Next Exit One Way Read online

  Next Exit, One Way

  CW Browning

  Also by CW Browning

  Kai Corbyn Series

  Games of Deceit

  Shadows of War

  The Courier

  The Oslo Affair

  Night Falls on Norway

  The Iron Storm

  Into the Iron Shadows (Coming Soon)

  The Exit Series

  Next Exit, Three Miles

  Next Exit, Pay Toll

  Next Exit, Dead Ahead

  Next Exit, Quarter Mile

  Next Exit, Use Caution

  Next Exit, One Way

  Next Exit, No Outlet

  The Exit Series Box Set #1: Books 1-3

  Watch for more at CW Browning’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also By CW Browning

  Next Exit, One Way (The Exit Series, #6)

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

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  About Next Exit, One Way

  Someone will die. It’s just a matter of time.

  Two terrorists are at large in Philadelphia, a traitor in Washington will stop at nothing to prevent his past from being exposed, and a master assassin is determined to make him pay for it all.

  Trained to be a weapon, Alina Maschik is used to danger. She’s lived with it in the shadows for years. Now, forced into the open by lethal assassins with orders to kill, she has only one choice: find the traitor before they succeed. But as she begins to peel back years of deceit, Alina is faced with choosing who she can trust, and who is not what they seem.

  With the nation’s most iconic symbols of freedom and liberty hanging in the balance, Viper must fight to stay alive long enough to uncover the truth...or risk losing it all.

  Author’s Note:

  Special thanks to CW4 Chad Griffin, USA, RET, for once again ensuring that this civilian author kept her military and weapons descriptions within the realms of reality. Thanks for keeping it real and not laughing at me too much!

  Special thanks also goes out to CDR David "Mike" Wegman, USN, RET. Despite a very hectic schedule, you took the time to answer my questions about submarines and enabled me to bring, I hope, some authenticity to my story. Many thanks!

  “Put no trust in a neighbor; have no confidence in a friend... a man's enemies are the men of his own house.”

  ~ Micah 7:5-6

  Prologue

  Viper stood inside the balcony window, concealed in the shadows cast by the fading moonlight. Storm clouds moved in quickly from the water, partially obscuring the moon's pale light, while a sharp wind whirled through the open french doors. The muffled sound of a shower filtered through the bathroom door on the other side of the opulent hotel suite. As she listened, the water stopped.

  She glanced at her watch, then reached into her inside pocket to extract a suppressor. Pulling a .22 from the holster at her back, she attached the silencer with sure fingers, her gaze on the suite door leading to the hall. Her eyes narrowed as a faint click carried across the room. The handle turned slowly, and the door eased open without a sound.

  A tall figure in dark clothes stepped into the room, his boots silent on the thickly carpeted floor. He glanced across the room to the open doors of the balcony and moved further into the room. Another figure followed, closing the door behind them. Neither of them saw her lurking there in the shadows.

  From the bathroom came the unmistakable noise of water running in the sink. The two intruders turned toward the closed bathroom door, pulling pistols from their jackets. The heavy clouds outside shifted, and a sudden gleam of pale moonlight glinted off the silencers attached to the barrels.

  Viper fired two shots, pop-pop echoing around the room with muffled finality. There was a moment of shock as both figures swayed before falling to the floor, dead. Crossing the room swiftly to the outer door, she slid the lock into place and flipped the swing bar latch before turning toward the bathroom. She was just stepping over the first body when the door swung open.

  A man stared at her, his mouth dropping open. He had a pistol in his hand and a towel wrapped around his waist. His gaze dropped to the two bodies on the floor. Blood was seeping out of a hole in the temple of the one closest to him, lifeless eyes staring at his bare feet. He shifted his gaze to the other body incredulously.

  “Good evening, sir.” Viper stepped over the second body and nodded to him calmly. “We have to stop meeting this way. The last time we did was in the middle of a Taliban camp.”

  “What the bloody hell–”

  “They were here to kill you,” she said matter-of-factly, “and more are coming. We need to move. Clothes?”

  “In the case over there.” Viper nodded and turned to where he motioned, grabbing the rolling case and tossing it to him. “Where are my men?”

  “Two are dead, and two are being distracted downstairs.”

  The man disappeared into the bathroom with the bag, not bothering to close the door.

  “It seems I'm in your debt once again. Maggie, wasn't it?” he asked, his voice muffled. “You never did take me up on that rain check for dinner.”

  Viper's lips curved humorously. Six months earlier, in the mountains of Afghanistan, she had saved the man in the bathroom from a pit in the center of a Taliban camp. Instead of telling him who she really was, she had given him the alias of Maggie. He had wanted to treat her to dinner in London, but she was in a hurry and offered a rain check. Obviously, he hadn't forgotten.

  “You have a good memory, sir. Where's your gear?”

  “Under the bed.”

  She turned, stepping over one of the bodies again, and bending to look where he indicated.

  “I believe I told you to call me Jack.”

  She pulled out a black steel case and straightened up with it in her hand.

  “So you did.” Viper glanced at her watch again. “We have to go.”

  “Where are we going?” Jack asked, emerging from the bathroom dressed in black pants and a gray pull-over sweater. He navigated around the men on the floor and followed her to the balcony. “And how the hell did assassins make it past my security?”

  “It was compromised,” said Viper, stepping out onto the balcony and reaching for a black nylon cord hanging from the roof above.

  “Like hell it was!”

  “The two bodies in there would suggest otherwise.” She motioned him forward, handing him the rope. “After you. We're going up.”

  He grabbed the rope and began to climb as someone rattled the door to the hotel suite. Jack glanced down at her and she motioned for him to continue, pulling out her .22 again. He turned his attention skyward and climbed quickly, hand over hand.

  He was halfway between the balcony and the roof when the suite door crashed open.

  Pop-Pop!

  Viper's shots were true. She grabbed the rope, scaling it quickly as she followed Jack, leavi
ng four corpses behind.

  Chapter One

  Rio de Janeiro - 6 years ago

  Music pounded from the speakers in the ceiling, pulsing above the unintelligible din of humanity in the dimly lit, crowded bar. Alina Maschik sipped her drink and watched in the mirror behind the bar as more patrons poured into the establishment through the door. The air was thick and humid with the press of bodies surrounding her, and sweat beaded at her temples and trickled between her breasts. She ignored the discomfort, her eyes watching every face that entered. She was fortunate enough to be seated at the bar, having arrived just before the current onslaught of late-night revelers. A tall man pushed into the barely noticeable space between her and a heavy-set woman, signaling to the bartender. While he waited, he glanced down at Alina and his lips curved into a smile.

  “Como é que uma mulher bonita como você está sentada sozinha?”

  Alina didn't glance at him.

  “What makes you think I'm alone?” she retorted in Portuguese.

  He shrugged and leaned on the bar, turning sideways so he could give her his full attention.

  “I don't see anyone with you. Perhaps you're waiting for someone?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps you'd like some company while you wait?” he asked with a flash of white teeth.

  “If I wanted company, I would have asked for it. You'll have better luck elsewhere.”

  The man grinned.

  “If your companion doesn't arrive, I'm a ready and willing replacement,” he said. “Very willing.”

  “Duly noted.”

  The bartender came over and the man ordered his drink, then motioned to Alina's empty glass.

  “And give this angel another,” he added, smiling down at her again. “If you won't accept my company, at least accept a drink.”

  She nodded reluctantly, unwilling to draw any more attention to herself.

  “Thank you.”

  The bartender handed the man a beer and set another Caipirinha in front of her. The man nodded, took one last lingering look, and then made his way through the crowd to join his friends in the corner. Alina watched him go in the mirror, reaching for her fresh drink and turning her attention back to the front door.

  Her contact was over twenty minutes late. If it were up to her, she would have left already. She had no idea if lateness was common with this informant, or if it was an indication that something was wrong. A frown crossed her face and Alina sipped her drink. This was the final test. Harry had been very clear about that. This was it. Pass or fail, there would be no more training. No more tests. It was do or die time.

  Literally.

  Alina swirled the ice in her glass, dropping her eyes to watch the liquid swish from side to side thoughtfully. There were only four of them on this trip. Damon had already completed his mission in Cuba, and the other two would complete theirs on the way back. They were the top four of their training class: the elite. She had no idea how or where the rest of their class was completing their training, or even if they were. All she knew was this was her first live mission and she was being graded. It was all up to her now. The months of training, of grueling physical and mental labor, had all led here.

  It was time to become the weapon they had trained her to be.

  The door to the street opened again and Alina raised her eyes. Her heart thumped in her chest as she recognized the face from the photos she had studied before coming ashore.

  Her contact looked around the packed bar. As she searched through the crowds, Alina took the opportunity to study the woman. She was dressed in black pants and a white sleeveless top that draped over her tan shoulders. Her hair was pulled back from her face, falling down her back in thick curls. She carried a small purse over her shoulder, which she anchored with one hand firmly wrapped around the long strap.

  Alina drained her glass quickly and moved off the bar stool, turning to make her way through the crowd to the woman inside the door.

  “Sylvie!” she exclaimed as she emerged from the press of bodies between the bar and the door. “How was your cab ride?” she asked, joining her and speaking the phrase that would identify her.

  The woman turned to her and a big smile stretched across her face.

  “I decided not to take one. It's such a nice night, I walked,” she replied with the proper response, looking around. Then, “It's packed in here. Shall we go somewhere less crowded?”

  Alina nodded and followed her contact outside. They stepped into the street and she inhaled a deep breath of fresh air as they turned to walk down the sidewalk.

  “I'm sorry I was delayed,” said Sylvie in a low voice as they walked. “I didn't think you’d wait.”

  “I wouldn't have, but I had no other way to contact you.”

  “You shouldn't have stayed. Something isn't right.”

  Alina looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  Sylvie shrugged.

  “Someone is watching me. I don't know how long I have before they come back.”

  She reached into her small purse and pulled out a flash drive. Tucking her arm through Alina's as a close friend would, she slipped it into her palm.

  “Everything you need is on there,” she said in a low voice. “Your target is a very powerful man. The codes on that will get you past his security. The cameras are controlled from the main terminal on the ground floor. Once you're in, your best course of action is to disable the cameras first, then tackle security. But when you reach his floor, you're on your own. All I can tell you is that he has two bodyguards at all times. They rotate and change throughout the day and there is no way to know which ones will be with him at any given time. Tonight he could very well have more on duty. There is no way to be sure.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “He leaves for the airport at eight, but he travels heavy and his entourage will include his mistress and her sister. Tonight is your best window.”

  Sylvie pulled her arm out from Alina's and paused on the sidewalk. Their eyes met, and Alina saw fear in them.

  “I dare not stay with you any longer,” she told her. “Go now, and God speed.”

  She turned and began to walk quickly up the street from the direction they'd just come. Alina watched her for a second, then continued down the street, her mind spinning. How on earth had something gone wrong already? Somehow this textbook mission was going sideways before she even got started!

  She hadn't gone ten feet when a chill snaked down her back. Frowning, she looked around in confusion as the unfamiliar feeling rolled over her and her heart started pounding. A second later, tires squealed in the street behind her. The staccato sound of gunfire filled the air and screams ripped through the night. Spinning around, Alina watched in bemusement as people scattered like roaches in sudden lamplight, running from the gunshots. The source of the bullets was a black sedan, which had stopped at an angle, blocking the road.

  It was all over in a moment. The gunfire ceased, and the black sedan sped down the road towards her. She quickly stepped into the shadows of a recessed doorway, pressing herself against the cool stone building, out of sight. The sedan sped past, skidding around the corner a minute later.

  Alina stayed concealed in the shadows for a second, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. Then she stepped back onto the sidewalk, looking up the street at all the commotion.

  A lone body lay still, face-down on the pavement, her white shirt soaked in red.

  Horror washed over Alina and her throat tightened as blood pounded in her head. She hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then turned and continued down the road blindly. She rounded the corner and increased her pace, her feet carrying her away from the drama as quickly as she could without drawing attention to herself. Her breath came short and fast, her stomach rolled, and she knew that if she stopped moving, she would throw up.

  What the hell just happened?

  She tightened her shaking fingers around the flash drive in her hand and pressed her lips toget
her to stop them from trembling. Whatever had happened, Sylvie's cover was blown.

  And that meant so was hers.

  Somewhere off the Coast - 400 feet below surface

  Damon Miles glanced at his watch as he moved along the passageway toward the officer's wardroom. The nuclear submarine had been their home for three weeks now. A former Navy SEAL, Damon was used to the close quarters and felt almost at home. The others had no such affiliations and the XO had, quite wisely, opted to schedule a few hours each day when the small group could use the wardroom. This eased the discomfort of the other trainees and, more importantly, helped to prevent excessive disruption of his crew.

  Damon nodded to a sailor as he passed. The crew was aware of their presence on the boat, having been briefed as soon as they were underway. As he reached for the handle of the door to the wardroom, he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating back of the sailor. He wondered what they had been told about the group of five civilians catching a ride on their boat. Certainly not the truth.

  He opened the door, stepping into the small room. Two men looked up from where they were seated at a long, heavy wood table in the back of the room. One was grinning, but the other looked guilty as sin. Damon raised a dark eyebrow.

  “What's going on?” he asked, heading towards them.

  “Nothing, man,” the guilty one answered with a shrug. “What can be going on in a sunken sewer pipe under the ocean?”

  Damon shrugged.

  “You tell me, Martinez. You're the one who looks like you just stole the captain's vodka.” He pulled out a chair and sank into it, glancing at the cash in the other man's hand. “Never mind. I think I figured it out.”

  Martinez chuckled and tucked the cash away.

  “You said you didn't want to know about it,” he pointed out.

  Damon shook his head.

  “I don't.” Then, after a long moment of silence, he sighed. “What kind of odds am I getting?”

  “Not good ones,” Martinez answered bluntly, “but I'm still backing you. You haven't lost me money yet.”