Imprisoned: A Jason King Thriller (Jason King Series Book 2)

by Matt Rogers

  ‘How confident are you?’

  ‘Everything of any importance takes place in that ship,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been inside. I was too low in the ranks. But that’s where all the supply is kept, it’s where most of the guards are stationed around, it’s where Rico does business. Mamá and Ana are in there somewhere. I know it.’

  King brought up the layout of the shipyard in his head, recalling the view from Diamanté Resort. He remembered an open expanse of concrete that cut through the wreckages, leading to the ocean. A straight path cutting through to Rico’s stronghold. Once inside the cruise ship, he could utilise his skills more effectively. Raul had seen enough of King in action to recognise his talent in close quarters.

  It was reaching the cruise ship that seemed to be the major hurdle.

  King turned the wheel and brought the Cobra off the main road as they grew closer to the shipyard. He entered a claustrophobic neighbourhood where houses had been seemingly squashed together to ensure maximum occupancy. Every local they passed stopped what they were doing and stared in surprise at the armoured vehicle rumbling through the tiny streets.

  Raul directed him left, then right, then left again, and finally raised a hand. King pressed on the brake and the Cobra’s enormous tyres ground to a halt on the gravel. They had stopped just before the street opened out into a wider main road. The road trailed downhill towards the Caribbean Sea.

  ‘Don’t go any further,’ Raul said, his eyes wide.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s been a while since I navigated these streets. I was rusty. Turn right here and the road runs right up to the main gate of the shipyard.’

  ‘There’s guards stationed there?’

  Raul nodded. ‘Rico always keeps half a dozen of his thugs patrolling the entrance.’

  ‘Describe the gate.’

  ‘It’s big. It’s some kind of steel mesh.’

  ‘You think we could break through it?’

  Raul’s eyes darted over the interior of the Cobra, taking in the bulk of the vehicle. ‘Yeah, probably. There’s no other way in. Big steel walls running around the rest of the shipyard.’

  ‘Could we climb over them?’

  Raul looked at him. ‘Maybe. But then we don’t have a tank.’

  King opened his door and let the humid Venezuelan air flow into the Cobra. ‘Let’s take a look.’

  They got out and scurried to the footpath beside an abandoned apartment complex. Scaffolding and building tools lay scattered across the structure, indicating it had been in the process of construction before either financiers or workers had given up on the project. Whatever the case, it blocked the Cobra from the view of whoever was looking up the hill from the bottom of the main road.

  King moved slowly along one wall of the complex, feeling the heat of the day drawing sweat from his pores. Raul stayed back. King crouched low as he approached the corner of the building, then peeked around the bend, taking care to expose as little of his frame as possible to whoever may be watching.

  Raul was right.

  The cracked asphalt descended the rest of the slope, where it ended at a steel wall running the length of the road. The wall had been thrown together haphazardly, probably by Rico and his men when they moved in. Large slabs of concrete and metal and barbed wire had been slapped together at random. Just high enough to prevent intruders. He couldn’t imagine who would want to enter the shipyard anyway, save for having a death wish.

  Like he did.

  He counted four men loitering at a chain-link gate in the middle of the wall. All tough-looking types, most smoking cigarettes. Each man had a sub-machine gun dangling from a shoulder strap, the gunmetal glinting in the sun. King couldn’t make out their type from such a distance, but the weapons looked fearsome. Supplied by José, no doubt. The four of them strolled about with a sense of brash confidence, openly brandishing illegal firearms, aware that all the proper authorities had been paid off and as a result they ran no risk of being arrested.

  They were on top of the world.

  King would soon change that.

  He shrank back into the side-street and met Raul’s gaze. ‘Four men on the gate.’

  ‘Used to be two. He’s doubled security.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘I don’t like this, Raul.’

  ‘I don’t have any other options. I’ll take the Cobra and the guns if you don’t want to continue.’

  King shook his head. ‘We have the element of surprise. I like that. And they look like amateurs. Street thugs. I can deal with them.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I’m never sure. But I’m confident.’

  King headed back to the Cobra, gnashing his teeth together as he rode out waves of anxiety. His head began to pound, either an effect of the blows he’d sustained over the last few days or because of the rush of adrenalin. He clambered back into the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel until his fingers turned white and his forearms swelled under the exertion. Raul got into the passenger’s seat beside him and watched him silently.

  King didn’t bother to check whether Raul was scared. He knew the man would be. Right now, he had to focus on himself. It would take extraordinary focus to achieve what he wanted in the coming storm. But he’d done it before. He could do it again.

  He gazed out at the T-junction ahead and zoned in. He touched his foot against the accelerator — ready to press it down. When they turned the corner, it would be full speed ahead. The element of surprise would lend a sizeable advantage that he knew how to exploit. They’d have to hit the shipyard fast and hard. There was no time for hesitation, which meant a single mistake would end them.

  A lot of pressure to handle.

  He began to put weight on the pedal when a flash of movement in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Something ordinarily forgettable, but in his heightened state of mental alertness he paid attention to every shred of movement. He glanced out the side window.

  Shit.

  Two men, decked out in combat gear from head to toe, brandishing automatic weapons on the third floor of the adjacent apartment complex. He saw them. They saw him.

  The pair shrank back into the shadows of the construction site, disappearing from view.

  And just like that, King knew he and Raul had been compromised.

  CHAPTER 40

  ‘Fuck,’ he whispered, reaching back and snatching an MP7 off the floor. He checked the gun was loaded and racked the safety off.

  ‘What is it?’ Raul said. He hadn’t seen them.

  ‘They saw us.’

  ‘Who saw us?’

  King didn’t respond, because by that point he’d thrown the door open and dropped to the ground outside. He set off in a full-paced sprint into the construction site. He hurdled a low fence and pushed himself faster, legs pounding across the concrete. The complex loomed overhead. He ducked through an open doorway and found himself in a dusty open-plan layout, faintly illuminated by the sunlight dipping in through open windows along the perimeter.

  The place had been abandoned long ago. Water dripped from the ceiling. Crude graffiti covered all exposed surfaces, and the floor was littered with empty cans and dirty rags. King’s own panicked breathing was the only audible noise.

  There was no sign of the two men. He stayed still for a moment as he took in every inch of his surroundings, making sure that they hadn’t made it to the ground floor before he’d entered the building. But the lower level was desolate. It felt like no-one had stepped foot in the complex for years.

  He spotted a half-finished concrete stairwell in the corner, ascending into darkness. It seemed to be the only way to reach the higher levels. A dilapidated elevator shaft sat in a far wall, abandoned halfway through construction. It served no purpose.

  The stairwell it is.

  King powered across the room and took the stairs three at a time, keeping one finger slotted inside the trigger guard of his sub-machine gun. He knew
the odds were in his favour. Not many people on the planet could react faster than he could — but it only took one bullet from behind to shut the lights out.

  He cleared the second floor, keeping one eye on the stairwell at all times to make sure the two men didn’t pass him by. He could search the entire building this way. At some point, he had to run into the duo. It was paramount that he did. If either of them made it back into the shipyard, the Movers would be prepared for an attack.

  He swore as the second floor turned out empty. Every second that ticked away created a higher likelihood that their cover had been blown. He darted back to the stairwell and made it to the third floor in seconds. He kept the MP7 raised, ready to react to the slightest unnatural movement. He looked past dusty columns and through the skeleton frames of half-erected plaster walls. Nothing. Completely empty.

  Heart pounding in his chest, King took a deep breath and prepared for a trip to the fourth floor. Then he glanced at the elevator shaft and went pale.

  A thick hessian rope had been fixed to the side of the shaft, dangling down to the lower floors. It swayed softly from side to side without any kind of draught. Which only meant one thing.

  It had been used recently.

  Very recently.

  King swung the MP7’s leather strap over his shoulder and let go of the weapon as he ran back towards the stairwell. He knew he would not need it. It dangled by his side as he ran.

  The two mercenaries would be long gone, high-tailing it back to the shipyard to inform their comrades of an approaching Otokar Cobra. He no longer had any advantages except for his experience in the heat of combat.

  He doubted that would get them through the coming battle.

  But every second that ticked away signalled another moment that Rico could spend getting ready for an attack.

  So he tore down three flights of stairs. He burst back onto the ground floor and flew through the complex. His lungs pounded and the blood rushed to his head. He saw Raul peering out the windscreen of the Cobra. When the man saw King tearing towards the Cobra at breakneck speed his eyes widened and he opened the driver’s side door.

  King dove in.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘We’re compromised,’ King said, slamming the door shut behind him. ‘Two Movers saw us and got away. They’ve probably already raised the alarm.’

  ‘What?!’ Raul said with panicked urgency. King realised he should have just kept his mouth shut. The man was nervous enough.

  ‘We need to move,’ he said. ‘Right now.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Raul said, eyes widening. ‘I don’t know about this. Are you sure that—’

  King leant over and gripped his shoulder tight, his own blood rushing. ‘Raul, I know instinct is telling you to back out. But we either go right now or we never go at all. There’s no other option. You can get out if you want to.’

  With a determined nod of the head, Raul grit his teeth and nodded acceptance.

  ‘We’re going?’ King said.

  ‘We’re going.’

  Adrenalin ran high as King seized the wheel and slammed the Cobra’s accelerator. It took off with surprising power given its extraordinary weight. The tyres spun on the gravel for a moment before finding purchase. The tank-on-wheels rocketed out onto the main road, coming into full view of the guards.

  In King’s heightened state he noted each wave of reaction in the gangsters’ expressions.

  First came shock. The sight of such an enormous vehicle made them hesitate. For a moment no-one moved. Their weapons hung at their sides as they stared at the scene with utter disbelief. King imagined they were fully unprepared for an actual attack. With absolute control over the city of Maiquetía and dominance over all competition, he didn’t imagine they faced threats very often. They were stationed at the gate for nothing more than deterrence. They looked imposing, even though Rico probably knew a full-scale invasion would never come.

  But now it was happening — and they had been thrown into the midst of it — and they needed to react in the next few seconds or they would be rendered useless. It was too much for them to process. King grinned and ground his foot into the pedal, pushing the engine as hard as it could take. The guards stood frozen, locked in bouts of mental paralysis as their brains turned over at a million miles an hour.

  The Cobra roared towards the gate, descending the slope at a lightning pace.

  He didn’t even think about moving his foot over to the brakes. He and Raul had committed to the attack. By now there was no turning back.

  The guards came to this realisation shortly after. Then came the next phase of reactions.

  Sheer panic.

  Mouths open, eyes boggling, they snatched for their guns with shaky hands. The four of them were unable to rip their gaze away from the battering ram headed their way. King knew they would get a few shots off before they reached the gate. That was inevitable.

  Not that it mattered.

  The Cobra went airborne as it crossed from the smooth asphalt to the dirty patch of land in front of the gate. Its massive wheels bounced once, then found purchase and surged forward. King felt the vibration deep in his core. The impact smashed him against his seat, jolting him hard. He kept his grip on the wheel.

  A scattering of bullets chipped against the front windscreen. The first guard to gather his wits had unloaded his magazine at the vehicle. It had no effect whatsoever. The Cobra had been built specifically to withstand small-arms fire.

  He turned out to be the only man that reacted fast enough to hit them.

  The Cobra surged past the four of them — two on each side — and charged at the gate.

  ‘Brace!’ King roared.

  Rico wrapped one hand around his door handle and covered his face with the other. King tightened his grip on the wheel and tensed every muscle in his body at once, ready for the impact.

  They smashed into the steel mesh amidst the shriek of tearing metal.

  CHAPTER 41

  The gate was sturdier than King anticipated.

  He’d expected to demolish it with barely any resistance, given the sheer weight and size of the Cobra. But the collision knocked the breath from his lungs and they slowed considerably. He slammed against his seatbelt, coughing as he did so. In the passenger’s seat, Raul jolted similarly against his own restraints. They both let out twin grunts of surprise.

  The gate tore off its supports as it bore the full brunt of the Cobra’s momentum. Metal roared and steel bent and the structure collapsed. Despite the intensity of the crash, King kept his foot down. They stalled momentarily, then gained an extra burst of momentum and bounced over the destroyed frame.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Raul gasped, wheezing for breath.

  The Cobra rattled to a halt inside the shipyard. They had entered the same stretch of bare ground that King had seen from the hotel window, running all the way from the entrance to the port. Carcasses of long-retired cargo ships had been cast across the space seemingly at random. They looked like enormous boulders amidst a concrete wasteland. The shipyard was deserted for as far as the eye could see. It seemed all the important activity took place in and around the cruise ship.

  Raul had been right.

  In one fluid movement King undid his belt and launched out of the driver’s seat.

  ‘Where the fuck are you going?!’ Raul yelled.

  ‘Gotta deter them from following.’

  He snatched up a HK416 assault rifle from the steel floor and vaulted onto one of the seats, giving him enough room to stick his top half out the open hole in the roof. As he did so, he took a brief glance at the weapon in his hands.

  No, not a HK416.

  A HK417.

  He hadn’t seen many of the variants in his time, which was why it had taken him a while to notice the slight differences. This version was a slightly larger version of the standard HK416, which made room for 7.62x51mm NATO rounds. He only remembered those facts because of intrigue at the time. In reality, they all ki
lled just the same.

  Except this model caused slightly more grievous wounds.

  Perfect.

  He brought the red dot sight to his eye and locked his aim onto the gaping hole in the shipyard’s perimeter. He knew how their minds worked. The four guards were stationed at the gate to prevent one thing — intruders. They had failed miserably, and now they would come storming through into the shipyard, recklessly exposing themselves, curious to catch a glimpse of what their shortcomings had resulted in.

  One man came into view on each side of the gap. Both had their guns pointed at the ground, expecting King to have continued his rampage with the Cobra. They saw the huge vehicle stopped just inside the grounds of the shipyard.

  Both froze in shock.

  Too late.

  King fired two clusters, separated by a second’s hesitation as he moved from one target to the next. He aimed for their torsos — the largest surface area and as such the easiest to hit. All six rounds thudded home. He didn’t see the impacts. The exchange happened too fast to fully take in the placement of each individual bullet.

  He saw both men crumple like all the energy had been sucked out of them at once, and he knew his work was done. With the added size of the HK’s rounds, death would be inevitable. Vital organs had been destroyed.

  The brutality of the violence would cause the other two men to pause. They would more than likely suffer shock from seeing their partners die so suddenly. King wasn’t interested in needlessly killing them too. If they decided to put up a fight when he returned, he would deal with them accordingly.

  But for now, they would be preoccupied with aiding their dying comrades.

  He ducked back inside. He dropped the rifle. He dove into the driver’s seat and squashed his boot into the footwell. The Cobra took off again, roaring away from the scene at the gate.

  ‘Are they following?’ Raul said.

  ‘Not anymore.’

  The man inhaled, sucking air into his lungs. ‘I don’t know what to do…’