Second Best: A Niki Finley Novel (A Niki Finley Thriller Book 2)

by J. D. Dudycha

  “I hate this place,” he muttered to himself, then walked over to Niki’s side and stared down the range.

  Along the ground, appearing from the everglades, a black snake slithered through the grass toward them.

  “A hundred dollars says you can’t take out that black snake with one shot.”

  “You mean the water moccasin?”

  “Whatever. I’m not versed in Florida wildlife. Looks like a black snake to me.”

  “Deal.”

  Niki took aim. The snake persisted toward her. Niki had to lead the shot, expect the reptile to continue its intended path. The sun was dropping behind her target now. The orange and yellow hues of the sky made the perfect backdrop for a beautiful sunset, but the rays were low enough to impede her sight line. No excuse, she told herself.

  The fluid movement of the snake in its natural habitat was a beautiful thing, but she had something to prove, to herself and the director.

  One shot. One kill. That was the only acceptable outcome.

  Niki removed her head from the sight of her Glock and stared at the director after the deed was done. He reached into his wallet and lifted a crisp bill, laying it on the cedar bench.

  “It seems you don’t need the practice, and I’m a man of my word,” he said.

  She nodded and watched him turn around.

  “Sir.” She needed his attention.

  “That’s good eatin’ out there.” She nodded toward the dead snake.

  Disgusted, the director simply spun, straight-faced, and walked back to the building.

  “One more thing,” she yelled.

  He paused but didn’t turn around.

  “You still think I’m second best?” His words had eaten at her ever since he uttered them earlier.

  He glanced over his shoulder and said, “That remains to be seen.”

  9

  Miami International Airport

  MASSES GATHERED AT the United ticketing area as Niki stood inside the sliding glass doors, studying the faces of people walking by. Lord was late; somehow she wasn’t surprised. She glanced at her watch. Their flight left in one hour. She was given no instruction, aside from meeting him at the United counter.

  Craning her neck to see over a tall male passenger, she caught sight of Lord. Finally. He was walking slowly, rolling two oversized suitcases behind him. By the looks of the bags, they were heavy; he even tipped one over on its side, then struggled to keep it upright.

  Niki could’ve moved to help him but being put off by his tardiness, she waited where she was. When he reached her, he fussed with the bags to keep them upright, and huffed.

  “Whew. Sorry, I’m late.”

  “What’s in the bags?” Niki wondered, What could possibly be in there?

  “Oh, these?” He grinned, as if he’d expected her to ask. “Just clothes for the children, sporting equipment, and, you know, some other essentials.”

  That was an answer Niki did not expect. She expected him to struggle, to stumble over his words, maybe trying to hide the truth.

  “I see,” she said.

  “By the way, here’s your ticket.” He handed a small blue folder to her.

  She flipped it open to see their destination.

  JFK.

  Instantly, thoughts of Brooklyn rushed to the surface. Martin Stone’s face with the nail gun attached to Collar’s temple was clear as day, as if she was thrust back to that very moment last summer in the abandoned apartment building. She shook the memory away and asked, “Why JFK?”

  Standing in line in front of Niki, he spun and said, “We’re flying to JFK, then London, then heading to Sierra Leone. It’s about a twenty-four-hour process.”

  “Holy shit, really?” burst out of her.

  Surprised by her words, Lord said, “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  “No problem.” Niki smiled. “Just never been to Africa. I didn’t know it would take that long.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m here for you. If you need anything to put your mind at ease, you just ask, alright? I know you’re going to love it there. The country and the people.”

  She wasn’t sold yet, and she surely didn’t need anything from him to feel at ease, but she kept her cover. “Oh, I’m sure I will. I’m kind of a nervous flyer.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re sitting next to each other. If you need to, you can lean on my shoulder.” He smiled and turned back around.

  All Niki could do was roll her eyes and feel bile rise from the pit of her stomach at his attempt at a come-on.

  Once through security, Niki saw a bathroom to her right. “Do you mind?” She nodded toward the door.

  Lord glanced at his watch. “Not at all, but don’t be long. I know how women can be in the bathroom. We’ve gotta get to the gate. We’ll be boarding soon.”

  Niki rolled her carry-on along and entered the restroom, which was nearly empty. Only one stall was closed, leaving the remaining five wide-open. Niki entered the stall closest to the far wall. After shutting the door and sliding the lock secure, she heard the stall door next to her clang shut. Before she could sit, a large photo was slid across the tiled floor.

  She scrunched her brow. What the hell? Niki bent to lift the photograph and in doing so studied the shoes of the woman in the neighboring stall.

  Boots. Black, freshly shined, and laced to the shin.

  The photograph was black and white, but clear. It was a picture of a door, a locker door, like the one she had in high school. The number 11 was capped across the top, and it had a very significant, deep gouge, over eight inches wide, under the number. Why? she wondered, staring at the blue of the barrier between the stalls. What does this all mean?

  Then she flipped the photograph over. Scribbled in black marker was a message: “Take the phone.” Phone? Suddenly, a black flip phone was slid close to her feet. She picked it up and stuffed it into her pocket just as the woman opened the door and left. Niki wanted to see who exited, but she didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.

  Once out of the restroom, she caught eyes with Lord, who pointed to his watch, but Niki stalled, searching the faces in the crowd for the mysterious woman. She focused on people’s shoes looking for the black boots, but her search ended quickly as Lord reached her and grabbed her hand.

  She recoiled at his touch and withdrew her hand.

  “We need to go,” he told her.

  When they arrived at the gate, everyone started to stand and make their way toward the jet bridge. The gate agent lifted the microphone and rattled off the procedures for boarding. Niki glanced at her ticket: Zone 4. She had time still, time to search.

  “I’ll be right back.” Niki turned to Lord as he stood waiting for his zone to be called.

  “Where are you—”

  Niki didn’t listen to the rest of his question. She’d turned her back and walked beyond their gate, determined to find an answer to the mystery of the black boots.

  There were only thirteen gates being used in the H terminal; three others remained empty. Her scan of the area would be quick, plenty of time before her zone boarded. She figured the woman must be there, watching her. Her intuition was right.

  A hard vibration stung her right thigh as the phone buzzed in her pocket.

  “Hello?” Niki said.

  “Stop looking for me and get back in line.”

  Niki didn’t obey. She spun in a circle while on the phone, now searching for the boots and a woman on the phone.

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m shocked you don’t already know,” the voice said.

  It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it, not at first. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give me more information.”

  “I could’ve killed you in the woods in Colorado. I almost succeeded too.”

  “Wait . . .” Niki paused. “Lara?”

  “Of course, beauty queen, who else would it be?”

  “The director said you were in country.” Niki decided not to say t
he name of the country in case Lord came looking for her and overheard the conversation.

  “I was. I flew in last night at Collar’s request.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure you got the photograph and the phone. This is how we will contact you. Collar has the number too. She said she’d be in touch.”

  “Why not just give it to me when we land?”

  “Because I needed to give you the photo as well. When you land in Sierra Leone, there’s a locker at the airport, locker eleven. Inside, you’ll find a backpack with everything you need in it, including your Glock. It’s not like you would’ve gotten through security with it.”

  “Why not just hand it to me at the motel when we meet up?”

  “Because you may need it before then. Sure, we’ll meet up, but Winter and I will be out doing recon on Payne for a few days and will be out of pocket. You won’t be able to reach us.”

  “So I’ll be alone with Lord?”

  “That’s right, at least at first. Try not to fall under his charm and become another notch on his belt.” Lara chuckled to herself.

  “Funny,” Niki’s tone now sarcastic.

  “Look, you’re the beauty queen all men chase after. You seem his type, and from what I hear, he can be very persuasive.”

  “Gross, Lara.”

  “I’m just saying. Now get back in line, you’re about to be called onto the plane.”

  Niki paused and whipped her head around to see the gate empty. Then over the loud speaker, the attendant announced, “Niki Finley. If Niki Finley is in the terminal, Flight 213 needs you to board immediately.”

  “How . . . ?” Niki started, but Lara didn’t answer. She was directly in Niki’s line of sight as Niki looked up. Lara nodded and without another word dropped the phone from her ear and left the terminal.

  10

  Freetown International Airport

  Sierra Leone

  THE SMELL OF BODY ODOR lingered in the air as Niki followed in Lord’s footsteps toward the front of the jammed aircraft. The plane had been sitting still with stagnant air wafting throughout the cabin for the better part of ten minutes. She grabbed her ticket and began to fan herself, blowing as much air as she could into her face to cool herself.

  “What’s taking so long?” Niki huffed.

  “Relax.” Lord smiled over his shoulder. “This is nothing. I’ve been stranded on an aircraft waiting to deplane for over an hour before.”

  “An hour?” Niki questioned with fierceness.

  Luckily for her, her claustrophobia was relieved soon. The cabin door opened, and the passengers at the front of the plane began to file out. When the sun hit her face, she relished the warmth and the smell of fresh air. The plane did not anchor to a jet bridge, but rather a staircase was rolled out where the passengers would drop onto the tarmac before heading inside to grab their luggage.

  As they walked toward baggage claim, Niki thought, What should I say? How can I break away? She knew she had to get to locker number 11 without Lord’s knowledge, but she also had no idea where the locker was. How would she find it in short order? From her class report, she knew the official language was English, but she didn’t want to inquire unless she had to.

  When she reached the terminal, she quickly scanned the perimeter. The airport was small, at least by American standards. She saw nothing resembling a row of lockers. Maybe on the second floor. Niki scanned upward. But why would she need to go there; baggage claim was on the first level, not far from their current location.

  “Is there a bathroom nearby?” Niki said.

  “Again?” Lord whipped around.

  “What can I say, I’m well hydrated.”

  Lord dropped his head and pointed upward. “Second floor.”

  Niki grinned, knowing that was her opportunity. “Can I leave this with you?” She nodded to her roller bag. Then she ran for the staircase.

  Once she reached the second level, she found blue lockers against the south wall. Aha. She jogged to them and searched for number 11, which was difficult because there was no order to them whatsoever. She eventually found locker 11, just as it appeared in the photograph, with a gouge across the center just below the number.

  But there was a problem, something Fox didn’t warn her about. It had a lock. Not a padlock, but a combination.

  You’ve got to be shitting me.

  It was a letter, not a number, combination.

  ZULU was the first thing that popped into her head. But as she spun the dial, she realized four letters wouldn’t work. It was a three-letter combination, but it would function much like a numbered combination would work.

  Think, Niki, think.

  She rubbed her temples.

  Collar? No. That’s stupid. The director? No. Lara? No. Stop. Use your brain. She was flustered, and time was ticking. She spun around and saw several people gathering below. There was no sign of Lord, but how long would he wait? Sooner or later he would come looking, and she couldn’t still be in this position.

  Wait. Lara. Fox. That’s it.

  She spun the dial back and forth to the letters F-O-X and lifted the lever, and the caged door swung open.

  A black backpack was inside. She ripped the zipper open to view the contents. She gripped the polymer body of her Glock, then noticed a night-vision scope and camera resting atop a stack of pictures. Peering over her shoulder, making sure she wasn’t being watched, Niki threw the pack over her shoulder and slammed the locker door shut.

  Walking back to the staircase she thought, He’ll either ask about the pack or he won’t. Sure, Lord would recognize she was carrying something, but whether or not he was too distracted to ask about it was another thing completely.

  “There you are.” He ran to meet her the instant she set foot on the main level, but he didn’t seem to notice the strap over her shoulder.

  “I didn’t realize you missed me that much,” she said, hoping to throw him off.

  “Sure. And I took the liberty to grab your bag.” He lugged hers alongside his two oversized suitcases.

  “Thank you for that.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grinned slyly.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “Are you ready?”

  “For?”

  “To meet some of my sons and daughters.”

  Niki was curious. “Your sons and daughters? You have multiple? Here, in Africa?”

  “Yes, the ones I sponsor. The village. Would you like to meet them?”

  “Oh, for sure. This is a humanitarian mission we’re here for, right?”

  “Of course. That was my pitch to you, after all.”

  “Then by all means, professor, lead on.” And once he turned around, she dropped the pack onto her roller bag.

  Outside, Niki and Lord loaded onto a battered, graffiti-covered bus. There were only five rows, and Niki and Lord shoved into the back seat on the left side and stacked their luggage on the right. Only three other passengers climbed in after they did.

  She stared at Lord and asked, “How does the driver know where to drop us?”

  Once again, Lord wore the same cheesy grin he had in the terminal. “People know me here. They know what I do and where to drop me.”

  “Oh, really? What are you, some kind of African celebrity?” Niki mocked.

  “Something like that.”

  The low rumble of the diesel engine roared to life. Niki looked behind them to see black smoke pouring out of the exhaust. Sitting there for almost five minutes, Niki wondered why they hadn’t moved.

  “What’s the deal?”

  “What do you mean?” Lord asked.

  “We aren’t we moving?” She hated sitting still, especially since joining the cause with ZULU. One thing the organization preached was movement. It was life. If you remained stagnant for long, you were an attractive target to the enemy.

  Lord leaned into the aisle to see if he could see the driver. He caught eyes with him in the rearview, but it was fleeting. The d
river went back to looking out the windshield.

  “Seems to be waiting for someone,” Lord said.

  “Let me by.” Niki jabbed her elbow into Lord’s arm.

  “What are you going to do?” Lord didn’t move from his seat.

  “I’m going to have a talk with the driver.”

  “And say what? He doesn’t know you.”

  “He will after I introduce myself. Now if you don’t mind.” Niki waited for Lord to move, which he eventually did.

  After sliding to the right side of the bus, Niki stared down the aisle, catching a glimpse of the driver in the mirror. He didn’t see her advance, but Niki noticed the driver nodding through the windshield at someone, as if acknowledging an order to leave. Instantly she dropped into an empty seat on the left side of the bus and peered through the open window in search of the object of the driver’s attention. Her instinct made her hair stand up on end. Something was wrong.

  Her eye went from face to face, studying each one with a passing glance. Most of the passengers paid no attention to her or the bus itself until . . . Son of a bitch, Niki thought. There he was. Payne. He was alone. Peculiar for a terrorist. Usually, the head of the snake would have bodyguards, a crew, multiple men there to protect him. But then Niki noticed something else as the bus rolled ahead. The mass amounts of people filing into the airport avoided him. They parted like the Red Sea upon his approach.

  Her stare was broken when she realized he was staring back, right at her, and now he knew what she looked like. It was likely he didn’t know she was with the Zealots or that she was there to keep tabs on his movements inside the country, but he saw her and would recognize her if she ever got close to him.

  Niki slumped in the seat and turned her focus straight ahead, to the back of the torn green leather of the seat in front of her. She would stay there, pondering her next move, for the remainder of the drive to the village.

  That was stupid, Niki. Why did you look? Sure, she could second-guess herself now, but what choice did she have? Payne would’ve found out regardless; after all, it seemed clear she was on his bus. Or at least the driver was on his payroll.