Blunt stood and grabbed his bag. He tried to remain calm, a survival response he learned long ago when it came to handling stressful situations. However, it was short lived when the pilot burst out of the cockpit and into the main cabin.
“Out, now!” the captain ordered.
Blunt followed the frantic captain’s lead and hustled toward the exit. The captain strained to force the door open. Recognizing the captain’s challenging task, Blunt assisted the man and pushed the lever until the door popped open.
Sticking his head out of the plane, Blunt realized they were still about three meters off the ground.
“Jump, Senator,” the captain said. “We don’t have a second to waste.”
Blunt hesitated, unsure of how he might land.
The captain wasn’t gracious. “Jump now! If not, move out of the way so I can.”
Blunt paused for a moment, which was long enough for the captain to decide he would rather race past his passenger and hit the ground. Blunt watched as the pilot hurtled past and into the night air in an effort to escape the jet. The captain hit the ground and rolled several meters before coming to a stop. Seconds later, the co-captain followed suit.
“Come on, Senator,” the captain said. “Now is not the time to question your courage.”
Blunt slung his bag over his shoulder and took a deep breath. He crouched low and thrust himself out of the plane, closing his eyes as he did it.
When he hit the ground, Blunt found a surprisingly soft cushion for a landing. He rolled in the grass for a moment before coming to a stop. He looked back at the plane and started to get to his feet.
“Run!” the captain said.
Blunt turned toward the pilot and watched him and the co-captain sprinting across the dark Alps mountainside.
“Now!” the captain yelled as he looked back over his shoulder.
Blunt secured his briefcase strap with both hands and broke into a sprint. It was more of a hobbling job, but it was the best the seasoned senator could muster, even under the circumstances. Fortunately, the downhill terrain aided Blunt in his getaway jaunt.
He was breathing heavy when he decided to look over his shoulder at the plane. Still at least thirty meters away from the pair of pilots who’d almost reached the woods, Blunt watched as the Gulfstream G650 burst into flames. The force of the explosion sent Blunt flailing forward, an awkward dive that led to him sprawling toward the ground as a flash of heat warmed his back. He skidding across the ground for a few meters before finally coming to a stop.
Blunt turned toward the woods to avoid the heat and saw the pilots motioning for him to come to them. Blunt staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the woods. He put his hands out and braced himself against a tree before spinning around to look at the carnage. By that time, the plane was engulfed in flames, aided by an explosion that rocked the mountainside.
Blunt scrambled toward the pilots. “What the hell was that?”
The captain let out a long breath. “That was sabotage.”
“What do you mean? Someone was trying to kill us?” Blunt asked.
The captain nodded. “What happened tonight was no accident—and neither was that explosion.”
“Are you sure?” Blunt asked as he turned his attention back toward the flaming jet.
“I used to serve in the Army, sir—explosives,” the captain explained. “I’m very well aware of the difference between an explosion resulting from a mechanical malfunction and one that’s set by design.”
“And you think what just happened was intentional and not just a result of the crash landing?”
The captain shook his head. “No way. That explosion was supposed to kill us, a safeguard in case the landing didn’t.”
“And you’re sure of this?” Blunt asked.
“As sure as I’m standing here watching our plane go up in smoke.”
Blunt gritted his teeth and snarled. “This ends now. I’m going to expose The Chamber. Katarina Petrov be damned.”
CHAPTER 12
Vienna, Austria
THOR WAITED PATIENTLY as the operatives from various terrorist cells drove the price of the scrolls upward, far more than their market value. However, he knew not a single one of them cared about the scrolls; instead, they only wanted the information that was attached to the container that came with the ancient documents. It was the kind of information he knew only because he’d intercepted a message from an Al Hasib agent and an unknown accomplice. His employer monitored everyone and provided Thor with valuable information on occasion. This moment was one of those occasions.
Thor crept down the empty hallway. He’d been waiting for Hawk to make his move. And Thor couldn’t help but smile when he watched the security camera feed he’d hacked displaying Hawk drugging a respectable museum curator in an attempt to gain a piece of information that simply wasn’t there. Whatever Hawk was after, Thor realized it was still hidden in one of the remaining artifacts in the main auction room at Im Kinsky. Mr. Amighi didn’t have it, that much Thor knew for sure.
But Thor wasn’t about to complain. He took advantage of Hawk’s poor assumption, wielding it as a weapon.
Once Thor exited the auction room and cleared the sightline of every attendee, he broke into a sprint and headed straight toward the men’s restroom. As he reached the door, he slowed down and gently pushed it open, hoping to surprise Hawk. Through the crack, he watched his former colleague shove Amighi’s limp body into a stall. Hawk never saw Thor coming, just as Thor planned it.
***
HAWK STUMBLED FORWARD, propelled by the hard hit to the back of his head. He wasn’t expecting a confrontation of any kind, much less a forceful whack to his cranium. Hawk managed to put his hands up in time to avoid slamming his head into the white porcelain tile decorating the lower half of the restroom wall. But it was only a momentary reprieve from the impending pain that was about to be inflicted upon him.
Turning around to face his attacker, Hawk barely regrouped and gained his bearings before a crushing blow to his face sent him staggering backward. He blinked hard and tried to focus on the man beating him. When the attacker finally stopped, he ripped off his mask, revealing his true identity. Immediately, Thor recognized Hawk, who threw both of his hands in the air in a posture of surrender.
“Please, come on,” Hawk said. “Can’t we just talk about this?”
Thor laughed and drew closer before delivering a wicked upper cut. “I’d rather let my fists do the talking. And then when I’m done, I’m going to let my gun finish this boring conversation.”
“Come on, Thor,” Hawk pleaded as he glanced at the blood he’d wiped from his nose. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Oh, yes, it does. And it should be like this a thousand times over before I exact true revenge—but I’ll settle for killing you right here.”
Hawk stood upright and gestured for Thor to draw nearer. “If you plan on killing me right here, I hope you brought an army because I’m not going down so easily.”
Hunched over and moving to his left, Thor dug a knife out of an ankle holster. He gripped the handle with a clenched fist. “I didn’t bring a gun to a knife fight.”
“But I did,” Hawk said, reaching toward the pistol holstered around his ankle.
Thor realized what was going on and lunged toward Hawk. Upon impact, Hawk was thrown off balance but managed to maintain his footing. Yet, he quickly realized what Thor was doing: He was after Hawk’s gun that had been jarred loose during their tussle.
Hawk stepped on his gun and slid it to the corner with his foot. “I don’t think so, Thor. This mano y mano.”
Thor swiped at Hawk’s legs with the knife before standing back up. “That doesn’t mean what you think it means,” said Thor.
“Hand to hand?” Hawk said as he shuffled around the room, preparing for another assault by Thor. “That’s what it means, unless you learned Spanish elsewhere and have some enlightening meaning for me. You always thought you were smarte
r than everyone else.”
Thor took a step back and then sprinted toward Hawk. As deft as a bullfighter, Hawk slid out of Thor’s way and pushed Thor’s knife-wielding hand upward to a safe position while reaching into Thor’s pocket as he flew by. Hawk felt the cold steel from Thor’s gun in his hand. He cast a sideways glance at Thor, who’d knocked hard against the wall in an attempt and miss at driving Hawk backward.
When Thor spun around, Hawk trained his gun on his former colleague.
“What did you think, Thor? You were just going to waltz in here and put me down like a wounded animal? I earned the top spot in Firestorm for a reason.” With his back to the restroom entrance, Hawk walked slowly toward Thor. “It’s over, and now I’m going to end it.”
Before Hawk could pull the trigger, he felt a jolt from behind. Hawk clutched the gun as he fell forward, unable to get off a shot. He watched Thor race out of the restroom and tried to figure out how Amighi had revived so quickly and had the strength to attack.
“You’ll say nothing about this,” Hawk said after he spun around and turned his gun on Amighi.
“Please,” Amighi said. “It’s just a brazier.”
Hawk inspected the contents thoroughly for over a minute before concluding that Amighi was telling the truth.
“Go,” Hawk said, motioning toward the door with his gun. “Get out of here.”
Amighi nodded thankfully and grabbed the broken pieces of the crate. He hustled out of the restroom.
Hawk slunk to the floor. The flash drive wasn’t in the crate or attached to the brazier.
“Hawk, do you hear me?” squawked Alex in his hear.
Hawk adjusted the earpiece. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh, good,” she said. “You weren’t moving. I was afraid you—”
“I’m still here, Alex. And so is that flash drive, apparently.”
“I know,” Alex said. “And I know where it was hidden.”
“Was?”
“Yeah,” she said, allowing the reality of her answer to sink it. “It’s already gone.”
CHAPTER 13
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
KARIF FAZIL GAZED AT THE WATER from atop his penthouse suite in Dubai. His mere presence in the country betrayed the public position stated by the UAE Cabinet, which was supposedly tough on terrorism. The reality was it was little more than lip service. Like everywhere else in the Middle East, if a person had enough money, laws didn’t apply to them. Fazil learned years ago that he could come and go in UAE, his favorite spot to lay low when he sensed imminent danger.
He’d spent the past few days reflecting on his failure to unleash a fatal attack on U.S. soil and inability to obtain a powerful chemical weapon. With Brady Hawk out of the picture, Fazil figured he would’ve been able to accomplish both objectives. But Hawk hung around like a lingering month-long cough, one that wasn’t killing him but sure was annoying.
The more Fazil reflected on his mission failures, the more he was convinced he had a mole. It was the primary reason he wanted that list of foreign agents working under cover. Perhaps that was where Hawk obtained his information—or maybe not. In the end, all Fazil cared about was tightening up his operation, which could only be accomplished with a two-step plan: Eliminate Hawk and flush out the mole.
Until Fazil could achieve these objectives, he had to take solace in the fact that terrorism was just as much or more about disrupting the infidels’ way of life as it was about the body count. But he still wanted that body count—and he wanted it badly.
His thirst for blood is what gave him pause when one of his top agents Abdul Sarkis called with the report Fazil had been anxiously awaiting.
“Did you get it?” Fazil asked.
“It’s in my hand as we speak,” Sarkis said.
“Good. Are you still at the location?”
“No, I’m off site now.”
Fazil took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Was he there?”
“Yes. With a woman.”
“Interesting.”
“Do you want me to alter the plan? I’d be happy to go back and take him out for you if you so desire.”
Fazil tentatively lowered himself into a lounge chair and stared thoughtfully for a moment at the waves breaking in the gulf below.
“As much as I know you would like to take him out, I have other plans for him,” Fazil said.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to make this the primary objective of this mission?” Sarkis asked. “He’s put you in a whirlpool quite often.”
“This is true, and I would love nothing more than to eliminate him this very moment. But we must temper our disdain. Besides, I hear there are others who seem to be even more motivated than me to take him out.”
“Ah, yes. Let him fend off other threats while we’re free to advance the cause.”
“Precisely. Yet, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure of killing him.”
“That’s how I often feel,” Sarkis said. “But he’s a filthy dog. And while my desire to take his life is strong, it’s not trumped by desire to simply see him dead.”
“Perhaps you may get to fulfill both desires soon.”
Sarkis paused, remaining silent for several awkward seconds. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Fazil smiled as he leaned forward and peered toward the beach where a father and son were flying a kite in the stiff breeze blowing in from the gulf. “I know nothing for certain,” Fazil began, “but I would be willing to bet that Mr. Brady Hawk will not take losing lightly. In fact, he might be tracking you as we speak.”
“I covered my tracks,” Sarkis said abruptly.
“No need to get offended. Hawk has killed many agents who think they covered all their tracks. If you think you’re in the clear, I suggest you reconsider your position.”
“I’ll choose not to be offended,” Sarkis said. “However, I am concerned about portions of your plan for getting the information out of the country.”
Fazil watched a ship gliding slowly across the water in the distance. “Don’t worry. Everyone has been paid. There will be no roadblocks.”
“Those are the types of reports I like to hear,” Sarkis said. “However, I don’t think it will be so easy. It won’t be long before someone at the auction house figures out I’m not who I said I was.”
“None of us are who we say we are.”
“This is not the time for a philosophy lesson, sir. This is time for coming up with a solution.”
“Well, what do you propose?” Fazil asked.
“I think we need to delay my departure until tomorrow.”
Fazil scowled as he briefly considered what he viewed as a drastic change in the exit strategy for Sarkis. Every detail had been thought out, even the introduction of an enemy agent such as Brady Hawk. However, the chances of succeeding after choosing a secondary escape route didn’t thrill Fazil.
“What exactly has you so jumpy?” he asked.
Sarkis hesitated before answering. “Just a feeling. You always encourage us to trust our gut in the field.”
“I know,” Fazil said. “But I must also trust my gut. I can’t put this entire operation at risk by ceding to your hunches, while mine don’t give me a cause for alarm.”
“You’re not in the field like I am.”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t make me any less removed from knowing what’s happening on the ground. We must secure the information you have in your possession as soon as possible. It’s vital to the success of future missions—and the lives of many of your fellow soldiers are dependent upon us receiving that list of those foreign agents who have managed to penetrate our ranks.”
“I see you cannot be persuaded.”
“No, I cannot. Your plane departs in a couple hours. Please be on it.”
“I will,” Sarkis said before hanging up.
Fazil pocketed his cell phone and leaned back, interlocking his fingers behind his head. He close
d his eyes and absorbed the warmth from the sun.
Everything is about to change.
CHAPTER 14
Vienna, Austria
HAWK SLIPPED BACK into the main auction room but never sat down again. His connection with Alex went on the fritz for the second time, and he gave up trying to contact her for the time being. Crouching next to Moxie’s seat, he whispered her name and motioned for her to get up. He stood slowly and hustled toward the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was behind him. He held out his hand to her, slowing his pace until she took hold of him.
He waited to speak until they were outside.
“Did you get it?” she asked as they waited for the valet to arrive with his car.
Hawk shook his head.
“Then what the hell are we doing out here?”
Hawk held out his hand and scowled, cocking his head to one side. His message was received: quiet. She closed her mouth and flashed her eyebrows upward.
Less than a minute later, the valet roared up to the curb and hustled out of the car, rushing around the vehicle to open the door for Moxie. Hawk pressed ten euros into the man’s hand and thanked him.
Once they were both inside, they buckled their seat belts before Hawk jammed the car into gear. He eased onto the gas and navigated to the surface streets.
“Want to tell me the fastest way to the airport?” Hawk asked.
Moxie said nothing.
Uncomfortable with the long period of silence, Hawk cast a sideways glance at Moxie and swallowed hard. He returned his gaze to the road in front of him.
“I’d rather not,” she said.
The sun glinted off the barrel of Moxie’s gun, which was trained on Hawk.
“So, what’s this all about?” Hawk asked, trying to keep his cool. “I thought we were friends.”
“Sometimes friends have to have an intervention.”
“Is that what this is? An intervention?”
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