Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6

by R. J. Patterson

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I see the way you look at me and it’s—” She paused and stared vacantly out the window. “It’s contrived.” She slapped the side of the door. “You’re in love with another woman, aren’t you?”

  Hawk tightened his grip on the steering wheel and kept his mouth shut. He was only moments away from entering a long tunnel. It’d be long enough for him to give Courtney a straight answer while giving him an excuse to shield his answer from Alex. He activated the static interference mode on his watch as he headed into the tunnel.

  ***

  ALEX SWALLOWED HARD and turned up the volume on her com. She wanted to hear what Hawk had to say. It was voyeurism at its finest, though she wasn’t sure she’d get the truth out of Hawk. It might be a bitter pill to swallow or a flattering comment that would come off as disingenuous since he knew she was listening.

  She waited anxiously for him to say something. After a long period of silence, he finally spoke.

  “Well, Courtney, I have to be honest with you since you have a penchant for knowing whether or not I’m telling the truth,” he said.

  “Telling the truth just ruins the game, doesn’t it?” she said.

  “I don’t exactly see it that way,” he said.

  “Well, how do you see it?” she asked before static overtook Hawk during his answer. Alex couldn’t hear a single answer as Hawk’s voice was drowned out.

  Nothing but static.

  “Oh, come on,” she said aloud. “Are you kidding me? The world’s best technology and I can’t eavesdrop on a conversation between a pair of people as they enter an underground tunnel? This is ridiculous.”

  She knew it was something other than ridiculous. The comlink had worked in various geographic locations that would have amplified any connectivity issues. But she suspected something else was afoot, namely, Brady Hawk.

  “If I can’t get a straight answer out of him, the least he could let me do is get an indirect one,” she said. “It’d be so much easier if he’d just be honest with me.”

  Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the truth or not. The safest place was knowing that he cared about her without having to figure out if he actually loved her in a romantic sense. The in-between was both suffocating and exhilarating, a tension she concluded she could live with.

  She watched Hawk’s car continue to zoom along the length of the underground tunnel. And still—nothing.

  Without even a hint of what was being said, Alex concluded that whatever he was saying was sincere. She imagined him heaping praise upon her and singing of her beauty. She quickly admitted that it’d be a ruse. Beauty wasn’t one of the first traits that would come to her mind if she were to characterize herself.

  Finally, the feed from the comlink returned.

  “And that’s how I feel about her, honest to God truth,” he said.

  “That’s a side of you I never knew existed,” Courtney said before apparently being distracted by Hawk’s route to Im Kinsky. “Oh, turn here.”

  “Right here?” Hawk asked.

  “Yes,” Courtney snapped. “Im Kinsky is just ahead on the left. This is the back way.”

  Hawk said nothing, and only the engine winding and waning could be heard.

  “Looks like we’re here,” Courtney said.

  Hawk nodded. “Indeed it does. Now let’s get to work.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Instanbul, Turkey

  BLUNT LEANED AGAINST A WALL and scanned the endless stream of people flowing through the open-air market. Given the circumstances, the need to be almost invisible was of utmost importance. Wearing a trench coat in such warm weather, Blunt already stood out. Such attire also made him hot, though the Kevlar vest he was wearing likely had more to do with his elevated body temperatures than a loose-fitting jacket. But Blunt excelled at staying hidden in the popular shopping locale. He should have with as much experience as he had meeting there with dangerous criminals.

  He checked his watch. Two minutes until his appointment was due to arrive. Two minutes until Katarina Petrov was scheduled to connect with him.

  Blunt had never met her in the market before, but he’d never feared for his life around her either. Once strong allies with similar goals, Blunt couldn’t have imagined their relationship would fracture so deeply. “The Chamber is going to change the world,” she’d told him. “No, The Chamber is going to save the world, a world that doesn’t even know it needs saving.” And for several years, Blunt believed that to be true.

  The Chamber had acted swiftly and with precision when the situation called for it. Mass genocides in eastern Africa. Government corruption in Latin America. Gross human rights in Europe. None of the leaders survived to oversee such atrocities again. The Chamber took care of that through various means. In some situations, it flexed its collective muscles by exerting financial pressure on the offending national leaders. Other times, it used political pressure. And if those methods failed? Violence.

  Blunt lit a cigar and blew a puff of smoke, reveling in his freedom to smoke in a public place. No one gave him a second glance or a shaming scowl. He sucked in another mouthful of smoke and blew a ring that drifted upward.

  “If you think you’re being inconspicuous, think again,” a woman on Blunt’s left said.

  He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

  “Katarina,” Blunt said, maintaining his gaze on the market crowd in front of him. “If I didn’t want you to find me, I would’ve let the last person who wanted to kill me finish the job.”

  He turned slowly and looked at her.

  She grabbed his face with her right hand, an act that was equal parts tender and threatening. “I never thought I would see this face again—at least when you were alive.”

  “You can’t always have everything you want,” he said.

  She released his face with a quick shove. “I could have you murdered right now. All I have to do is give the signal.”

  Blunt arched his eyebrows and shrugged. “You would die here with me, gunned down by my men watching yours.”

  “Good spy craft or a bluff? I’m betting it’s the latter.”

  “You’re more than welcome to try.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “It seems you have a death wish. You know how that turns me on.”

  Petrov then licked her lips before pursing them.

  “I’ve moved on, Katarina,” Blunt said. “You’re alluring looks don’t tempt me any more.”

  “That is a shame. Who knows what we could’ve become, what kind of dynasty we could’ve built—me and you together.”

  Blunt exhaled and sent smoke billowing from a small opening at the corner of his mouth. “But instead, you decided to have me killed? You’re too fickle of a woman for my sanity.”

  “And you’re too disloyal. You turned your back on me when I needed you the most.”

  “The moment The Chamber devolved into becoming all about you was the moment I decided to leave for good—you should know that.”

  “And you should know that your treasonous behavior will not go unpunished.”

  “Of course not. I would expect nothing less from you—or at least, I’d expect you’d try.”

  She waved dismissively at him. “I don’t fail when I put my mind to do something.”

  Blunt chuckled. “The fact that I’m standing here is proof that your minions have failed. I know you sent Lord Williams to kill me. What do you think happened to him?”

  “An unfortunate hunting accident on a Texas ranch.”

  “Most unfortunate indeed.”

  Petrov discontinued her line of questioning, instead choosing to make plain her threats. “I have two men watching you right now.”

  “And I have two men watching you and your men. It’s mutually assured destruction if you were to dare try something.”

  She glanced upward, scanning the rooftops for Blunt’s men. “Why did you want to meet? To rub it in that you’re still alive?”
<
br />   Blunt shook his head before taking another puff on his cigar. “Leave Alex out of it.”

  “Out of what?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Katarina. I’ve known you long enough to know that you only view Alex as a pawn.”

  “Anyone who opposes me and the plans of The Chamber is my enemy—even my own kin.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Is that all?”

  “No, I also wanted to prevail upon you to stop this nonsense that you’re engaging in these days and return The Chamber to its once noble purpose. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. The Chamber has never wavered in its mission.”

  Blunt let out a long breath and eyed her closely. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  She laughed mockingly. “Perhaps you never fully understood the mission.” She turned and started to walk away.

  “I’m not done,” Blunt said.

  “I am,” she said, waving her hand before briefly turning around to face him. “I’m going to kill you, J.D.”

  “No,” he snarled. “You’re going to wish you had when you had the chance though.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Vienna, Austria

  THOR ADJUSTED HIS TIE and inspected his disguise work in the bathroom mirror at the Im Kinsky auction house. He was confident no one would recognize him, though the elaborate change of appearance was solely for the benefit of Brady Hawk. Thor wanted to see Hawk’s eyes before killing him. This was the way Thor knew he could do it and live to reflect on the memory for the rest of his life.

  He smoothed down the scant short hair ringing his balding head. Thor likened it to a tonsure without bangs. As hideous as it appeared to Thor, the disguise undoubtedly would allow him to move about without fear of being identified. That was all that mattered to Thor anyway. He’d long accepted the fact Hawk was good—but not good enough to catch Thor wearing a disguise such as the one he’d donned.

  Thor exited the restroom, pressing the door with his fingers fully extended. He tugged on his jacket and nodded at one of the concierges buzzing around the building in anticipation of the auction’s opening. Thor grabbed a waiter’s arm and swung him around before snatching the final glass of wine off his tray. The waiter nodded at Thor and scurried away, presumably to get more drinks.

  To sell his disguise, Thor knew he’d need to do more than simply change his appearance. Mannerisms were the most difficult tell-tale signs to shake when assuming a new legend. Thor considered using a cane but ultimately decided against it, concluding that it’d draw the suspicious eye of an observant mark. But a pronounced limp? Such a gait would make Thor seem weak and unimportant.

  Hawk will never suspect me.

  Thor had to suppress the smile creeping upward around the corners of his mouth. Looking smug could also blow his cover, as would anything that made him look like a man of power or means—or both. It’d also include him in the list of suspects Hawk would be compiling the moment he entered the room.

  As Thor hobbled along the plush red carpet, he stared skyward at the decorative buttresses, highlighted by elegant touches of gold paint. The interior design gave off an air of nobility, a subtle nod to a time when the aristocracy ruled the proletariat with an iron fist. Yet Thor knew the era never vanished; the rich and powerful had simply mastered the illusion that working class had power. His firsthand knowledge of not only its existence but also its prosperous methods came from the fact that these were the people who employed him.

  Thor found the location of the Im Kinsky auction house fitting for this assignment. After all, Hawk refused to back down from his all-encompassing agenda despite several blatant warnings to solely focus on terrorism. The Chamber welcomed Hawk’s efforts to stamp out Al Hasib’s cells, whose erratic behavior threatened the organization’s power. A little terror was good for business, but a constant cloud of threat? That was dangerous for even the rich and powerful. Not even they were immune to the threats of men who possessed the means to take action and had little—if anything—to lose. Hawk had overstayed his welcome. He threatened the powerful group more than he helped them by snuffing out ruthless terrorists, hence Thor’s latest assignment.

  Offered a program by one of the concierges, Thor took it and glanced at it for a moment before finding a seat near the back of the room. The main auction room’s décor stood in stark contrast to the building’s entrance. Other than a solitary chandelier and the continuation of the red carpet, a distinctly modern design marked the room where all the action took place. A desk with a sheer white front sat elevated at the front of the room. Three people sat at the desk huddled over a stack of documents. The rest of the audience sat in plush armless chairs, arranged in long rows. A rectangular track of lights illuminated the room as several bulbs shone brightly on a small podium, which would be where some of the items would be displayed at the front of the room. Off the left corner of the desk was a large television screen, which was rotating in images of that evening’s auction items.

  Nothing about the room was conducive to assassinating someone in secret. If any attempt were to be made here, Thor would have to act knowing that he would never escape security. Such a shooting would be brazen. It would also be suicide.

  And Thor didn’t intend to die tonight.

  However, this was not new information for him. He never planned to shoot Hawk so openly. This assignment was deeply personal and required a more discreet approach.

  At 7:00 p.m., the head auctioneer gave a brief introduction of the event and the evening’s marquee items available. Almost every object had been extracted from an archeological dig in Iran more than a year ago. Palace artifacts from Damghan and King Cyrus of the Achaemenid dynasty headlined the event that drew as much attention on site as it did over the Internet. Journalists and museum curators filled plenty of seats as did many private collectors, all excited about the prospect of seeing some ancient pieces from ancient history.

  Just before the first item was offered for sale, Thor watched out of the corner of his eye as Hawk, accompanied by a full-figured brunette, slid into a pair of seats on the end of a row near the back.

  Thor slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and wrapped his fingers around the grip of his Glock 26.

  He smiled as he raised his hand, signaling his desire to bid on the first item. But he cared nothing for an archaic brazier. He had his eyes on a trophy of a different type altogether.

  CHAPTER 8

  HAWK SCANNED THE MAIN AUCTION ROOM at Im Kinsky while he waited for Courtney to enter the aisle first. Sifting through a room full of suspects took time, something Hawk was in short supply of at the moment. Courtney didn’t move with a sense of urgency, and for once, Hawk appreciated that fact. Identifying the agent—as well as the item being bid upon—would require some help. It’s why Alex was still in his ear.

  “What do you see?” Hawk said, his voice barely audible.

  “More than I can process at the moment,” Alex said. “I’m trying to narrow it down based off the images I’m receiving from you and the Im Kinshky security cameras I hacked.”

  “Mmm, hmmm,” Hawk mumbled, unable to ask her the question he really wanted to know. He straightened out his glasses, which he only wore to transmit images back to Alex through a hidden camera.

  “Don’t worry, Hawk, I’m running this through facial recognition. I’ll let you know something as soon as it becomes available.”

  Hawk pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. He took a seat and glanced at the program Courtney had received when they entered the auction. Each item available contained a brief description, including its history and origins. The first item was a brazier. Hawk huffed a quiet laugh through his nose when the brazier was announced.

  “Stop it, Hawk,” Alex said. “You’re not in middle school any more.”

  Hawk took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair while he continued to scan the room. Despite Alex’s admonishment, he wasn’t laughing over the fact that
there was a bra available—it had to do more with the guy behind him, who opened the bidding at half a million dollars.

  After the bidding escalated, Alex excitedly screamed when she finally got a hit on her facial recognition searches.

  “Can you please watch that?” Hawk said in a low voice as he leaned over toward Courtney.

  With a furrowed brow, Courtney withdrew from him and shot him a glance. Hawk shrugged and discreetly pointed at his ear. She nodded, signifying that she understood.

  “Do you see the man standing against the wall to your left?” Alex asked.

  Hawk nodded, imperceptible to anyone except Alex.

  “There you go,” she said. “You’re finally getting the hang of communicating with me in a crowded room. It’s kind of sexy.”

  Hawk shook his head, sending another clear message: “Stay focused.”

  “That’s Behdinan Amighi.” The curator of the Zoroastrianism museum in Kemper, Iran. “Amighi has ties to Al Qaeda and several other terrorist organizations. Of course, he may be here purely in a professional manner, but I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “Who else?” Hawk whispered as he leaned over toward Courtney, who paid him no attention this time.

  Alex continued. “Give me a second. I’ve got another one that just popped up.” She paused for a moment. “I picked this one up off the Im Kinsky’s security feed. The guy on the front row is Mohammad Ehsan. He works in Iranian intelligence.”

  Hawk again shook his head, but Alex guessed what that action meant.

  “Why would Ehsan be here?” she asked.

  Hawk nodded.

  “I’m guessing if he bids on that item, Iran thinks they might be able to ferret out some known associates of these agents and give them a better idea of who’s spying on them inside their own borders. You know—ambassadors, dignitaries, ministers of various departments.”

  Once Alex finished filling in Hawk, the bidding for the brazier escalated between Amighi and Ehsan and another man Alex had yet to identify.