Circle of Lies (A Tom Kagan Novel)

Chapter 1

Seattle, Washington

Tapping his steering wheel, Jason Strickland hummed the music to "The Thrill Is Gone"as he waited for his partner to return with the last load of money. His iPod fed him B. B. King's version of the song through an earbud-a direct violation of company policy.

Jason could care less.

He turned up the volume of the portable radio linking him to his partner inside the bank as The King of Blues crooned about a love gone sour with foot-tapping emotion that stirred Jason's soul. He struggled to see through the armored truck's windows as raindrop bullets pelted the windshield.

Jason wiped his uniform sleeve across the side window as the heater churned out enough warmth to fog up the glass. Outside, dusk wrapped its gloomy arms around the city, fighting against an illumination invasion: beaming headlights, a rainbow of flashing neon signs, and the ever-changing red-yellow-green traffic signals.

When was his partner coming back? Jason shook his head. So this was how far he'd fallen. After thirty years as a cop, he had been relegated to jockeying an armored car around Seattle instead of racing to emergency calls in a black-and-white. Sure, he needed the extra cash to supplement his retirement and an excuse to get him out of the house before boredom drove him to an early grave. But this-a glorified delivery boy for the banks?

Still a cop at heart, he searched for any hint of danger. They could not take that away from him. Bad guys still tried to take out armored trucks, like the heists back east in the last few months.

He started singing the words to the "Thrill"song. The music took him back to a particular day when he and Tom Kagan had worked adjacent patrol zones on the city's south side. They decided to meet for a beer after work one night to celebrate a great bust they made together. Jason found this song on the jukebox and played B. B. King's version over and over until Kagan threatened to unplug the machine.

"What's wrong with country music?" Kagan said, perched on a bar stool, looking like his patience had been stretched as tight as a lariat in a calf-roping contest.

"I'm trying to give you a little black music history, mah brother. Pushing a little rhythm and blues into your cowboy soul. I'm gonna school y'all about my people."

Kagan shook his head. "Your people? Give me a break." He took another sip of beer. "And if you keep playing that song at home, Charlene's gonna think you're trying to tell her something's gone wrong between you two."

"I gotta keep playing this song." Jason slapped his hand over his heart. "These words move me to another level."

Kagan motioned for the bartender to set them up again. "Too much drama for my taste. I'm gonna move myself to the head. Pay the man when he brings the beer, will ya?"

As the rain beat down outside, Jason smiled, remembering the good times they had shared over the years. He missed that old cowboy.

He almost missed a white van creeping past the armored truck as if the driver sought a parking place. An uneasy feeling made him glance in the side mirror as a dark-colored suburban pulled up behind him. The van cut across his lane several car lengths in front as his radio came alive.

"Coming out. Be there in a sec." Pete would exit the bank loaded down with cash. There should have been a second guard with him, but they ran short on people due to illness.

Jason tensed as a sliding door opened on the van's right side. A figure wearing a ski mask and carrying an Army-green satchel emerged. Jason had a moment to key in on the object before the masked man flung it under the armored truck and pointed to his right hand. The man drew closer and held what looked like a triggering device.

A chill shot through him. The man had tossed a satchel of C-4 under the truck.We're toast! Jason keyed his mike, trying to raise his partner.

No response.

A second guy-also wearing a mask and carrying an automatic rifle-hurled out of the driver's side and hurried toward Jason. He couldn't tell if these bulked-up masked figures-maybe concealing body armor-were men or women. The guy aimed his rifle at him. "Open up the cab and come outside!"

Jason hesitated for a moment as thoughts of his wife and twin daughters-both entering college this year-flashed across his mind. They don't pay me enough to take this kind of risk. He opened the door and climbed out, raising his hands.

Jason glanced toward the bank. His partner lay sprawled on the sidewalk, either unconscious or dead, a third gunman standing over him. From this distance he couldn't tell which, although no gunshots had been fired. The robber lugged bags of money to the suburban behind the armored truck.

The man who motioned for Jason to climb out walked up and pointed a semiauto at his face. "I knew you didn't have enough guts to take us on."

"Let's be cool here." Jason feared he had more on his mind than robbery. "You got the money."

The man sneered. "You should have gone back to Africa when you had a chance, boy."

His anger spiked and Jason struggled to remain calm. Jason knew what would happen next. Baby, I'll see you on the other side. He winced as the guy's trigger finger moved.

Then darkness swallowed him up.