Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3

by Bradley Wright

  “It’s the director of the CIA.”

  Josiah laughed, and Cali’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

  “Just when you think you’ve heard it all,” Josiah said as he put the phone to his ear. “This is the sheriff.”

  King looked at Cali. He wasn’t sure what the confused expression on her face meant, but it seemed to be turning into a more knowing one the longer she looked at him. Like the puzzle pieces were coming together. New guy in town in abnormally good shape, admittedly former military, fighting skills enough to take down four men. King was sure that was what she was computing.

  “Yeah, and I’m Santa-fucking-Claus, Mr. CIA Director.”

  Apparently Director Lucas hadn’t been very convincing.

  Josiah ended the call and laid the phone down on the table. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back, Mr. CIA.”

  King, like Cali, was doing some computing of his own. If he took down the sheriff and avoided being taken into custody, was there any way he could still accomplish what he came to Barrow to do? No. His only chance was to go to work that night at Volkov Mining like nothing had ever happened, and make his way into the secure room where Dmitry Kuznetsov was doing his secret work. That would be impossible if the entire police force was after him, no matter how small that force might be. Instead, he had to trust that before it was time for his shift at work, Director Lucas would figure out a way to convince Josiah to let King go free.

  King had a feeling that wouldn’t be much of a problem, considering the president of the United States himself had personally put King on the job.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Moscow, Russia, 8:36 p.m.

  The Russian police car pulled in behind Sam’s SUV that was tucked in a grouping of trees just before the on-ramp to the freeway. As he was shouting something in Russian through his vehicle’s loud speaker, Sam removed her jacket. In the blinking blue lights, she could see that the sleeve of her white turtleneck shirt was covered in blood from her shoulder down. This would help sell her backup plan.

  Sam then rested her head against the steering wheel, and looked as passed out as she possibly could. The policeman had stopped shouting through the speaker system, and the next thing she heard was a door slam. He was coming for her. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. If she could catch the officer off guard, she wouldn’t have to kill him. That said, her Glock was tucked between the seat and the console beside her, just in case.

  The policeman shouted something in Russian, took a quick pause, then shouted again. He was right outside her door. He was probably terrified at who might come out shooting at him, so he was going to be on high alert. Sam knew she would have to be fast. All the policeman was working off of was that this SUV was fleeing the scene of a multiple homicide. His trigger finger would be itchy. Sam also knew he’d already called for backup. She just prayed he wasn’t going to wait for it to arrive. Because if he didn’t open the door to find her incapacitated, she was going to have to shoot him and leave. It was the last resort.

  The policeman shouted again. Inside her head Sam pleaded with him to be a hero. Then she heard him bang on the window beside her. He’d gotten close enough to see her. He was going to open the door. Sam readied herself.

  The car door flung open, and cold air rushed in as the policeman shouted frantically. Sam didn’t move. By now he’d noticed the blood in the beam of his flashlight. He shouted again. She was still as a statue. The policeman didn’t put his gun away; instead, he moved over to her and actually poked her near the wound in her shoulder with it. A bolt of pain shot down Sam’s arm, but she didn’t move.

  The policeman shouted one last time; then Sam heard his tone change when his radio squawked. He was letting his fellow officers know that he had the suspect in custody. He spoke in Russian, but the fear and tension had left his voice, so Sam knew that he thought it was over. She knew she had him.

  The policeman released the button on his radio, and Sam heard the snap on his holster engage. As soon as he wrapped his hand around her dangling left wrist and pulled her into an upright position, Sam shot her right hand directly into his throat. The man staggered back in shock as he gasped for breath. As he fumbled for his gun, Sam slid off the seat and kicked him in the groin. He doubled over onto his knees. Sam delivered a knockout kick to his forehead, and the man collapsed to the ground. He would have a hell of a headache in the morning, but at least he would be alive.

  Sam didn’t bother taking his radio. She knew his counterparts were already on their way. That and the sirens that filled the quiet night in the distance reiterated that fact. She did, however, relieve him of his weapon, because her magazine was almost empty. She reached inside the truck and threw her coat back on. At this point her shoulder was screaming. She was going to have to find someone who could remove the bullet and patch her up. But first, she had to get somewhere safe.

  Sam jumped back in the SUV, threw it into reverse and smashed into the front of the police car, giving her enough room to turn in front of the trees. As she merged onto the freeway, her first call was to Director Lucas. Normally there would be a handler for an agent in the field instead of the head of the CIA, but because her and Alexander King’s involvement were only known by Director Lucas and the president of the United States, there was no one else to reach out to.

  Director Lucas answered. “Sam, I can’t talk right now, X is in trouble.”

  With all that had transpired in the last two hours, it hadn’t occurred to her to check on King. She checked the time and realized she was supposed to have messaged him, but he was supposed to be in bed. Her stomach tied in a knot.

  “X? He’s supposed to be sleeping off night shift. Is he all right?”

  “He’s fine, but the mission is not.”

  Sam already knew the mission wasn’t fine, hence all the dead bodies at the hangar. She was just glad to hear X was okay.

  “But I’ve got to go, Sam. They are taking him to jail.”

  A hundred things ran through her mind. She knew Alexander King better than anyone. He was the very best at what he did with one small exception: he thinks he can save everyone. Sam had no idea what the trouble was with King, but she would have bet her life on it that the trouble he was in was because he was trying to help someone he should never have been involved with. And like she told the president at the speakeasy in Washington the night he gave X this critical mission, she would bet it all that it had to do with a woman. But at least he wasn’t hurt.

  “Sam? I guess I should have asked if you are okay.”

  Sam didn’t need Director Lucas right now. She knew one of the other agents in place whom the CIA had embedded in Moscow. He would be able to help her with a doctor—and with the little meeting she had scheduled the next morning. She just needed his phone number.

  “I’m fine. Worry about X. I just need Patrick O’Connor’s contact information.”

  “I’ll send it shortly,” Director Lucas said. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, have X call me, would you?”

  “Will do. I’ll check back with you shortly.”

  Sam dialed Dbie Johnson once again. Two years ago she didn’t even know Dbie; now she didn’t know what she would do without her. Having someone only X and Sam knew about was turning out to be a very helpful thing.

  Especially when Dbie answered the phone and already had information about the private plane that had flown into Moscow carrying vials filled with a mysterious liquid that a lot of people were finding extremely important. Including the man holding Zhanna hostage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Barrow, Alaska, 9:40 a.m.

  “Josiah, you’re making a mistake,” Cali said as Josiah wrapped the handcuffs around King’s wrists. “CIA or not, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Josiah clicked the last cuff in place, then put his hands on his hips. “Yeah? Well, I have a man bleeding out from a gunshot wound over at the hospital, and four people say it was CIA here that pulled the trigger.�
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  “And I’m telling you it wasn’t. It wasn’t even his gun!”

  “Well, if that’s the case, Xavier here will have nothing to worry about.” The tall, dark-haired sheriff turned to King. “Come on now. Don’t make this difficult for me, or I’ll make it that way for you.”

  King didn’t have a choice but to go without incident. At that point, fighting back would only make things worse. He gave Josiah a nod.

  “Now my deputy is going to search the place. Anything I need to know about before she does? Judge might be lenient if you cooperate.”

  King looked him in the eye. “There’s a bottle of Canadian whiskey in the cabinet. But I had nothing to do with that either.”

  Cali laughed.

  Josiah did not. “You think this is funny? You’re the new guy here, and I’ve got Barrow citizens at the hospital because of you.”

  Now King was starting to get upset. He was from a small town, so he knew how the politics in such a place worked, but this was beginning to go beyond that. “In case you haven’t noticed sheriff, those boys came to me. I didn’t seek them out. The last thing I wanted was to find trouble.”

  “Well, whether you found it or it found you, it’s here.”

  Josiah nudged King toward the door.

  “You can’t be serious, Josiah,” Cali said. “I’m an eyewitness who you know personally, and I’m telling you they attacked him, and it was Ryker who accidentally shot his own friend after he pulled his gun on Xavier. Ryker is the man you should be taking to jail!”

  Josiah stopped. “He’s probably going to jail, too, but I will not have this shit going on in my town.” Josiah looked back at King. “I suggest you save the talking for your lawyer. He’s the only person who can really help you now.”

  King didn’t say a word. Just when Josiah pulled him forward, Josiah’s radio beeped. He stopped to respond. “Go ahead, Elaine.”

  “Sheriff, I don’t really know how to say this . . .”

  King knew immediately what was about to happen. He wasn’t going to jail.

  “What is it, Elaine? Spit it out.”

  “Um . . . well . . . you have a phone call.”

  “You know what’s going on out here, Elaine, and you’re bothering me about a phone call? Take a message.”

  “Sir, it’s . . . it’s someone claiming to be calling on behalf of the president of the United States.” Elaine stopped talking long enough to laugh out loud. “Said it was a matter of national security. I’m sorry to bother you, but I figured with the shit you’re dealing with, you could use a laugh.”

  Josiah looked back at King. He knew it wasn’t a prank. Not after hanging up on someone claiming to be the director of the CIA. “This shit for real?”

  The time for messing around was over. King needed to get moving on what he came to Alaska to do. This extracurricular bullshit had to stop, and he needed to pivot. He had an idea that he hoped might actually benefit him. “It’s for real. And I need your help.”

  Josiah took out the keys to the handcuffs as he pressed his radio. “Have them call my cell phone.”

  Elaine came back with a laugh. “Okay, boss. See you when you get back to the station.”

  “No, Elaine. Have them call my cell phone, and tell no one the call came in.”

  “Oh, okay. Sending them to your cell.”

  “Elaine?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell anyone, or you’re fired.”

  Josiah nodded to King. King had made the right play asking for help. It was already paying off. Josiah stuck the key in the handcuffs and released them.

  “Holy shit,” Cali said. “I mean, the way you handled yourself out there, that was crazy, but CIA? What the hell could be going on here in this town to warrant bringing you here undercover?”

  “The Russians,” Josiah spoke up. Then he looked at King. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You understand I can’t say a whole lot.”

  Cali walked over beside Josiah, and they both waited with bated breath.

  “What I can tell you is that millions of American lives are at stake. It’s that serious. And I have a lead.” King looked at Josiah. “I just might need you to help make sure I can run it down.”

  Before Josiah could answer, his cell phone rang.

  “You know you have got to put that on speaker, right?” Cali said.

  “This really gonna be President Gibbons?”

  “It is,” King said.

  Josiah held out his phone, hit speaker—much to Cali’s delight—and answered the call. “This is Sheriff Lee.”

  “Sheriff, please hold for the president.”

  Cali held her hand over her open mouth. Josiah just stared blankly at his phone.

  “Sheriff Lee?” a man’s voice asked.

  “Yes. Yes, sir.”

  “This is President Gibbons. I hear you have one of my finest agents there with you. That correct?”

  “That’s what he tells me, sir.”

  “Can I speak with him?”

  “I’m here, Mr. President,” King said. “Sorry to have to bother you like this, but as you know, things don’t always go according to plan.”

  Just a few months ago, before the election, King had saved the president and his wife from a rogue CIA agent. It’s the reason King didn’t really feel bad about the president having to make a phone call.

  “I know that all too well,” the president said. “You all right?”

  “I am now, sir.”

  “Sheriff?”

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “I probably don’t have to tell you that because you’re getting a call from me, it means something dead serious is going on. I’ll leave it up to my agent to fill you in how he sees fit, but you’d be doing your country, and me, a great favor if you could lend him your services. The safety of our citizens depends on it.”

  “I’ll do whatever is needed, sir. I can assure you of that.”

  “That’s great. And it won’t go unnoticed. Now you need to understand that this call never happened. And you need to know that the man standing beside you, after he leaves Barrow, Alaska, was only ever Xavier, the security guard at Volkov Mining from out of town who just couldn’t handle the cold.”

  “That last part might actually be true,” King interjected.

  “I imagine so, X. Sheriff, are we on the same page?”

  “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

  “Fine. Thank you for your help. X, try to stay out of trouble, would you?”

  “No sir. I think I’m about to find a whole lot more of it.”

  “Oorah. Contact Director Lucas when you get a minute. And good luck.”

  “Thanks for the call, sir,” King said.

  The call ended.

  “Wow,” Cali spoke first.

  “Listen,” King said, finding both Cali’s and Josiah’s eyes. “This is for real. You need to understand that it’s not just life and death, it’s a lot of lives, and possibly a whole lot of deaths.”

  “What’s going on?” Josiah said.

  “I won’t say much, but remember how fast the coronavirus swept the country, and the globe?”

  Both Cali’s and Josiah’s faces shifted from curious to concerned. It felt odd for King to be sharing this kind of information; it was the first time since he’d joined the military that he had conveyed details about a mission to civilians while he was in the middle of it. But at that point, he had no choice. He would just give as little as possible. The two of them both eventually nodded their heads.

  “Well, imagine if corona had been far more deadly.”

  King watched Josiah swallow hard.

  “Someone is using a virus as a weapon?” Cali asked.

  “At Volkov?” Josiah finally spoke.

  King headed the questions off at the pass. “All you need to know is that I have to go to work tonight as if nothing ever happened. Someone very important is here under an alias, and I have to find out tonight exactly what he’s up t
o. Now, I can do that on my own, but it would be nice if I had someone to call in case things don’t go as planned.”

  “Whatever you need,” Josiah said.

  “I’m not much help with security measures,” Cali said, “but I’m here if you need me.”

  When Cali offered her help, King’s mind flashed back to her telling him her father had a plane.

  “What does your dad do?” King asked her.

  “What?” The question caught Cali off guard.

  “Your dad. You said he has a plane?”

  “Oh, right. Transports. Mostly groceries and emergencies. As you know, there aren’t a lot of flights in and out of here, so he makes needed and emergency trips along with his regular pickups and deliveries.”

  “And earlier you said you could get me out of here before tonight. That still an option? Even after midnight?”

  “Wait a second,” Josiah interrupted, then shot a look at Cali. “You were offering to help him escape?”

  Cali smiled. “You can’t escape if you didn’t do anything. I was just going to help him leave if he was wrongfully accused. And if you remember correctly, that’s exactly what you were here doing.”

  “I wasn’t accusing—”

  “Can we focus here?” King jumped in. “Some pretty big stuff going on . . . remember? The president just called you and such?”

  They both apologized, and Cali picked up where King had left off. “Yes to your question. If you need to get out of here, anytime, you can.”

  “Your dad would be available?” King asked.

  “Doesn’t need to be,” Josiah answered for her. “Cali’s a pilot. She’ll fly you.”

  King raised his eyebrow and smirked like he was impressed. Because he was. He liked the woman he was involved with to have layers. And Cali was quickly becoming a tall cake’s worth.

  “Sexy, right?” Josiah said.

  Cali didn’t blush. She just held out her arms and shrugged.

  Sexy was a good word for her. She was that in every way.

  King’s phone began to ring. And as if Sam could somehow sense King was starting to feel something for a woman who would only cause him problems, she was calling to snap him back to reality.