The American Agent (An American Agent Novel Book 1) Read online

  THE AMERICAN AGENT

  AN ACTION SPY THRILLER

  ERIC DABBS

  RED PUB

  Copyright © 2020 ERIC DABBS

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 9798648228146

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Stephanie, Alex & Jaxson, and my mom.

  This is my first novel ever, began writing in 2004. I'm estactic to finally publish this story. Hope you enjoy...

  My other works:

  Gold River

  Gold Canyon

  Praise for The American Agent...

  "Compelling characters, tons of action, mystery, and suspense! One of my all-time favorite Wattpad reads!" -Wattpad Username @bibliolumbricus (Cate M. Turner, author of The Stolen Papyrus)

  "Full of wit and loaded with gadgets, Alex Parker is explosive in this heart-thumping mission to unravel an evil plot that has the world in its crosshairs!" -Wattpad Username @MichaelHoliday (author of The Third Alignment)

  "Thrills, spills and gadgets galore, an adrenaline-pumping, high-stakes, globe-trotting thrill ride, reminiscent of the spy novels I enjoyed as a kid, updated for today's readers." -Wattpad Username @KenWallin (author of Mountains of the Macaw.)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  THE AMERICAN AGENT

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  EPILOGUE

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  Books By This Author

  About The Author

  THE AMERICAN AGENT

  1

  SAVANNAH, GEORGIA

  Lightning splintered across the sky, illuminating the inside of an old farmhouse. A thunderous aftershock rattled the foundation. The storm's fireworks revealed a portrait on a nightstand of a father and a mother as wind whipped through a foot wide gap in the second story window. Alex Parker tugged the covers to his chin and rolled on his side, a groan escaping his lips.

  "Why did you spare me?" He tossed and turned.

  His eyes shot open.

  Heart thudded in his chest.

  This was the anniversary of the day that changed his life. The day so many lives changed. He’d grown accustomed to it over the years. Numbed to it even. But the events from that day haunted his dreams like the thunder that followed a bolt of lightning. It was there. He couldn’t see it, but he felt its rumble.

  A gurgling sound filtered its way up the stairs from the kitchen below. The coffee maker percolated the remaining drops of water into the pot. Outside, rain started hammering the tin roof with a steady cadence.

  Alex hustled to the window and slammed it shut.

  He stood there with his eyes closed, breathing through his nose, until his heartbeat subsided.

  Having slept in a pair of athletic pants and a t-shirt, he lumbered down the staircase into the kitchen, ready to start the day. He’d hoped for a morning run, which usually helped him think and clear his mind, but that was out of the question with the weather.

  He removed a cup from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

  Something wasn’t right. He grabbed the coffee pot, which was three-fourths full, and held it up to the light emitted from the range hood above the stove. He wondered why the maker hadn’t brewed a full pot.

  With a shrug, he filled the cup and raised it for a sip.

  "I prefer mine black too," a man said.

  Alex jerked his gaze toward the darkened dining room. His mouth flopped open and his eyes narrowed into slits as he peered through the shadows at the dark figures of three men who’d broken into his home. One man sat in a chair at the table while the other two men stood, flanked to each side. Of those standing, one was tall and robust, the other younger and lean.

  "I hope you have good reason to be in my house uninvited," Alex said, "whoever you are."

  "We've given you sufficient time to mourn, Mr. Parker," the man replied, a cocky hitch to his voice as he sat, sipping coffee from one of Alex’s cups. “Years even. You should be over their deaths by now, but you can’t let it go, can you?”

  Alex strained to make out the figures of the three intruders. The more he stared, the more his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

  "It's time you took a little trip with us...Alex," the man said. "Don't you think?" He slurped from the cup, steam billowing over the rim.

  The younger associate shifted, the hem of his trench coat opening. A metallic object strapped to the man’s side reflected a glare of light from the stove.

  The man in the chair looked at his younger assistant who pulled on his coat to conceal a shiny handgun that had strayed into view.

  Alex edged toward the living room.

  The man in the chair whipped his head around. "There's nowhere to run. The place is surrounded. Our orders are to bring you in, the easy way...or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

  Alex slowed his retreat, feigning surrender.

  "Oh, come on," the man said. "You're giving up that easy?"

  Alex charged for the living room, flinging the coffee cup from his hand, the porcelain shattering as the cup hit the floor.

  "Don’t let him get away," the man said.

  Alex didn’t dare look back as he ripped open the front door and shouldered through a screen door on his way out. He pounded down the porch steps into the rain, straight into the path of two men who looked like body builders with buzzed haircuts.

  The first man roared forward and launched a punch. Alex moved lightning fast. He turned sideways, latched onto the man's wrist and retaliated with an elbow to the abdomen. With the man bowed over, Alex locked onto a forearm, planted his feet and hurled him over his shoulder like a sack of unwanted trash. The man tumbled into the base of a large oak tree.

  The second attacker stepped up and hurled a fist at Alex. He blocked the punch and countered with a blow to the man's gut. Quickly, he cocked his arm back and fired a hook to the side of the attacker's face.
The man stumbled away, losing his balance.

  Alex jumped and whirled himself into the air and connected with the man’s chin in a sweeping roundhouse kick. The man sailed to the mushy lawn as Alex landed with his knees bent, fists balled tight, poised for more action.

  The first attacker regained his footing and stood frozen, unsure what course to take next. Alex glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, then spun and whipped his leg around. The half revolution cut off the man's path with a kick to the stomach. The man groaned, doubled over and collapsed again.

  Alex turned to see the young associate from inside as he rushed across the porch, used the railing as a launching point, and hurtled his lanky body into the air. The porch rail snapped under his foot, spindles jutting loose as he soared toward Alex. He collided with him, sending both men rolling, splashing through collecting pools of water. They came to a stop with the young man on top.

  Alex thrust a pair of fingers into the man’s throat and tossed him aside.

  Flexing his body, Alex arched his back and sprang to his feet. With all three attackers out of commission, he stormed for his truck at the edge of the house. Rounding the vehicle, he knelt down and reached under the wheel hub of the four-wheel-drive pickup.

  He was almost home free when cold metal pressed into the back of his head. Alex seethed, grinding his teeth. Who are these people and what do they want with me?

  "To your feet, soldier," a familiar voice said, belonging to the man who’d broken into his home, stolen a cup from his cabinet and drank his coffee.

  As Alex rose, so did the gun, the barrel digging into his scalp.

  The man removed the muzzle from Alex’s skull, grunted, and then cold-cocked him in the back of the head. Alex crumbled to the ground, mind-shattering pain racking his brain. As his vision grew dark around the edges, the gun boomed with a deafening discharge, and after that, all he saw was darkness.

  2

  Alex’s eyes flickered open and closed, surrendering to a fierce headache and a wave of nausea. The pulsating pain wrapped around his skull and intensified at his temples. His hands went to his head before he dared to open his eyes again. The vehicle rumbled, compounding the problem, vibrating...a gravel road, he guessed.

  He remembered getting clubbed in the back of the head by a blunt instrument, likely the butt of a pistol.

  Gradually, he cracked open his eyes as his stomach settled.

  Even with the gray overcast skies, the daylight overwhelmed his senses. When he managed to pry his eyes open all the way, he realized he was on the middle bench of a large SUV.

  His clothes clung to his body, still wet from the rain, but his hair had dried. He eased up and looked behind him toward the rear seat.

  The three men he'd encountered on his front lawn peered at him, disgruntled, heads bobbling on their shoulders with the bumpy road. An escape crossed his mind, but he pushed the thought aside. There were five of them and only one of him. And if he needed to get away, escaping from a moving vehicle was not a good option.

  The guy in the middle smiled, half-heartedly. The other two men still appeared ticked off, especially the one on the driver's side. He sported a huge red spot at the base of his throat. The wiry man rubbed it a time or two and tried to swallow.

  Alex turned his attention to the two men in the front of the vehicle.

  "Welcome to the land of the living," a bald man with a round ebony face said, "I'm Agent Wilson and this," he gestured to the driver, "is Agent Reed. We're CIA."

  "I thought the CIA wasn't allowed to operate within the borders of the United States."

  Wilson's expression soured. Alex remembered him to be the taller of the two men who had stood at his dining room table as their leader drank his coffee.

  "You gave our men a run for their money this morning," Reed said, eyes visible in the rear view mirror. "That's what we thought we'd get out of you. But we had to test you...see if you still had the goods."

  "The goods?"

  "Figure of speech." Reed bobbed his head. “Oh, and I'm sorry about hitting you with my service pistol. But…I had to seize control of the situation.”

  "If you don't mind me asking...what's this all about?"

  "Your country is in need of your services, Lieutenant Commander Parker," Wilson replied.

  "I’m not in the Navy anymore."

  "We know that. Your superiors liked you so much they promoted you with a year left in your commitment. They hoped it would be enough to get you to recommit."

  Reed chimed in. "You had an exceptional military career."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "We're CIA," Wilson answered, "we know a lot of things."

  "A plane is waiting to take you to Washington," Reed said. "We're almost to the airfield."

  That seemed strange. Langley was in Virginia...close to D.C. but in Virginia nonetheless. Maybe they'd land in D.C. and take another vehicle to CIA headquarters. Of course, that was if they were really CIA.

  For now, he'd go along for the ride.

  Where was he anyway? What state? Georgia? South Carolina? It didn't look like Florida. A lot of trees were clustered together along the roadside with portions of open pasture. Still in Georgia, Alex concluded.

  And how long was he out? It looked like mid-morning, maybe nine or ten o'clock. Had he been out for four or five hours? The throbbing in the back of his head seemed to say so.

  A jazzy musical beat interrupted his thoughts and the quietness of the ride.

  Wilson reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "Hello." A moment of silence. "Good...everything's in order?" The big agent glared back at Alex who casually turned his head and acted like he wasn't eavesdropping. "Locals taken care of?" Wilson nodded. "Was it convincing?" He peered over at Reed. "Good. We'll be on the plane in a few."

  Wilson tucked the phone inside his jacket. Gazed at Reed. "Carver and Jones took care of their end."

  "Then we're rounding third, headed home."

  The SUV, which Alex determined to be a Chevy from the emblem on the steering wheel, cleared a thick group of trees. A lone airstrip emerged with no buildings or other vehicles, only a mid-size Lear jet on the runway.

  The SUV rolled to a stop.

  Reed and Wilson exited.

  One of the men in the third row nodded, suggesting Alex get out too. He complied and did his best to catch up to Reed and Wilson without alarming the other agents.

  "So, you can't tell me anything else?" Alex asked as they neared the staircase to the jet.

  Wilson scowled. "I can assure you that we have your's and the country's best interest at heart. You're not in any kind of danger."

  "That's comforting." Alex rubbed the goose-egg on the back of his head, not quite convinced.

  Reed and Wilson stepped aside to allow him to enter first. As his foot hit the bottom step, a stabbing pain erupted in his right arm. A syringe stuck in his bicep, the fingers of the guy he'd poked in the throat wrapped around it, plunging an amber liquid into his veins.

  The man smiled.

  "Everything's going to be okay, Alex," Wilson said, his words distorted, deeply pitched, like someone turned the bass all the way up on the radio.

  Streaks crossed his vision. Then everything went black.

  3

  This time when Alex opened his eyes, a pair of blurry faces greeted him. From what he gathered, he was lying face-up on a couch inside a spacious room. Gradually, his vision cleared, revealing the fierce countenances of Agent Reed and Agent Wilson staring down at him, arms crossed, daring him to bolt for the nearest path of escape.

  Alex lunged upward, but Reed and Wilson piled on top of him and slammed him back into the plush sofa.

  "Calm down," Reed shouted. "We mean you no harm."

  Blood flushed Alex's face. "Get off me then. I'll stay put, just let me go."

  Reed and Wilson eased up and released him, backing away to stand guard.

  Alex sat up, put his shoes on the dark-stained hardwo
od floor and gathered himself with a deep breath. His t-shirt had dried out, but he still felt the impression of Reed's elbow in his chest.

  Alex massaged his sternum and began taking in his surroundings.

  The room was windowless and well appointed. A couple of paintings framed in aged-bronze adorned the crimson walls. One picture depicted Japanese bombers raiding Pearl Harbor as valiant men fought back from the deck of a ship, firing a fifty caliber machine gun at the nose diving planes. The other frame portrayed the invasion of Normandy, soldiers storming the beach as bullets ripped holes in the sand...the title, D-Day.

  His gaze fell on a desk across the room. He was in someone's office.

  "You'll see why we brought you here soon enough," Reed said, placing a hand on Alex's shoulder.

  Alex latched onto the hand and removed it with a firm grip and an icy glare.

  "Take it easy, why don't you?"

  "You broke into my home, knocked me over the head, stuck me with a needle...do I need to go on?" Alex tensed up, the outburst of anger renewing a flurry of sharp pains, all centered around the back of his scalp. He rubbed the bump to find dried flakes of blood.

  "We're sorry, but you left us no choice," Wilson said. "We had to get control of the situation...and we had to drug you. Everything you're about to hear is classified...highly classified."

  Classified? That last bit of information raised the possibility that Reed and Wilson were telling the truth. It pacified, if only temporarily, the heat seeping from Alex's stare. If they were indeed government officials he could at least rule out criminal involvement in his abduction. "So, you're CIA?"

  Wilson's harsh face transformed into a faint smile. "Don't be alarmed, but that was actually a lie. We're not with the CIA."

  “What?” Alex stood up, a feeling of uneasiness creeping over him.

  "Relax," Reed cut in. "We only used the CIA front to calm your fears."

  "But you do work for the government?"