blocks from the bank. I hadn’t gotten my run in yet because of the seminar that morning, so I just took off. On the run I was actually contemplating how to get your attention. Then, no shit, I was waiting to cross the street and saw Sam get out of the cab. I immediately changed course and was going to stop you all, but Sam had a worried look on her face, so I thought something serious might be going on. Especially after you’d postponed our meet. I actually meant to avoid you completely, X, but some guy stepped in front of me, and to miss him I had to sidestep you. But I clipped you instead.”

  “I was wondering why the guy who ran into me didn’t even say excuse me.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t know how I would explain running into you, so I just went on, hoping you didn’t recognize me. Then a minute later I knew I at least wanted to introduce myself in case you all were leaving London before I could get a meeting, so I circled back. Old training habit, I was checking out the cars while I was waiting, and one of the guys getting out of the VW accidentally flashed his piece when he got out of the car. It was total luck that I happened to be looking in that direction. Since no one is technically allowed to carry a gun in London, when he went inside where you all were, I decided to follow just in case. Glad I did.”

  “Glad you did too,” King said. “They could have killed us.”

  “Nah, Sam would have saved you.”

  “I knew I liked him,” Sam said.

  King looked out the window on his right and saw the lights of a plane starting its approach. “I think that’s our ride. Anybody see anything fishy?”

  The parking lot hadn’t changed much. It was getting late and air traffic was slow.

  “Looks good to me,” Omari said.

  “Let’s get going,” Sam agreed.

  The three of them stepped out of the car. They walked casually to the front entrance and walked in. There were only a few people inside. Some doing cleanup, one replacing the cups by the coffee, and two people working at reception. This was the private air building, so there was no security. No tickets to be checked or bags to process. Not that they had any. They knew they weren’t staying the night, so they’d just left everything on the plane.

  “Bonjour,” the dark-haired woman said from behind the desk.

  “Hello, have a nice night,” King said.

  “Your tail number, sir?”

  Without stopping, he said, “N800XK.”

  “Your plane just landed. Have a safe flight!”

  They kept walking. King’s dad had taught him long ago that if you walk in like you own the place, people will usually treat you like you do. It had served him well more than once in his life. Though his dad ended up being a very different man than King thought he was, he still learned a lot of life lessons from him.

  The woman hit the lock on the double door at the back, and they walked out onto the tarmac. King’s jet was taxiing from the runway. That’s when they heard the first siren. The three of them looked at each other, then ran for the edge of the runway. As King’s jet made its last turn back toward them, the sirens grew closer. By the noise they were making, there were several cars. The tower must have been queued to radio the police if King’s tail number checked in.

  As Bob and his co-pilot pulled the jet to a stop, the three of them made it to the plane. They all looked back over their shoulders as five police vehicles, led by a SWAT-like van, rounded the entrance and flew through the gate. King looked back, and the automatic door was only halfway down. It seemed like slow motion.

  “What are we going to do here?” Omari said. “They aren’t going to let us take off!”

  “We’re not going to ask their permission,” King said.

  Just as the door’s stairs hit the ground, the police cars skidded to a stop. Sam jumped inside, and King nodded for Omari to follow.

  “Arreter!” a voice shouted behind King as he jumped inside. He assumed it was some form of “Freeze!” or “Stop!”

  “Go, Bob! Put the door up on the move!”

  The plane jerked. Bob didn’t hesitate.

  “Stop the plane!” King heard a Frenchman shout.

  It was too late. There was no way to stop them from leaving now. They’d made it. But King couldn’t help but send up a silent prayer that the little flash drive in his pocket held something that would give Director Lucas the ability to smooth things over. In Britain, Monaco, and now Cannes, King and friends were leaving an awful lot of chaos in their wake.

  What else was new?

  20

  Outside Mexico City, Mexico

  Juice took off in a dead sprint. “Come pick me up!”

  “Juice, no!” Charlie shouted.

  Juice was already out of range. He was running straight for the plane he’d flown in on. He knew the men in the Hummer had taken whatever James hid on the plane, but he also knew they left all the other weapons. They had no time to take it all. And there were plenty of goodies in there that could help them get out of the tight spot they were in.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. James and his four man-filled vehicles were almost to the Jeep. Juice’s men had already started firing. Juice jumped into the plane and ran for the back. There were cases of weapons. All different types and sizes. But what he wanted was one of the four AT4 rocket launchers, hand grenades, and a sniper rifle. Juice wasn’t a sniper himself, but he’d spent plenty of time behind an optic.

  He ripped open the first box, a smaller one, and grabbed a handful of grenades, stuffing them in his pockets. He knew the AT4s were on the back lef
t of the plane. He went there and sure enough, they were inside right alongside the rockets. He grabbed one of each and set them on the floor. Then it took him three boxes to find the sniper rifle and some rounds for the magazines. He loaded those up and threw the strap around his shoulder. Then he picked up the AT4, loaded it with a rocket, and ran back outside. The Jeep had just slid to a stop.

  Charlie looked down at the rocket launcher and a wide grin grew across his face. “You beautiful son of a bitch!”

  Juice brought the AT4 to his shoulder and flipped up the sights. Not more than a hundred yards away, he could see three vehicles kicking up dust. A fourth had stayed back. “James,” Juice muttered to himself. Then he closed his left eye and stared down the iron sights. He put the gap between two of the trucks in the slot and squeezed the trigger.

  The boom was deafening. Juice had done his best to close his ears as much as he could, but without ear protection, all he could hear was ringing. The rocket slid from the launcher with a massive blast of fire and smoke, and the rocket finished the same way. Blasting at the foot of the two trucks, blowing both of them toward the sky. Juice glanced over and could see his men cheering, but he couldn’t hear them. It was as if they were on television and someone had pressed the mute button.

  Juice dropped the AT4 and swung the sniper rifle into his hands as he hopped up on the Jeep. “Drive!” he shouted. He could barely hear his own voice.

  He rested the barrel of the M24 sniper rifle on the roll cage and stared down the scope. With the bumpiness of the dirt road, and the truck swerving trying to catch them, a direct hit would be almost impossible. But he tried. The first missed entirely. The second round hit somewhere around the hood. He was frustrated. He clicked the safety on and dropped the sniper rifle into Luc’s hands. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a grenade.

  “Fuck it,” he shouted, then pulled the pin.