Flight 12
FLIGHT 12:
A KRISTIN CUNNINGHAM THRILLER
Allan Leverone
Copyright © 2014 by Allan Leverone
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Rock Bottom Books 2014
First eBook Edition: 2014
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Flight 12: A Kristin Cunningham Thriller by Allan Leverone
Cover design by © Cory Clubb
Published in the United States of America
Rock Bottom Books
Never Miss Out! More Flight 12 adventures are coming soon!
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Flight 12: A Kristin Cunningham Thriller (Flight 12 Begins)
FLIGHT 12
Never Miss Out! More Flight 12 adventures are coming soon!
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Never Miss Out! More Flight 12 adventures are coming soon!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
ABOUT THE TWELVE:
More Great Books by The Twelve
Also by Allan Leverone:
Final Vector
Parallax View: A Tracie Tanner Thriller
All Enemies: A Tracie Tanner Thriller
The Omega Connection: A Tracie Tanner Thriller
The Hitler Deception: A Tracie Tanner Thriller
The Kremlyov Infection: A Tracie Tanner Thriller
The Lonely Mile
Mr. Midnight
After Midnight
Paskagankee (Paskagankee, Book 1)
Revenant (Paskagankee, Book 2)
Wellspring (Paskagankee, Book 3)
Grimoire (Paskagankee, Book 4)
The Lupin Project
Covenant
The Becoming
Postcards from the Apocalypse
Uncle Brick and the Four Novelettes
Letters from the Asylum: Three Complete Novellas
The Tracie Tanner Collection: Three Complete Thriller Novels
FLIGHT 12
FOREWARD
Dear Readers,
What do you get when a dozen bestselling, award-winning mystery/thriller authors write brand-new material centered on one heart-stopping event?
You get FLIGHT 12, the revolutionary followup by The Twelve to the New York Times and USA Today bestselling DEADLY DOZEN. The groundbreaking FLIGHT 12 series will feature a new release from each member of The Twelve, plus very special guests, with a conclusion so thrilling it could only come from the minds of our readers.
Join The Twelve in the ongoing FLIGHT 12 project. Don't just read about your favorite characters, participate in the story, win prizes, and see storytelling in a totally new way...
The Twelve is delighted to present an exciting and unique reading experience we hope you’re going to love as much as we’ve loved writing it for you. Never before have 12 of your favorite thriller authors created an experience like this especially for you.
Flight 12 brings your favorite characters from The Twelve to life in 12 connected books with a common ending and a terrific surprise epilogue. What is the epilogue you say? Come along for the ride and we’ll all discover that together!
We’ll have events and giveaways during the trip, and in the end, YOU will write “the rest of the story.”
Sounds amazing, right? Not to mention exciting and fun as well!
Who are the passengers on Flight 12?
Allan Leverone’s Kristin Cunningham
When an FBI sting goes horribly wrong, Special Agent Kristin Cunningham - alone, unarmed and still recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound - races against time to prevent a brutal human trafficker from escaping justice.
J. Carson Black’s Laura Cardinal
Arizona DPS homicide detective Laura Cardinal is approached by a woman she's seen a few times at the gym. The woman tells her someone is going to kill her, and she wants Laura to investigate her death.
Diane Capri’s Jess Kimball
When her Taboo Magazine assignment reveals a chilling killer from a modern
Italian crime family, Jess Kimball speeds to New York City’s JFK airport to
catch Flight 12 to Rome where Luigi and Enzo will be forced to choose between
death and Jess.
Cheryl Bradshaw’s Sloane Monroe
A fancy hotel. A private getaway. For Sloane Monroe, rest has finally arrived, until the lights go out and her nightmare begins.
Aaron Patterson’s Kirk Weston
Kirk Weston has a problem—he can't keep his big mouth shut and this time it could cost him his life. Trapped and beyond the help of his old partner in crime Mark Appleton, he has only one chance to escape... Sometimes life gives you lemons... so go bash some heads and hope it works out.
Vincent Zandri’s Dick Moonlight
For Dick Moonlight, easy love doesn’t always result in a happy ending.
Michele Scott’s Evie Preston
Evie Preston has the most difficult decision in her life to make. Remain in the here and now and pursue
the dream opportunity she’s just been given, or find her way to the dark portal (where she risks never being able to return) to discover what happened to her missing sister and dead boyfriend?
A.K. Alexander & J.R. Rain’s Kylie Cain
Kylie Cain and her team of PSI (psychic sensory intelligence) operatives must locate the only individual who is believed to be able to bring world peace. It’s a race against time and villainess Orlenda Kobach who seeks world domination under her order.
Joshua Graham’s Xandra Carrick
Having barely survived and thwarted recent terrorist attacks, Xandra Carrick wants nothing to do with the missing children cases that end up with their brutalized bodies discovered years later. Until her best friend’s five year old son gets abducted.
Brett Battles’s Jonathan Quinn
For Jonathan Quinn, there’s more than one way to make a body disappear.
Carol Davis Luce’s Jessie Night
Jessie Night, a witness to a grisly mass murder, must make a grim choice—run to save her own life or stay and fight for the innocent man condemned to die for that crime.
Robert Gregory Browne’s Nick Jennings
When a killer resurfaces after a long absence, Nick Jennings dives into a cold case investigation that hits far too close to home.
What do all 12 of these passengers have in common?
May 12 New York (AP): A Skyway Airlines flight carrying 375 passengers and 13 crew bound for Rome’s Fiumicino airport from New York’s JFK International Airport has disappeared off the radar overnight according to airline spokespersons. Skyway Flight 12 had left New York at 12:00 midnight Monday evening and was said to be operating normally and in good weather conditions. According to sources on the ground, the plane, a Boeing 767, was piloted by an experienced flight crew who issued no alarm of any kind prior to vanishing somewhere over the Atlantic ocean east of Newfoundland.
The 767 is said to be a reliable twin engine carrier that’s been in service since 1982 with an excellent safety record. While a catastrophic mechanical failure is presently being investigated, says an FAA spokesman, a criminal event is not being ruled out. Both sea and air rescue crews have been dispatched from the US, Canada, Newfoundland, and Ireland. This is a developing story.
So, thriller fans, it’s time.
Fasten your safety belts. Return your seat backs and tray tables to their full upright and locked position. Review the safety information card in your seatback pocket once more before take off.
Ready? Here we go! Enjoy the ride on each of the 12 books in the exciting new series where Flight 12 Begins.
And then, CLICK HERE to join The Twelve in the ongoing FLIGHT 12 project. Don't just read about your favorite characters, participate in the story, win prizes, and see storytelling in a totally new way...
We’re really looking forward to hanging out with you! Thanks for coming along for the ride!
Never Miss Out! More Flight 12 adventures are coming soon!
For new release notification, free offers, gifts, and general information for subscribers only, please sign up for The Twelve List!
CLICK HERE to Sign Up For The Twelve List!
Your Flight 12 Crew:
A.K. Alexander
Brett Battles
J.Carson Black
Cheryl Bradshaw
Robert Gregory Browne
Diane Capri
Joshua Graham
Allan Leverone
Carol Davis Luce
Aaron Patterson
J.R. Rain
Michele Scott
Vincent Zandri
1
The stairs were creaky, and that was a problem.
Getting four FBI special agents, all dressed in flak vests and riot gear, up to the ancient apartment building’s second
floor landing without sounding like a thundering herd of buffalo—and thus alerting the target to their presence—meant moving much more slowly than team leader Dan Whalen would have preferred.
Variables were bad in any operation, adding risk and uncertainty, and the longer it took to get into position the more variables were inevitably introduced. But there was nothing they could do about it. They had to take the stairs. The elevator didn’t work and even if it had, it wasn’t an option. There was no way in hell Dan was going to explain to the Special Agent in Charge of the Boston office, Keith Thompson, why the target had escaped while his men were stuck between floors inside a rickety seventy-year-old box.
So they moved slowly. Carefully.
Blake Hagerty went first, looking like a circus elephant tiptoeing under the big top as he eased his massive frame up the stairway. When he reached the landing, he took up a position on the far side of the target’s apartment door, back pressed against the wall, service weapon held ready.
Matt Krakowski was next, following in Blake’s footsteps—literally—and then slipping into position on the other side of the door.
Thad Busby remained on the first floor, covering the building’s entrance. His job was to take down the target in the event of a worst-case scenario: the target managing to shoot his way past the three FBI special agents upstairs.
With everyone else in position, Dan moved up the stairs. He stopped at the target’s door, flanked on either side by Blake and Matt. Listened carefully for any sign of activity inside. There was none. It was dead silent, although the team knew the target was inside; they had watched him enter his apartment just a few minutes ago and the only way out—besides reversing course and exiting his front door past the agents—would be down the bedroom fire escape.
And he hadn’t done that, because another special agent was covering that escape route and had been positioned there since before the target ever entered the building.
Dan shrugged. Maybe the guy was sleeping. Maybe he was reading. Maybe he was taking a shit. Didn’t really matter.
He turned his body sideways and put as much of himself behind the doorframe as he could. The rickety wooden door wouldn’t do much to stop a slug if fired from inches away on the other side.
Then he took a deep breath and commanded loudly, “Mr. Lukyanov, this is the FBI. Open the door now!”
The words were followed by a sudden bang from inside the apartment, like someone had dropped something heavy. Dan counted to three and when the door remained closed, he screamed, “FBI, Mr. Lukyanov, last warning. Open up right now or we’re coming in!”
Another three-count and Special Agent Dan Whalen blew out a breath forcefully. He cursed under his breath and then stepped in front of the door, squared up and kicked the door in with his heavy boot. His right foot impacted just below the tarnished brass knob and the overmatched door gave way with a loud Crack!
Splinters flew as the strike plate and chain lock both pulled away from the frame. The door wobbled crazily, smashing against the wall and rebounding toward Whalen.
By now, Dan had retreated back behind the frame. He ducked into a shooter’s crouch, inched around the corner and swept his service weapon left to right.
Nothing. The room was empty.
Whalen blocked the door with his foot and entered slowly, Blake and Matt behind him. The three men moved cautiously into the trash-strewn apartment. A tiny living room opened into a tiny kitchen and both were empty, meaning there were only two places the target could have gone: the bathroom or the bedroom.
A narrow, stubby hallway bisected the apartment at the rear of the main living area. It was barely eight feet in length and featured one room to the right and one to the left. Both doors were closed. Whalen pointed at Matt Krakowski and then to the doorway on the right. Whatever was waiting inside that room would be his responsibility.
Then he turned to Blake Hagerty, pointed to himself and then nodded at the door on the left. Both men gave him the thumbs-up. Dan raised his right hand, thumb pressed against his palm, four fingers extended. Then he counted down, lowering one finger at a time. When only his fist was exposed, the men smashed both doors in, their movements perfectly synchronized.
Dan again lowered himself into a crouch and entered his doorway, Glock extended, screaming, “FBI! Drop your weapon and freeze!” From across the hallway he could hear Matt doing the same thing. Blake stood behind them both, ready to cover whichever room held the target.
He was in Dan’s room.
Ivan Lukyanov’s back was to the door as he struggled desperately to raise the bedroom window, outside which lay the rusty iron fire escape. The double-hung window was either painted shut or had warped so badly over the years it refused to budge, and Lukyanov was hammering away at it with the palms of both hands.
Dan shouted, “Freeze!” again, but with slightly less urgency. Lukyanov may as well have been raising his hands in surrender. Dan could see both of them were empty and free of weapons as the target smashed them again and again, to no avail, against the unyielding wooden window frame.
He rose from his crouch and crossed half the distance to Lukyanov, being sure to stay well out of the other man’s reach. Then he said, more softly, “It’s over, Ivan. The window’s not going to open and we’ve got the fire escape covered, anyway. There’s nowhere to go.”
Only then did Ivan Lukyanov stop beating on the window. His shoulders sagged and he sighed deeply and then he turned around, keeping his hands in the air.
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Lukyanov,” Dan said, still speaking softly.
“On what charge?”
“Violations of the Mann Act. Numerous counts.”
“What does that mean, please?” Lukyanov’s words were heavily Russian-accented.
“It means we’re going to nail your ass to the wall for human trafficking.”
2
Special Agent Kristin Cunningham massaged her right knee distractedly as she reviewed case file after case file. The paperwork cluttered her desk, scattered in a seemingly random fashion as if the files had fallen from the sky like snowflakes.
It was now nearly one full year since her knee had been shattered by a 9mm slug fired at close range during the unsuccessful assassination attempt on the life of U.S. President Robert Cartwright. Surgery to repair the joint had been termed “successful” by the medical professionals, but Kristin had long ago reached the conclusion that her definition of the word must differ substantially from theirs.
She suffered near-constant pain in the rebuilt knee, ranging in severity from a barely noticeable throbbing to occasional bright lightning-bolts of agony, striking with no warning and for particular reason that she could discern. When the worst of the lightning-bolts struck, it felt exactly like her knee was being blasted apart all over again.
But the pain was manageable, and for that Kristin was grateful. The initial diagnosis was that the knee would have to be fused, and she would forever walk with a severe limp. That hadn’t turned out to be the case. Her mobility was decent—although she would always limp slightly—and her sprinting days were just a fond memory.
What was becoming unmanageable, though, was her current situation: sitting at a desk all day every day, pushing pencils and pounding computer keyboards in a small cubicle inside the FBI’s Boston Field Office. The knee injury had medically disqualified her from participating in fieldwork, and the reality was that the rebuilt joint would likely never permit her to step out from behind her desk again in a professional capacity.
And that was unacceptable, not to mention the last thing she had ever expected. The former cop and six-year veteran FBI special agent had not chosen her career field with the intention of working as a glorified administrative assistant.
She shook her head and sighed, rereading the case file placed on top of the pile for the third time, unable to concentrate. Her knee throbbed and she continued to rub it, a reflexive action and a useless one, since it never made any noticeable difference in the pain level.
No sooner had she finally refocused enough to begin making headway on the case file than the Special Agent in Charge of the Boston Field Office, Keith Thompson, stuck his head out his office door at the far end of the room and called her name. She missed it at first, and his second call was louder and more insistent.
“Agent Cunningham!”