The executioners mask th.., p.1
The Executioner's Mask (The Unleashed Series Book 2), page 1
THE EXECUTIONER’S MASK
The Unleashed Series
Book 2
Remington Kane
Contents
Introduction
Join My Inner Circle
Acknowledgments
I. Lights Out In The City Of Light
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
II. Down The Rabbit Hole
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
III. Attack And Destroy
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
BROCK HARPER RETURNS!
Afterword
Join My Inner Circle
Bibliography
Coming Soon
Make Contact
Introduction
THE EXECUTIONER’S MASK
Book Two of the UNLEASHED Series
Brock Harper returns, and this time the threat is nuclear, as the city of Paris is at risk of being destroyed by an atom bomb.
Join My Inner Circle
REMINGTON KANE’S INNER CIRCLE
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Acknowledgments
I write for you.
—Remington Kane
Part One
Lights Out In The City Of Light
Chapter One
On a hot day in September, in the not-too-distant future, Brock Harper left his cabin to go for an afternoon run. At his side was his girlfriend, Alara Kaan.
Brock was a big man with dark blond hair who until recently had been a federal agent. He’d led a team that was the tip of the spear of an anti-terrorist unit named Unleash. Unleash was an acronym for UNilateral Law Enforcement And Safe Homeland. The unit had been formed in response to the wave of domestic terrorism that had grown in recent years. The men and women involved with Unleash had been a mixture of federal agents and New York City police officers.
Unleash had been successful but controversial. Brock had been at the center of controversy as well because he had often killed in the line of duty. The media had tagged him with the nickname of “The Executioner.” Brock had lived up to that name while battling an unprecedented string of terror attacks targeting New York City.
The attacks had taken place seven months earlier. The man behind the attacks, Ezekiel Talamander, had successfully trapped the governor, state politicians, and diplomats from the United Nations inside two underground bunkers, where they had gone to seek safety.
It had been a scheme devised by Ezekiel to lure them to their deaths, along with their wives, husbands, and children. A lethal gas was hidden inside the bunkers and would be released at a designated time.
Brock and his team located and confronted Ezekiel with only minutes to spare. Desperate to save over a thousand people, hundreds of them children, Brock did the unthinkable and killed one of Ezekiel’s sons, an eight-year-old named Isaac. Brock promised to kill Ezekiel’s only remaining child if he didn’t tell them how to open the bunkers and free those about to die.
Ezekiel gave in, over a thousand lives were saved, and Brock had to live with what he’d done. He had committed a vile act for the best of reasons, but an innocent child had still died at his hand.
Despite the success of the program, Unleash was shut down. Brock was more controversial than ever and treated as a pariah by many and thought of as a hero by others.
There were those that wanted to give him a medal, while others wanted him to stand trial for murder. No medals were given nor was he ever charged. As an agent of Unleash, Brock had full immunity when he was on duty, as had all Unleash agents. It was a contentious privilege of the job and one necessary to get things done.
Terrorists didn’t play by rules, forcing those combating them to do so only led to crippling their efforts, and the deaths of more innocents. The men and women who had formed the Unleash unit had known that, and the program had been a success. Despite the achievements, the program ended, and Brock had decided to leave law enforcement.
That period had been one of the worst of Brock’s life, but something good had come out of it, because it was during that time he had met Alara.
Alara’s cousin, Mehmet, had been used as a pawn by Ezekiel and had been blamed for the man’s crimes at one point. Brock had met Alara during his search for Mehmet.
Brock had helped her out when the media was pointing toward her as being an accomplice of her cousin. Alara had been innocent, but public opinion was against her until the truth emerged about Ezekiel.
Later on, Alara had been there for Brock. The two had become friends, then lovers. They now lived together at his cabin home in Upstate New York.
Alara, a former nurse, was also a talented artist. She worked from home and made a living as an illustrator of children’s books. Brock had started his own company and was a security consultant. While he had to travel often, he worked fewer hours than he ever had and made more money.
He had saved the lives of many powerful and influential people by breaking down Ezekiel Talamander and freeing his captives from the underground bunkers. As a result, he often had more work than he could handle.
His old boss and friend, Ed Garrett, who had overseen Unleash, had reached out to Brock earlier in the day. Garrett told Brock that there were people interested in having him head a new task force.
“I’d like to go into detail about it, Brock, but I can’t. I can tell you that your skills are needed desperately, and that success means saving an untold number of lives.”
Brock was curious and intrigued by Garrett’s words. “An untold number of lives? What’s that mean?”
“I can’t go into it over the phone. I’m in the city; come meet with me and I’ll give you the details.”
Brock had declined. He had a successful business and was happy with the new life he had created for himself. He told Garrett he wished him luck and to stay safe. He had done his part, had lost a piece of his soul doing what he thought was right, and had been vilified for his actions. He no longer wore a uniform, and he no longer had to make life and death decisions. He liked it that way.
Although, there were times he missed being an agent, and it made him sick to watch what was going on in New York City since Unleash was disbanded.
The incidences of terror had increased dramatically, while the homicide rate was up by over a hundred percent. Meanwhile, a section of Brooklyn had become a no-man’s land, where even the cops refused to go. That area had been taken over by one of the country’s largest gangs.
A recent report stated that more than a million people had fled the city or were planning to do so before the end of the year. That was on top of the millions who had already moved away. New York City was a shadow of its former self; the same was true for most major American cities, and many foreign ones as well.
The prosperity of the nation as a whole had dropped dramatically since the implementation of a digital currency that could be tracked using blockchain technology. The digital currency allowed the government to have control over what the people were allowed to buy and gave them the ability to tax each “dollar” as it was earned.
Those changes combined with a massive tax hike had led many to abandon work and collect a government stipend. Private home ownership was at an all-time low while most people had taken to sharing an apartment with at least two roommates. Many of those who continued to run small businesses were hanging on by a thread, and with a new proposed tax hike, that thread was likely to be cut.
Meanwhile, the black-market for goods had never been more active. It relied on digital credits. The credits, which weren’t tracked like other income, had been allowed to ease the transition to a digital currency. However, the government could shut down the digital credit system at will. If it happened, many would be forced to turn to bartering, or find another way to pay for what they wanted and needed. What they wouldn’t do is abandon their vices, such as prostitution and drug use.
This is why it was believed by many that the digital credits would always be around. They allowed vice and corruption to exist without being traced, this included government corruption, and the vices enjoyed by the politicians.
Brock and Alara did stretching exercises while warming up for their afternoon run. Because of the heat, they both wore shorts and tank tops. Brock had a pack around his waist. It had a pouch that contained a bottle of water. Another compartment held a small gun. As someone who had carried a weapon for most of his life, Brock felt naked without one. He also knew the weapon might save his life if he ever needed it. Not all crime took place in the cities; danger could lurk anywhere.
They normally did two laps around a four-mile trail that circled the cabin. They had decided to only complete one lap due to the high humidity.
Brock ran the back of his hand across his forehead. “I’m already sweating, and we haven’t run yet. It’s got to be about a hundred degrees.”
Alara squinted up at the sun. When she spoke, there was a slight Turkish accent. “It was cooler during the heart of summer, and it’s nearly October.” She cocked her head then and listened. “I hear something.”
“What?” Brock said, but then he’d heard it as well.
The sound was coming from the south and was above them. Brock used a hand to shade his eyes and looked upward. There was a helicopter approaching.
“That looks like it’s dropping lower,” Alara said. “Are they thinking about landing here?”
Brock studied the craft as it came closer. It was large, white, and there was something written on it, but it was still too far away to make out what the lettering said. And yes, it appeared that it intended to land nearby. For what purpose was unclear.
Brock turned to enter the cabin. “The run is cancelled. It seems we’ll be having company soon.”
Alara followed him back inside. “Do you think it’s trouble?”
“Yeah, of one kind or another.”
There was no time to change clothes. There was time to acquire a weapon to supplement the handgun he had. Brock went to his gun safe and took out an AR-15. Alara grabbed the gun she used when target practicing.
She had never handled a weapon before meeting Brock, but over the last few months she had become proficient with a SIG Sauer P226. That was while shooting at stationary targets. She had never fired at a moving target, or a human being.
A grimace formed on Brock’s face. “Don’t use that weapon unless you’re forced to do so, okay?”
“I don’t want to fire it. I also won’t let anyone harm us.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “This could be nothing. Maybe the pilot had engine trouble and was looking for a field to set down in.”
“Do you think that’s all this is?”
Brock grabbed spare ammo, then answered her as he closed the safe. “Let’s go find out what this is.”
The cabin’s living room had a large picture window. They took positions at either side of it, with Brock on the left, and watched for movement.
Six men appeared. They were walking among a grouping of trees on the right, from the direction where the helicopter had set down. Three of the men were wearing suits and looked out of place. The other three were dressed in jeans or khakis and had handguns in holsters on their hips, along with gold badges clipped to their belts, which glinted in the sun. Having been one for years, Brock knew federal agents when he saw them, and that’s what the armed men were, although he didn’t know what agency they belonged to.
“The guys with the guns are Feds.”
“Do you know them?” Alara said.
“I don’t think so, but I haven’t gotten a good look at them yet.”
“Why would they be here?”
Brock was shaking his head when the men grew close enough to make out their features. One of the men wearing a suit was Ed Garrett.
“I don’t know what this is, but it’s not trouble. The man on the far right is my old boss, Ed Garrett.”
“Oh, yes. I recognize him. I guess he didn’t like you telling him no over the phone.”
“My answer hasn’t changed, but I am curious about why he’s here, and who his friends are.”
Alara set her gun on a table. “Let’s go find out.”
Brock hesitated in leaving the rifle behind; he decided to lean it up against the wall near the entrance. He knew Garrett and trusted him, but he didn’t know the other men. Before leaving the cabin, he unzipped the pack so he could get to the gun inside it easily. He also left the door sitting open, with the rifle only a few steps away.
Garrett smiled and held up a hand in greeting as he and the others neared the wide front porch. The three Feds were checking out Alara but did so without leering. She was a beautiful woman and the shorts she wore revealed her shapely legs.
Brock spoke to Garrett. “What’s going on, Ed?”
Before Garrett could answer, the man beside him spoke up. He was in his thirties, of average height, and wore a suit that looked like it came off the rack. His manner was officious, and his sunglasses reflected the light and made it impossible to see his eyes.
“We’re here for you, Agent Harper. We have an assignment for you.”
Brock sent the man a hard stare. “I’m no longer an agent. And who the hell are you?”
“His name is Ralph Goodwin, Brock,” Garrett said. “He’s with the state department, the man on his right is Blaise Legrand. Mr. Legrand is an aide to the French President.”
“I guess that explains why he’s being protected by federal agents. It doesn’t explain why you’re all here.”
Blaise Legrand spoke up then. He was in his fifties, well-dressed, short, and thin, with alert blue eyes. He carried a slim leather briefcase that had a biometric lock. His French accent sounded elegant.
“Mr. Harper, I apologize for the intrusion, but we have come here to discuss an urgent matter with you. President Vaux himself has asked me to speak to you. I believe you two have met, yes?”
“We have,” Brock said.
The recently elected French president was Marceau Vaux. When Brock had met him months earlier, he’d been the French Minister of Justice. Marceau Vaux and his family had been inside one of the bunkers targeted by Ezekiel Talamander. Vaux had met with Brock and thanked him for saving his life, and the lives of his family.
Legrand gestured toward the cabin’s open front door. “May we go inside and speak with you, Mr. Harper?”
“No. I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t want to know. I’m not a federal agent anymore,” Brock stared at the state department flunky, Goodwin. “and I can’t be sent out on assignments.”
Legrand clasped his hands together in a gesture of beseeching. “Please, Mr. Harper. I beg you to hear me out. There are millions of lives at stake.”
Brock looked over at Ed Garrett. “He’s exaggerating, right?”
“No, Brock, he is not.”
Brock let out a long breath. “We’re talking about a weapon of mass destruction?”
“Yes sir,” Legrand said.
Goodwin pointed at Alara. “Whoever this woman is, she shouldn’t be hearing this classified information. I want her to go inside before this conversation goes any further.”
“Hey, Goodwin.”
Goodwin looked up at Brock. “What?”
“Her name is Alara Kaan. She lives here. You’re trespassing. I want you to leave.”
Goodwin smirked. “I’ll gladly leave. I was against coming here in the first place. A man like you might only make the situation worse.”
“A man like me?”
“That’s right.”
