State sanctioned, p.20
State Sanctioned, page 20
“Sherrie, look out!”
Sherrie hit the deck, her weapon going silent, as Fang redirected her fire, the security detail joining in, the two men shaking from the impacts of dozens of rounds as Fang switched to full-auto. Ahead, the four remaining assailants were already redirecting their fire and Fang took cover behind the hood of the limousine as two of the security detail, too slow to react, dropped behind her.
But the distraction was enough for the second detail to exit their vehicle and quickly end the siege. Fang rose slowly, her weapon still at the ready, carefully surveilling the area. “Check the targets!”
The detail quickly set upon the assailants, disarming them, even the dead, then handcuffing the few that were wounded but alive.
Sherrie approached the door, still half opened, her weapon aimed at the dead and dying. “Chief, are you okay?”
Morrison’s voice, shaky but relieved, replied. “We’re both good!”
Fang beamed a smile at Sherrie who turned toward the nearest set of traffic lights and gave a thumbs-up to the viewers at home.
41 |
Morrison Residence River Oaks Drive, McLean, Virginia
Kane sipped his scotch, pleased his boss had remembered his penchant for Glen Breton Ice, a case now on hand at a home he had been welcomed into for the first time, though this wasn’t the first time he had been here.
The first time, he had broken in and confronted Morrison on why he wanted one of his agents dead.
Namely him.
Aside from his family, the most important people in his life were gathered here, and thankfully, all were alive and happy. He had been forced to listen to the assault on a cellphone mounted in Fang’s car, battling the edge of a jamming zone, that left him for several minutes thinking Sherrie was dead. Thankfully, his interpretation of what he was hearing was wrong.
He had watched the video of the assault after the fact, and was still impressed with the sacrifice Morrison was willing to make, and was thankful Fang and Sherrie had arrived in time to turn the tide of the battle. His level of respect for the man had always been high, but now that he knew he would die to save those under his command, it had reached an entirely new level. He raised his glass.
“To the Chief! I’m glad he’s not dead!”
Everyone raised their glasses. “To the Chief!”
Morrison acknowledged the toast, then raised his own glass. “Thanks to you all, I’m here to tell the tale.” He turned to Sherrie and Fang. “Especially my two angels.”
Sherrie grinned. “Leif’s Angels?”
Fang’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
“You know, as in Charlie’s Angels.”
Kane laughed. “I guess that would make you Lucy Liu, hon.”
Fang’s eyes widened. “Ooh, I like her. Elementary is awesome.”
Leroux raised his glass. “Agreed.” He looked about. “Is your wife here, sir?”
Morrison nodded. “She’s sequestered herself to the bedroom for the evening so I don’t have to shoot her if she overhears anything.”
Kane laughed. “Good thinking on her part.”
Morrison turned to Kane. “There’s one thing missing in your report that the Russians want an explanation for.”
Kane glanced around the room. “Uh oh.” He drained his drink and Leroux refilled it. “What’s that?”
“Where did she get that belt from?”
Kane shrugged. “What belt?”
“The belt with the daggers embedded in the buckle, along with a listening device.”
Kane smiled. “I’m sure I have no idea.”
“Uh huh. Well, they’re pissed. They’re blaming us for taking away their opportunity to parade Natasha on the world stage to take the blame.”
Kane grunted. “Well, that’s odd. I thought she was shot to death, not stabbed.”
Morrison eyed him. “In your world, I bet you think that makes sense.”
Kane grinned. “Doesn’t it?”
Morrison chuckled, draining his own drink. He held up the empty glass. “I think I like your taste in scotch, young man, but you make a terrible diplomat.”
Kane raised his glass. “To being a terrible diplomat!”
A round of cheers went up, then Sherrie became serious. “So, what happens to Minkin?”
Morrison shook his head slowly as Leroux refilled his glass. “Nothing, unless the Russians track him down. He’s disappeared, and with his money, I doubt he’s resurfacing unless he wants to.”
Leroux put the decanter back down. “He was used by Aristov. Was he really at fault for what happened in ’88?”
“In ’88, no, but today? Absolutely. He handed over the Novichok to save his own skin. If it weren’t for him, Kulick and his daughter would never have been poisoned.”
Leroux’s head bobbed. “I guess you’re right.” He regarded Morrison. “I guess Minkin, West, and you are the only ones left that know anything about what happened.”
Kane cleared his throat. “Well, we all know now.”
Morrison smiled. “Let’s just hope it’s another thirty years before anyone cares.”
Kane held up a finger. “Umm, we’ll still all be alive then.”
Morrison grinned. “I won’t!”
42 |
Salisbury District Hospital Salisbury, United Kingdom
DCI Nelson waved Hugh Reading over and leaned in, his voice low. “You can see him now. Five minutes.”
Reading patted his old colleague on the back. “You’re a good lad. Drinks later?”
Nelson smiled. “The boys and I will be there. It should be grand.”
“I’ve invited my son. He’s a copper now.”
“I heard. You must be proud.”
Reading’s chest swelled. “You have no idea. But if I’ve left this cursed earth and you ever hear of him considering joining Interpol, you smack him for me.”
Nelson laughed. “It’s a promise.” He became serious, pushing open the door. “Five minutes.”
Reading nodded then headed into the room containing the two remaining, and original, Novichok victims. Igor Kulick had just woken after weeks of slipping in and out of consciousness, and lay in bed appearing weak but on the mend, his daughter in the next bed, sleeping.
Kulick’s eyes narrowed and fear crossed his face as Reading, an imposing figure, entered. “Who-who are you?”
“I’m Agent Reading from Interpol.”
Kulick relaxed slightly and frowned. “Interpol? I don’t think you guys have been at me yet. How many times do I have to answer the same things?”
Reading smiled and approached the bed, lowering his voice. “I have a message from Whiskey-Alpha-Four-Two.”
Kulick’s eyes widened as he drew a quick breath. “So, he got the message?”
Reading held up the piece of paper found in Kulick’s wallet by Nurse Aldrin. Kulick slumped in the bed, the tension he must have been feeling since the moment he woke, eased. “He wants you to know that you and your daughter are safe now.”
Kulick’s shoulders heaved as his lips trembled, his eyes brimming with tears. He reached out and grabbed Reading by the arm. “Tell my old friend, thank you, and I hope one day to tell him some more Soviet jokes.”
THE END
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The inspiration for this novel should be obvious to those who follow the news. The outrageous poisonings in Salisbury, carried out by the Russian government, were excellent fodder for a spy novel. But merely retelling events everyone had read about already, would be boring not only for you, the reader, but for myself, the writer. So, the idea of having the Russians innocent of the crime was born.
One thing many ask about writing is about the process used. I use both plotting and pantser methods, the former being a formal outline that I then write to, the other simply a “park your ass in front of the keyboard and write” method. Either way, both are a lot of fun, though pantsing it is a little more nerve-racking. And, regardless of the method used, I, like you, don’t know the ending necessarily.
Like this novel.
I get as much pleasure in seeing how things work out as you do, and it’s always fun to see all the threads come together in the end.
And a little side story concerning the Soviet joke about the hotel room eavesdropping. My favorite teacher growing up was my eighth and ninth-grade English teacher, Miss Boss. We were stationed in West Germany at the time, and some of the teachers went on a trip to Moscow. After returning, she told us the story about how they were briefed before going, given a long list of rules to obey, and to assume they were always being watched or listened to.
One day, the hotel room was a little chilly, so she said aloud as a joke that she wished it were warmer. When she returned later, it was. Now, was the KGB passing on guest complaints to the hotel staff? Probably not, but it is a fun little story.
As usual, there are people to thank. My dad for the research, Brent Richards for some weapons info, Susan “Miss Boss” Turnbull for her Soviet-era hotel story, the proofing and launch teams, and of course my wife, daughter, mother, and friends.
To those who have not already done so, please visit my website at www.jrobertkennedy.com then sign up for the Insider’s Club to be notified of new book releases. Your email address will never be shared or sold, and you’ll only receive the occasional email from me, as I don’t have time to spam you!
Thank you once again for reading.
DYLAN KANE WILL RETURN!
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The Templar Detective Thrillers
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The Templar Detective and the Parisian Adulteress
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The Templar Detective and the Unholy Exorcist
The James Acton Thrillers
The Protocol
Brass Monkey
Broken Dove
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Flags of Sin
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Amazon Burning
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Blood Relics
Sins of the Titanic
Saint Peter’s Soldiers
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The Nazi’s Engineer
Atlantis Lost
The Cylon Curse
The Viking Deception
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Infidels
The Lazarus Moment
Kill Chain
Forgotten
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Rogue Operator
Containment Failure
Cold Warriors
Death to America
Black Widow
The Agenda
Retribution
State Sanctioned
The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries
Depraved Difference
Tick Tock
The Redeemer
Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series
The Turned
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Copyright © 2019 J. Robert Kennedy
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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J. Robert Kennedy, State Sanctioned
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