NEVER AGAIN (Jack Whitfield Thrillers Book 4) Read online

  NEVER AGAIN

  _______________________________________________________________

  A JACK WHITFIELD THRILLER

  Book 4

  JOHN W. MEFFORD

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  ALSO BY JOHN W. MEFFORD

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

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  John W. Mefford Bibliography

  ALSO BY JOHN W. MEFFORD

  The Alex Troutt Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection)

  AT BAY (Book 1)

  AT LARGE (Book 2)

  AT ONCE (Book 3)

  AT DAWN (Book 4)

  AT DUSK (Book 5)

  AT LAST (Book 6)

  AT STAKE (Book 7)

  AT ANY COST (Book 8)

  BACK AT YOU (Book 9)

  AT EVERY TURN (Book 10)

  AT DEATH’S DOOR (Book 11)

  AT FULL TILT (Book 12)

  The Ivy Nash Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection)

  IN DEFIANCE (Book 1)

  IN PURSUIT (Book 2)

  IN DOUBT (Book 3)

  BREAK IN (Book 4)

  IN CONTROL (Book 5)

  IN THE END (Book 6)

  The Ozzie Novak Thrillers (Redemption Thriller Collection)

  ON EDGE (Book 1)

  GAME ON (Book 2)

  ON THE ROCKS (Book 3)

  SHAME ON YOU (Book 4)

  ON FIRE (Book 5)

  ON THE RUN (Book 6)

  The Ball & Chain Thrillers

  MERCY (Book 1)

  FEAR (Book 2)

  BURY (Book 3)

  LURE (Book 4)

  PREY (Book 5)

  VANISH (Book 6)

  ESCAPE (Book 7)

  TRAP (Book 8)

  The Booker Thrillers

  BOOKER – Streets of Mayhem (Book 1)

  BOOKER – Tap That (Book 2)

  BOOKER – Hate City (Book 3)

  BOOKER – Blood Ring (Book 4)

  BOOKER – No Más (Book 5)

  BOOKER – Dead Heat (Book 6)

  The Greed Thrillers

  FATAL GREED (Book 1)

  LETHAL GREED (Book 2)

  WICKED GREED (Book 3)

  GREED MANIFESTO (Book 4)

  Want one of my books for FREE? Sign up for my VIP mailing list and receive a complimentary copy of STREETS OF MAYHEM, the action-packed first novel of the Booker Thrillers. Just click here: https://www.johnwmefford.com/join-vip-list.html

  1

  Washington, D.C.

  My heart hammers my chest like a caged animal frothing at the mouth, ravenously fighting for a chance at retribution against a killer.

  My wife’s killer.

  I will eviscerate this person from the face of the earth. An eye for an eye.

  I’ve waited months for this opportunity. Played it out in my mind hundreds of times. Been forced to conduct countless operations to further the goals of one devious organization. Lied, coerced, cajoled, bribed, extorted, assaulted.

  And killed.

  A fury takes hold of every muscle, every ligament in my body. Hot magma churns in my gut. I study my target, my brain processing dozens of data points—every subtle movement, every stitch of clothing, every syllable spoken.

  It is time to move. I adjust my grip on my weapon. Take one step...

  And stop.

  An unknown person has entered the room. I reassess how to carry out my objective. I hate the output. My tactics must change.

  I will wait five minutes longer.

  Then, my wife’s killer will take one last breath. I will watch.

  And Jack Whitfield will finally get justice for his wife’s murder.

  An eye for an eye.

  2

  5 Days Ago

  Warsaw Garrison Command

  Warsaw, Poland

  Andreezj Hitzges broke out into a cold, clammy sweat, the kind that drenched his back and gave him the chills. If he wasn’t already keenly aware of this red-letter day, his body’s response was the undeniable indicator. It was a nervous anticipation, like a father awaiting the birth of his firstborn.

  On three prior occasions, Andreezj had done this high-stakes dog-and-pony show—the annual testing of new and upgraded weapons in the Polish arsenal. As the deputy minister for the Ministry of National Defence, he was responsible for two things: the ordering and delivery of the weapons agreed upon by Poland’s top military leaders and hitting the budget number. Especially hitting the budget number.

  “You do not miss the budget number. That is not an option,” the minister of National Defence had told him on the first day of his first year in office. And every year since.

  Coming into today, Andreezj not only had a one100 percent success rate with the various weapons tests but was also a perfect four-for-four on balancing the budget. His accomplishments had drawn the praise of the prime minster, who indicated to Andreezj that he was on the short list for consideration for the minister of State Assets. And the one event that could propel Andreezj above any other candidate—extending his testing win streak—was only minutes away.

  “Sir, the final test of the day is about to begin.”

  Darek stood at the doorway of Andreezj’s WGC makeshift office. It used to be a janitor’s closet until last year, when Andreezj made a few phone calls that would allow him some personal space. To stay sane, he knew he couldn’t be in the WGC observation room during those tests. While he found watching the tests an unnerving exercise, it was the deathly scowls from the top generals that rattled him most. They despised Andreezj for any number of reasons—after all, he was just a suit—but the most visceral hatred was born from their belief that Andreezj put the almighty złoty before the national defense of the country. An unassailable sin in their minds.

  “The LGM-30 upgrade,” Andreezj said.

  Darek nodded firmly.

  Andreezj ran a finger down his monitor to locate the details of the upgrade of Poland’s anti-ballistic missile system. “Just a minor patch to the operation system, correct?” He lifted his eyes above his wire-frame readers, and Darek gave him another stiff nod. Darek was a good kid, but far too rigid. His military background was a valuable asset during negotiations with the various global weapons suppliers, but he came across as a programmable robot. Everything was black or white, nothing but ninety-degree angles.

  “Yes sir, a minor patch. The military performed three separate unit tests over the last thirty days, and all passed with perfect results. This test today will display our full capability of the LGM-30 Minuteman III, where a single missile travels two hundred kilometers across Polish soil before hitting its target, a small shack in the middle of the demilitarized zone.”

  Andreezj asked Darek to let him know the moment the test was completed. He lifted his phone and contemplated sending a text to his wife, suggesting she pop the cork on the expensive bottle of champagne, a Krug Grande Cuvée Brut, which had cost him north of a thousand złoty. He held off. He didn’t want to jinx this last test. He’d wait a few more minutes and then be fully prepared to celebrate with his wife this evening.

  He couldn’t repress a smile. They’d been married almost thirteen years. Kasia had been a good influence in his life, helped him broaden his aspirations. If Kasia had her way, he would be prime minister five years from now. And the generals would report to him as the nation’s commander-in-chief. Then they would be forced to bury their demeaning glares.

  Despite the generals’ condescending attitudes toward him, Andreezj recognized their prudent actions, most recently carefully shifting the Polish weapons systems into being more autonomous. Many of the defense contractors, though, had been calling for a much quicker transformation, saying that several of Poland’s regional adversaries were already moving in that direction. Greater autonomy meant faster and more accurate solutions, both in terms of strategic data analytics and split-second tactical decisions in war. He’d been shown the specs, watched numerous case-study demonstrations. Even with discounting the many bells and whistles that came with building artificial intelligence into their defense capabilities, modernizing thirty-year-old weapons by a mere OS change was nothing short of stunning.

  But as tempting as it w
as, Andreezj had rejected the pressure for a major systems upgrade. The risk was too great—Poland was not in a position to be at the bleeding edge of technology—and it was far too costly. Yet, the biggest enticement was a last-second appeal from one particular contractor who’d offered Andreezj and his wife a two-week vacation in Bali. While he knew it was nothing less than a bribe, it had been difficult to turn down. But he did, and he felt good about his decision.

  His phone buzzed. A text from his wife.

  Sitting in tub with bubbles and bubbly! Waiting on you and the good news!!

  She’d already popped the cork. He smiled at the picture she’d included of her in the suds, revealing more than a little bare skin.

  He pulled his sights back to his computer and the final report he would need to submit tomorrow morning. It was all but complete, but he wanted it to be perfect, like everything else he’d done in this role. After all, the prime minister might very well read it, hopefully launching Andreezj’s career into the stratosphere.

  He said a quiet prayer.

  3

  Warsaw Garrison Command

  Stefan pulled on his shirt collar, damp with sweat. “Is it hot in here?” No one in the line of ten people waiting to leave the Warsaw Garrison Command responded. He wasn’t offended.

  The attention of everyone was focused on the two guards responsible for checking them out of the government building. This had been going on for an hour now, and many of the visitors had audibly grumbled at the guards’ snail-like pace and general indifference.

  Sheer incompetence is what it is.

  He looked at his watch and felt a flutter in his chest.

  “What is taking them so damn long?” whined the woman behind Stefan. He turned just as she smacked her hands off her thighs. “I tried talking to that one guard, but he would not listen. My son’s school called. He has a fever and needs to see a doctor. I must leave. It is a medical emergency.”

  Medical emergency. The sole reason Stefan had taken this risk. A risk that could very well set in motion the next world war.

  She continued. “They might be bureaucratic government employees, but they are still human. They should have at least some compassion.”

  An idea sparked to life.

  “Sir!” Stefan held up a hand as though he were flagging down a waiter. The guard holding the rifle eyed him with an ugly scowl as his partner worked through rebooting the computer for at least the third time in the last twenty minutes. Stefan didn’t want to attract attention to himself, but taking the patient path had not worked. Time was no longer his friend.

  With sweat trickling down his face, Stefan pushed his way to the front of the line, the tips of his shoes touching but not crossing the yellow tape. “Sir, if I can just speak to you a moment...”

  The guard pointed his rifle at the floor and sipped from his coffee cup. “Please stand back. It will be just another minute.”

  “But the woman in the back of the line, the one in the red coat, she has a sick son and must leave urgently.”

  Neither guard acknowledged him. He could feel what little breakfast he’d eaten surging in his chest. But he couldn’t afford to be driven by his emotions. He took a different tack.

  Stefan placed his hand on the rickety desk that held the desktop computer. Behind the desk, a guard sat on a stool that rocked awkwardly. He was thumbing through something on his cell phone. “Can I help you with the computer issues?” Stefan asked.

  The computer guard continued scrolling for a good minute. A minute Stefan did not have.

  “I am a subject matter expert in many information technology disciplines. And I would be happy to help troubleshoot your...”

  The computer guard lifted a hand, and Stefan ceased talking. After adjusting his glasses, the guard leaned closer to the monitor, which had a thick layer of dust on top. Stefan waited, holding his breath. After a few painful seconds, the guard cleared his throat.

  “Ivan, take a look at this photo from the football match.” When he lifted his phone, Ivan told him to hold on. Then Ivan walked to a shelf, put his coffee cup in a microwave, and set the timer for fifteen seconds.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Stefan lolled his head backward.

  The computer guard shifted his eyes to Stefan briefly, but handed his phone to Ivan, who grumbled at the sight of the photo. The pair discussed the details of the football match in more detail.

  The microwave dinged. And Stefan wondered if he’d run out of time.

  4

  High-rise condominium

  Downtown Warsaw

  Jack

  Light seeped through the curtains, cutting across the gold silk sheets. I ran my finger along the hip of the blond-haired woman I’d just spent the night with. A woman who wasn’t my wife. Technically, it would be impossible to sleep with my wife. She’d been murdered months ago at the hands of the organization for which I now worked.

  Wiktoria stirred. “Conredge, darling, what are you doing awake?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I was just thinking...”

  “About your latest conquest?”

  I paused.

  “I’m speaking of your trip to France, of course.”

  “Ha, I knew that.”

  She took my arm and curled it into her bare chest, drawing us closer. Wiktoria was a strong yet sensual woman. The dossier I’d received from my handlers, known for months only as Simon, had said as much, both with words and pictures. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I first laid eyes on her. But seeing her in motion during my observation phase was entirely different. Every step she took was purposeful but not forced. Steady and dignified. Guys ogled her; women looked at her with jealousy in their eyes. And neither men nor women dared cross her.

  We’d officially met when I’d “accidentally” run into her at a high-end bar located near the Chancellery. A watering hole where government employees unwound after a long day at the office.

  She took a liking to the many photos I’d captured during my travels in France. She had a sparkle in her eyes, the color of Caribbean waters. While I felt certain I could have slept with her on that first night, I’d chosen to play hard to get. For the purpose of my mission, I needed a deeper connection with the high-ranking official inside the Ministry of Development and Technology. We met for coffee the next day, then took a late-night stroll in the park. We shared our first kiss at midnight near the iconic Multimedia Fountain Park amidst purple and pink lights. She loved being romanced. For me, it was a necessary evil and nothing more.

  “You are unsettled, Conredge. What is wrong?”

  I thought she’d fallen back asleep. “What could possibly be wrong? Just living in the moment.”

  “I can feel your heart against my back. It is beating so fast.”

  “You know you have that effect on me,” I said with a soft chuckle.

  She snuggled back against him. “Evidence tells me otherwise. You can talk to me, you know.”

  “We talk about a lot of things. But all talk and no action makes Jack a dull boy, as the saying goes.” I brought her onto her back and gave her a firm kiss. She tugged at my hair—that was a habit of hers—but before she got carried away, she stopped and looked directly into my eyes.

  As I’d hoped she would.

  “Conredge Manning, we’re not going to have sex again until we talk through what is on your mind.” She sat up and used the sheet to cover her chest. “I’m going to make some coffee. Then we talk. And do not think you can charm me back into bed. Not before you share everything that is on your mind.”

  I gave her a mock salute, then she grabbed her robe and walked into the kitchen.

  I put on my robe and checked my phone for any updates from either Simon or those taking care of my little girl back in the States. There were none. In this instance, no news was very good news. My five-year-old Maddie, whose last few months had been tumultuous—to put it mildly—was staying with friends on a ranch outside of Austin, Texas. Very few people knew of her location, and she was being guarded by a very capable investigator. Booker had already saved her life once. He was the ultimate security blanket for me during this mission, the last of four before Simon would release me from this life-or-death contract. My purgatory.

  “Two creams and sugar?” Wiktoria called out from the kitchen.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  After she turned on some classical music, we settled on her sofa, her cold feet burrowed beneath my thighs. The melodic piano piece filled the dead air adequately, so I waited until it didn’t.