Joe Hawke Series Boxsets 4

by Rob Jones

  “So what do we do now?” Kim asked.

  “For now we wait,” McGee said. “We can’t risk letting anyone figure out that we know what’s going on. For one thing it would put Suzie in danger, and for another it could make them panic and do something even crazier. The second we know it’s going down, we get out of here as fast as we can.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Kim said.

  “It’s the best we got,” McGee. “Unless you have a better one?”

  Kim and Camacho exchanged a glance. “Fine, we’ll do it your way.”

  *

  Josh Muston watched in a state of serene disbelief as General Vance and his men gathered in the Vice President’s official residency at Observatory Circle. The disbelief was induced by the sight of the general ordering his men to arm themselves and prepare to board the SUVs waiting to take them across the city to the White House.

  Faulkner himself seemed calm. From Muston’s point of view he was just a silhouette now, standing in the wide bay window with a smoking cigar in his right hand. What drove men like him to do the things they did, he had no idea. Muston was a backroom man, an advisor, nothing more than a state assistant behind the curtain and that was enough for him.

  The idea of standing in the Rose Garden later today and explaining to a gaggle of dumbstruck TV crews why he had persuaded the Cabinet to invoke the Twenty-Fifth Amendment and arrest President Brooke didn’t appeal to him one bit, but it seemed to excite Davis Faulkner beyond words. Not Muston, no sir. He would be the man inside the Oval Office, safely tucked away behind the drapes monitoring the polls and watching his boss’s back.

  “So, gentlemen…” Faulkner turned to face the room and twirled the cigar in his tanned fingers. “This is it. Today, with the approval of the Cabinet and the assistance of loyal patriots like General Vance and his men we will remove a corrupt, traitor from our greatest office and restore the greatness of the United States of America.”

  Vance gave a solemn nod, but said nothing. His men followed his lead and maintained their composure.

  “We might not be successful,” Faulkner continued. “There’s a good chance we may fail today. We may be arrested or even killed in our attempt to save our country on this day, but I know all of you men will not shy away from your duty. If we fail, we will answer to a higher power than the President of the United States.”

  “Amen to that,” Vance said.

  Muston wasn’t entirely convinced his boss was referring to God. Faulkner’s idea of a higher power wasn’t exactly what most people had in mind, and visions of the mystical Oracle rose in his mind like Rougarou, the legendary monster lurking in the swamps of his childhood Bayou.

  What exactly was the deal with that? Who was the Oracle, really? He had no idea. Faulkner talked about him from time to time, his words usually hushed and respectful – fearful, even. He talked about him as if he truly were a god, but one that could reach out and touch him and destroy his life.

  But things were changing. Lately the boss had started talking about the Oracle with a hint of resentment in his voice. He’d slipped up a few times, saying how the Oracle wouldn’t be around forever and that when he was gone, things would be very different. He’d even overheard him calling the Oracle a freak after one particularly agitated phone call. What did the boss have in mind for this Oracle? Only time would tell.

  “Well, Josh?”

  He looked up and saw Faulkner and General Vance glaring down at him.

  “Sir?”

  “I said, is your staff team in place to run the White House after we take over today?”

  Vance sighed. “We can’t have any lapses in concentration today, Mr Muston. If we do, then we screw up, and if we screw up we’re going to the chair for treason.”

  “No, we’re not,” Muston said, standing to meet the general eye to eye and reassert his authority. Vance would be Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in a few hours, and it was essential that the general knew he would be no push-over in his role as the President’s Chief of Staff. “We have the legal authority to do what we are doing, as given to us by the Cabinet’s official and unanimous invocation of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment.”

  “You don’t know what the hell’s going to happen when we try and pull this off.”

  “Yes, I do, General Vance. The Vice President is right when we say there is a chance of death. It may be the case that things go wrong and a fire fight breaks out. A young marine overreacts or a gun goes off accidentally. Unlikely, but possible in an atmosphere as supercharged as the one we’re about to create, but no one’s going to the chair for treason. This is legal and it’s going to happen. Legally. So just unbunch your panties and dial it down.”

  Vance narrowed his eyes and turned to Faulkner, but the Vice President was already chuckling. “Sir?”

  “Josh is right, Richard. What we’re doing to day is a legal, political exercise. You and your men are essential backup, but also a touch of window dressing. When we get to the White House we do this my way and Brooke will be done and dusted before sunset.”

  Vance stepped down, glaring at Muston. “As you say, sir.”

  “All right then,” Faulkner said, stubbing his cigar out in an ashtray on his desk. “Then we’re almost ready to go. Tell the men to make their final preparations and ensure everyone who is in on this knows it’s on. Gentlemen, today we make history.”

  *

  Jessica Clarke liked her coffee strong. She’d noticed that the older she got, the stronger the coffee got, and that was okay with her. She liked the deep, dark roast taste of the black gold as it rolled over her tongue and then the caffeine kick. It helped her think, and now she needed some serious thinking time.

  With her son playing in the other room, she set the cup down on her kitchen table, closed her eyes and went through the mission one more time. The next target had been selected and ECHO would be another member down in just a matter of hours. Devlin and Lund were already out of her mind, and she was totally focused on the next mark. Disciplined, vigilant. She was a trained killer whether she liked it or not, and now she used her skills to intricately plot the next assassination. Not one error could be permitted.

  Another sip of coffee and a tense exhalation. On the table was the bullet. She had taken it from the box and was now reading the name engraved on its smooth metal jacket.

  Another funeral.

  Another wake.

  More grieving friends and family.

  She had no problems with her conscience. Her son’s suffering grew worse with every sunrise, after all, and there was no other way to help him.

  She thought of Justin down in Mexico. He’d gone on ahead and was working hard to find them someplace nice to live in. The pictures he emailed to her looked great. Modest but like palaces compared to her apartment in LA. Villas with white stucco plaster walls and terracotta tiled rooves. Just like how the other half lived. Fan palms around the pool and a west-facing deck to watch the sun set over the Pacific with a beer in her hand and her son laughing and playing.

  She had to have that. It wasn’t something she was going to negotiate with the universe over, it was something that must happen if she and her son were going to survive.

  More coffee, and she slipped the bullet back in the box.

  Time to pack.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The journey on the luxury tender out to the yacht gave them all a few moments of peace and quiet. Skimming across the warm turquoise waters of the Persian Gulf, Hawke looked back to the impressive skyline of Dubai – the Marriot Marquis, the Princess Tower and the Elite Residence all dwarfed by the monumental Burj Khalifa. The 835 metre building sparkled in the sun as it stretched up into the scorching Arabian sky. It was a far cry from the drizzle and gloom of his London childhood.

  The rest of the team sat on the custom boat’s wooden seats and shared the moment with a few laughs. Reaper and Scarlet smoked. Lea and Ryan were talking and Lexi was sitting with her head tipped back, eyes
concealed by her mirrored sunglasses. From the look of things, Zeke and Nikolai were exchanging war stories and hand-to-hand combat moves.

  It was good to see Kolya had finally ditched the robes and gotten himself some ordinary gear. Maybe he could fit in after all, or maybe he was lying to them. The darker half of the battle worn and weary SBS sergeant wondered if their new Russian friend was a spy – a thousand year-old Athanatoi warrior doing the Oracle’s dirty work and biding his time until ordered to strike. The better half remembered how he had saved Lea’s life and risked his own life fighting alongside them since the battle at the monastery.

  If he was a spy, then he was a good one.

  The captain of the tender steered the small vessel to starboard to come about to the superyacht’s stern. “We’ll be docking in a few minutes. Get ready to disembark.”

  Hawke stretched his arms and yawned. Checked his gun and slid it back into the holster.

  Lea walked over to him and slipped her arms around his waist. “It’s beautiful here.”

  He smiled and kissed her. The boat rocked as it turned again and slowed down ready to approach the yacht. They clung together to stop from falling over. “You’re beautiful.”

  “God, someone pass me a sick bucket,” Scarlet said.

  “Why, seasick?” Reaper asked.

  “No, just too close to these two revoltingly smug people behind me.”

  Lea laughed. “Ah, you’re just jealous, you miserable cow.”

  “Hey!”

  “True story,” Ryan said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He blew out the smoke and grinned mischievously. “She wants me but knows she can never have me.”

  Scarlet gave him a doubtful look. “You know where you can blow that smoke, boy.”

  “You haven’t even bought me dinner,” he said. “I feel used and dirty.”

  “You’ll feel my boot up your arse in a minute.”

  Still staring up at the sky, Lexi said, “One kink at a time, Cairo or you’ll frighten him away like a little sparrow.”

  “Don’t you start,” Scarlet said.

  “Hey, I’m just saying.”

  The captain pulled up into the docking bay at the stern of the yacht and sailors on board the main vessel attached the tender to the Seahorse via the davit crane.

  A man in a white bisht and keffiyeh was standing in the shade behind the crane, and now he stepped forward with a guarded smile and welcomed them on board. “I am Hafez. Please, Mr Mokrani will receive you on the rear deck.”

  They followed the man up a series of staircases and down a polished teak deck stretching along the portside of the vessel before turning right at a shaded swimming pool and crossing over to the other side of the yacht. “Please,” the man said, gently guiding them with his hand. “Mr Mokrani is just through here.”

  Hawke turned the corner and saw an enormous man dressed similarly to Hafez, only his keffiyeh headdress was red and white checkers. He did not rise to meet them, but gave a casual nod of his head. His eyes were obscured behind a pair of gold and river diamond Chopard sunglasses.

  Ryan lowered his voice and leaned toward Lexi. “Why am I reminded of the sail barge scene in Return of the Jedi?”

  “Keep it down, fool,” she snapped. “Unless you want a light sabre up your ass.”

  “I certainly do not want that,” he said. “Despite vicious rumors spread by a certain former SAS officer of the female variety.”

  Lea turned and scowled, mouthing zip it to both of them, and Hawke approached the man and made the introductions.

  “Please, sit. Hafez, mint tea for everyone, at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hafez slipped away into the shadows as they took their seats in the shaded deck area, grateful for the cool breeze whipping across the boat’s deck.

  “So, Sir Richard tells me he is in the market for a certain ring in my possession?”

  “That’s right,” Lea said. “A very specific ring. It looks like this.”

  She handed him the one they had secured in Las Vegas from Kozlov. He took it in his chubby hand and twirled it around for a moment, never once lifting his sunglasses. He handed it back a few seconds later. “Yes. I have a ring like this, but the markings on the top are slightly different, I think.”

  Lea gave the team a look of hope before returning to Mokrani. “You know we’re in the market to buy the ring, Mr Mokrani, but are you in the market to sell it?”

  Mokrani smiled as Hafez returned, hovering just out of sight in the shadows with a silver train his hands. The billionaire clicked his fingers and the servant stepped forward and poured a cup of mint tea for everyone at the table.

  “And why would I want to sell it?”

  “Because you implied you were interested in selling it.”

  “But perhaps I have changed my mind. Now I know there are people who are prepared to pay such a handsome price for it, I ask myself if perhaps I have undervalued it.” His smile revealed a set of expensive, whitened teeth. “You must agree?”

  “Supply and demand,” Ryan said. “Simple economics.”

  “But what we’re offering you is more than fair, Mr Mokrani,” Lea said. “The price is far more than the value of the gold and takes into account the historical significance of the ring as well.”

  “Yes,” Mokrani said. “This is true. After Sir Richard contacted me I had my people research the ring more thoroughly, and what they discovered interested me a great deal, I must say.”

  “And what did they discover?” Scarlet asked.

  Another sly grin. “My researchers tell me that they found several other rings in existence that very closely resemble the one in my possession. They looked into these rings and found nothing but speculation, but that speculation has piqued my interest very much.” He leaned back and stretched his arms out along the back of the leather couch. “You see, there are rumors about these rings.”

  “What rumors?”

  “Don’t be coy,” he said. “You know why you’re here. My researchers tell me the rings may be a sort of map that will lead to some sort of ancient site.”

  “That’s true,” Lea said. “This is supposed to be confidential but I want to be honest with you. We’re looking for the place you describe. We think it’s called the Land of the Gods, and it was some kind of civilization before Sumer.”

  Mokrani sniffed and looked distracted for a few seconds. “This Land of the Gods must be a myth,” Mokrani said. “There was no civilization before Sumer, not in this part of the world anyway.”

  “It’s no myth,” Hawke said. “The Land of the Gods was real, and we have to believe that at least some part of it still exists. Only the eight gods’ rings can lead us there.”

  “Gods’ rings?”

  Lea explained what they knew, but Mokrani was unmoved.

  “What you say is fantastic, but impossible to believe. Alexander the Great searching for an antediluvian civilization predating Sumer?” He waved the thought away and raised the cup of mint tea to his lips. Taking a sip, he tasted the fine liquid for a few moments before setting the china cup back down on the table. “Ridiculous.”

  “May we see the ring?” Lea said.

  “Yeah,” Scarlet piped up. “All this prattling is one thing but we don’t even know you have the thing.”

  “Hafez, bring the item.”

  Hafez left them and returned with a golden cloche. He laid it on the table on front of Mokrani, who now lifted the lid and revealed the ring. It was sitting on a red velvet cushion in the center of a golden plate. Mokrani leaned forward slightly and lifted it off the tiny display cushion. “Yes, I remember this piece.”

  “You remember it?”

  “After purchase I rarely look at my jewellery. In fact, many pieces I never see at all. I simply commission one of my people to bid on my behalf and then bring the pieces back to me here on my yacht.”

  As Mokrani stared at the golden ring, Ryan squinted at it for a moment and whispered to Hawke. “The R
ing of Remus if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Good work, mate.”

  Lea said, “Will you sell it to us?”

  “Very well,” he said. “I am prepared to sell you this piece, but I don’t think you will find the price within your range.”

  “Try us.”

  “Five million dollars.”

  “Five million?” Scarlet said. “That’s ridiculous. The gold’s worth no more than five thousand.”

  “But I am not selling you the gold,” Mokrani said patiently. “I am selling you a ticket to your Land of the Gods and I am certain you would pay a much higher price to get there after all your travels and wars.”

  The Havoc approached low and fast, barely fifty feet off the surface of the gulf. Hawke saw the sun glinting on the rotor head as the Russian killing machine roared toward the yacht at two hundred miles per hour.

  Mokrani rose from the couch and walked to the balcony rail. “What the hell is that?”

  Lexi leaped from her seat and shielded her eyes from the day’s glare. “An attack chopper!”

  Close enough now for Hawke to see the undernose barbette flash in the sunlight as the chin-mounted Shipunov cannon swiveled in their direction. Hanging from the stub wings either side of the gunship were sixteen Ataka-V anti-tank missiles and ten S-8 rockets.

  “It’s death on wings,” Hawke muttered, and we needed to be off this deck two minutes ago… run!”

  It was too late. The gunship opened fire, loosing two of the unguided rockets at the port side of the ship and tearing the deck to pieces with the dualfeed auto cannon. Grim Soviet power had arrived with a savage vengeance, the substantial thirty mil rounds from the Shipunov almost tearing Mokrani in two at the waist and blasting his guts all over the ivory white shade cloth above the decking.

  “Hafez is taking it off Mokrani’s finger and making a break for it!” Lea yelled.

  “Leave it!” Hawke called back. “It’s not worth dying for.”

  They ran for their lives across the transom just as the two rockets exploded under the waterline, striking the boat with a massive explosion and punching two car-sized holes in the hull. The entire vessel shook in the water as fire and smoke engulfed everything in sight.