Deadly Resonse (The Jake Stryker Series Book 1) Read online

  “A fast action thriller, in keeping with world events.”

  Monte Mercer

  Deputy Exec. Director of the N. Central Texas

  Council of Governments

  “Intrigue, suspense and unbelievable action”

  J. Charles Powell

  President, Ciera Bank

  _____

  Deadly Response is the second book in the Jake Stryker series following Operations Compromised, which was a best seller on Amazon.

  Operations Compromised had an average rating of 4.5 and a Goodreads rating of 4.3.

  Please enjoy both books. The third book is in process.

  DEADLY RESPONSE

  A Jake Stryker Novel

  Warren Conrad

  Copyright © 2016 by Warren Conrad

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Deadly Response

  Vinewood Publishing Group

  Cover design by CreateSpace

  www.createspace.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9904009-2-9 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-0-9904009-4-3 (ePub)

  ISBN: 978-0-9904009-3-6 (Kindle)

  For more information, or to contact the author please go to www.WarrenConrad.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 27 • Chapter 28

  Chapter 29 • Chapter 30

  Chapter 31 • Chapter 32

  Chapter 33 • Chapter 34

  Chapter 35 • Chapter 36

  Chapter 37 • Chapter 38

  Chapter 39 • Chapter 40

  Chapter 41 • Chapter 42

  Chapter 43 • Chapter 44

  Chapter 45 • Chapter 46

  Chapter 47 • Chapter 48

  Chapter 49 • Chapter 50

  Chapter 51 • Chapter 52

  Chapter 53 • Chapter 54

  Chapter 55 • Chapter 56

  Epilogue

  To My Readers and Fans

  Acknowledgements

  To my friends and family, who pushed me along to complete this second book. Your support and help is greatly appreciated. To my brothers, Richard and Patrick… thank you for your many ideas. To my daughter Lori, thanks for helping me understand the workings of social media.

  To Lindsey Anderle, my editor, who worked tirelessly to make this manuscript the best. I am forever grateful. Thank you to my friends at Create Space for providing a superb cover design. To Charles and Donna Andrews for the updated and beautiful website.

  To my good friends, Michael Penn, Ryan Parrott, Monte Mercer, Charles Powell, David and Sally Dolejsi, Jeff and Suzy Wallace, Jerry and Vicki Reynolds… your continued support is greatly appreciated.

  To the men and women serving in uniform both now and in the past, which allow us the freedom to write and enjoy our lives.

  And, to the men and women in law enforcement who put their lives on the line each day. I salute you and blue lives do matter.

  Finally, to all of the fans who have taken time to read the book and write the many reviews, I appreciate each and every one of you!

  To Kathy

  My beautiful and talented wife,

  who is also my very best friend.

  I love you.

  “And I looked, and behold a pale horse:

  and his name that sat on him was Death,

  and Hell followed with him.”

  Revelation 6:8

  PROLOGUE

  Digby, Nova Scotia

  2015

  Dan Connors finished spooling fishing line onto reels for use during the coming week. His partner, Tom Nash, was busy getting the boats ready and watching weather reports.

  July weather, was for the most part, peaceful with an abundance of sunshine and light winds. The week ahead promised mostly sunshine with some low clouds off and on during the day. Fishing reports remained excellent, the entire week booked solid. Most of the fishermen were repeat customers blended with several newcomers. Things were looking good, very good, he mused.

  Dan and Tom started their fishing service five years earlier, both having retired from law enforcement. Dan left the New York City Police Department after rising to the rank of Chief of Detectives. Tom retired from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police having achieved the rank of Inspector in the Major Crimes Unit.

  The men met shortly after the attacks in New York City on September 11, 2001. Tom’s wife Amy and Dan’s wife Julie both died that day. The wives were childhood friends from upstate New York and were meeting to celebrate Amy’s birthday at the Windows on The World Restaurant atop the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The tragic events of that day cemented the relationship between Dan and Tom, bonding them forever. Both men shared a love of fishing and each summer Dan traveled to Canada and fished with Tom. During one of the trips, Tom proposed they create a fishing service upon Dan’s retirement. Dan was tired of the City and liked the idea. He called Tom, accepted the offer, and turned in his badge. Neither Tom nor Dan had remarried, choosing instead to raise their children as single parents. Tom took early retirement at age sixty relocating to Digby, a small fishing village located on the Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia. It was here the friends formed their new company.

  The business was an instant success and soon tales of fishing replaced discussions of death and tragedy. Law enforcement, however, remained in their thoughts as Tom’s son and all three of Dan’s children were cops.

  The week passed quickly, already being Thursday. Dan was tired but today he had only two customers booked for a half-day beginning at 1:00 p.m. The fishermen arrived on time and Dan checked their fishing licenses and went over basic rules and fishing limits. Today, they would fish south of Digby in the Bay of Fundy, close to the United States Border. The men had suggested the location based on some of their friends having caught fish in that area. Dan thought the area somewhat odd in that there were better places to fish but reminded himself they were the customers. With all supplies on board, Dan started the twin-engine outboards on the 28S Contender and headed southwest. He estimated arrival at the fishing grounds to take less than an hour. The sky was overcast but the sea was calm and the boat was making good time. The salt spray was invigorating as occasional splashes hit his face making him smile.

  This is what life is all about, he thought.

  Upon arrival at the fishing grounds, Dan put out baits and began drift fishing. The two men talked very little and spoke in a foreign language. Several hours passed and they caught a few fish but nothing of any size. Dan stayed busy baiting lines and taking pictures of the fish with his phone which he then texted to his daughter Ann. Ann liked to keep up with him and enjoyed his fishing reports and pict
ures, which he sent to her regularly.

  Soon it would be dark and Dan advised the men they needed to head back to Digby. As he reached over the side of the boat to pull up the anchor the men moved behind him and pushed him overboard. The next thing Dan remembered was being in the water. He watched as his boat moved away then reached for his phone. No phone, the men had taken it. Dan realized he would die from hypothermia if not found soon. His thoughts were of Amy, Ann, Trey and Paul as the boat moved out of view.

  Dan Connors floated, whispering the names of his wife and children as the wind and waves pushed him into the cold darkness. His whispers faded, as the sea that he so loved claimed his life. He was now on his journey to meet his beloved Amy. Dan’s boat was found by fishermen two days later floating off the United States coast near Bar Harbor, Maine. After an extensive search, his body was recovered and taken to Digby for identification. Dan’s death and location of his two Canadian passengers remained a mystery.

  1

  New York City, New York

  2015

  Autumn in the city signals the coming of winter with decreasing temperatures, wind and rain. The days can be delightful or dreadful depending on the ever-changing weather systems. This night was no exception: dark, cold, and misty with wind strong out of the north indicating an approaching cold front.

  FBI Special Agent Riley Clark and New York Police Detective Ann Connors watched a building several blocks from Central Park.

  Both women grew up together and were roommates at Boston College. Riley chose law school then joined the FBI after serving in the Army. Ann went directly to work for the NYPD. Both women served on the Special Counter Terrorism and Drug Task Force.

  They were assigned this night to watch a building near Central Park and take pictures of persons entering or leaving. Working together meant a chance to catch up, especially since Ann’s father’s death earlier in the year. The women were different in many ways. Ann was tall and blond, with blue eyes and a nasty disposition that she blamed on her brothers, both NYPD cops. Riley was petite with dark hair and brown eyes and a keen mind. She was accepted into the FBI after earning a law degree and graduating at the top of her class from Harvard. Her ambition was to follow in the footsteps of her Uncle Ryan who worked for the CIA. The FBI was just a starting place for her career.

  Riley had been warned by her aunt about the dangers of living and working in the city, which was a dangerous place. Riley was no stranger to danger, having served two combat tours in Afghanistan. Her silver and bronze stars were a testament to her abilities. She had memorized her uncle’s secure telephone number should she ever need help.

  Riley and Ann watched the building for almost three hours without anything to report. They observed several men going into the building and leaving but none appeared to be of interest.

  “Are you ready to call it off?” asked Riley.

  “Yeah, let me check with the others, probably another hour,” Ann replied.

  “We should move the car then,” responded Riley.

  Ann drove to a second location, which provided a similar view of the building. They waited and watched, seeing no one.

  After an hour, Ann was ready to call off the surveillance when suddenly the windows of their unmarked car exploded. Glass flew everywhere as they were jerked from the car and hoods thrown over their heads. Riley felt the zip tie bite into her wrists, which were stretched behind her back. Ann yelled and kicked but could not fight free. Both women were thrown into another vehicle and heard voices in the front seat talking on phones.

  Riley was shocked but breathed slowly remembering her training, if taken hostage to remain calm. Her uncle had given her a tool to wear on the back of her belt should she find herself in such a situation. The device was small but effective. She remembered laughing about it thinking No one will ever take me hostage because I will kill them all or die first.

  She wore the tool and never thought a thing about it until now.

  The device was simple, providing a ceramic cutting edge when pulled down from the belt. Riley moved the device with her fingers and slid the zip tie across the edge, freeing her hands. Now she waited. The men in the front seat were screaming at Ann about her camera. Riley hardly listened to them as escape plans formed in her mind. She needed to reach the park and call for help.

  After several blocks, the car pulled into a parking garage then slowed to a stop. The men in front got out and opened the rear doors to remove the women. Ann struggled, making it necessary for both men to subdue her giving Riley her chance. She jerked off the hood, grabbed a phone from the seat and bolted from the car. The first thing she saw was a door beside a larger entrance. She made it to the door as gunshots erupted behind her. She glanced back to see five men chasing after her.

  Once on the street, Riley made a mental note of the building and street number. She would be back for Ann but for now, she had to run for her life.

  Riley Clark was in her element for none of these men would ever catch her. She had been an Olympic runner in college. Riley turned on the speed, heading several blocks to the park. Once in the trees, she pulled out the phone and dialed her uncle, praying he would pick up.

  Ryan Sparks answered and Riley whispered she was in serious trouble with men chasing her.

  “Where are you?”

  “Central Park,” she replied.

  “How many?”

  “Five and others have Ann in a garage near the park.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “Yes, I can find her but you need to get me help fast.”

  “OK, a friend will call and I want you to do exactly as he says, now hang up and stand by.” Several minutes later, her phone buzzed and a man calmly told her, “I want you to move to a storage shed located at the east end of the park. Do not enter but move to the right of the shed sixty feet and cover yourself with leaves and branches. Wait until I whistle twice for you to come out. Are we clear?”

  “Clear.”

  “Keep your phone silent.”

  “Hurry, they have Ann,” said Riley.

  The man maintained his fighting gear at the ready. Previously, he had killed an Iranian terrorist who was involved with the Russians and the Vice President of the United States. He was being hunted by terrorists and took no chances.

  He spent time in the park and lived only minutes away. He knew the shed in detail and from which location he could flank Riley’s attackers. His plan was to take them out silently using his knife and a suppressed .45 caliber Glock 21.

  He arrived at the park and left his car on a street where there were no cameras. Quickly, he moved into the trees. Once hidden, he donned night vision goggles and moved slowly, stopping only to listen. He was in his zone and would soon find them.

  The shed was located approximately seventy-five yards from where he entered the park. Moving methodically, he froze when he heard a noise. The sounds were faint but his gut told him it was them. He moved to his right and suddenly dropped flat to the ground. It was them and they were moving toward the shed. Their pattern was wide enough that he could pick off some of them without using the .45.

  The first attacker went down with a hand over his mouth and his Gerber combat knife plunged into his liver.

  The second man died from a broken neck and slit throat. A third attacker he shot twice in the head with the suppressed Glock blowing out brains and exploding his skull. Two attackers were missing.

  After making sure the three men were dead, he whistled twice. Riley rose from the leaves and moved toward him. In less than a minute, Riley Clark saw the most fearsome image she could have imagined. The man had dirt and mud caked over him but the worst part was the blood. He looked like something out of a combat hell movie. The only difference, he was real.

  The man looked at Riley and stuck out his hand. She motioned him to where she had been hiding. There, he found the other two attackers both dead with their throats slit. She had killed them with one of their own knives.

&nb
sp; Who the hell is Riley Clark? he wondered.

  2

  New York City, New York

  2015

  “Hurry, I’ll check the bodies and you take pictures. Use my phone and make sure to get tattoos,” said the man.

  “Yeah, got it,” she replied.

  The dead men had no identification but one had a cell phone, which he pocketed. All five men were dark-skinned. What the hell have I stumbled into? Stryker thought. Time was running out for Ann so they quickly finished with pictures and the bodies.

  “We need to go. Call 911 as we leave the park and give them the address. Make sure you tell them you were abducted with Ann and no other details,” said the man.

  “Will do.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  Riley felt awful as they ran to the building where Ann was being held. There was a light on upstairs and the small door to the garage was shut.

  The man opened the door using his knife and gave Riley his second gun, a Kimber 3” combat .45. Both moved inside covering each other. Three men stood looking into a room at the top of the stairs.

  “Go left and make noise,” the man whispered.

  Riley moved and pushed over a can, which got the attention of the men. The men moved down the stairs with guns drawn. The first man never saw the knife before it sliced through his neck. He fell to the floor convulsing with blood spurting from his wound. The second and third men ran toward the door to the street as Riley’s .45 caught one of them in the back, killing him instantly. The last man made it through the door catching a .45 in the shoulder as Riley emptied her magazine.

  They found Ann Connors upstairs, naked, hanging from the ceiling by a rope. She had been badly beaten and was unconscious. The man cut her down while Riley found a tarp to cover her body. Riley held Ann’s hand, praying and crying all at the same time. The man reached down and pulled Riley up to his eye level.

  “I am leaving and you say very little when questioned. I’ll call your uncle. Are we good?”