Running Steel (John Steel Book 6) - Stuart Field

Running Steel (John Steel Book 6) by Stuart Field

Book excerpt

Charles King was free, which didn't sit well with John Steel.

Steel was a British detective on loan from Scotland Yard, or at least that had been his cover story for the past year that he had worked with the NYPD.

The truth was Steel was a member of MI8, the British Secret Service. He had been sent to New York to hunt down a secret criminal organization. They specialized in arms deals, assassination, corruption, and blackmail, known as SANTINI—an organization responsible for the murder of Steel's entire family.

The investigation into SANTINI had led MI8 to believe that the organization had something planned in New York. So, of course, this meant Steel had to go undercover and work alongside the 11th Precinct. The cover story had been arranged, but a case involving a serial killer changed all that. But for Steel, it was the perfect way to integrate himself into the team because this case had SANTINI written all over it.

He had hoped to be on the first plane home once the case was done. But unfortunately, Whitehall and Washington had thought it a good idea if he stuck around, just in case the SANTINI reared their heads again.

But the organization had gone quiet. So now, he was left hunting down arseholes like Charles King when he should be in London doing what he was paid for.

Steel's interest in King had started when MI8 had contacted him and told him to investigate several buildings demolished courtesy of explosives. Something to be expected in an ever-changing city.

However, these buildings were not due to be demolished; the explosives used had been military-grade and not for civilian contractor use. Explosives that the SANTINI organization had been known to sell. This news had gotten London's interest.

Was the bomber working for, or had dealings with, SANTINI?

Steel had used his NYPD cover to carry out the investigation, and it all led to one man: Charles King.

King was the son of a billionaire construction tycoon. A man who had come up from nothing and built and owned half the city.

However, Charles King preferred to destroy rather than create. He had been arrested for destroying old buildings around the city using explosives. Even though the buildings had been empty didn't change the fact he had used explosives and had endangered life. Luckily, no one had been killed. However, four people had ended up in the hospital after Charles King's last job.

In Steel's eyes, the man was a menace to society, someone who had been caught and arrested and should spend the rest of his smug ass life in prison. But Steel had learned that people with money and power sometimes slipped through the net on technicalities. That was why, when Steel put this case together, it was watertight … or so he believed.

But somehow, the months of work, investigating, and gathering evidence was for nothing. Charles King sat with a broad grin as twelve lawyers surrounded him. Of course, he did. Charles was Edward King's son, the billionaire construction tycoon, a top dog in the city.

What should have been a slam dunk turned out to be a waste of time. Evidence had somehow been tainted, witnesses had changed their testimony or had just disappeared, and the lawyer from the DA's office seemed to be off her game.

The case had fallen apart.

The judge had torn the assistant district attorney apart for his lack of hard evidence and inadequate preparation. The case was lost, and King walked free.

Steel stood at the back of the courtroom, watching everything slowly crumble apart. But, as the judge told King, he was a free man. Steel clenched his fists. Hoping the act would help him run down to King and smash his face through the table in front of the judge. As the bailiff told everyone to rise, King turned to look at the door, almost hoping to see Steel's face, but found only a gap in the crowd. A roar of mumbles and mutters flowed as members of the crowd conversed over what had happened.

The lawyers ushered King and his father out the doors, and the inevitable media circus awaited. White blinding flashes from cameras lit faces as the media took picture after picture. Then, finally, Edward King spoke, thanking the jury's decision and condemning the police for trying to lock up an innocent man while the actual bomber was still out there.

Steel watched from afar, away from the crowds, blending into the shadowy backdrop of the courthouse. Steel knew King would do it again – it was inevitable. All Steel had to do was wait and catch the bastard in the act.

***

Two months had passed with no new incidents concerning Charles King. It was September, with longer days and soaring temperatures. Steel sat outside the King building, a massive monstrosity on West 42nd Street, waiting. Disguised as a homeless person, Steel peered from his perch. It was a decent enough costume that had fooled most. But Steel only needed to deceive one person, and by the look on King's face as he looked straight at him, Steel had done just that.

He first noticed how distant King looked, as though his mind were somewhere else. Steel smiled to himself as King waved down a cab and hurried inside. Steel got up from his perch and waved down another cab by standing in front of it to stop it.

‘You crazy, man?’ yelled the cabby.

‘Look, I'm a cop; follow that cab,’ Steel said, showing his shield and pulling off the fake beard.

‘For real?’ the cabby said with a curious look on his weathered face.

‘Yes … for real,’ Steel replied, watching in desperation as King's cab disappeared into the traffic flow.

‘This isn't a TV show?’ asked the cabby, suddenly excited.

‘On a TV show, would they drag you out of your cab and beat you half to death for wasting time?’ Steel snarled.

The man sat silently as a sudden sense of panic washed over him.

‘Look, catch him, and you get this,’ Steel said, pulling a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.

The cabby smiled, faced the steering wheel, put the shift into drive, and put his foot hard on the gas. Steel was pushed back into his seat as the man sped after the other cab.

The cabby talked all the way—about how he'd seen so many cop shows and never thought a detective would actually say ‘follow that car’ to him for real. The man was ecstatic, but Steel's thoughts were elsewhere; for one, where the hell was King going?

The cabby drove for around twenty minutes; all the while, Steel got more nervous the deeper they carried down 11th Avenue.

‘Where the hell are you going, King?’ Steel said to himself, but loud enough for the cabby to overhear.

‘Maybe he's going to a mall … to get his … wife a present?’ the cabby suggested with a skip in his voice.

A sudden shiver ran down Steel's back. The mall—he's heading for the mall.

Steel pulled out his cell and tried phoning Samantha McCall, his partner, but there was no reply. Steel hung up and tried Captain Brant. The phone rang a couple of times before an angry voice came down the speaker.

‘Where the hell you at Steel? Please don't tell me you’re tracking, King?’ Brant yelled angrily down the phone.

‘He’s heading for the new mall at Brookfield Place. I need backup,’ Steel said. His brain had already calculated that he had to do this by the book, or King would walk again.

‘He’s probably going for a present or something. Look, Steel, I get it. He won, we lost … just leave it alone and get your ass back to work,’ Brant growled.

Steel said nothing. He just hung up and put away the cell phone. King was off to do something stupid, and Steel couldn’t let that happen.

King’s cab stopped, got out, and slipped into one of the entrances.

Steel told the cabby to stop behind the other cab, passed over the promised cash, and then jumped out and followed King. He was close behind but far enough away to be unnoticed by King.