Hard Impact: A Jason King Operation (Jason King Series Book 0) Read online

  The bullet in his shoulder had ripped through the khaki material of his shirt, leaving a jagged gash. He dug his fingers into the gap and tore off the sleeve, revealing a muscular arm devoid of fat. His shoulder was already covered in blood. King tied the strip of material tight around his shoulder, looping it under his armpit and pulling it just tight enough to avoid cutting off circulation. It was a temporary fix to a serious problem, but it would do for now. The crude bandaging would ensure he didn’t bleed out from his wounds in the near future. He just needed long enough to finish his job. Besides, backup would be here soon.

  He reached for the satellite phone Armando had dropped into the undergrowth. Just as he wrapped his fingers around the device, it crackled to life.

  ‘Armando, wait…’ the voice said in Spanish. ‘I want the American alive. Bring him here.’

  King froze. Armando wouldn’t be replying anytime soon. King couldn’t speak Spanish well enough to pass off as the mercenary. He would simply have to ignore the request and wait to see what happened.

  Nothing further came from the phone. King rose to his feet, tentative. He winced as the bullet in his shoulder sent stabs of fire through his upper chest. It would be a long recovery before he was back to full health. And he was still far from done.

  ‘Armando,’ the voice said again. This time urgent. Insistent. Demanding a response.

  King said nothing. A button on the side of the phone would enable him to reply, but he did not use it. He couldn’t.

  Now the voice switched to English. A bad sign. ‘If there is no reply in one minute, I will kill the hostages. You hear that, American? One minute. Then they are dead.’

  Panic washed over King. He swore and tucked the satellite phone into one pocket of his khakis. There was no time to use it. There was no time to do anything now except run. He scooped up the SCAR, ignoring the pain from his wrist and shoulder. It did not concern him anymore. Two innocent people would die if he didn’t make it to the compound as fast as humanly possible.

  Every step sent waves of pain and nausea across his shoulder, his chest, his arm, his wrist. He forced all of them aside. He pictured Burns and Norton, curled up somewhere inside the facility, fearing for their lives. It was all he needed. He burst out onto the riverbank and sprinted like a madman in the direction of the compound.

  Hoping he wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 23

  By the time he made it to the area of rainforest where he’d last seen the compound, no more than two or three minutes had elapsed. His breath rasped and his chest burned and his legs were weak but he barely even noticed. His right arm ached from wielding the bulk of the SCAR, but he had no other option than to use it one-handed. His left arm was all but useless.

  Grunting in agony, he dropped to the forest floor a safe distance away from the facility. Then came the crawl. It mirrored his last approach not an hour earlier, but this time he bore the full effects of combat. Each movement felt twice as difficult. His energy ran low. But people needed him, as they always did, so he would persevere. He knew nothing else.

  The moment he laid eyes on the clearing in front of the facility he knew instantly that his efforts had been futile. The two hostages stood side-by-side, facing out into the jungle. Both quaking. Both pale. Behind them, Mabaya had a bulky pistol in each hand. His arms were spread wide, in a V-shape. He pointed a barrel at each of the Americans’ heads.

  Burns and Norton.

  It was the first time King had seen either of them.

  Both looked nothing like the neat, orderly passport photos he had been shown in the hangar the night before. Burns’ secretarial uniform was torn to shreds, a result of the tough journey through the rainforest or perhaps something worse. Her hair hung wild and frizzy on either side, the ponytail gone. Nevertheless she stood tall, shoulders straight. Defiant even in such a terrible position. King admired her nerve.

  Norton had broken mentally. Even from a distance away, that much was apparent. He trembled uncontrollably, clothes also torn, hair matted to his forehead, blood caked on his cheeks. His youth meant inexperience, and inexperience meant he had been wholly unprepared for the brutality of a Peruvian drug gang. King wondered the consequences for his mental health even if he made it out of the jungle alive.

  Right then and there, King vowed he would do everything in his power to make sure the two of them lived. Although with each passing second, that seemed to be a less likely scenario.

  ‘American!’ Mabaya roared. ‘I see you moving out there! Stand up right now. No gun. If you don’t, I’ll kill them both. And then we’ll kill you anyway.’

  King knew the chances of a successful extraction had all but disappeared. His situation was beyond dire. There were few options left. In his haste, he had failed to call for backup. No-one was coming for him. His injuries were significant, his resources were exhausted and he had nothing to do but surrender. If he gave it any more thought, innocents would die. They would probably die anyway, but he couldn’t stand to sit here and watch them. He would either join them in death, or they would somehow make it out alive.

  He dropped the SCAR rifle and stood up.

  Burns let out an audible gasp. King knew what the sound meant. It meant the fraction of hope she had been holding onto was now gone, taken away by the surrender of the man she believed would rescue her. It was tough to watch the light drain from her eyes. King watched her accept her own death. It shook him to his core.

  Norton was beyond caring. It seemed he had accepted his own death hours ago, perhaps even the day before when he had been taken from the embassy. He didn’t move a muscle as King rose out of the ferns into view. Just stared vacantly into the distance. Terrified. Shaking.

  ‘Ah!’ Mabaya roared as King appeared. ‘There we are! The man who killed half my fucking men!’

  ‘That’s me,’ King said. He tried to keep a brave face but it was tough. Especially when, for the first time in his life, he was certain he would die. Usually he had a way out. A backup plan, even in the most dire situations.

  Not this time.

  If Mabaya wanted, he could kill all three of them right there and then without a second thought. But he didn’t. Either pride, or curiosity, or something else got the better of him. He wanted to see King up close. The American who’d decimated his forces single-handedly.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, his voice full of hate. ‘Now!’

  King took a step toward the clearing.

  ‘Hands in the fucking air! And take that gun out of your belt.’

  King couldn’t comprehend how Mabaya had even seen the Glock resting in its holster against his rear. Nevertheless, his final sliver of hope faded away. He reached back, withdrew the gun and threw it into the undergrowth. There was no use trying to fire a lucky shot at Mabaya. Even if he hit him, both pistols would go off and Burns and Norton would die.

  King continued walking toward the clearing, making sure to take his time. His wounds hurt like all hell, especially the superglued bullet hole in his wrist. The shoddy patch-up job would have severe consequences if he didn’t get medical treatment in the next couple of days. Heading for Mabaya, he wasn’t sure he would be alive to see the next morning.

  He stepped out onto the grassy clearing floor. Mabaya didn’t falter. He kept his guns trained firmly on the two hostages. Up close, King recognised the make of the weapons. They were both FN Browning High Power Mk. III’s. Popular with law enforcement. Probably purchased on the black market. It didn’t matter what make they were, though. They were guns. They would send a bullet tumbling through both hostages’ skulls, killing them instantly.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Mabaya said.

  ‘Just trying to get my friends back,’ King said. ‘Simple as that.’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘I know someone sent you. From America.’

  ‘You’re right. Someone did. But you’ll have never heard of them. They’re classified.’

  ‘You kill
ed all my men.’

  ‘I did. Thirteen of them.’

  Mabaya hesitated. ‘I sent out fourteen.’

  ‘One’s still alive, out on one of the boats. Recovering from a concussion.’

  ‘How did you do this?’

  ‘A lot of training.’

  ‘They were my friends.’

  King gestured to Burns and Norton. ‘These are mine. The American you killed was my friend.’

  His expression hardened. ‘Good. American pigs. You will all die. Motherfuckers. You stay the fuck out of our business.’

  ‘You shot up our embassy. We didn’t provoke you.’

  ‘Police were taking our location to you. You would have killed us all.’

  ‘No, we wouldn’t have.’

  Mabaya gnashed his teeth together, his face all rage and fury. King knew there was no reasoning with him. He hated Americans with a passion. Nothing would change that.

  ‘Now!’ he barked.

  King didn’t even hear the movement behind him until it was too late. He heard the rustle of leaves from the forest floor and then a slight sensation of displaced air behind his neck, like something swinging through the air. A fist crashed into the top of his spine. A blow wound up from a sizeable distance away. Full of power, strength, primal anger. His legs buckled from the force of the punch and he dropped to his knees. He careered forward onto the clearing floor. Dazed. Disoriented.

  He just managed to turn his head in time to see the second punch coming. Too fast to dodge. Too powerful to absorb. The Phantom’s knuckles crashed against his jaw with perfect placement. He felt a sharp explosion of nerve endings across the side of his face. Then his vision went black. His senses faded.

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER 24

  Everyone feels the same thing when they resurface from unconsciousness.

  A sense of utter confusion.

  It felt like no time had passed at all. King’s head swam as he came to, and he found himself wondering where the hell he was and how on earth he had managed to get there. He was lying on the floor of a small concrete room. Whitewashed walls. He blinked hard. Two people watched him. A youthful guy and an older woman. He studied their faces. They wore expressions of shock and fear and apprehension. Not your standard emotions.

  Where was he?

  Bits and pieces began to come back. Some kind of a foreign environment. A rainforest. That’s where he’d been. He hadn’t felt safe either. Tension and unease knotted his gut.

  ‘Are you okay?’ the woman said.

  King raised a hand to his temple and rubbed it. His eyes throbbed from the artificial light overhead.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve been concussed before.’

  The murky haze grew clearer. He remembered where he was, and why he was there.

  ‘You’re Burns?’ he said.

  The woman nodded. ‘And you’re the man everyone’s been looking for.’

  King turned to the boy. ‘Norton?’

  He nodded too. A timid gesture, full of fear.

  ‘We’re fucked, aren’t we?’ Norton said. ‘You were our last hope. We’re going to die in here. Oh my god…’

  The room was small and square and dirty. King turned and noticed they were caged in. Thick steel mesh stretched from wall to wall in the centre of the room, blocking their path to the door on the other side. The space felt cramped, entirely devoid of windows or any external light.

  ‘I’ve been in worse situations,’ King said, still looking around, too busy to make eye contact. ‘We may have a shot.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Burns said. ‘One of them is going to walk through that door any second and either torture us or kill us.’

  ‘He’ll probably just shoot us, if that’s any consolation,’ King said. ‘I think he knows if he comes in here and tries anything I’ll put up a fight. He saw what I did to his men.’

  ‘What did you do to his men?’ Burns said. ‘For the last few hours this place has been pandemonium. Shouting, screaming. I heard so many gunshots in the distance…’

  ‘I killed about half his forces, but evidently that wasn’t enough.’

  He saw Norton’s eyes widen. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead.

  ‘You okay, kid?’

  The boy shook his head. ‘I … I don’t know if you two are used to this kind of situation, or whatever, but I can’t handle this. I’m going to fucking die in here. Do you get it? We’re going to die…’

  He began to repeat the same train of thought over and over again. Muttering, most of it inaudible, all of it concerning death.

  King reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Look, this is tough. You’ve never been scared for your life before. And by that I mean genuinely terrified. I have. It’s not a good feeling but you can’t let it consume you. Stay strong. I’m gonna try and get us out of here but you can’t have a fucking mental breakdown while I’m trying.’

  ‘You’re a soldier?’ Norton asked, his voice shaking.

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘How do you do this? How do you just sit there and tell me everything’s going to be fine when we’re sitting in a room waiting to be raped or killed.’

  ‘Like I said, I’ve been in worse situations. Look at me. I’m still here.’

  ‘Why do you put yourself in situations like these? This is the worst thing I can imagine. How do people like this exist?’

  King rested his back on the steel mesh. He took a deep breath. ‘Over time you come to learn that the whole world is fucked. There’s millions of people just like these guys. But I get how it’s hard to process.’

  ‘I feel like I’m going to throw up.’

  ‘That’s natural.’

  ‘Who are these people?’ Burns said, gesturing to the door. ‘We were going about our lives in the embassy. They came in and killed all my friends. Took us. We don’t know anything.’

  ‘They’re a drug gang. They’ve had this facility for years. No-one knew where it was, but the authorities were getting close to finding it so they did something rash. That’s all.’

  ‘Why us?’ Norton said from the corner.

  ‘Because that’s how the world works. Sometimes normal people like yourselves get put in shit situations like this. And that’s why people like me exist. You two might be scared beyond belief but this is normal to me. I’ve lost count of the amount of times my life has been in danger.’

  ‘You’re a genuine madman,’ Norton said.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Why do you put yourself in danger?’ Burns said. ‘You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you could have a normal job.’

  ‘I could.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘Someone has to do it.’

  ‘It doesn’t have to be you.’

  King began to explain why it had to be, but was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock behind him. He sprung to his feet as the door swung inward.

  Mabaya stepped into the room, brandishing one of the Browning pistols he’d held before. The safety was off.

  CHAPTER 25

  A palpable tension crept into the room.

  Behind him, King heard Norton let out a noise resembling a whimper. The boy shrank further into the corner, like the extra few inches would help him get out of range of Mabaya’s gun. A useless effort. One made out of fear. King silently promised he would try and get Norton free even if it meant his own death. This kid didn’t deserve to die here.

  Up close, he studied Mabaya. The man was a similar height to King. Somewhere around six foot three. Muscle packed his tall frame. His skin glistened with sweat. King wasn’t sure if there was a gym in the compound or if the mercenary had excellent genetics. Nevertheless, he was strong. That much was clear. His bald head shone even in the dim lighting. King noted the absence of emotion in his eyes. He was a hard man. A brutal man. Just from the expression in his eyes, King knew he would have no qualms killing the three of them where they stood.

  ‘Hello, American,’ Maba
ya said, his accent thick. His voice resonated in the small space. Norton flinched at the sound. Burns stood beside King, defiant. She was a strong woman.

  ‘If you let us go, we promise—’ Burns began.

  Mabaya levelled the Browning at her head. ‘Did I say you could speak?’

  She fell silent.

  ‘I am talking to this pig,’ he said. ‘If either you or the pussy boy in the back say a single thing, I will put bullets into you.’

  King watched in silence. He made sure to stay completely still, hesitant to move a muscle. Any sudden action would result in his death.

  ‘Now, American,’ Mabaya said. ‘How did you find us?’

  ‘The police and the government have your location,’ he said. ‘The local Iquitos police were bringing it to our embassy. That’s why you attacked it. You knew they were close.’

  ‘Well then you three are useless to me. I might as well kill you right now.’

  ‘You won’t do that.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘I can help you. I know what type of forces we are going to send. I can show you how to escape, because I know exactly how they’re going to attack you. You just need to let these two go.’

  The barrel of the Browning moved horizontally through the air. It came to a halt aimed directly at King’s forehead. He stared death in the eyes. If Mabaya pulled the trigger the small black hole in the centre of the barrel would spit out a bullet and kill him before he even knew what was happening. There would be nothing but instant darkness.

  ‘Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I would rather die than get your help, American. You killed my men. You will die, but not just yet. It will be slow.’

  ‘These two have done nothing to you. I’m the one you have hatred for. Not them.’

  ‘They are Americans. They will die.’

  ‘Please—’ Burns started to say.