BLUNT’S RED-EYE FLIGHT landed a half hour before 6:00 a.m. local time. It was a brutal trip, but he needed to escape the confines of the U.S. as quickly as possible. And even in Tangier, he didn’t feel as safe as he wanted to, but at least it was a place that didn’t invite the CIA to conduct its business without repercussions. Yet, chief among Blunt’s reasons for taking refuge in Tangier was the lack of extradition treaty between Morocco and the U.S. It also didn’t hurt that one of his old friends from Congress was there on official government business.
Blunt gathered his bags and hailed a taxi, heading straight for his hotel, the Riad la Tangerina. He was due to meet Paul Robinson in the lobby at 6:30 and wanted to freshen up beforehand.
Despite being in a country that was far closer to the Middle East than he ever cared to be, Blunt exhaled for the first time in almost two days and felt like he might be able to relax, if only for a moment. The stress that accompanied avoiding U.S. operatives on the open seas and all-out assaults on his life had taken its toll. He needed to decompress, regroup, and think. The way forward for Firestorm wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t a duty he felt like he could shirk. The consequences were too dire if The Chamber managed to co-opt key world leaders to do its bidding. Searchlight’s agenda, while still fully unknown to Blunt, also left him stricken with fear. He never desired to play God, yet he still felt obligated to do battle with the devil.
The Riad la Tangerina staff led Blunt up to the veranda on the roof, which yielded a breathtaking view of the Mediterranean. Situated on the tallest peak on the Medina of Tangiers, the hotel with its five-star staff and amenities had no equal in the city. Its privacy was also the main reason Blunt selected it for his stay, one that for the time being had no time limit.
He sat down at a table for two and took a deep breath. Before he could do anything else, one of the waiters overturned his cup and filled it with mint tea. Blunt closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the mug, inhaling in the sweet aroma.
“I can’t get enough of that smell either,” said a man.
Blunt opened his eyes and looked up to see his friend Christopher Roland hovering over him. Blunt served with Roland on the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations and took numerous trips abroad to meet with foreign dignitaries. Morocco was a pleasant anomaly among the war-torn, chest-thumping Middle East political environment. They always found Moroccan President Abdelilah Benkirane to be both affable and amicable during their visits. He also vowed to give them a safe haven if they ever needed it.
Blunt smiled and gestured for Roland to take a seat across from him. “It’s the best, isn’t it?”
Roland nodded as he removed his fedora and placed it on the table. He shoved his briefcase beneath the table and leaned forward.
“You look pretty good for a dead man,” Roland said.
Blunt broke into a slight grin. “How was my funeral?”
“I almost cried, you bastard. Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?”
“Next time, it’ll be for real, though nobody will be able to mourn at a funeral service.”
“Is there reason for you to think someone knows you’re alive now and is trying to kill you?”
Blunt shook his head and laughed as he began rolling up his sleeve to show off his latest bullet wound. “Your boss, President Michaels—he knows I’m alive,” Blunt said as he pointed to the wound, which was fully exposed. “Sent some special ops sniper after me in international waters, which I believe is attempted murder. Not that anyone would believe me.”
“Is Firestorm still operational?”
Blunt nodded. “For all anyone else knows, Brady Hawk is now taking orders from General Johnson and concentrating his efforts on stopping Al Hasib. Not even the President wants to shut that down.”
“So, what else are you up to that has Michaels nervous?”
“There is a lot going on right now, but it probably has to do with his connections to The Chamber cabal.”
Roland studied Blunt carefully. “Weren’t you part of The Chamber at one time?”
“I was. At one time, it had a noble mission. But now it’s corrupt, comprised of men and women whose thirst for power will likely never be quenched. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire organization started trying to kill its own.”
“Is that what they tried to do to you?”
Blunt nodded. “It’s why I faked my death. I needed them to believe that I was gone so they’d stop making a run at me.” He took a sip of his tea. “I never imagined I’d also be afraid of my own government.”
Roland dug out a cell phone from his briefcase and placed it on the table. He pushed the phone forward, sliding it to Blunt. “This is for you,” Roland said. “If you ever need to reach me for any reason, use it. My special number is programmed into this phone. It’s for emergency only, but at least you have it.”
Blunt picked up the phone and put it in his pocket. “I hope I never have to use it.”
“Me, too.”
“But I’m sure that’s just a pipe dream. With Michaels intent on killing me, I’m gonna have to be damn careful, that’s for sure.”
“I guess you’re going to find out if Benkirane was just giving us lip service about offering us refuge in Morocco should we ever need it,” Roland said.
Blunt laughed nervously. “When I meet with him, I’m putting my life in his hands.”
“When are you going to meet with him?”
“Soon. I just want to get settled for now before I schedule anything.”
Roland nodded. “Makes sense,” he said before taking a sip of his tea. He took a deep breath before continuing. “So, do you have Hawk on a mission right now?”
“He’s supposed to be protecting Abbadi at a summit in Prague today, but I haven’t spoken with him in a couple of days.”
“Pull him,” Roland said in a direct tone.
“Excuse me?”
“I said pull him. Get him out of there. We need him to help us with another threat on our own soil.”
Blunt cocked his head to one side. “Are you suggesting that we just let Abbadi die?”
Roland leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone. “Look, J.D., I know you think Hawk’s mission is a noble one, probably like all of the other ones you task him with, but there’s some serious shit about to go down, and our own government is letting it happen.”
“Are you saying Michaels is inviting a domestic terror attack?”
Roland nodded. “Not only that, but thousands of people will die if someone doesn’t stop it.”
“And you think Hawk can do that?”
“He’s better than anyone we could possibly put on the case right now. And he knows the psyche of Al Hasib operatives better than anybody.”
“You’re sure Al Hasib is plotting this attack?”
“Positive.”
“Any intel on the attack, like when it’s supposed to happen or where?”
“Not yet, but that’s why it’d be nice to get him in Washington as soon as possible.”
“I’m reticent to let Abbadi twist in the wind like that. He’s been—”
“Such a good ally to the U.S. Blah, blah, blah. It won’t matter what he’s done or who he’s aligned with if Al Hasib kills ten times more Americans this weekend than we lost on 9/11. It will give Michaels the power he’s been craving as the people will willingly allow him to clamp down in whatever way he convinces the public will help keep us more secure. It’ll also inspire more extremists to join Al Hasib’s fight. I don’t think you want either one of those outcomes, do you?”
“That’s not what I would prefer,” Blunt said.
Roland glanced at his watch and withdrew for a moment. “Whoa. I’ve really gotta get going, J.D.,” he said. “I’ll send you all the intel we’ve got so you can pass it along to Hawk. Promise me you’ll pull him, okay?”
Blunt nodded in agreement. “Consider it done.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in touch once this whole thing dies down.”
<
br /> Blunt watched Roland stand up, slap a twenty-dollar bill on the table, push his chair in, and walk toward the exit without looking back.
Blunt picked up his phone to call Hawk before a nagging thought started rattling around in his brain. What if Roland is playing me?
It was a legitimate question, yet one he didn’t have time to fully parse given the gloomy fate that awaited the U.S., if Roland was to be believed. Perhaps he was simply a covert surrogate for someone in the CIA who wanted Abbadi dead. Blunt couldn’t trust anyone, even someone like Roland who seemed to be his friend.
Blunt picked up his phone and tried to call Hawk again. No answer.
He stood up from the table and noticed Roland had left his briefcase.
Blunt stooped to pick it up but stopped. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that something was up. He sat there for a second, pondering what to do.
Why did Roland leave his briefcase behind? Maybe he was just in a hurry. Or maybe he put a bomb inside that was intended to kill me.
Before Blunt decided his next course of action, he heard rapid footfalls coming toward him. He looked up to see Roland.
He knelt down and grabbed his briefcase out from underneath the table.
“Got so distracted I almost forgot this,” Roland said, holding up his briefcase. “Gotta run.”
Blunt watched as his friend disappeared a second time, feeling disgusted that he’d even considered Roland might have tried to kill him. The paranoia was real—and Blunt wasn’t sure it would ever go away. Not as long as The Chamber existed. Not as long as Searchlight existed. Not as long as President Michaels and his cronies were in power in Washington.
Blunt took a deep breath as reality set in. He was never going to feel safe again, but at least he could help others feel safe.
He finished his tea and got up, admiring the view once more. He had serious work to do that required his full attention.
CHAPTER 15
Prague, Czech Republic
HAWK WEAVED IN AND OUT of the sparse traffic as he sped toward the location where Al Hasib was keeping Abbadi’s daughter, Fatima. The sun had already started to peek above the horizon, casting a soft light on the landscape. As they drew nearer, the scenery changed from old historic buildings to rolling farmlands.
“Just a few hundred meters ahead on the right,” Alex said.
Hawk squinted at the road. The area appeared to be more rural, dominated by fields and domesticated animals.
“You sure there’s a compound out here?” Hawk asked as he stared long at the horizon.
“I’m just going by what’s on this map,” she said. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
Hawk shot her a look. “It’s not your message; it’s your navigating skills.”
“Which are excellent, I might add,” she said.
Hawk closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. He continued on for a few more minutes until Alex gave him the next direction.
“Turn by that little house on the left,” she said. “It’s only about a mile or so from here. I’m guessing it’s just over that rise.”
Once they crested the hill, a compound stood out on the left, the only structure on either side of the road for as far as they could see. It was set off from the main road down in a small valley. An unimposing dirt road wound toward the entrance, which was fortified by a steel gate. The rest of the compound was walled off with stone that Hawk gauged to be about ten feet high.
“I don’t know if I like this,” Hawk said.
He cut off his lights and turned onto the dirt road leading to the compound. There were several other buildings outside the walls, including a farmhouse and a barn.
“Park over there behind that barn,” Alex said. “I can monitor everything from here. Plus that loft will make a nice sniper’s nest.”
Hawk chuckled. “Sniper’s nest? Since when did you acquire sharp shooter skills?”
“I was born with it, I guess,” she said before wagging her finger at him. “And don’t laugh either. You never know when my services might be required.”
“If the only way for me to escape is for you to start shooting, I’d rather you just high tail it out of here and leave me alone. No use in both of us twisting in the wind if this turns out to be a botched rescue mission.”
Hawk stopped behind the barn and turned off the car. He checked his clips as he geared up to head into the compound. “Do you remember the order of everything?”
Alex nodded. “Take out the power briefly then hack into the cameras to keep eyes on the combatants. Then locate Fatima.”
“Once we clear that wall, you better be behind this wheel with the car fired up. Who knows what they might have inside the compound to pursue us with.”
Alex shrugged. “All the satellite images I have suggest it’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“I never get concerned about what I can see. It’s what I can’t see that worries me the most.”
“Well, I’ll be your eyes around the majority of the compound.”
Hawk nodded imperceptibly. “Let’s do this.”
He slipped out of his car and grabbed the rest of his gear from the trunk. Once he suited up, he kept low while he hustled toward the wall. Once he reached the base of the south wall, he stopped to double check his coms with Alex.
“Check one, two.”
“Gotcha loud and clear, Hawk,” she said.
“Have you hacked the power grid yet?”
“On my mark in three . . . two . . . one . . . now.”
Hawk threw a grappling hook attached to a rope over the wall and pulled until he felt the hook catch on something. Quietly and quickly, he walked up the wall. Once he reached the top, he jumped down into the compound.
“I’m in,” he said as he scanned the area. “Have you hacked into the security system yet?”
“Still working on it. Just lay low and give me a few seconds.” She stopped talking while she furiously typed on her keyboard. “What’s it look like in there? Any activity?”
“This feels like a ghost town,” he said.
“Well, that’s strange. Wait—the security cameras are coming online. Whoa.”
“What?”
“It’s even stranger now that you say you don’t feel like anyone is there, because I count a dozen or so guards in various images.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Hawk said as he continued moving forward.
“Do you want to abort?”
“It’s risky either way now. If Fatima’s here, I don’t want to leave her behind. There’s no telling what will happen to her if they think her father has contacted someone to rescue her.”
“Whatever is going on, it’s certainly not a hoax,” Alex said. “Or if it is, it’s a good one. I just found two cameras on Fatima. She’s bound and gagged—and she looks scared.”
“Can you tell me how to get to her?”
“I see some ambient light coming into the room from the far back wall. It looks like she’s on one of the outer walls with a small window at the top. Not sure if that helps.”
Hawk crouched low and scanned the outer perimeter of the main building inside the compound. There were two other structures, both of which appeared to be small utility sheds of some sort—and there wasn’t a single window on either one of the buildings. “I think I know where she is.”
“Do you think you can get in through that small window?”
Hawk sighed. “Not likely. I’m going to need to get in another way, but at least we know where she’s located within the building.”
“Gotta celebrate the small victories to get to the big ones.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not too late.”
Hawk identified a pair of guards on the door near the south entrance. He threw a rock near an oil barrel about twenty meters from the entrance, creating a diversion. Both men went to check it out.
“This seems too easy,” he whispered as he hustled toward the door. It was unlocked, and he slipped inside.<
br />
As he wound his way through the corridors, he took note of several places he could exit in case he needed an alternate route.
“Alex, you’re supposed to be my eyes in here, and you’ve been quiet. What do you see?”
“Not much of anything all of a sudden. I’m looping all the cameras right now so they can’t see you, but I’ve got all the live cameras up on my screen, and all the guards have vanished.”
Hawk finally found the door leading to Fatima’s cell. A guard armed with a machine gun stood watch.
Hawk took a deep breath.
“Wish me luck,” he said.
He exploded toward the door, catching the guard by surprise. Hawk put two bullets in the man—one in his chest, the other in his head—and watched him crumple to the ground. Hawk fished the keys out of the man’s pocket and started trying the keys in the lock. On Hawk’s third attempt, he unlocked the door and went inside. In the corner of the room, Fatima was balled up in a fetal position.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head, mumbling some unintelligible phrase that Hawk figured wasn’t in English. Hawk tried to calm her down, but she continued to convulse. Once he pulled the gag out of her mouth, she couldn’t talk fast enough.
“What are you doing?” she said. “They’re going to catch you. We’ll never get out of here alive.”
“Just stick with me, and I’ll get you out of here,” Hawk said as he ripped through her bindings, freeing her to move about as she wished. “Keep your head down, and stay close to me. Let’s go.”
They hadn’t even reached the door before a dozen armed guards poured into the room.
Hawk put his hands up in surrender and set his gun down on the ground.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Five guards rushed over to secure the two prisoners, while the seven remaining guards kept their guns trained on them.
“A heads up would’ve been nice,” Hawk whispered.
“I swear they weren’t anywhere until they broke into the room with the holding cell,” Alex said.
“Might want to get to that nest of yours and—”
Hawk became distracted when one of the guards kicked him in the ribs. Hawk fell to the ground, clutching his side. Another guard cocked his head and furrowed his brow as he peered at Hawk’s ear. The guard said something in Arabic to the leader, who gestured for the guard to proceed.
Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6 Page 6
