“I wish I’d never taken that call from Senator McKinley,” Ortega said, shaking his head. “Stupid mistakes are expensive.”
“You’ve got plenty of money. Leave kids out of it.”
“This is not an easy request. I have pipelines. People counting on me to make them a lot of money.”
“The reason you kept me alive is because you know if I die, the cavalry comes,” King said. “You heard Sam, the President himself called your ambassador to keep the police from coming for me. You don’t think he’ll send however many soldiers it takes down here for you if I die? You know that’s a fact. And you know if I leave here, telling my people we’re going to back off your operation, it will happen. But if you tell me you’re through with the trafficking business, and I find out later you haven’t kept your word, you know I’ll be the one leading the soldiers down here to find you myself.”
“I don’t need to be threatened, Mr. King. Be careful the words you choose.”
“And you be careful with the decision you make.”
Ortega took a moment. King couldn’t stand it any longer, and he looked back at Sam. He mouthed Zhanna’s name to her. Sam just hung her head. A wave of sadness rushed over King. He didn’t know for sure if Zhanna was dead, but by Sam’s response, he knew she was at least at its doorstep.
“No more undercover agents like Mr. Ramirez?” Ortega finally said.
“No more undercover agents,” King agreed.
“No more agents like you coming down here to sniff around?”
“I’ll be the last,” King said.
“Have a safe flight back to the States,” Ortega said. “And I hope you don’t let the senator make it to jail.”
“He’ll get what’s coming to him. And you’ll be able to see it on the news.”
Ortega nodded. “I hope I never see you again, Mr. King.”
“Ditto.”
King turned back toward his team. He had just made Ortega some pretty big promises. And while he was sure he would be able to keep his word, that didn’t mean there weren’t workarounds. But as long as Raúl Ortega stayed away from trafficking children, King didn’t really give a damn what happened to him.
The only things on King’s mind now were Zhanna and getting a crack at Senator McKinley. But as he watched Lawson Raines climb into the driver’s seat of the SUV, he figured he first might have to fight Lawson to see who got dibs on McKinley.
Chapter Forty-One
Three Days Later
Alexander King was happy to be back Stateside. Though he’d rather be at his home in Kentucky, looking out over the rolling hills, instead of his view of the Potomac from Director Lucas’s office in Langley, he still had important business to tend to. Over the last seventy-two hours, Dbie, Sam, Lawson’s partner, Cassie, and more than a dozen other agents at the CIA had been doing a deep dive into Senator Terry McKinley’s recent past. It never ceased to amaze King how dirty some seemingly squeaky-clean people can be. Senator McKinley was a full-on mud pit.
No one other than King’s team, Director Lucas, and the President knew that King had made it back from Mexico City alive. That’s why when McKinley was escorted into Director Lucas’s office, he nearly fell over in shock when he saw King.
King turned from the window to face him. “What’s wrong, Senator? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Lucas walked in behind McKinley, and McKinley turned toward him immediately. His face was beet red, and King could have sworn he saw foam in the corner of his mouth. “What is going on here, Robert? I buried my daughter this morning. And you have the nerve to bring me here with him?”
King took a few steps across the office toward McKinley. “I’m going to talk now, Senator. I advise you to listen and keep your mouth shut.”
“Or what?”
King answered with a right hand to McKinley’s jaw. McKinley dropped to the floor, and with shock on his face he looked up at Director Lucas. “Don’t just stand there, Robert! Arrest this man!”
Director Lucas turned his back to McKinley and looked out the window. Then Lawson Raines walked into the room. Lucas wasn’t happy about King inviting him along, but King felt Lawson deserved to see the takedown of the monster who not only got Brittany killed but nearly got Lawson killed as well by involving him in the entire mess.
“You going to take my advice now and listen?” King said. He nodded to the two agents behind McKinley to help him back to his feet. McKinley wiped the blood from his mouth and straightened his navy sport coat. But he didn’t speak. McKinley watched Lawson as he walked around them and took a seat just a couple of feet away.
“The hell’s he doing here? What are both of you doing here?” McKinley looked at King. “You both are the reason my daughter is dead!”
King’s voice was calm. “I’m glad you brought up Brittany. I honestly don’t think in all of this that you meant to get your own daughter killed. But stupid is painful. And you made a lot of dumb decisions. I obviously didn’t know Brittany long, but what little I did, I could tell she was smart and a good kid.”
King could see the pain behind McKinley’s eyes. It was either that or worry for what King was about to expose.
“As I’m sure you know by me standing here in front of you, and Robert letting me have a few minutes with you, we know everything.”
King watched as the senator’s face went from red to a pale shade of gray.
“You don’t have shit on me, because there’s nothing to have. Robert!”
King gave him a solid right hand to the gut.
“I said no talking. Keep it that way until I ask you a question.”
McKinley took in a deep breath as he recovered.
King continued. “We know about your connection to Jimenez in Southern California. And that you’ve been using your own FBI special task force to shield him and his drug business. After we brought in Agent Daniel Wilson, the head of your little covert task force, he cooperated in naming you. And he had been keeping proof along the way in case things ever went sideways.”
“Bullshit. I don’t even know who you’re talking about!” McKinley couldn’t help himself.
King feigned like he was going to hit him, and McKinley flinched so hard he almost fell over. King looked over at Director Lucas.
“This is embarrassing,” King said to Lucas.
Robert shrugged, then looked at his watch. Lawson was stone-faced in his chair.
“Now to the really grimy stuff,” King said. “Agent Wilson also gave us another name. Walker Reed. Mean anything to you?”
“Never heard of him,” McKinley said.
“Yeah, I thought you might say that.”
King pulled a small remote from his pocket, aimed it at the television, and pressed play. Senator McKinley appeared immediately. The video was shot from across a street. McKinley walked up to a man who stopped and took possession of the briefcase McKinley handed to him. They both turned to walk away at the same time, and King pressed pause. Both faces in the video were easy to recognize.
“You gonna keep making me do this?” King said.
McKinley didn’t speak, but his shoulders slumped. He knew he was defeated.
“Okay. That was Walker Reed in that video with you. And the briefcase you handed him was full of money.” King pressed another button, and a still image appeared of an open briefcase full of cash. “Agent Wilson knew a day like this might come since you were paying him to keep everyone from knowing you were stepping into the human trafficking business. Which is exactly what Walker Reed is wanted for. And Walker Reed just so happened to supply Raúl Ortega with these kidnapped bodies for the pleasure of the rich and famous all over the Southern Hemisphere. The same Raúl Ortega you began dealing with just a few weeks ago yourself when Ortega wanted to cut out the middle man in Walker Reed.”
“Robert,” McKinley said, “you really believe this story he’s telling to cover his own ass? He did this! He took Brittany! Arrest him!”
King hit another butt
on on the remote. A dark photo of the back of a car came into view on the TV.
“That’s you on the right, as you can see,” King said. “And the man on the left? You want to tell me or shall I continue to do the honors?”
McKinley looked from the television back to King. He knew what was coming. And the pain King thought he saw a moment ago looked a whole lot more like rage now.
“Fine,” King said. “That is you making a deal with the man who shot your daughter in the head with a sniper round. Scott Smith. Scott has been on your payroll the longest, hasn’t he?”
The rage was building on McKinley’s face.
“Scott was the most difficult for us to get information on. But the President helped us out with that. He let us have access to redacted files, which led to Smith’s old navy commanders, which led to stories of Smith as a head case, which was then corroborated by the men who’d served with him. When you ran into him at one of your rallies, you saw a lost soldier in need of a mission, and he became your go-between on all of these deals. Your right-hand man, you could say. That pretty much how it happened?”
McKinley looked like he was about to explode.
“It was Smith who used my passport to frame me at John Wayne Airport in Orange County. He then used your own human trafficking connections to kidnap your daughter and take her to Mexico. What you didn’t count on was Raúl Ortega, a notorious scumbag, being smarter than you. And that was ultimately the reason your daughter died. Ortega took your daughter from Smith when he was meeting with an old navy buddy, and that is when everything unraveled. Your right-hand man turned on you. He knew once he had lost Brittany, you would turn on him. So he acted first. It was when he and his old buddy José Ramirez got greedy that your criminal acts turned into the death of your daughter.”
King paused for a minute to let it all sink in.
“Both Smith and José knew I had money,” King continued. “They knew you had money. They were going to either hold Brittany for ransom to get money from you, or bribe me for the information they had that could exonerate me by incriminating you. Whichever came first.”
King looked over at Lawson.
“When your other plan to cover your tracks came into the picture and Smith saw Lawson here—whom I don’t believe he knew you’d hired—he panicked and went with option B, blackmailing me, and put a quarter-sized hole in your daughter’s head.”
McKinley jerked forward, but the two agents caught him. King walked away toward the window.
“After finding all of this information,” King said, “and clearly showing that you were responsible for all these terrible things, the only thing I couldn’t understand, besides why would a man get into these kinds of criminal activities in the first place, was what in the hell did it have to do with me? I mean, you weren’t even supposed to know I was alive.”
King turned back toward McKinley. “Then it hit me. I remember sitting in my flat a while back in London watching the news announcing who would be running for President against the favorite, Bob Gibbons. I didn’t remember them talking about you, because it was John Forester who was running for President. Senator Terry McKinley from California was merely his running mate. Senator, are you telling me that your spiral into all of this madness was because I foiled Husaam and Saajid Hammoud’s attempt to get your running mate, John Forester, into office? You did all of this because my actions kept you from becoming Vice President?
“And then most likely President after that,” McKinley added. “I would have eventually run the most powerful nation in the world. Gone down in history. If you just would have been dead like you were supposed to be.”
“That’s what you have to say? After all I’ve brought forward, your response is about a political position that you never had?”
“Not a political position,” McKinley said. “The political position. Rigging the election so Bobby Gibbons could win was all the Deep State’s plan. There was no Saajid Hammoud. He was a puppet like everyone else, to grab control of the most powerful country in the world. I had a line to it, and their puppet—you—ruined it!”
“Deep State conspiracy theories? You really have lost it, McKinley.” King looked over at Director Lucas. “I guess you can add nut job as another adjective to describe this wacko.” He looked back to McKinley. “I can’t believe California voted you in for senator again. I hate what happened to your daughter, McKinley, but at least you’re getting what you deserve.”
For an older man, McKinley moved pretty fast. He jumped forward for King, but before King could put up his hands for a fight, a blur went by on King’s right. It was as if Lawson’s legs were on springs; that’s how fast he made it to McKinley. Before King knew it, McKinley’s feet were off the floor and he was flying through the air. McKinley went crashing through the mahogany coffee table, and before he could even roll over, Lawson was on top of him. King could hear the smacking thuds of Lawson’s fists against McKinley’s head. He knew from recent experience how bad those hurt.
“Get him off him, for God’s sake!” Director Lucas shouted as he rushed over. “He’s gonna kill him!”
One of the agents grabbed for Lawson’s arm, but Lawson flung the agent back like he was made of paper.
“Don’t just stand there!” Robert looked at King and shouted again. “Stop him!”
King didn’t want to stop him. But he also didn’t want Lawson going back to prison. King rushed over and lifted Lawson up from under his arms. When Lawson turned and pushed King back, his eyes were glazed over. He realized it was King he’d pushed; he looked down at the bloodied senator, chest heaving, then walked out the door. McKinley moaned in pain. King had accomplished what he wanted. He nodded a thank-you to Director Lucas for giving him the opportunity.
Then King had a thought. “Robert, there’s still one thing left I don’t understand.”
“How McKinley knew you were alive?”
“Exactly. Only a few people know. How’d that happen?”
“I’ve been looking into it, but I don’t know yet.”
“Guess it doesn’t matter now. The whole world knows I’m alive.” King walked toward the door. “See you in a few?”
“I’ll be there.”
King checked his phone for the time. He was running behind. Unfortunately for him, the day ahead was only going to get worse. As he walked down the hall at Langley, one name came to mind who knew he was alive, and she wasn’t part of the agency or on King’s team. Bentley Martin. There was no way he would ever find out if Bentley stoked the senator’s flames to go after King. With knowledge that King was alive, there was no way to set a trap to find out. King figured the girl who’d fooled him back in London was going to come to mind often until he finally saw her again. And he knew one day he would.
For now, though, he had even worse things to take care of.
Chapter Forty-Two
Director Lucas had one of his agents give King a ride. The agent let King out at the entrance to his destination, and for a few minutes King found himself wandering around row after row of white marble headstones at Arlington National Cemetery. He had hoped that what happened earlier in Director Lucas’s office would ease the sting of what was coming, but King hadn’t felt such sorrow since losing his mother all those years ago.
In the distance he saw the circular white stone structure of the Memorial Amphitheater almost glowing against the bright blue sky. It was surrounded by green rolling hills that were filled with fallen soldiers who had made the ultimate sacrifice for their county and its freedoms. Though he was anything but joyful at that moment, King was happy that his friend Zhanna was going to be laid to rest in such hallowed grounds.
King wasn’t naive. He knew who he was and what he did for a living. And he’d always known that if he did it long enough, he would lose someone he loved. That knowledge hadn’t helped ease the pain of losing his Russian friend at all. She didn’t have any family. She had no ties to her own country and no one else alive who could give her the burial s
he deserved. And while King knew nothing could make up for her loss, knowing she was getting a full US military funeral was at least a way to honor what she’d done for King and for the United States of America.
As he stood there in the glowing sun, with the glory of all the beautiful souls all around him who’d given to his country, he took a knee and observed a quiet moment. He wanted to use the energy of those around him to give him strength to carry on in their footsteps. A breeze rustled through the trees. A few birds sang to each other in the distance. And King felt a hand on his shoulder. When he rose to his feet, he saw the face of his old friend, and emotion overwhelmed him.
King wrapped Kyle in a hug, and the two of them cried. Tears for Zhanna. Tears for the two years they’d lost from each other’s lives because of the things they had to do for their country. It was never easy, but neither of them ever thought it wasn’t worth it. And it was in that moment that King’s sadness turned into appreciation. We can never measure life by what we’ve lost, but instead by the moments we’ve yet to live. With Kyle’s arms wrapped around him, he made the decision that he wasn’t going to waste another minute of his life missing the opportunities to make memories with those he loved. No matter the consequences going forward.
King pulled back and took Kyle in. He hadn’t changed a bit. His dark hair was still fixed in the same brushed-over style, his brown eyes still full of energy, and his square jaw stubbled as always.
“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” Kyle said through tears.
They both had a much-needed laugh.
“I’m sorry, Kyle.” King ended his smile and squinted his eyes. “I made the decision I thought was best for your safety and—”
“I get it,” Kyle interrupted. “I didn’t at first. And I was pissed. But I know you. And I know you would never steer clear of my life if you didn’t think it was life or death.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“That’s all that matters now.”
Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3 Page 62
