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  INTO THE FIRE

  A VIGILANTE JUSTICE NOVEL

  BOOK ONE

  By: F.J. GALE

  Edited, Produced, and Published by Writer’s Edge Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition

  © 2014 by F J Gale.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.

  —Christopher Reeve

  CHAPTER 1

  Jim Benson gripped the dashboard for dear life, his calloused hands fighting to maintain their hold as the car made another stomach-churning, sharp turn through the winding streets of the city.

  “Slow the hell down, Adam! This isn’t a frigging military op!”

  “You knew what to expect when you got into my car,” Adam said with a smirk.

  Could he really help it if his charcoal gray Charger demanded to be driven a little recklessly once in a while?

  “It may be bulletproof, but it’s not a frigging tank, and unless you want the insides of my stomach all over the seats, gear down.”

  Commander Adam Reede of the Civilian Security Agency (CSA) compromised and dropped to fourth gear. The car coasted around the next turn. A few seconds later, he dropped to third gear. Relieved, Jim released his grip on the dashboard and relaxed back into his seat.

  “Feel better?” Adam asked.

  “Much.”

  Adam glanced at his old friend and mentor. Jim sensed his glance instantly.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, for God’s sake.”

  Adam chuckled. Jim was a classic backseat driver, especially when Adam was driving. His reputation had haunted him ever since the two of them had started working together nine long years ago. It had seemed like a lifetime.

  “Come on, we both know my driving has saved both our asses more than once.”

  Jim raised his eyebrows but made no response. A smile crept across his lips.

  “Right?” Adam pushed, glancing back and forth between Jim and the road.

  “Yes, yes. I recall a couple of instances. That said, you’re just driving me to the train station. There’s no need for evasive driving.”

  “Jim, you’re marked, don’t forget.”

  “We’re on the way to pick up my daughter,” Jim said, changing the subject.

  “Jim, come on. We need to discuss it.”

  “What is there to discuss? There’s a hit. We have everything in place, should they succeed. You’re ready. The CSA is ready.”

  “Are you ready, Jim?”

  Jim sighed deeply. It was the sigh of a man who had already accepted his fate. He wasn’t a pessimist. He wasn’t welcoming inevitable death. He just expected it. He knew his situation. The odds weren’t in his favor.

  For the past thirty years he’d battled against the enemy. The enemy was the Syndicate, a militaristic criminal organization led by Carl Jameson, a ruthless, modern gangster. Their goal was to own the city, to rule it via terror and force and control its ample resources. Since the inception of the CSA, Jim had known that he’d had no choice. Ten years ago, when the police force in the city had crumbled under the weight of threats that it wasn’t equipped to deal with, his work had become even more vital. The city had become like a war zone. It needed the CSA. No one else could have carried on the battle. Until now. Now there was Adam. His protégé. His successor. He trusted him with his life, with the CSA—his life’s work. There was no doubt in his mind that Adam could finish what he had started. In his mid-60s now, he was too old for this. He knew it. The enemy knew it.

  “I’m tired. It’s your time now, Adam. I’m not gonna wait in fear because I know, when that moment comes, that I don’t have to worry anymore. You will be the one to finish it.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Adam told him as he turned into the parking lot of the train station. He brought the car to a halt in front of an eight-foot-high chain link fence that bordered the train tracks.

  “It’s not,” Adam persisted as he turned off the engine and sat back in his seat.

  They met each other’s glance, both of them fighting back the emotion that Jim’s words had wrought.

  “Abbey...she knows nothing of my involvement with the CSA. For her sake it needs to stay that way.”

  Adam nodded earnestly and then moved to get out of the car before the emotion of the situation overtook him. Before he could, Jim’s hand gripped his like a block of wood in a vice.

  “If anything happens—”

  “Jim,” Adam protested, anticipating what was coming.

  “No, listen to me. If anything happens...promise me...you’re the only one who can protect her.”

  Adam gripped Jim’s hand tightly and said, “You have my word.”

  Jim knew he needn’t say anything more. Adam’s word was solid. If he said he was going to do something he’d do it. And, he’d do it well. Guaranteed.

  At Jim’s mention of the unthinkable, Adam once again faced the arduous task of trying to push away the thoughts that had been plaguing him for days now. Thoughts of losing the man that had become like a father to him.

  Jim had given him a purpose and a reason during a time when nothing had seemed to have reason or meaning. He’d blocked Adam’s path to absolute rock bottom. A lump formed in his throat every time the notion that Jim might not be there at his side crossed his mind. It was a notion beyond comprehension and he refused to entertain it on an emotional level. But his head knew better than his heart. The odds that he could prevent his demise while he remained in the city were next to none. But Jim, the stubborn ass that he was, would not cede to going into hiding. It just wasn’t his style.

  He shook it off and reached forward to open the glove compartment. Seconds later he withdrew a 9mm Beretta. In one fluid motion he released the magazine, checked the ammo, snapped it back into place, and slipped the safety on. Sliding the pistol into the holster at his right hip, he turned to Jim and said, “Okay, I won’t be long.”

  To his shock, he watched as Jim tucked his own pistol into the pocket of his suede jacket and reached for the car door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting out of the car,” Jim responded, unapologetically.

  “What? No way. No you’re not.”

  Before Adam could continue his protest Jim had already made it out of the car. Adam rushed after him and yelled at him over the hood, “You asked me to bring you here in my car for the very simple fact that it’s bulletproof and you could wait here and not worry about being shot while we pick up your daughter from the station.” Aggressively, he shut the driver’s door and gestured to Jim to get back into the car. “I will go get her. Just wait here.”

  Jim approached Adam calmly. He clasped his shoulders like a father about to impart some valuable words of wisdom to a son. “I’m not going to let anyone prevent me from greeting my own daughter when she gets off the train.”

  “You have no choice. We have no backup if something happens. The risk is too high.”

  Even as Adam heard himself speak his words of caution, he knew only too well that he might as well have been on mute. Telling Jim what to do was like telling a sharpshooter how to fire a rifle: pointless and a damned waste of time. Still, he had to try.

  “You know you can’t win. I’m a stubborn old man, Adam. Good try though.”

  Adam breathed an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But stay close to me. The moment I sense it’s not safe, I give the word and you haul your ass
back here. I’ll make sure Abbey’s okay. Don’t worry about that. Agreed?”

  Jim smiled, amused that Adam had the balls to bark orders at him. He was impressed and said, “That works.”

  They made their way towards the station entrance with Adam shadowing Jim and scanning the surrounding area for any sign of suspicious activity.

  “You know, Adam, you can be a heavy-handed son of a bitch when you want to be,” Jim commented as they reached the entrance.

  “Learned from the best,” Adam rebutted as they both entered the station.

  CHAPTER 2

  The station, if it could be called that, consisted of one waiting room no bigger than a studio apartment in the overcrowded downtown core. A couple of vending machines stood in the far left corner and a lone magazine rack stocked with outdated issues rested beside them. A haggard-faced woman with a 1980s bleach-blonde perm and a mini-dress equally out of time presided over the ticket booth. She didn’t seem any older than her mid-30s, but a life of booze and drugs had drawn the life out of her. It was easy enough in their city if you threw hope to the wayside and just gave in.

  Adam continued to scan the waiting room while Jim spoke with the woman about the ETA of Abbey’s train. He counted no more than twenty people—possibly passengers, possibly family or friends come to greet their loved ones. He eyed every couple, family, and single individual to ensure that no one posed a threat, that no one was watching them with that classic abnormally-too-interested glance. No one fit the profile. No one’s pockets bulged with concealed weapons. There were no erratic glances back and forth from a faux object of interest to the two of them. The area was clear.

  “Should be pulling in any moment. Two minutes,” Jim reported.

  “Okay,” Adam responded, distracted by his surveillance.

  All they could do now was wait.

  * * * * *

  From the unobstructed view afforded by her window seat, Abbey Benson gazed out at the familiar city as the train sped along on its last leg of its forty-mile journey. She was heading home for a couple of weeks to visit her dad. It was the fall vacation of her first year of her Psych Master’s program. She’d fast-tracked through high school on account of her extreme intelligence. Most people her age were still working on their bachelor degrees. Despite being highly capable, the strain of university had become intense near the end of the last semester and she was glad to have finally made it to vacation. It was a welcome break.

  As she gazed out at the city with its towering apartment blocks and oversized office buildings, she felt at home. It was her hometown, yet she had spent so little of her life there. As a child, her dad had sent her away to boarding school shortly after her mother’s tragic car accident. Immediately following that, he’d urged her to go away to university in order to keep her away from the city. He’d told her haunting tales of the dangers that the city possessed. He didn’t want her anywhere near it. What Abbey had never been able to work out was why he stayed there if it was so dangerous. She had always thought it was so he could be close to her mother, to their memories that they’d shared. He would never admit it and she would never push it. But it didn’t stop her wondering.

  An announcement crackled over the speakers signaling the train’s arrival and reminding passengers to collect their possessions.

  The train slowed to a halt and Abbey felt a wave of excitement wash over her. She couldn’t wait to see her dad again. Although they spoke often over the phone and via email, it wasn’t the same. It had been too long since she’d seen him in person. The next two weeks were going to be great!

  She got to her feet and gathered her things. Instinctively, she felt the back pocket of her jeans. Yep, it was there: her flip knife. She could never be too careful when returning home. Her father had taught her that. And thanks to him she knew how to take care of herself should the situation arise.

  * * * * *

  “There she is. Do you see her?” Jim called to Adam, gesturing to a young, blonde woman descending the steps of the train.

  Adam watched as an attractive female wearing perfectly fitted jeans and a low-cut cream tank top that drew attention to an area he tried to avoid glancing at navigated her way through the crowds towards the waiting room. She carried a brown suede jacket at her side and wheeled a suitcase behind her. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  “Wow,” he said aloud.

  Jim snapped his fingers in Adam’s face to break his gaze.

  “Sorry, I’m just surprised, is all. She’s grown up…uh…good.”

  “Yeah, last time you saw her was what? Five, six years ago? She’s twenty-one now. Still can’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I,” Adam agreed.

  Despite being drawn to her, Adam pushed it aside. He hadn’t had the company of a woman for years and that wasn’t about to change. He drew his gaze away and resumed his surveillance of the station. And that was when his glance fell upon the one person in the room whom he had not seen before. A six-foot-tall hulk of a man stood quietly off to the side looking at no one in particular. He wore a heavy, dark overcoat, sunglasses, and a baseball cap that concealed most of his face. Adam knew there was no way he could have missed such a massive figure. He had to have just entered the building. He watched closely as the guy reached into his coat pocket; a pocket that bulged. As he placed his hand in the pocket, the contents were pressed against the fabric, making them viewable to Adam. That was when he saw it: the distinctive outline of a handgun.

  As he turned to notify Jim, who had started to wave Abbey over, he spotted two young, overweight skinheads barrel through the main entrance.

  “Jim, we need to move now!”

  Jim snapped into action. His eyes scanned the room and noticed the same threats that Adam had. But before he could react, two more guns for hire appeared behind the passengers entering the waiting room. They nodded to the mysterious man in the corner.

  Instinctively, both Adam and Jim withdrew their weapons, holding them behind their backs as they waited to see what the leader of the muscle would do.

  He started to withdraw his firearm.

  Adam was quicker on the draw and aimed his gun at him, causing a standoff.

  “Get down!” he yelled to the innocent crowd of bystanders greeting their loved ones. Jim fired a shot into the air for emphasis. Screams of fear and shock erupted, engulfing the waiting room. People dove to the floor, some covering their faces with their hands in terror and others attempting to crawl towards the exit.

  “Go! Now!” Adam yelled to Jim.

  Jim hesitated and his eyes searched through the blanket of people for Abbey. Adam sensed his anxiety and yelled, “I’ve got her. Just get to the car!”

  “There are too many. You won’t make it out.”

  “Just leave!”

  But Jim was resolute. “I can’t. You won’t make it.”

  A look passed between them. Jim knew Adam was doing everything in his power to save his life. But Adam had to survive this. He was the future of the CSA. Jim was there to ensure things happened as they needed to.

  Adam’s peripheral vision noticed the movements of four men approaching.

  “Call it off, boys,” Jim called out as three of the thugs approached him, knives in hand. The other brandished a gun and approached Adam from his right.

  No one answered. No one moved. Adam couldn’t take out the leader without his thugs taking a couple of shots at him and Jim or the innocent people in the room.

  Suddenly, the leader nodded. And then they came at them.

  In the chaos, Adam found the opportunity to take a shot. He fired at the leader’s leg with ruthless determination. His leg gave way as the bullet lodged itself in his thigh and he hit the floor hard.

  Before the man beside him had the chance to fire off a shot, something unexpected happened. Adam caught sight of a small object propelling through the air towards the gunman. It sped like lightning, traveling so fast that he co
uldn’t make out what it was until it plunged into the man’s wrist. A knife. It was barely a three-inch blade, but it inflicted maximum damage to the gunman, piercing a vein and forcing his hand to release the firearm. It fell from his grip as he clutched at his bloody wrist. He was so distracted by the heavy flow of blood that quickly followed that Adam barely had to use any effort to finish the fight.

  Adam looked out to the crowd and saw Abbey nod at him.

  What had just happened? He didn’t have time to figure out how a civilian possessed an aim of a well-trained professional. Impossible.

  He looked over at Jim who had been driven away from him by battle. Two of his attackers were sprawled out on the concrete floor, dead to the world. Adam watched as he effortlessly disposed of the final threat with an iron fist that destroyed his attacker’s jaw and forced him into unconsciousness.

  Adam nodded to him, a smile of relief playing across his lips.

  But Jim’s expression abruptly shifted as he said, “It’s not over.”

  Adam followed his gaze. There were more. Many more. At least two dozen men rushed towards them.

  “Oh my God,” he breathed.

  This was the end.

  “Make the call,” Jim called.

  A heavy glance passed between them and they both knew this was it. There were too many men. They blocked the exits. There was no way out.

  Adam pulled out his phone and dialed, “It’s happened.”

  “On my way,” a voice replied.

  Adam had barely hung up when his senses screamed at him. But he didn’t turn around fast enough. He heard himself cry out as a shocking, white-hot pain shot through his side. It was paralyzing, excruciating. He turned his head to glance at the area. The blade of a knife, still buried in his side, was being held there by the attack leader. A triumphant smirk played across his face as Adam made eye contact.

  “Now we’re even,” the leader spoke as he sadistically yanked out the blade, ripping through more flesh and widening the wound.