Kill Chain (36 page)

One easy target, though,
had been the private security company. They had been raided, and before Air
Force One had lifted off, Dawson had received word that the company had
confirmed they had been hired to set up the warehouse, including the automated
weapons platforms, pocketing almost two-hundred-thousand-dollars to do so.

If Korea has a death
penalty, I think it just might get used.

With everything that had
happened, he was thankful that his team had made it out unscathed, the
President and his daughter safe, though they still had paid a heavy price.

They had lost chopper
crews, civilian staffers, and Secret Service personnel.

And Niner had lost a
friend.

He looked over at the
man, staring out the window, his best friend Jimmy sitting silently by his
side, there if the proud warrior needed to talk, but wisely holding his tongue
until he was ready.

He’ll get over it.

From what he understood
from young Nancy, it had been the beginnings of a whirlwind romance, one that
would have been impossible to sustain, though the reality of what might have
been, made the pain of what was, no less harsh.

When we get home,
we’ll damage some brain cells, remember our fallen, then shove it down, deep.

He had so much buried
baggage, sometimes he wondered if there was room for any more. They had all
lost friends, comrades, loved ones. When he thought he had lost Maggie, he had
lost control, stepping into the horde of rampaging Muslims, not caring if he
lived or died, only that he kill as many of them as he could.

But she had lived.

And he might have died,
leaving her alone.

Niner getting the
opportunity to kill Riker, to kill the man responsible, would hopefully give
him some closure, though it would never completely take away the pain.

Time would do that.

Nancy Starling appeared
in the hallway leading to the front of the plane. She smiled at him then
spotted Niner. She walked over to his seat, Jimmy saying something quietly
before vacating his spot. Niner looked and weakly smiled at the girl. She sat
beside him and gave him a long, hard hug, tears flowing down her cheeks, she
sharing the pain of his loss, she too having suffered more than any fifteen-year-old
should.

They’d both get over
their loss, she yet again of her innocence, he of the short but intense romance
consisting of only a few hours and a single kiss delivered to a lifeless body.

He turned away, giving
them their privacy.

“My dad wants to meet
you,” he heard Nancy say. Niner grunted, and they both rose, disappearing down
the hall.

That family has been
through too much.

Riker had tried to
destroy them but had failed. Nancy was alive, Starling was alive, and only
twenty some odd million had been lost, probably to never be seen again, though
if he knew Langley, they’d be scouring the hardware they had retrieved to track
it down.

The remaining of the
three billion had already been removed from the charities’ accounts. They’d see
curious, anonymous deposits then withdrawals on their next statements, though
they’d never know where they had come from.

Riker’s hopes of
destroying the President’s reputation had been foiled, and the press was
reacting well to him having stayed behind for his daughter.

His presidency would
survive.

And he had no doubt the
bond between father and daughter would be even stronger.

President’s
Office, Air Force One

Nancy
stepped into her dad’s office, Niner in tow. Her father appeared tired, though
happy to see him.

“Daddy, you remember
Niner?”

Her father pushed a
half-eaten slice of apple pie with ice cream aside then rose, a smile spreading
across his face as he rounded his desk, his hand extended. “Of course I do.” He
shook Niner’s hand. “I understand I have you to thank for saving my daughter.”

A subdued Niner shook his
head. “A lot of good people were involved, a lot of good lives lost.”

Her father’s smile
disappeared, he nodding slowly. “Yes, I understand from my daughter that you
lost someone special.”

Niner nodded. “Could have
been, but I guess I’ll never know.”

Her father, she was sure,
could sense Niner wanted to be anywhere but here, talking about Yunhui Kim. He
patted the soldier on his shoulder. “Nonetheless, I thank you, and I’ll thank
the others later. I’ll let you get back to your friends.”

“Thank you, Mr.
President.”

Niner turned to leave and
Nancy moved to follow him when her father held out a hand. “I have something to
discuss with you.”

She felt butterflies.

Niner left, saying
nothing.

“Close the door.”

Her stomach flipped.

She complied.

He motioned to a couch
and she sat down, he perched on the edge of his desk. “So, the Secret Service
arrested someone earlier today.”

She breathed a sigh of
relief, there no one she knew who could be arrested, especially Jeff. “Umm,
who?”

“Someone you may know.”

Her confidence took a hit
and she felt her body start to tense.

“Why don’t you tell me all
about Jeff.”

Her shoulders slumped,
her jaw dropping. “You arrested him!”

“Yes.”

“Aww, Dad!”

Maggie
Harris Residence
Lake in
the Pines Apartments, Fayetteville, North Carolina

Vanessa
lay curled up in the corner of the couch, drifting in and out of sleep when her
phone vibrated in her hand. She stared at it, her eyes barely able to focus.
Most of the others had gone home, only Shirley and Bryson remaining in Maggie’s
apartment, Shirley deciding it was best not to wake the boy, and, Vanessa was
sure, wanting to help Maggie keep the newest member of the group calm.

Hey babe, awake yet?

She bolted upright. “It’s
Leon!”

The other two stirred,
Maggie mumbling a warning. “Be careful how you reply. Remember, it’s a secret.”

She nodded, fumbling to
type a response.

Yes, you ok?

The response was almost
immediate.

Yup, just another
boring day. I’ll be home later tonight your time. Love you.

Vanessa breathed a sigh
of relief, smiling at the others.

Love you too. Can’t
wait to see you.

She reached for Maggie
and gave her a hug. “He’s okay!”

“What did he say?”

“Just another boring
day!”

They all laughed, Maggie
shaking her head. “Those guys should try being the wives for a day!”

THE END

The idea
for this novel came to me sometime last year, the original idea being the G20
bus arriving at its destination, empty. The mystery would ensue from there, though
by doing that, the reader misses out on the horror of the events as experienced
by the victims, so as I began to write, I changed it up.

Quite a bit.

The technologies
described in this book all exist, with the possible exception of the Riker WX handgun,
though most of that tech does exist separately. Drones that can operate over
cellular networks, handguns mounted to drones and fired by remote trigger,
vehicles that can be hacked and driven, websites that allow you to hire people
to do oddball jobs, all exist, and have made the news over the past few years.

And most recently, a
commercial airliner was hit by a drone at an airport.

This latest incident was
the inspiration for the tragic death of Mrs. Cheng.

While I think drones are
an incredibly useful tool, they can be dangerous in the wrong hands—usually the
hands of morons. During recent forest fires, an unauthorized drone caused the
grounding of eight helicopters and five skimmers used to fight the fire, as
they are a danger to the aircraft and crew.

So if you have a drone,
be careful where you fly it. Dawson and his team, or some of my readers, might
just blow it out of the damned sky.

This book is dedicated to
an old friend of mine, Serge Rivard. As quite often happens in life, we lost
touch over the years and I was terribly saddened to find out just recently that
he died over two years ago. He, myself and my late buddy Paul Conway, were
almost inseparable at the start of my career, and it’s difficult to think that
I’m the last of the Three Amigos still on the right side of Mother Earth’s
dirt. Serge was a Sergeant in the Air Force, and the definition of “a
character”. He was rude, crude, hilarious and loyal—someone you could count on
to lift your spirits or join you for a beer or twelve.

If you’ll indulge me,
I’ll share one of my fondest memories of him. He, Paul and I once went on
Temporary Duty out of town. Paul and I picked him up at his house in the rental,
and I remember Paul jerking a thumb at the rear of the car. “Officers in the
front, Sergeants in the trunk!” to which I’m sure Serge had a colorful response,
to say the least. We arrived at our destination a few hours later, completed
our work, and made our tee time on the base’s golf course. It was a beautiful
day, we were having a great time, and on one of the later holes—I can’t
remember which—my ball landed in the sand trap at the edge of the green. I
whacked that bastard five or six times, getting increasingly angry, Serge
egging me on, when I finally got it out.

And promptly put it in
the sand trap on the other side of the green.

As I finished raking the
first trap, I made my way across the green and Serge opened his mouth to say
something. I glared and jabbed my sand wedge at him. “Say a f**kin word,
Frenchie, and I’ll wrap this club around your goddamned neck!”

Both Paul and Serge
pissed themselves laughing.

And kept a safe distance.

The next day I birdied
the same hole.

We lost touch for
probably the last fifteen years, though in seeing the pictures on his obituary
page, I think he had a good life, though too short. There are lots of photos of
him golfing, which was the thing he loved to do the most, and if I know him, he
probably squeezed in a round every day that he could—which I imagine would be
most.

You’ll be missed, my
friend.

As usual, there’s a bunch
of people to thank, starting of course with my dad, who researched the crap out
of this one, Ian Davidson for some motorcycle help, the real Chris Leroux for a
French translation, Greg “Chief” Michael for some navy and terminology help, Ian
Kennedy for some equipment and terminology info, Brent Richards for some
weapons info, Fred Newton for some boating info, my proofreading team, and a
special thanks to Nick Daniels’ for the burger recipe Vanessa used. And of
course, as usual, I’d like to thank my wife, daughter, and mother.

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.

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