Callsign: King II- Underworld

He stayed low, barely peeking above the steering wheel, which he turned in the direction of the gunmen, while nudging the accelerator. The car swung around into the narrow space, and he immediately heard the harsh cracking sound of rounds perforating the windshield and whizzing through the space over his head to repeat the process on the rear window.

He angled closer to Pierce, giving him enough cover to reach the rear passenger-side door, but as soon as the archaeologist dived headlong into the rear seating area, King punched the accelerator and drove straight at the gunmen.

The fusillade diminished to nothing, either because the men had fled in the face of the onrushing Mercedes, or simply because they had simultaneously burned through their curved, twenty-round magazines and were all pausing to reload. King thought it the course of wisdom to leave that little mystery unsolved, and he kept steady pressure on the accelerator until the car broke out onto the cross street. Only then did he raise his head up to see where they were going, and once he did, he stomped the pedal all the way to the floor.





7.


Sokoloff exploded from the front door of the building just in time to see the black Mercedes skid around the corner. It wasn’t too hard to divine the truth of what had happened. The target had somehow overpowered the team of gunmen and taken control of their vehicle. Sokoloff didn’t care whether the junior mobsters were dead or alive, they had botched the mission and as far as he was concerned, they were as good as dead anyway. His entire focus was on the target.

He dashed down the block and rounded the corner to where his own rental car was waiting. He considered trying to somehow give chase, but that window of opportunity had long since closed. Literal pursuit would be an exercise in futility, but there were other ways to hunt a man.

He dug out his secure phone and hastily tapped out a message giving his employer the bad news. He didn’t try to sugar coat it; as the American’s were fond of saying, shit happened. The only way to save this, to save his ten million dollar paycheck, was to deal with the reality of the situation head on.

The reply came within seconds.

Your plan had only a 48.1% chance of success. You underestimated King’s professional abilities.

Sokoloff made a rude comment about his employer’s relationship with his mother, but the words that left his mouth did not reach his fingers. He simply waited for more information.

Standby. Reacquisition of the target is underway.

Sokoloff knew that his employer had vast resources at his disposal—the ability to access computer networks, traffic cameras and phone records. It wasn’t too hard to imagine the mysterious figure sifting through a flood of digital information, looking for King’s face, scanning cellular phone transmissions that might give away the target’s location. He knew that his employer had been unable to hack King’s communication network, but every cell phone call in the world still relied on the same basic technology—radio signals that were picked up and retransmitted through a vast electronic web. Somewhere, maybe only a few blocks away, King was probably calling for help, and even though the call itself might be wrapped in a blanket of security encryption, the simple fact of its existence would raise a red flag.

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens and knew that it was time to move. As he pulled away from the curb, he mentally discarded the disastrous results of the attempted hit in much the same way that he had left behind the rifle. His employer had been correct; he had underestimated King, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. But a failure did not in any way subtract from his own considerable skill. He had been hunting and killing men long before the digital age, and he had succeeded in that profession, not just because of his ruthless efficiency, but also because he knew how to outthink his prey.

So, where will you go next, Jack Sigler?





8.


King pulled the shot up Mercedes into another alley only a few blocks from the site of the failed ambush, then looked back at Pierce. “You in one piece?”

The archaeologist, still lying prone on the back seat, took a deep breath, then with a grin commenced patting himself down as if checking for damage. “No worse for wear. So what the hell was that all about?”

King shook his head. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

As they hiked out of the alley, King called Aleman. “Sorry to give you one more thing to worry about,” he said, “but we just got hit.”