“I’ll be in touch.”
Gibbons ended the call. Now he just needed to hear from Lucas about Warshaw. The more information they’d gathered about Warshaw, the more suspicious he looked. But just like with Director Lucas, Gibbons was doing his best not to jump to conclusions. Then his phone rang again. He answered it before the first ring finished.
“The man calling himself X, for you again,” Allison said.
“Put him through.”
“You there, sir?”
“Go ahead, King.”
“We’re nearly certain it was Warshaw. Please tell me you have him in custody?” King said.
“I’m still waiting on word.”
“Shit.”
“I know, but I do have good news,” Gibbons said.
“I’ll take all of that I can get.”
“Director Lucas was at Langley all day on the third of August. Video evidence. No way he met with Kuznetsov.”
“I figured. Good to know. So either Warshaw or Kuznetsov is lying.”
“And you think it’s Warshaw?” Gibbons said.
“We do. I just spoke with Sam. She found one of his men who’s been posing as CIA for Kuznetsov. He’d been in Barrow, but ended up getting into it with Sam in Moscow. So obviously it’s connected.”
“What’s the endgame?”
“Money and power,” King said. “Same as most endgames, I guess. Warshaw has been pushing for mandatory vaccines, and this was his way to get it. Create a virus and the vaccine.”
“That’s what the large sums of money to China were for, you think?”
“If he’s not guilty, it’s the biggest coincidence in the history of mankind.”
Gibbons’s phone rang again. “Gotta run, hopefully this is Lucas. I’ll get right back to you.” He pressed the other line. “Go ahead.”
“It’s Robert.”
Gibbons stood from his seat. This was it. Director Lucas finally called him back.
“You got Warshaw?”
“We got him, sir.”
Gibbons smacked his hand on the desk in celebration. “Hell yeah!”
“But sir?”
Shit. This was not a good time for buts. “Uh oh.”
“Warshaw’s not involved with this virus. He doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on in Alaska and Russia. It was all a huge coincidence.”
“How . . . How could you possibly know that already?”
“Our guys caught up to him right after I got off the phone with you. I’ve spent the last hour sorting it all out and double-checking his story. It’s solid.”
“Well, spit it out. I need to get word back to King.”
“It’s his son, sir,” Director Lucas started.
“His son?”
“He has a rare condition. Something I’d never heard of. Anyway, that is where the two payments to China come in.”
“I don’t understand. Why try to evade you about his son being sick?”
“Because the treatments for his son are illegal here, and he was trying to avoid getting caught up in something that could keep him from flying to China for the treatment. His son will die without it.”
“And the investments in vaccine companies there?” the president said. “That not still suspicious to you?”
“We checked medical records here. His investment came after his son was diagnosed. He wanted to find a cure, and a subsequent vaccine to stop it from happening to someone else’s son.”
Gibbons was quiet for a moment. He thought about how he needed to relay this to King. King was still in danger if Warshaw had nothing to do with it. Because if it was Kuznetsov, the enemy could be coming for King and he was stranded in Barrow.
“You’re sure? What did Warshaw have to say about meeting with Kuznetsov?”
“He said the meeting was short. Kuznetsov apparently had a grudge against Warshaw already,” Director Lucas explained. “Something about funding being pulled in Russia at Kuznetsov’s lab and moved to China because Warshaw had invested in China instead of Kuznetsov’s lab. Warshaw said Kuznetsov was going on about how it ruined his chance to leave something special behind for his niece, who was an aspiring virologist as well. And guess who that was?”
“I don’t have any idea. Who?”
“Veronika Kamenev.”
“Why does that sound familiar?” the president said.
“Because she was the woman who was killed in the Moscow hangar when Sam interrupted their plans to pass off the samples.”
The president’s heart sank. King was completely unaware that he’d been with the enemy the entire time. Kuznetsov could be planning to kill him at any moment.
“I’ve got to go, Robert. I’ll call you back!”
Gibbons ended the call and immediately dialed the number he had for King.
It rang once. Gibbons was pacing back and forth as long as the cord on the phone would let him.
The second ring came and went. What if he was too late?
“Pick up!” he shouted.
The third and fourth ring played out. Then it went to voice mail.
Why wasn’t King answering his phone?
Chapter Forty-Six
Barrow, Alaska, 3:05 p.m.
King and Cali got into her Jeep and drove out of the airport. King found both of Josiah’s men at the airport and put them inside the plane with their rifles. King decided it was best to take the vials out of the briefcase and leave them on the plane. That way if something went wrong, he would at least not have to worry about the vials on top of his and Cali’s survival. King rounded the bend just outside the airport, and his stomach dropped.
“Please tell me that’s not—” King started to ask about the truck that had run off the side of the road, but he stopped when the answer was on the license plate. The sheriff’s emblem on the left side of the plate confirmed what he was afraid of. His phone was vibrating in his pocket, but he was too focused on Josiah’s truck and what the problem could be to answer it.
“Oh my God, that’s Josiah’s truck!” Cali said.
After getting off the phone with the president just a minute ago, he and Cali were driving to the jail to get Kuznetsov so King could take him back to Moscow. They’d hardly rounded the corner before he saw the truck. King slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. He and Cali jumped out and raced over to the truck. When King ran over to the driver’s side door, he was shocked when he found no one inside.
King pulled his phone from his pocket. As he started to dial, he saw that the missed call was from DC. Probably the president confirming that Warshaw was in custody and they were going to work on wrapping things up. He opened his phone and scrolled to Josiah’s number and pressed call.
Cali came around to his side. “Where the hell could they be?”
“I’m calling his phone now.”
When they heard Josiah’s phone ringing inside the truck, King knew something was dead wrong. Cali looked at him in horror. She opened the door and picked up his phone, then showed it to King.
“Shit!” King shouted and moved back toward Cali’s Jeep.
“Something’s wrong, X. He wouldn’t have left his phone if they’d just broke down.”
King didn’t respond, and he climbed inside the Jeep. Cali realized his wheels were turning so she didn’t continue to talk. He knew it in his bones at that moment that he’d made a monumental mistake in trusting Kuznetsov. Warshaw may very well still have a part in the whole thing, but Kuznetsov was just as guilty, if not more so. He didn’t have time for self-loathing. He opened his phone and returned the president’s call to the number that he’d missed.
“X?” the president answered.
“It’s not just Warshaw, is it? It’s Kuznetsov.”
“Thank God you’re okay. No, it’s not Warshaw. Kuznetsov is behind it all. He set Warshaw up because of a grudge and so there would be a fall guy when the virus went national. Please tell me you have him!”
King’s silence was answer
enough.
“Damn it!” the president shouted. “If he gets away, he’ll release the virus. Director Lucas just called me back. The CIA found a website on the dark web. They traced the musings of an account back to Kuznetsov’s niece, Veronika—”
“Veronika? As in Sam’s Veronika at the Moscow hangar?”
No wonder Kuznetsov had been so upset in the lab when he was given the news of her death. She was his niece.
“Yes, that Veronika,” the president said. “But what I’m trying to tell you is that she is the one who recruited Vince Huang through this dark website. He was spewing hatred about the United States because he was fired, I guess. Well, she was doing the same, because apparently Kuznetsov’s first wife was American, and she left him to go back to America. And Veronika’s mother—Kuznetsov’s sister—was killed in a car accident by an American tourist in Moscow. All of Veronika’s posts were all about how they hate America and how it needs to be brought to its knees. X, Vince Huang and Veronika Kamenev were married last year.”
King couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but his mind had already shifted in two directions. One: where is Kuznetsov, and what happened to Josiah? Two: Sam was in it even deeper than she knew, but at least she had already found Vince Huang.
“Sir,” King said, “I have to find Kuznetsov. Send any military you can get out here from Fort Greely in Fairbanks. This will probably be over by then, but I don’t want there to be any fallout here after it’s over. They can help keep order. There are a lot of Russians here, and probably a lot more of them are here for reasons other than everyone thought.”
“Okay. Don’t let Kuznetsov leave Barrow, King. If he makes it out with those samples—”
“I have the samples, sir, but the ones lost in Moscow might already be en route. Shut everything down. Do not let anyone fly in from Russia. If it’s not already too late. Any plane that does come in, whether commercial or private, better get a thorough search. It may mean the difference in a global pandemic.”
“If someone is flying in private, there is no way we could police every airport,” the president said.
“You’d better start now. Use the FBI, the CIA, the police departments, whatever you can to track all flight logs and to be ready. I have to go find Kuznetsov. Good luck.”
“Good luck to you, son.”
King ended the call and immediately dialed Dbie. She answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Dbie, have you had a chance to comb through the bank account that Kuznetsov had emailed you about earlier?”
King knew Kuznetsov was the culprit, but he had to have help somewhere with funding. Even if it wasn’t Warshaw, they needed to know who it was.
“X,” Dbie said, “I never received an email from anyone about bank accounts.”
If there was any doubt left in King’s mind whether or not Kuznetsov was guilty, it had just been erased. And now that he thought about the phone call Kuznetsov made in front of him to the supposed banker, it was probably the very thing that set in motion everything that was happening now. Though he didn’t speak any Russian on that call, whoever he called probably sounded all the alarms after Kuznetsov spoke only in English. That must have been the reason the guards played the game at the gate at Volkov Mining. King couldn’t believe how convincing Kuznetsov had been. Then he recalled the moment in the underground lab when the guard had a clear shot at King but didn’t take it because Kuznetsov was there. But they so easily shot the other two scientists only seconds later. If Kuznetsov wasn’t the man, they wouldn’t have cared to kill him either. Especially since it had been known that the vaccine was finished.
“X, you there? Everything all right?”
“No. It’s not. But I have to go. Make sure you’re available in case I need you. Start looking into who is the owner or the money behind Volkov Mining. There may be something there. I have to go find the bad guy, again.”
“I’m on it. And this time it shouldn’t be hard for you. I got a ping on my tracking software an hour or two ago. I’m assuming that was you since the tracker is in Barrow. Or did it just fall out of your holster?”
In the chaos, King hadn’t had time to remember he’d slipped the tracker on the back of Kuznetsov’s neck.
“Dbie, have I told you lately that I love you?”
“It’s been a while.”
King ended the call and pulled up the tracking app.
“Now what?” Cali said. “You don’t think he’ll hurt Josiah, do you? What if we can’t find him?”
“Oh, we’re gonna find him. I just hope it isn’t too late.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Moscow, Russia, 2:05 a.m.
Patrick punched Vince Huang in the stomach for the third time, and again he doubled over in pain.
“Where is she?” Sam shouted. “I know you know. Tell me or I will shoot you right now!”
Vince’s grunt of pain slowly tuned into a laugh. “You can kill me if you want. But you’re too late.”
Sam looked at Patrick. “You know the rumor around Langley is that you have a hell of a temper. I saw a little bit of that when you saved my ass back at the deli. I’m going to need a bit more of it now. What do you say?”
Vince raised up wearing a bloody smile. “Are you two for real? Are you seriously trying ‘good cop, bad cop’ on me?”
Patrick reached forward, grabbed hold of Vince’s right hand by his fingers. With a violent amount of torque, he bent all four of them in the wrong direction. The cracking of his bones echoed beneath that bridge. He screamed in pain.
“Not sure there are any good cops here, Vince,” Patrick told him. “Your other hand is next. Tell us where they’re hiding the woman and I’ll spare you a limb.”
Every man has his breaking point, and Vince Huang’s was broken fingers. Sam wasn’t impressed. She’d seen men half his size hold out longer.
“She’s close! Shit! Please stop!” Vince doubled over, clutching at his hand. “I’ll take you to her.”
Patrick opened the back door of the car and shoved him inside. He and Sam got in the front.
Sam turned around and put her gun on him. “Where?”
“Just keep driving this direction. It’s only a few blocks.”
Patrick pulled forward.
“Who was the Russian man that called me from her phone?” Sam said.
“What? I don’t know. What Russian man?”
“Don’t play dumb. We can pull the car over again. I know it wasn’t either of those two back at the apartment, so who was he?”
Vince put both hands up, his four fingers still bent the wrong way. “I don’t know, I swear!”
Sam swung the barrel of the gun, striking him in the crooked fingers. After a shout of pain he yelled, “Okay!” He regained his composure. “Turn right up here. The man is my wife’s brother, okay? Real mean son of a bitch, too, so you’d better hope you don’t run into him.”
“Am I going to run into him when we get here?” Sam said.
“It’s the brick building on the left. She’s in the basement.”
Patrick swerved off the road and pulled into a parking space.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Sam said.
“What?”
“Are we going to run into . . . what’s his name?”
“I-I—”
Sam reached back and shoved the gun against his forehead. “Never mind. We’ll find out his name.”
“Wait!” Vince squinted his eyes as he shouted. “Wait. It’s Artem. Artem Kamenev. And I hope you do find him in there. You’ll get what you deserve!”
Patrick got out of the car, opened the back door, pulled Vince over as he begged for his life, and hit him so hard in the forehead that the lights instantly went out.
“I had it handled,” Sam said as she got out of the car.
“I know. I was just tired of his mouth. And people are easier to tie up when they’re unconscious.”
Sam shrugged. She couldn’t argue w
ith his logic. His blunt-force mentality reminded her a lot of X. Patrick went to the trunk and came back with a rope. While Patrick tied him up, she took in the building. There were no other cars in the parking lot. The one street lamp on the corner wasn’t much help with lighting. From the looks of it, they were at the back of the building. Patrick shut the door and locked the car before he walked up beside her.
Sam pulled out her phone and sent Dbie a text: Find out who Artem Kamenev is.
She put her phone back in her pocket. “It’s awfully quiet.”
“Too quiet,” Patrick agreed. “How’s your arm?”
“Wasn’t bothering me until you just mentioned it. Thanks.”
The two of them gave a laugh but not a hearty one. They both knew the trouble that was staring them in the face. Sam was about to make a move when her phone vibrated. She pulled it from her pocket—Dbie had already responded. Sam almost didn’t look because she figured that to have texted back so quickly, it was probably Dbie’s standard I’m on it. But it wasn’t.
Dbie’s text read, Already know who Artem is. X had me digging on Kuznetsov and his name came up. He’s Kuznetsov’s nephew. Lots of reports tying him to the Russian mob. When I dug deeper, he’s the principle owner of Volkov Mining in Barrow. This entire thing was set up by Kuznetsov and his family. Need anything else?
Sam was dumbfounded. She texted back: Not right now. Thx.
“Artem is Russian mob,” Sam said. “Know anyone else in the city who can help?”
“Not even one.” Patrick pulled his gun as he answered.
“You don’t have to go in here,” Sam told him. “This isn’t your fight.”
“This is all of our fight. It’s what we signed up for.”
Sam was happy he felt that way. She was good on her own, but having to try to save Zhanna while staying alive was harder than just shooting up a place. And she could tell by Patrick’s performance so far that he’d do whatever it took.
Sam took the first step toward the door when suddenly the door to the building burst outward. She came within a hair of shooting Zhanna right in the chest. If it hadn’t been for her fiery red hair catching the light of the street lamp, she would have killed her. Sam shot her hand over to Patrick and knocked his arms to the side just in case, shouting out of instinct,
Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3 Page 42
