Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  NARC

  Debt Collector 7

  Jon Mills

  Direct Response Publishing

  Contents

  Also by Jon Mills

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  A Plea

  Newsletter

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Jon Mills

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Debt Collector 7: Narc is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Jon Mills

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  Undisclosed

  Retribution

  Clandestine

  The Debt Collector

  Debt Collector 2: Vengeance

  Debt Collector 3: Reborn

  Debt Collector 4: Hard to Kill

  Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death

  Debt Collector 6: Prey

  Debt Collector 7: Narc

  Debt Collector 8: Hard Time

  The Promise

  True Connection

  For my Family

  “The hardest walk is walking alone. But, it’s also the strongest.”

  Unknown

  Prologue

  MIAMI

  The man’s eyes bulged beneath the murky water. His fingers clawed at Jack’s pant leg as he applied pressure to the chest. Jack glanced down trying to decipher his contorted facial expression. With all the opening and closing of his mouth, he almost looked like one of the fish swimming around his head. Was he ready to talk or just desperate for air?

  He released his boot from his chest and the man burst out of the indoor koi pond, gasping for air and spluttering water in every direction.

  “Damn, Karl, you were right, this is a fine beer,” Jack said while studying the bottle he’d snagged off the table. It was imported from Belgium and he had a stack of it inside his fridge. Initially he was going to smash the damn thing over the guy’s head but it would have been such a waste. Besides, he hadn’t tasted this brand before and well, this was meant to be a vacation. A business vacation but nevertheless, time off from his regular routine.

  “I told you, I don’t know,” Karl yelled.

  “Come on, Karl, think or do you need a little bit more time under the water?”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Gillian is just doing this to screw me over like she did through the courts.”

  Jack crouched down to his level and kept a firm hold on his throat. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You don’t appear to be doing too bad.”

  They were in a luxurious, high-rise condominium apartment that provided breathtaking views of South Florida beach, the Atlantic, Biscayne Bay and nearby shops. It was situated directly on Bal Harbour Beach and Karl Atmore had by far one of the best apartments in the building. Wrapped around them were floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the apartment with warm summer light. Everything about the place screamed more money than sense, from the gourmet kitchen to the spa-like bathroom, ten-foot ceilings and herringbone hardwood floors. The place almost looked like an art gallery. The walls were covered in huge paintings that were valued at more than they were worth and the room was decorated with the finest furnishings.

  “This is paid for by the company.”

  “Which you still own.”

  “So? It’s legitimate. I pay my taxes.”

  “It’s the adult industry. Not exactly something to call home about.”

  “Whatever, man, it’s a free country.”

  Jack nodded while gazing out the window, mesmerized as the ocean blue sky met the sparkling waters on the horizon. The sun glinted off the tops of the waves. From where they were, they could see tourists sunbathing, yachts and Ski-Doos out on the water kicking up the surf.

  “That view is spectacular. Damn, it must be something to wake up here every day.”

  “It is.” Karl looked at Jack, wondering if he was going to let up. “Look, how much is she paying you? I’ll double it. All you need to do is walk out of here and tell her that I didn’t know anything.”

  “See, that’s the problem, Karl. You do.”

  Jack forced his head back under the water and he writhed around. Holding him now with one hand on his neck, he took a sip of his beer and savored the taste. I’ve got to get me one of these apartments, he thought as he relished every drop of what remained in the bottle.

  He yanked him back up again by his scrawny neck and gave him a second to cough his lungs out before he continued his line of questioning. This time, however, he decided that water was obviously not doing the job.

  “Karl, you remember that show. What was it called…” Jack tapped the bottom of his chin. “You know with the guy who set up all those challenges for those folks. Dark hair, brawny looking. Oh, what was his name?” he said as he kept a firm grip on Karl.

  “I don’t know what you’re on about?”

  “You know, he had that catchphrase. How did it go?” Jack’s eyes widened and he clicked his fingers. “That’s it. ‘And evidently fear is not a factor for you.’”

  “Fear Factor,” Karl said nervously.

  “That’s it. God, I loved that show. All those crazy idiots putting themselves in extreme situations just to win a measly fifty thousand dollars.”

  Karl looked confused. Jack continued to toy with him. “Yeah, I could never get over that. I think the worst was seeing someone chewing down on bulls’ balls or something like that. That shit was nasty!” Jack chuckled. “And all for fifty thousand dollars.”

  Karl must have thought Jack was dropping hints as he tried the usual tactics that Jack had seen countless times back in New York. After pleading for their lives, they would try buying him off and if that didn’t work they would try the buddy-buddy approach. It was amazing the lengths that people would go to avoid death’s door.

  “So she’s paying you more than fifty thousand, right?” he asked.

  Jack screwed up his face. “Of course. Hell, I wouldn’t get out of bed for less than a hundred.”

  He pointed across the room to a painting. �
�I’ve got money. I can give you money.”

  “You can?”

  A look of joy, perhaps relief came across his face as Jack eased off him. “Well, let’s take a look.”

  “Yeah. Let’s do that.” Karl rose to his feet, he couldn’t have been more than a buck forty wet. Water poured out of his pants and he looked like a drowned rat as he padded over to a painting, slipping as he went.

  “Now, now, Karl, careful there. We don’t want you falling and cracking your head.”

  Karl pulled away the large painting of the Civil War off the wall. Behind it was a PIN pad. He tapped it a few times and a portion of the wall slid wide to reveal a large steel safe. He tapped in another code and it clunked open. He glanced over his shoulder.

  Jack was already prepared for what was coming next. It was the oldest trick in the book but he enjoyed letting them think they had the upper hand.

  Jack reached behind, pulled a Glock 22 from the small of his back and already had it pointing at Karl’s back when he reached into the safe and spun around with a handgun in his hand. Jack fired off one round and it clipped him in the left shoulder.

  Karl let out a yell, released the gun and dropped down. A thin amount of blood smeared the wall behind him as he gripped his shoulder and winced in pain.

  “Tsk! Tsk!” Jack expressed disapproval with a clicking sound.

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Karl said.

  “Oh, I can. Now let’s see what we have in here.”

  Jack reached in and pulled out wad after wad of green hundred-dollar bills. “This is almost as good as the view.”

  “Take a hundred thousand. Leave me, please.”

  “No, I’m thinking we are going to play a little game of ‘fear is not a factor for you,’” Jack cried out mimicking the voice of the presenter Joe Rogan. He crouched down to eye level and brushed a brick of money across Karl’s face. “Now smell that. Does that not smell like a grand prize to you?” Jack took a hard sniff and savored the moment thinking of how he was going to spend that big stack of cash after scaring the living shit out of this rich asshole. The look on Karl’s face was priceless.

  “Right. Let’s get to it.”

  Jack grabbed him by the back of his collar and began dragging him across the floor towards the balcony. As he pulled Karl, he would stop every few feet and continue his train of thought.

  “You know, I was thinking of some really wacky, way-out-there kind of stunts and for the life of me, I can’t think of any. Sure, I could take a shit and you could eat it. I mean that would be gross but hey, I get a feeling that you might actually like that. So I was thinking of heating up an iron and giving you a massage with it. But again, I thought that might leave a stench behind in your apartment. And then it dawned on me. You bought this place because you love heights. Right? I mean, what other reason would you purchase the penthouse apartment?” Jack stopped and looked down at him.

  “Anyway, so I have a great idea.”

  He slid the doors open and Karl already sensed what was coming. A gust of wind blew against his face. Jack glanced over the edge and stepped back. “Whoa! So that’s what the ground looks like from the top of a 28-story building.” He sucked air in between his teeth and pretended to act afraid. The aroma of ocean salt reached his nostrils.

  “Oh this is so going to be worth the money. None of this fifty-thousand-dollar bullshit. The grand prize is everything you have in that safe. And tell me, how much is in there?”

  “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Karl. A number?”

  He swallowed hard and looked as if he was trying to figure it out using his fingers.

  “I think there is a little more than your stubby fingers can count. Do you really not know how much you have in there?”

  “Five hundred thousand, six maybe?”

  “Now we are talking!” He sniffed hard and yanked Karl up to his feet. He struggled to pull away but it was pointless. Jack had seen more muscle on a chicken down at his local rotisserie. He was about to toss him over when he paused. Karl must have thought he was having second thoughts but he just wanted to milk the moment for all it was worth. He couldn’t remember having this much fun since that time up on some high-rise on Fifth Avenue with a guy who’d been on the run from Gafino for over a year.

  “Hold on, am I missing something?”

  Karl’s eyes scanned Jack’s features, he gave a squeamish look and one last plea slipped past his lips before Jack hauled him over. Karl clung to his jacket.

  “Let go,” Jack said in a relaxed manner.

  “No.”

  “Let go. I’m not going to release you, Karl.”

  Jack beat at his hands until he unclenched his fists and fell backwards. Jack clung to his legs and smiled as Karl pleaded for his life. For them it was all an act. If he hadn’t known about the gun in the safe, it would have been Jack on the ground with a bullet in his head.

  “The only thing between you and the pavement is a whole stack of cash, and the whereabouts of a little girl. Now where is she?”

  “Please, pull me up.”

  “Where?”

  “I’ll give you the cash.”

  “You don’t seem to get it. I couldn’t give a shit about your cash. Where is the girl?” Jack released his grip ever so slightly and Karl slipped down a bit. He screamed like a little bitch.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you. Just pull me up, please.”

  “No. Tell me now.”

  “And if I do, will you pull me up?”

  “You have my word.”

  “How can I trust you?”

  “You can’t but I’m not the one dangling three hundred feet in the air.”

  “Okay. Bayside Marina. You’ll find a boat that is docked called The Pegasus. She’s in there.”

  Jack let him slip a little more.

  “I’m telling you the truth. I swear.”

  He began to cry and Jack hauled him back over the edge and he slumped down against the side of the balcony. Jack gave him a second to rein in his composure and then he spoke in a soft tone. “She’s my daughter. But that bitch doesn’t think I should have access.”

  “Yeah, well the courts made that decision.”

  His nostrils flared. “They had no right.”

  “So you faked an abduction so you could have your daughter?”

  “I had to do something. She took everything I had.”

  Jack crouched down and squinted at him. “Everything you had?” he scoffed. “Everything you had was your daughter, not all this shit that you buy. And good fathers don’t abduct their children.”

  With that said, Jack got up and walked over to the safe. He pulled out a wad of money that amounted to around a hundred grand.

  “I’ll take that hundred as obviously ‘fear is a factor for you.’”

  Jack gave a smug grin and strolled over to the main door and let himself out.

  Bayside Marina was located in downtown Miami. It was bustling with activity. Jack arrived in his black Chevy truck. A sign said Miamarina. The place was packed with yachts, cutters, yawls and schooners. Most of them were visiting the nearby Bayside Marketplace which boasted over one hundred shops, restaurants and cafés. Jack had been there a few times since moving to Florida over eight months ago. He was settling into a slower pace of life and enjoying the sun, and the company of new friends who didn’t know about his past and for the most part didn’t care to ask.

  Jack strolled down the wooden dock, eyeing the different yachts, searching for one with the words The Pegasus on the side. It took him the better part of fifteen minutes before he spotted it. At a distance it didn’t look as if there was anyone on onboard and for a moment he was thinking that he might have to pay Karl another visit. Several yachtsmen wearing typical boating outfits gave him a nod as he made his way over to the boat and hopped onto the starboard end and made his way around to the cockpit. A chunky lock secured the rosewood door. He looked around for something to take it off and then
spotted a fire extinguisher. Snatching that up he gave one quick look around and then slammed it as hard as he could against the lock, once, twice, three times. A couple of fishermen walked by and stopped to observe what he was doing.

  “Damn thing. I lost my key.”

  They gave an expression like they felt his pain before walking on. A few more hard jabs to the lock and it finally gave way. As soon as he pried open the door, he saw the girl. She was cowering back in the corner of the boat. A small TV was on and she had several magazines on the table, along with enough food and water to keep her satisfied for a day or two.

  “Katie?”

  The girl looked scared, and pushed back in her seat. “It’s okay, I’m here to take you to your mother. Gillian.”

  Her features softened and the trusting look that kids got when they felt they were out of danger or trouble spread across her face.

  “It’s okay, come on.”

  He extended his hand, and slowly but surely she edged her way out from around the table and came over to the hatch. Jack helped her out and then made a quick phone call to her mother. He handed the phone to Katie and sat there while she spoke with her. Once they were done speaking, he got back on the line.

  “I can’t thank you enough.”

  Jack could feel the large stack of cash from Karl’s safe inside his jacket.

  “Trust me. The pleasure was mine.”

  Chapter One

  GULF OF MEXICO

  Twenty-five years in prison for smuggling narcotics was one hell of a stiff penalty. It didn’t matter how many times they headed out in one of those twin-engine Grady-White boats, Willie Mitchell couldn’t push the risk from his mind. And yet once again, here he was, giving in to his younger brother’s bullshit.

  “We get to walk away with twenty-seven million, brother,” Jimmie said, full of more enthusiasm than a game show contestant.

  “Shut the hell up.” Willie shook his head, knowing that was a complete lie.

 
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