The Shield Read online

  THE SHIELD

  A Blake Jordan Thriller

  Ken Fite

  The Blake Jordan Series

  The Senator: Blake Jordan Book 1

  Credible Threat: Blake Jordan Book 2

  In Plain Sight: Blake Jordan Book 3

  Rules of Engagement: Blake Jordan Book 4

  The Homeland: Blake Jordan Book 5

  The Shield: Blake Jordan Book 6

  November 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Ken Fite

  All rights reserved worldwide.

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  FIFTY-NINE

  SIXTY

  ONE

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  **

  ROBERT HAYES REACHED for the lid to his laptop and pulled it shut. He checked his watch. Five o’clock . Hayes stood at his desk and collected his things as his team buzzed around outside his office door. He grabbed his laptop and slid it into a carrying case and reached into his pocket for his desk keys. Then he locked everything up, in reverse order of what he’d done eight hours earlier when he’d arrived at work.

  He heard a knock at the door and turned to see one of his direct reports looking concerned. “Mr. Hayes?”

  “Make it quick, Carolyn,” he said as he lifted the laptop carrying case’s shoulder strap over his head. “It’s my daughter’s birthday today. I promised I’d be home on time, and I’m already late getting out of here.”

  “We have a problem,” said Carolyn, giving him room as he stepped out and turned his office light off.

  Hayes moved down the hallway at a steady pace as the woman followed him close. “What is it?”

  “One of the simulators is locked up.”

  “Which one?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  The woman said nothing.

  “Carolyn? ”

  “The new one we just installed this week at the client site.”

  Hayes stopped moving and checked his watch. “This happened yesterday. User error, remember?”

  “I think it’s different this time,” she said. “Yesterday it was an issue with log-in credentials for a new hire. Now it’s not even letting the trainers log in. It’s like the system handshake isn’t happening. What do I do?”

  “Nothing,” said Hayes sharply. He stared at her. Noticed concern in her eyes. For ten years, she’d worked for him, ever since he’d started the drone simulation consulting firm. Hayes stood there, waiting for her to agree, but she said nothing back to him. “Go home, Carolyn,” he added, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the weekend. We don’t need to be at every client’s beck and call all the time, okay? The company’s doing better now. We already got them as a client. Tell them I’ll give them a call first thing Monday morning.”

  “I’ll tell them you’ll call them on your way home,” she replied. “So we can keep them as a client.”

  Hayes smiled and told her to text him the client’s number. He turned and headed for the elevator and nodded at security as he passed by. He made it to his car two minutes later and tossed his laptop bag onto the passenger seat. Started the motor and backed out fast and accelerated hard out of the parking garage. He kept the top up on his convertible. It was January and cold in DC. Coldest it had been in a long time. Light hit his face as he emerged from the garage and brought his car to a stop. He looked right and left. Noticed a black Tahoe with tinted windows parked across the street. He could make out a driver sitting inside. He checked the road for oncoming traffic, then pulled out onto the street and stepped on the gas.

  Hayes managed to make it through a traffic light, but got stopped at the next one. He glanced up at the rearview mirror and noticed the Tahoe was now directly behind him, pulled up close. Hayes stared at the driver, but with the dark tint, he couldn’t make out anything more than the slight profile of a man. He heard a text message come through and thought about Carolyn back at the office. He lowered his gaze and reached for his cell phone and read the message. It was Carolyn sending him the client’s phone number. Hayes started to make the call, but then he remembered the birthday cake his wife had asked him to pick up on his way home from work. So he dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. Ran a hand across his face and glanced up at the light. Took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the light changed to green. He lifted his foot off the brake and accelerated again and made a right turn, headed toward a nearby store.

  As he drove, his cell phone buzzed on the seat next to him again. He kept one hand on the wheel and reached for it. He checked the caller ID. Didn’t recognize the number, so he sent the call to voicemail and kept driving. Then it buzzed again. He stared at it. Same number. Same silent urgency.

  “Robert Hayes,” he said as he answered the call, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity in his voice.

  “Mr. Hayes, don’t be alarmed. I need you to act normal. I’m a federal agent in the vehicle behind you.” Hayes glanced up at the rearview mirror and stared at the Tahoe as it pulled up close again. “You’re in danger, sir. We need you to pull off to the side of the road, first chance you get.”

  Hayes narrowed his eyes. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “This is not a joke…see those empty spaces along the road up ahead?” The caller paused as Hayes shifted his gaze briefly to the road in front of him. “Pull over and park in one of those spots.”

  Hayes felt his heart start to beat faster, and his thoughts immediately went to Patricia and little Maddie. He kept one hand on the wheel and quickly wiped his brow with his forearm as he slowed the vehicle and eased it into one of the empty spots ahead of him. The black Tahoe pulled in right behind him and parked.

  “What’s this about?” asked Hayes, but the caller made no reply. Just spoke softly to someone else, maybe inside the Tahoe, maybe on another line. He said nothing more as he stared back through the mirror. There was a rustling sound. The conversation continued for another moment; then the man was back on.

  “Mr. Hayes, we need you to step out of your vehicle and quickly enter ours. Backseat, passenger side
.”

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what the hell this is all about.” There was silence on the line. “Hello?”

  “Sir, we have reason to believe there are people trying to kidnap you at this very moment. You need to—”

  “I don’t need to do anything until you explain who you are. If you’re the feds, prove it. Show me some ID.”

  The caller hesitated. There was more rustling on the line, and Hayes heard the man speaking with someone softly. There was another voice. Another man speaking. The conversation continued for several moments before the caller returned again. “Okay,” he finally said. “This is how this is going to work. I’ll approach your vehicle from the driver’s side. I’ll show you my identification, and then I need you to get out immediately and come with me. But we need to do this fast. Okay? You understand what I’m telling you?”

  Hayes kept his eyes on the vehicle through the mirror and wiped his brow again. “I understand.”

  The driver’s door swung open. Hayes clicked off and set his phone down. He shifted his gaze from the rearview to the side mirror and watched the man exit. He wore dark sunglasses. Looked like a fed. The man checked his surroundings quickly, then stepped out of view as he moved to the door. Hayes glanced over his shoulder and watched him move. The man approached and knocked on the window twice.

  “Open,” he said, turning his head briefly as a vehicle approached and drove past them. “Need to hurry.”

  “Show me ID,” Hayes shouted through the glass. He was breathing hard. His heart was pounding.

  The man knocked again with his knuckles, then pulled on the door handle, but it was locked from inside. “Open the damn door, now!” he yelled as he tried the door handle again, then reached inside his jacket.

  Hayes put the vehicle in gear as he watched the man with wide eyes; then he floored it just as the man’s weapon came into view. The tires spun fast, then caught the pavement, and the vehicle lurched forward.

  TWO

  HAYES KEPT HIS foot flat against the pedal and continued to accelerate faster. He heard the man with the gun fire at him twice. There was a distinct thud immediately after the second shot, and he knew a bullet had pierced the back of his car. He looked up through the mirror and saw the man running back to the Tahoe. Hayes made a sharp left, and his tires screamed as he navigated the turn and righted the vehicle. He accelerated hard and got onto a main road with heavier traffic and checked the mirror again.

  He made another left, then a right, speeding through traffic. Hayes finally got to a long stretch of road. He looked ahead, trying to figure out what to do and where to go. Traffic was getting heavier. He glanced at the dash and saw that it was a quarter past five o’clock. Rush hour . He was still breathing hard and wiped more sweat from his brow and noticed an alleyway in between two buildings up ahead. Hayes checked the rearview one more time. Saw nobody following him. He slowed his vehicle and pulled into the alley. Brought it to a stop right in the middle. Halfway between both ends of the road. He thought about it. If they found him from one end, he’d try to exit the other way.

  His cell phone buzzed again from somewhere inside the vehicle. Hayes looked at the passenger seat. The phone wasn’t there. He decided it must’ve fallen off the seat as he’d driven away from the Tahoe. He felt around for it frantically, but couldn’t find it. Noticed his hands were shaking. Checked the mirror briefly, then got out of his vehicle and stepped around the hood and opened the passenger door. He crouched and found his phone had fallen underneath the passenger seat. He reached for it and shut the door hard and stood there, frozen. Stared at the screen and a missed call notification from the same number from earlier.

  It buzzed yet again, this time as he held it. Same number. Hayes declined the call and immediately thought about his wife and daughter. His fingers trembled as he navigated the screen to dial Patricia. He pressed the phone against his ear and stood there motionless outside his vehicle as the line began to ring.

  “Come on, answer the damn phone,” he whispered to himself as he looked back and forth between both ends of the alley and stepped back around the hood. He got her voicemail. Tried her again. Cars with loud engines drove past as the line started to ring once again. On the fourth ring, the call was finally answered. “Patricia, it’s me. Honey, listen to me very carefully. It’s not safe where you are. I need you to take Maddie to your mother’s house. Go as fast as you can, okay? Do you understand?” Silence. “Patricia?”

  His wife made no immediate reply. Then he heard the faint sound of breathing on the line.

  “Mr. Hayes, you’re making this much more difficult than it needs to be,” the voice said. It was a man with a faint accent. It was unnatural, possibly acquired. Sounded Middle Eastern.

  He stood there motionless, unsure what to say or what to do.

  “Now I want you to listen to me very carefully,” the man continued. “My people will be there momentarily. You are to go with them and do whatever they say if you want to see your wife and daughter alive again.”

  “Who are you?” asked Hayes, but the man made no reply. Just kept breathing into the phone. Then he heard a rustling sound on the other end of the line and the man with the accent urging someone to speak.

  There was silence for what felt like an eternity. Then he heard his wife sobbing. “Bob, they have Maddie,” she cried; then the phone was taken away from her followed by the sound of her being hit, then screaming.

  Then the line went dead. He tried calling back, but the call went straight to voicemail. Hayes stepped back into his car and started the motor again. Put it in gear and slowly moved forward to exit as he dialed 911, his hands trembling even more now. He made it to the end of the alleyway and was about to exit onto the main road, when a black Suburban appeared directly in front of him. It stopped hard, blocking the exit.

  “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a woman asked as he pressed the phone against his ear and held it there with his shoulder and scrambled to put the vehicle in reverse. The Suburban’s door opened. A man stepped out.

  Hayes grabbed the phone he was cradling and turned to look out the back window and stepped on the accelerator. “My name is Robert Hayes. I’m in trouble,” he said as his tires spun and caught the cement.

  “What kind of trouble?” asked dispatch as he grabbed his cell and turned to look out the back window.

  But as he got to the other end of the alley, the Tahoe appeared and blocked his path. Hayes braked hard. He brought his vehicle to a stop and saw the driver’s door open. The man who’d spoken with him a few minutes earlier stepped out. The man with the gun. He aimed his weapon at him and approached cautiously.

  Hayes turned and faced forward as the nine-one-one dispatch called for him, but he made no reply. Just stared ahead as the guy in the Suburban moved closer with his own weapon drawn. The man yelled something to the guy behind Hayes. Shots were fired and he flinched in response. The back side of his vehicle lowered. He opened his eyes. Two more shots were fired, and the same thing happened at the front.

  He watched the man in front of him slow his approach. He stopped moving and kept his weapon on him.

  The guy from the Tahoe moved to the driver’s side door and pulled on the handle as he’d done before. “Open the door,” he said in a low voice and brought his weapon to the window, aiming it directly at Hayes.

  “They have my wife and daughter,” he said into the phone. “I have to let them take me. Please find them.”

  Then he dropped the phone and unlocked the door. The man standing outside pulled it open the whole way and grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him out of the vehicle. He used the weight of the weapon in his hand to punch him across the face once, then spun him around and pushed him toward the other man. He felt the weapon pressed hard against the back of his head as the man from the Suburban watched him.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Hayes.

  The man behind him said nothing. The other guy went to the Suburban and pulled th
e back door open.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” he added. “Just don’t hurt them.”

  “You’ve complicated things now,” called the man from the Tahoe. “Now they’re going to find your vehicle. And I assume you were calling the authorities. No more problems or your family dies. Understood?”

  Hayes stopped and turned around. The man with the sunglasses rested the muzzle of his weapon on his forehead. The two men stared at each other. “What do you want from me?” Hayes finally asked.

  The guy spun him around and repositioned his gun against the back of his head again. “Step into the car.”

  Hayes walked toward the Suburban. The driver stood motionless by the open door, watching him approach. As soon as he got to the vehicle, Hayes was forced inside and the door was closed hard. There was another man inside, sitting in the seat next to him. He said nothing to him. Just stared across silently. Hayes glanced out his window. The man outside spoke to the driver, then walked back to the Tahoe.

  Hayes turned back. Saw the guy to his right brandish a gun. He brought it up and rested it on his thigh, aiming it at him. The driver put the Suburban in gear and eased into traffic. Hayes could hear the warble of a police siren far in the distance somewhere. A moment later, traffic up ahead parted to make way for two Metro PD cruisers headed in the opposite direction. They rushed past them. Hayes turned to the man.

  “I don’t know where you’re taking me, but I’m not doing anything for you until I know my family is safe.”

  “You’ll see your family soon, Mr. Hayes.” The man smiled. “But first, we need you to fix something for us. Depending on how successful you are, we’ll let them go.”

  “What about me?” he asked, but the man with the gun made no reply. Just smiled again and looked away.

  THREE

  I SAT TO the right of James Keller inside the president’s dining room. My fiancée, Jami Davis, sat next to me. Her sister, Kate, and Jami’s ten-year-old nephew, Matthew, were both seated across from us. I watched Matthew’s eyes grow wide, taking in the entirety of the room as he ate. He’d been so excited to visit the White House with his mom. It had been three months since the terror attack in downtown Chicago. Matthew’s mom was in the park that night, along with his dad, who’d made the ultimate sacrifice and had given his life to save a little girl from getting hurt. Kate had been shot, too, but was getting stronger by the day. I glanced at Jami, the woman I loved and would do anything for. She noticed me and smiled gently.