Sam Wick Rapid Thrillers Box Set

by Chase Austin

  The four gunners reflexively closed in on them but stopped at a comfortable distance. They allowed Shahrukh and his team cover the rest of the distance after deboarding. One of the gunners, who seemed to be the leader, came two steps forward and lifted his right hand to his forehead in a slicing motion. “As-Salam-u-Alaikum.”

  “Wa-Alaikumussalam wa-Rahmatullah,” said Shahrukh, responding with the same gesture.

  “How was the journey?” the leader asked.

  “Good,” Shahrukh smiled.

  The leader gestured at the two of his gunners and said, “They will take you to your destination.”

  The two gunmen, assigned to escort the squad, led the path to the two SUVs parked not far from the helipad. Shahrukh and his team walked behind them, flanked by the leader and one more gunman.

  The Bell’s rotors had started again. It had to return to the base.

  Right before embarking on the SUV, Shahrukh and his men heard a suppressed gunshot followed by the sound of frightened birds leaving their nests.

  “What’s that sound?” Yakub seemed perturbed.

  “Nothing worth worrying,” said the leader, smiling at them. “Please…” he said, and signaled Yakub to get inside. Two gunmen took the driver seats of the two SUVs and the tires started to roll on the muddy roads.

  The leader and the gunman who stayed behind with him, watched the vehicles disappearing. The leader took out his phone and dialed Yasin’s number. He said, “The bird is in the air and the kids are on their way to school.”

  “Clean the house and move.” The call was disconnected.

  The leader saw his fifth colleague arriving from the country house. “The body?” he asked.

  “Taken care of.” The man was talking about the farm’s owner.

  “Good. We have one hour to take care of things here,” said the leader.

  Chapter 9

  Maryland, USA

  The morning was not at all going as Helms had planned. He gazed at the multiple wall clocks showing times of different geographies. It was ten in the morning in Maryland but seven-thirty pm in Helmand, Afghanistan, where Wick and Eddie were on a mission.

  Helms had not had a chance to sleep last night. It had all started with a call from Walter Raborn, Director of the CIA, about one of his abducted operatives. What he didn’t realize was that the call was just the beginning of something he’d never expected from someone like Raborn, for two hours later he was facing the President. A meeting that was orchestrated by Raborn.

  For the first time in his thirty-five years of career, Helms wasn’t ready, and he didn’t know how to respond to President Hancock when he ordered, “Either you find me that abducted agent or quit.” Those were his only options.

  The mission was a deathtrap. The Taliban had kept the man at one of their most secure locations – Zangabad in Afghanistan, a place that had been a graveyard of the NATO forces in the past. No soldier or agent in his right mind would agree to go in there but Helms had just demanded his men to do the impossible.

  And for the first time in his life, he had no answer when Wick and Eddie asked him, “What about our lives? Are they not worth saving?”

  And for the first time in Helms’ life, he had to tell his agents to back out if they wanted. There was no way he could tell them to continue with the mission.

  Wick and Eddie eventually decided to stay on the hunt. Part of it was madness and part of it was a mad rage. It was their way of saying, fuck the politics and the politicians, we will save one of ours even if we have to sacrifice ourselves.

  And now, after radio silence of several hours, Helms was on a call with Wick and Eddie. And he was listening to Wick with rapt attention. While he was happy that his assets and Josh were breathing; the intel on rogue CIA agents was alarming. But the most pressing concern was the impending attack on the USA. No one knew the time or the exact place. They only had a vague idea which was worth nothing because they could not plan anything concrete based on it.

  “How many bombs are we talking about?” Helms asked.

  “Basit didn’t know it, but I don’t trust him. We need more time to grill him,” answered Wick.

  “Why can’t we go and extract the Cleric?” Eddie asked.

  “That won’t matter for now. If what Basit is telling is correct, then our immediate priority is to contain the attacks and minimize causalities.” Wick said.

  “How much damage?” asked Helms.

  “That’s contingent on whether we’re looking at an airburst or ground detonation and how many cities. Also, if it’s detonated during the middle of the day or in the evening. Immediate casualties could be in thousands,” Wick said.

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the group as everyone grappled with the enormity of the possible carnage. Eddie uttered a soft curse.

  “We don’t even know the type of bombs,” Helms said. “My team is notifying the FBI and CIA.”

  “Any response from them yet?”

  “FBI—yes. CIA—no, as of now,” Helms said.

  “Dammit,” Wick muttered.

  “What do you want us to do?” Eddie asked.

  “Get Josh to the army medical facility in Helmand. Get Basit here. We need to interrogate him further. I’ll arrange a plane for you at the airbase, let me talk to the President.” Helms said.

  “I hope he doesn’t do something stupid,” Eddie muttered just before the line was disconnected.

  Chapter 10

  President Hancock’s Cadillac-One drove fast towards his favorite golf course where a few rounds of the game were planned with his North Korean counterpart.

  Hancock, like the USA’s former president, Woodrow Wilson, also saw golf as a diversion from the long, high-pressure days of his job. “Each stroke requires your whole attention and seems the most important thing in life,” Wilson had once said, and Hancock couldn’t agree more. But his golf course visits were under intense scrutiny from media houses all over the globe.

  But that was not all. His North Korean strategy, full of boasting and bluster, far different from that of his predecessors, was not yielding many results either. Still, supporters of his outreach cited North Korea’s tension-easing suspension of nuclear and missile tests as an important step forward. But this view was a minority one in the polarized world of Washington.

  Hancock’s foes — and some political hawks — saw dangerous signs of a president without much grasp of foreign policy who could be played by North Korea. Even Hancock’s own intelligence chief had testified last week that the North Korean Supreme Leader wasn’t likely to give up his nuclear weapons.

  More suspicions rose when in advance of the initial talks, Hancock had flattered and cajoled North Korea and described it as an ‘economic powerhouse’ in waiting, and — to the surprise of many — said he was in ‘no rush’ to find a deal that would dismantle its nuclear program.

  Even the definition of ‘denuclearization’ hadn’t been hammered out between U.S. and North Korean negotiators — with the North Korean regime indicating that it could entail a significant rollback of U.S. defense arrangements with allies in the region.

  But this was not all. Midterm elections were approaching and with his latest weekly approval ratings languishing at thirty-five percent, far below that of his predecessors, his and his party’s chances were not looking very bright.

  Cadillac-One had one more passenger, his election campaign lead and now his Special Advisor, Peter Jackson. As the motorcade of Secret Service vehicles raced through D.C.’s concrete jungle, Jackson slowly and deliberately laid out their strategy to arrest the slide. Jackson, the Harvard Law grad and Pennsylvania native, while going through the plan one last time, ran a hand through his signature bleach-blond hair every five minutes. Hancock found it annoying but chose to ignore it. This man was majorly responsible to get him to his current position as the US President and he still trusted him.

  “This crisis presents us with a unique opportunity.” Jackson started his monologue with a deliber
ate positive spin of the proceedings and then looked at Hancock. “People right now see you as someone who doesn’t know what he is doing.” He paused for effect and saw Hancock stifling his urge to counter this point. Jackson was a data guy and his every decision was based on numbers and statistics. So, what he was saying now was not something out of a hat and Hancock knew that arguing with him could only result in losing the argument. And even if he won the argument, he would lose the war. He, like every other time, decided to hear where Jackson was going with this.

  “This makes you the underdog and we need to make this your campaign’s strength. We need to let the country know that you are in charge, and a few of your distracters are unhappy with your rise and your vision of taking America to heights of greatness again.”

  “How?” Hancock blurted out, for although he didn’t want to sound stupid or too eager, his words betrayed his intentions.

  “You have to fire a few people from your administration. I’ve prepared a list,” Jackson gestured at his laptop’s screen.

  Hancock checked the names and then looked at Jackson. A few of the names were of those whom he had recently praised through his social media account or had recently appointed. Firing them would lead to multiple questions on his own decisions.

  “Why is this necessary?” he asked.

  “I’ve spoken to a few publishing houses. They are interested in an insider view of the White House under your leadership.” Jackson gave him the reason.

  “Are you insane? Firing them and then asking them if they would be interested in writing a memoir about their life in the White House?”

  Jackson had his points ready. “A disgruntled employee is as believable as life on Mars. People will talk about books, media will have a field day, but I’ll make sure that you will emerge victorious like a true underdog. Short term pain is always good for long-term gain.” Jackson spoke with glee. “This is the idea that will get you a win in the midterms.”

  “Jackson, we need better options,” Hancock said.

  “What if there are no better options?”

  “Then do what one of the previous administrations had done.”

  “What?” asked Jackson.

  “The twin towers.”

  “Isn’t that just a conspiracy theory?”

  “Conspiracy theory or not, but it worked extremely well for the then-current administration.”

  “Thousands of people died.”

  “And everyone saw its impact.” Hancock was trying to sell hard.

  “You can’t be serious,” said Jackson, completely baffled.

  Hancock looked him in the eye. Jackson felt a sudden urge to get away from this man, the man he had got elected as President. This was sick. But he said nothing in response because he didn’t know what to say.

  “Think about it, an attack on this country and people will forget about everything. This is what I need. You need to make it happen.”

  “I can’t and you shouldn’t be wanting this.” It took a lot out of Jackson to say these words. His confidence was wobbly. He thought he was staring at a mad man.

  “This…this is the difference between you and an achiever, Jackson. So, either make it happen or find another job. It’s that simple.” Hancock used his oft-used weapon. He knew a White House job was the greatest thing in this country and no one could comprehend losing it, even in one’s dreams.

  Jackson ran his hand through his hair. Hancock ignored it. Jackson then rubbed his face with his hands while taking long breaths. From the spaces between his fingers, he watched the laptop screen. His fingers then moved quickly on the keypad.

  “My resignation will be in your inbox in a second.” Jackson shifted his gaze away from the screen and spoke in the side microphone connected to the driver seat. “Stop the car,” he said. The limo stopped to the side. Jackson opened his side of the door and with his bag in one hand and laptop in another, got out. Hancock didn’t expect this from Jackson, whom he thought of as a sleaze-ball devoid of any morality, but he had just been proven wrong.

  “Jackson, you are letting go of a golden opportunity,” Hancock shouted from behind.

  Jackson looked at Hancock one last time and shut the door without saying a word.

  “Sir, should we move?” the driver asked though the microphone.

  “Yes,” Hancock snapped to no one in particular. He had a hard time believing what had just happened. He looked for the remote and switched on the limousine’s television in a bid to distract himself.

  Chapter 11

  Houston

  Olivia, twenty-one years old, had just begun work at the hotel. Onyx was a 7-star hotel at the Marina, an upscale shopping mall located in the heart of Uptown Houston. It was one of the landmarks of the city, with a retail complex, office towers complex, a private health club, and housed names like Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Macy’s. Olivia was happy that her first job was with a big brand like Onyx.

  But it was turning out to be a rare weekend for Olivia. On one hand, she had to report to work for half a day to relieve a co-worker. On the other, Briella, her long-lost cousin from London, had imposed an impromptu visit on her. And with her she carried a huge shopping to-do list that Olivia would now have to navigate through.

  As if London had a shortage of big brands. Olivia thought.

  “I’ll be at the hotel till two in the afternoon, so you will be on your own,” she warned Briella. Onyx was Olivia’s first paying job, so she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.

  “Not to worry, my cute cousin. I’ve already made some plans.”

  “What plans and with whom? You don’t know anyone here.”

  “You stress a lot. Two of my friends are also staying at your hotel.” Briella had met the two boys during her flight. Olivia was skeptical when Briella continued bragging about them nonstop, but on seeing the pictures her jaw literally dropped. Even in loose fittings, she could make out that they both had great beach bodies. Their Instagram profiles were public, with followers in thousands. By the look of it, they both seemed legit.

  Olivia finally decided that she didn’t want to let half her off-day go to waste. She would join them once her shift was over, but first, she needed to feel ready. She took her clothes off and hopped in the shower. Half an hour later she came out, blow-dried her hair and decided to try a braid this time, making sure it wasn’t out of control either. This simple meeting could turn out to be a date but she didn’t want to go overboard with her look. She checked her wardrobe and took out her trusted baby pink short dress and high heels, a light jacket, a small bag, and beautiful earrings. She packed all this in a bag. Her plan was to change once her shift was over. Till then she would be in her hotel uniform. She applied a light makeup to accentuate her natural beauty. One hour later, she was ready for her job. Ten minutes after that, both of them were in a cab, heading to the Marina.

  The decision to take the cab was Olivia’s, since despite having six parking garages, Marina’s parking always seemed to be full whenever she needed parking the most. The car took some forty minutes to reach the destination. Olivia had been there a couple of times before but for Briella it was a different thing. Wide-eyed, she just soaked in the beauty of the place; it was so huge and lavish.

  The boys were not ready yet, so Olivia decided to keep Briella company until they arrived. Some window-shopping later they were starving. The food court seemed the most logical spot, but Olivia was on a diet and the food court was not exactly for people like her. Everywhere she looked, there were burgers, deli sandwiches, French fries, and ice creams. Luckily, Briella spotted a ‘Build-Your-Salad’ counter, somewhat hidden from the main area, at the far corner of the giant food court.

  Perfect! Olivia felt like jumping with joy.

  They stacked their salad plates with romaine lettuce, broccoli, sliced cucumbers, bell peppers, onions, and beets with olive oil and lemon juice dressing. When they watched their salads, it literally looked as though they had brought the wh
ole rainbow onto the plate.

  They found a secluded corner, and by the time they finished their food, Briella got a call. The boys were coming to meet them. Once they arrived, Olivia took leave to start her day at the hotel.

  “See you soon,” said, Briella, and hugged her.