The Jason King Series: Books 1-3

by Matt Rogers

  King could tell that Slater knew exactly how to tend to injuries. He moved fast, addressing every major concern before moving onto the minor unpleasantries. King recalled many times on the battlefield in which he had done the same.

  He and Slater were much alike.

  Finally, when the man threw the used kit in the footwell and took a deep breath, he spoke. ‘You could have easily killed me back there.’

  ‘You shot at me and tried to ram my boat out in open ocean. Do you blame me?’

  ‘Just saying, it’s an odd way to ask for help.’

  ‘Everything’s odd in our field.’

  ‘My field,’ Slater said.

  King looked across. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’re out of the game, my friend. It’s not your field anymore.’

  King smiled. ‘You keep thinking that. You’re the one who’s beat to shit.’

  ‘You don’t look so pretty yourself.’

  ‘Half of this is from the mercenaries. Don’t get too cocky.’

  ‘How long were you in Black Force?’ Slater queried. He threw the question out absent-mindedly, knowing that he was beginning to delve into the personal realm.

  King wasn’t bothered. ‘A long time.’

  ‘Specifics.’

  ‘I walked out at the start of my tenth year.’

  ‘Which makes you…?’

  ‘Thirty-three. Yourself?’

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘You thinking of getting out?’

  Slater grimaced. ‘I don’t know. I’m having thoughts. I’d imagine it’s pretty common when you do what we do.’

  ‘How many missions have you been through?’

  ‘I stopped counting years ago.’

  ‘And you’re still here,’ King muttered. ‘Fascinating.’

  ‘Like you said, we’re outliers. They select us from the upper echelons of the special forces based on our reaction speed, our ability to make decisions in the heat of combat. They only pick those who are the hardest to kill.’

  ‘Explains why we were hesitant to kill each other,’ King said.

  Slater nodded. ‘We’re a rare breed. It’d be a shame to thin out our population. I doubt this Yves guy stands a chance against the both of us.’

  King looked them both over. ‘We did spend much of the day beating the shit out of each other.’

  ‘About that,’ Slater said, cracking his neck from side to side. ‘I think I have a concussion. I won’t know until later on, but you cracked me good on the pier.’

  ‘You had one before?’

  ‘Several times.’

  ‘Likewise,’ King said. ‘You know, that’s what worries me more than anything.’

  ‘Brain trauma?’

  King nodded. ‘Bullet wounds can heal. They’re superficial. I don’t want to spend my whole life avoiding death only to develop CTE and die a crazy old lunatic in a nursing home.’

  ‘How many times have you been concussed?’

  ‘A fair few.’

  ‘Any long-term symptoms?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Me either.’

  ‘Then we hope for the best,’ King said. They passed the trail leading down to Saint-Florent. Even from such an elevated position, it was clear that there was commotion within the commune. Flashing police lights dotted the land near the ocean.

  They’d caused quite the ruckus.

  Slater rested one foot on the dashboard and visibly relaxed. It seemed the conversation had calmed him down. King knew that they both lived their lives constantly on edge, always worrying where the next attack would come from. If they could trust each other, then this trip could be used to recharge their batteries. He let the tension loose from his muscles and tried to settle into a rhythm.

  ‘I’m curious,’ Slater said, ‘what made you do it for ten years?’

  ‘Work for Black Force?’

  Slater nodded.

  ‘I guess it’s an addiction,’ King said, letting out a few thoughts that had been stirring in his conscience for years. ‘That rush of adrenalin when you don’t know whether you’ll survive the next few minutes. The closeness to death. It’s all a big thrill ride, isn’t it?’

  Slater cocked his head. ‘Odd. I’m exactly the same.’

  ‘Of course you are. I’d say the other operatives are similar too — however many of them there are. Love of your country and duty to protect the homeland only get you so far in terms of motivation. Truth is, we all do it for selfish reasons.’

  ‘Is that why you’re getting into so much trouble in your retirement?’ Slater said.

  ‘It’s very possible.’

  ‘You came from a broken home, I take it?’

  ‘What makes you think that?’ King said.

  Slater shrugged. ‘Don’t we all?’

  King shook his head. ‘My home life was fine. I was powering through a law degree when I decided to up and leave. Join the armed forces. From there, it just kept escalating. And I was fine with it.’

  It took a long time for Slater to form a response. ‘You crazy motherfucker.’

  King smiled. ‘I get that a lot.’

  ‘My parents died when I was young. We never had money. I was basically raised on the streets. Taught me mental toughness at a very young age. The Army was the only thing I ever thought of that would pull me out of the hole I was in.’

  ‘I take it you’re doing well for yourself,’ King said. ‘Given what Black Force paid me.’

  ‘Of course. All that government funding has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?’ Slater said.

  They both chuckled. ‘What’s that saying?’ King said. ‘Live fast, die young. They pay us well because they want us to enjoy life before we eventually catch a bullet.’

  ‘You’re doing well to avoid that.’

  ‘Not well enough.’

  They plunged into the main mountain range and roared on toward Calvi.

  *

  The apartment building had been half-completed and then abandoned. It barely stood on its foundations, which were quickly withering away. Tucked deep in the outskirts of Calvi, it hadn’t been tended to in many years. The paint that had been coated on the half-erected walls had faded away long ago. The entire place smelt of fetid dampness.

  No-one cared about its existence.

  No-one looked twice at it.

  Deep in the bowels of the building, Yves Moreau crossed a small windowless room and pressed a slim smartphone to his ear.

  ‘Have you found out what the fuck that call was about?’ he said in rapid French.

  ‘We think it’s the American. Police are reporting that Afshar’s body didn’t have his phone on him. King took it.’

  Moreau swore viciously. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘That’s the strange part.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘He’s with someone. Heading back for Calvi. We’ve rounded up a few witnesses who saw them. Police found a demolished Lamborghini ten minutes ago.’

  Moreau shook his head, struggling to decipher the strange occurrences. ‘You said something about a boat earlier?’

  ‘Someone ran a speedboat aground in Saint-Florent. Almost killed himself in the process. We think it was King.’

  ‘What the hell is he doing?’

  ‘Do you think he’s onto us?’ the voice said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Moreau admitted. ‘I certainly hope not. For all our sake. Who’s his help?’

  ‘We don’t know. All we’re aware of is that he’s headed straight for Calvi. He made it almost to Bastia by the time he turned around.’

  ‘He’s coming for me…’ Moreau whispered.

  ‘We’ll kill him.’

  ‘I hope so. I hired you lot for a reason. Demolish this fuck. He can’t expose me.’

  ‘On it.’

  They ended the call without saying goodbye. There was no time for pleasantries in their business. Moreau crossed the room and threw the door open. He had no time to loiter here.

 
The goods needed to be transported.

  CHAPTER 26

  Thirty minutes out from Calvi, King turned to Slater. ‘Don’t fall asleep.’

  The man stirred. He hadn’t dropped off yet, but he had been on the verge. ‘What?’

  ‘If you’re concussed, don’t go to sleep just yet. That’s the worst thing you can do. You might never wake up.’

  Slater nodded. ‘I knew that.’

  ‘Not thinking straight today?’

  ‘It’s been a hell of a morning.’

  King spotted the town in the distance, facing out over the brilliant turquoise ocean. ‘I don’t think the day’s over just yet. This could get ugly.’

  ‘I’m not really used to anything else.’

  ‘Touché,’ King said.

  He felt the familiar twitches coming back. It began as a strange sensation in his gut then worked its way into the rest of his body one limb at a time. His muscles reflexively tensed. He felt the nervousness of imminent combat. He assumed Slater did too — unless the man was completely deranged.

  It wouldn’t surprise him.

  ‘So,’ Slater said, ‘what exactly is your plan here?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ King admitted. ‘Track Yves down. Get him to talk. Find out why exactly he’s conspiring with the men I killed and why he bothered to show up to my house and spin a false tale.’

  ‘If he’s really up to something, then he’ll be protected.’

  ‘I can handle that.’

  ‘You sure? You look pretty hurt.’

  ‘I’m sure. But we shouldn’t be worrying about that now. I’m curious as to why you’re here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have a task. That task is to kill me.’

  ‘I simply haven’t been able to locate you yet.’

  King looked across. ‘That’s all well and good, but what happens when you get spotted? What happens when you’re unsuccessful?’

  ‘Who says I’m going to be unsuccessful?’

  King shook his head. ‘If you really wanted to kill me, you could have done it at the airport. Or during any of the encounters since. I could have done the same. Truth is, if we were both really committed to doing that, one of us wouldn’t be here. We’re too efficient.’

  ‘Okay,’ Slater said. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to kill you. But it doesn’t have anything to do with you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be taking this lightly,’ King said. ‘Black Force doesn’t take anything lightly.’

  ‘Fuck Black Force.’

  Slater spoke the words with such bitter contempt that it all clicked at once. King saw a man disillusioned by his own organisation. A man who had become unwilling to carry out every deed in an unquestioning manner. A man much like himself.

  ‘You want out?’ he asked.

  Slater shrugged. ‘I don’t know what I want. I’m sitting here trying to work out what comes next.’

  ‘Don’t run from them. They’ll find you. They always do.’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘You found me.’

  Slater smiled. ‘I won’t make the same mistakes you did.’

  ‘How can you be sure? People like us can’t just switch off. It’s in your blood to fight. It’s in mine. That’s why there’s a trail of bodies showing up. That’s how people like us react to confrontation.’

  ‘They sure were painting you out to be some kind of rogue agent,’ Slater said.

  ‘It probably looks like I am.’

  ‘I hate to think what happens when they’re wrong. How many times have I been sent into some place where I had no business being in? How many innocent people have I killed?’

  ‘You’ll never know,’ King said. ‘Neither will I. That’s why I got out. I didn’t want to add any more to the existing count.’

  ‘When you went AWOL it threw them off,’ Slater said. ‘You were their best operative. By far. No-one ever stated it explicitly, but the entire organisation went into disarray in your absence. I’ve been working overdrive lately. Taking most of the workload you had.’

  ‘And you’re still here. So you must be their best operative now. They piled the work onto you because no-one else is good enough.’

  ‘If I tell them I’m walking away, I don’t think they’ll be as lenient,’ Slater said. ‘Not after you’re gone. Not after Lars is gone.’

  ‘You think they’ll force you to stay?’

  ‘They can’t force me to do anything. But they might consider me too much of a liability. After what they saw you do.’

  ‘They haven’t seen me do anything. They saw bodies and they assumed. That’s what all this is. One big assumption.’

  ‘That’s what I realised,’ Slater said. ‘That’s why you’re alive. I saw myself in your position. And I couldn’t kill you.’

  ‘Black Force isn’t the devil,’ King said. ‘They have good intentions. I can’t put into words how much good I did for them. How many lives I inadvertently saved.’

  Slater nodded. ‘I know. That’s why I’ve stuck around for so long. But this job burns anyone out. If you couldn’t do it anymore, what chance do the rest of us have?’

  The rest of us.

  King couldn’t avoid being intrigued. ‘What exactly do you know about the others?’

  ‘Nothing. They told me about you after you left, because they had to explain why my services were in such high demand. But they keep us all apart. I don’t know how many there are. I assume you don’t either.’

  King shook his head. ‘Not a clue.’

  ‘Maybe it’s best that way. We don’t know how many have died.’

  ‘Given our track record,’ King said, ‘I would assume very few. They only take the best of the best. Unless we’re anomalies.’

  ‘I’d say we are.’

  ‘So what do we do about this situation?’ King said. ‘What happens after I find Yves?’

  ‘If we’re alive tomorrow, you mean?’

  ‘Let’s assume we are.’

  ‘Okay. Then I slink back with my tail between my legs.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m beat up. I’ll tell them you got the best of me. I lost you, and the mission was unsuccessful.’

  ‘What if we cause a scene?’ King posited. ‘A dozen dead mercenaries show up in Calvi in the aftermath of all this. What do you tell them?’

  ‘I’ll make something up.’

  ‘Dangerous game to play.’

  ‘I don’t care what they think anymore. I don’t know how much longer I’ll stick around.’

  ‘You’re putting your life in the hands of powerful people. Who knows what decision they’ll make?’

  ‘I guess that’s my weakness,’ Slater said, shrugging. ‘Got a bit of a death wish. We all do in this business.’

  ‘I have to let you know that I’m grateful,’ King said. ‘You had the opportunity to kill me back in that airport. I was a sitting duck. Not many people get that chance.’

  ‘I told you,’ Slater said. ‘I saw myself.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank you for the concussion. Much appreciated.’

  ‘I could have killed you also.’

  ‘I know.’

  They spent the next stretch of time in mutual silence. King felt a newfound respect for the man across from him, and he was sure that Slater felt the same. They were two of a kind, elite mercenaries who had the ability to end the other’s life at any moment. Even though they hadn’t vocalised it, a sort of truce had come from the knowledge that one well-placed blow was all it took to kill the other. They had refrained from doing so up until this point, and now they had developed a trust.

  ‘We’re getting close,’ King said. He paused, thinking back to his time in Black Force, to what he had access to. ‘You can get Moreau’s personal address, can’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Slater said, pulling out his smartphone and opening an application. ‘Shouldn’t take too long. Yves Moreau — that his full name?’

  King nod
ded. Sometimes, working for the upper echelon of government black-ops had its advantages. Particularly the advanced methods of surveillance that other departments could provide. He let Slater work his magic, deciding to focus on the surroundings. He sighed. Corsica had been good to him. It was a shame that he would have to abandon the island at the end of this task.

  If he survived.

  At the moment, Moreau was a mystery box. The politician clearly presented a strong anti-corruption stance to mask something else. Something sinister. Whatever it was, it required the use of a mercenary task force, a group of soldiers of fortune led by Afshar. Who knew how deep his dealings ran…

  ‘Got it,’ Slater muttered. ‘Fuck me, nice place. You said this guy’s a politician?’

  ‘On the surface he is,’ King said. ‘There’s something underneath, though. He lied through his teeth when he met me. I believed him. He wanted me to work for him…’

  ‘Probably thought you could be bought.’

  ‘That wouldn’t have turned out well for him. Where does he live?’

  ‘Some kind of pretty estate. Big mansion. Fenced off. Security cameras and the like. If he’s got some kind of security detail that we don’t know about then this could take some effort.’

  King slowed the car and looked across at Slater. ‘Why the hell are you doing this?’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Helping me. You don’t know this man. You don’t know me. I could be a lunatic for all you know.’

  Slater tapped the side of his head for added effect. ‘It’s in our DNA, brother. I help people. I weed out the crooked fucks in society. Been doing it my whole life. And I don’t need to ask questions. I rely on instinct. You seem to be pretty fucking determined to sort this guy out. So I’ll tag along.’

  King turned back to the road and shook his head in fascination. It didn’t surprise him that Slater had decided to help him on his quest for vigilante justice. What surprised him was that he would have done exactly the same.