Brady Hawk 07 - State of Play

by R. J. Patterson

  Hawk bobbed his tea bag in the steaming water. “I’m going to make sure he never finds out.”

  “And how will do that? You have no idea about his vast network of spies and incredible reach. It’s impossible to escape from his clutches.”

  Hawk glanced at his gun. “I was thinking about a more permanent solution to that kind of problem.”

  “I admire your confidence, Mr. McMurtry, but I have no idea how you intend to get close enough to Mr. Bashir’s compound to see him, let alone kill him.”

  “Leave that to us,” Alex said.

  Ngozi sighed and spun slowly in his chair, stopping briefly to stare outside. When he turned back around to face Hawk and Alex, Ngozi’s eyes were narrowed.

  “I’m sorry,” he began, “but I can’t help you. No matter how much you threaten me—whoever you really are—it would pale in comparison with what Mr. Bashir would do if he ever found out I spoke with you.”

  “I’d like to ask you to reconsider,” Hawk said as he slid his hand down toward his gun.

  Ngozi shook his head and held out his right hand. “Stop right there, Mr. McMurtry. We both know you’re not going to use that gun on me. Besides, if you kill me, you’ll never get to meet the man you’re obviously so desperate to kill or steal from or whatever your intention is. And I happen to be one of the only civilians who has ever seen his mountainside home. I doubt you want to defeat the purpose of your little visit here.”

  Hawk glanced at Alex, who nodded and slid another picture in front of Ngozi.

  “Does this look familiar to you?” she asked.

  Ngozi leaned forward and squinted while he studied the image. “Of course, of course. That’s the Jonah Sarchophagus that our team excavated during a dig about two years a go.”

  Alex cocked her head. “It looks like the Jonah Sarcophagus, but it’s a fraud. We had this independently verified by three other experts. You might be worried about Bashir getting to your family or other loved ones, but I suspect you care more about your reputation.”

  Hawk pinned the picture to the desk. “And it’d be a shame for this news to get out.”

  “I-I had no idea,” Ngozi said. “The process I used to verify its authenticity must have been—”

  “Stop right there, Dr. Ngozi,” Hawk said, holding up his hand. “I’ve had enough of this. Now, I don’t care that Malik Bashir is the man you fear the most in this world. But what I do care about is your willingness to assist us in setting up a meeting with The Missile Man.”

  “You don’t just set up a meeting with him,” Ngozi said. “There’s a protocol. And you have to have a good reason.”

  Hawk smiled. “Fortunately, we have a good reason—the Severus Scroll.”

  “I can’t let you—”

  “You can and you will,” Hawk said. “But I promise to return it to you along with everything else in his collection once I take care of business.”

  “Even if I make the call, you’re going to have to meet with him in person,” Ngozi said. “He’s going to know that you’re not me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Hawk said as he leaned forward and picked up the phone, removing it from its cradle. “Give Mr. Bashir a call, and set up a meeting. You have a scroll to sell him.”

  CHAPTER 12

  LATER THAT SAME AFTERNOON at their hotel, Hawk and Alex labored over the details of what to include in their email to Malik Bashir. They used Dr. Ngozi’s previous emails to Bashir as a template for how to construct their request to meet. However, they wanted the meeting to come across as urgent in order to make contact before the sale of the weapons to Karif Fazil and his Al Hasib organization was completed.

  “Does it sound desperate?” Alex asked.

  Hawk re-read the email. “It’s solid. Bashir shouldn’t suspect anything.”

  “Here goes nothing,” she said as she pressed the send button. “Dr. Ngozi said Bashir always responds within twenty-four hours. Now all we can do is wait. ”

  Hawk chuckled. “If you think I’m in an international city like Cairo with you and I’m just going to sit around and hope to get a response from an email, you’re quite delusional.”

  The edges of Alex’s mouth began to curl upward. “Hawk, that is just what I wanted to hear. What did you have in mind? A romantic dinner at a restaurant along the Nile?”

  Hawk turned to Alex, taking both her hands in his. “I’m really fond of you, Alex, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Alex’s eyebrows rose as she swallowed hard. “What is it? Oh, no. There’s another woman, isn’t there?”

  Hawk broke in a soft laugh. “No, there’s not another woman. However, I’m concerned you might have misconstrued my intentions.”

  Alex’s lips began to quiver. “You—you don’t really like me?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Alex. I’m talking about my intentions for tonight. And fine dining wasn’t on the menu.”

  “So you have something a little more exotic in mind?”

  Hawk shrugged. “You could say that.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense any longer. Tell me what you’re thinking about doing.”

  “I want to go see Dakarai.”

  Alex’s face lit up. “Oh, sounds interesting. Is that an Egyptian play or a movie?”

  “Dakarai is a contact we had when I was with the Seals. I never actually met him, but I had to memorize the protocol to meet him if I were to ever need help in northern Africa.”

  “And you think we need help?”

  “We need some of what Dakarai has.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Something that gives us an advantage.”

  ***

  AN HOUR LATER, Hawk went to the Windsor hotel and used the guest phone to dial Dakarai’s number. On the fourth ring, Dakarai answered. Hawk immediately hung up. He called back, and Dakarai answered on the second ring.

  “Alo,” Dakarai said.

  “Which way does the wind blow?” Hawk asked.

  “It always blows east in Egypt but south in Sudan.”

  “How does the wind blow in Cairo?”

  “There is no wind in Cairo.”

  Hawk proceeded to read off an authentication code, a long string of letters and numbers.

  “I will meet you in fifteen minutes,” Dakarai said and then hung up.

  Hawk exited the hotel with Alex, and they walked to the prescribed meeting location in a park two blocks away. Hawk suggested Alex continue walking and they split up so if Dakarai saw them, he wouldn’t get suspicious.

  Hawk sat on the designated bench and waited. Every minute or so, he checked his watch and glanced in both directions to see if anyone around might fit the description of Dakarai. But nobody who remotely resembled him had appeared in either direction. Then a shirtless boy approached with an ice cream cone.

  “Eat this,” the boy said. “All of it.”

  Hawk didn’t mind the sweet cool treat in the middle of another warm day in Egypt. However, he studied the ice cream for a moment or two, tentative about heeding the instructions. Protocol with Dakarai included a request to do something. As Hawk took his first lick of the cone, he only hoped Dakarai hadn’t been compromised.

  Once Hawk finished, the boy returned with a napkin that had an address written on the outside.

  Two minutes later, Hawk knocked on the door of Dakarai’s home.

  “Brady Hawk,” a man in a wheelchair said after the door swung open. “I’ve been expecting you. I am Dakarai.”

  Hawk stepped forward and shifted to the side, revealing Alex. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “I also brought my friend, Alex.”

  Dakarai froze. “That’s not part of the protocol.”

  “She’s with me,” Hawk explained. “And she’s safe.”

  With an exasperated sigh, Dakarai directed them both inside with a nod.

  Hawk and Alex entered Dakarai’s home and waited for their host’s invitation to sit in the main living area. Once they did, D
akarai wheeled around to join them. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Hawk?” Dakarai asked.

  “First, I want to be upfront with you and tell you that I’m not working with the U.S. Navy any more, but I can assure you that you’ll be handsomely compensated.”

  Dakarai scowled. “This is extremely unusual. Do you know what a risk I’m taking by helping you then?”

  “I understand, but you must believe me when I say that we’re the good guys.”

  Dakarai wagged a finger at them. “Good is relative, as is bad.”

  “What I mean is that we are working to stop a madman from handing over dangerous weapons to Al Hasib.”

  “That qualifies as good,” Dakarai said, rocking his wheelchair back and forth. “What do you want me to do?”

  “We need some supplies,” Hawk said. “Something that will help us when we go up against a weapons dealer who lives in a home built into the mountain.”

  “Are you talking about The Missile Man?”

  Hawk nodded. “The one and only. Seems his days are numbered.”

  “As are yours if you intend to try and take him on. You better not fail because you will only get one shot. If he’s alive and takes a shot at you, he won’t miss.”

  “So we hear,” Alex said, chiming in.

  Dakarai glanced at her. “You are as stupid as he is for following him.”

  Hawk dug into his pocket and handed a folded sheet of paper to Dakarai. “We have a few requests that we hope you can fulfill.”

  Dakarai studied the list for several moments. “This is a tall order,” he said, holding up the list. “When do you need all of this?”

  “We leave tomorrow,” Hawk said.

  “Let me see what I can do,” Dakarai said. “In the meantime, make yourself comfortable and watch a movie. I don’t have many movies in English, but there are a few Bollywood DVDs I have with English subtitles.”

  Hawk eyed Dakarai’s DVD collection. It wasn’t as expansive as Hawk’s, but he had to admit it was a good one.

  “A clandestine meet up with an Egyptian tech wizard followed by watching a Bollywood movie,” Alex said. “The best date night a girl could ever hope for.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Central Brāhui Range, Pakistan

  KARIF FAZIL STUDIED THE WORLD MAP plastered to his office wall. He transferred the routes of several different cargo shipping companies. Their final ports varied from up and down both U.S. coasts as well as the Gulf of Mexico. Fazil’s favorite route was the one that docked in St. Louis via the Mississippi River.

  They will never expect to get hit in the American heartland.

  Omar Totah knocked on Fazil’s door. Fazil told them to come in, and Totah entered with a slew of lieutenants gathered to discuss the implementation of Fazil’s plan to attack the United States.

  Fazil waited until all the men were seated around the table before he assumed his position at the head. However, he remained standing.

  “Allah has smiled upon us,” Fazil said. “In the coming days, we will acquire enough fire power to wreak havoc on the evil Zionists of the west. They have spent years ravaging our beautiful land. We will now ravage theirs and rain down destruction on their beloved country.”

  A chant of “Allahu Akbar” erupted from around the table.

  Fazil held up his hands to quiet the men. “There will be a time to celebrate and give glory to Allah, but until then there is much work to be done.”

  Fazil turned to Totah. “How is the training coming along?”

  “Better than expected,” Totah said. “So far, three teams have successfully commandeered cargo ships and guided them to African ports before relinquishing them.”

  “And there were no reports of dissent?”

  Totah shook his head. “Not a one. Our teams paid the men generously to keep their mouths shut. And since it was little more than a training exercise with the actual ship crews getting to take a break, I doubt anyone will report it.”

  “However, it will be different on trans-oceanic passages,” Fazil warned. “Those ships often carry security teams depending on what product is aboard.”

  “In all our simulations, our teams overpowered security guards. I have no reason to think they won’t be able to be equally successful against more formidable opposition in a live situation.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Fazil said.

  “I hope we get the opportunity to put this training to use.”

  Fazil cocked his head and knit his brow. “And what is going to stand in the way of this plan?”

  Totah’s eyes widened as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m not trying to be contentious. Just trying to be realistic about everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve had a great plan to deliver a decisive blow on American soil, but we’ve struggled to execute.”

  Fazil sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, but that’s why I have great hope for this plan. This time, we have a much greater margin for error. We won’t be dependent upon every little facet going perfectly. Even if the Americans manage to stop one or two of our teams, they won’t be able to stop all six of them at once.”

  “I agree. But first we have to obtain the missiles and get them on the ships. That’s why I am hesitant to share in your optimism.”

  Fazil ignited a cigarette and took a long drag before exhaling a large plume of smoke.

  “Your job is to make sure we don’t fail,” Fazil said with the cigarette lodged between his fingers as he pointed at Totah.

  Totah didn’t flinch. “You get me those missiles, and I’ll do my best to make sure this operation is a success. I just hope you haven’t underestimated how difficult that will be.”

  Fazil grinned. “You need not worry about that. I will oversee this particular portion of the mission.”

  “And how exactly are you going to get ballistic missiles through Saudi Arabia without being noticed?”

  “In a tanker, of course, along with our finest security detail.” He paced around the room before continuing. “We are going to succeed. There is no doubt in my mind. You continue making preparations so you will be ready when everything is finally in place.”

  “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” the men chanted again.

  Everyone except Omar Totah.

  CHAPTER 14

  Asir Mountains, Saudi Arabia

  MALIK BASHIR SETTLED INTO HIS CHAIR at his desk and opened his secure email account. Being on a terrorist watch list of every country in the European Union as well as the U.S. and other western nations, Bashir recognized that his need for security was paramount. In order to fortify his palatial hideout, he utilized a series of stopgaps along with a hefty payroll of Saudi government officials, all of whom were eager to assist in the cover up.

  From the U.S. intelligence reports Bashir had obtained, the most they knew about his location was the region of the country. But gathering any more information proved challenging since Bashir’s people in the government routinely denied the U.S. access to the area. Bashir learned that one time several of his Saudi soldiers detained a pair of CIA agents who’d been snooping unauthorized in southern Saudi Arabia. Their arrest strained relations between the two nations before the agents were eventually released but with a stern warning not to embark on any such intelligence-gathering missions again without prior approval.

  As a precautionary measure, Bashir never conducted anything other than business transactions at his hideout. Yet, it was there that he chose to display all the rare artifacts he’d collected. This decision was founded on his belief that if a western nation ever identified his hideout, it would hesitate to strike because of the rare historical documents contained inside. In short, Bashir saw it as a backup insurance plan that prevented his mountaintop hideout from getting obliterated were anyone of consequence to ever discover it.

  Bashir scanned through the subject line from numerous emails sent to him.
His inbox was filled with banal messages that pitched products like Viagra or promised him great wealth if he would only send the Nigerian prince a small sum of two thousand dollars.

  If only I could direct a missile at these scumbags . . . .

  Bashir almost skipped over an email from a Gmail account. Then he stopped and opened it.

  Dr. Ngozi!

  Bashir’s face broke into a smile as he began reading the email.

  Mr. Bashir,

  I am writing to inform you that I have recently unearthed a rare archeological find and wondered if you might be interested in acquiring it from me. During my most recent dig, I found what my colleagues and I believe to be the Severus Scroll.

  For such finds, I usually feel inclined to inform the benefactors of the expedition about it. However, we have been treated poorly by them, and I’ve already informed them of another object we found that will help them more than recover their costs. I also have several personal projects I would like to embark upon that I know would struggle to get funding. And I’d like to use the sale of the Severus Scroll to pay for these projects. There’s also a possibility that I may even find the artifact you crave the most for your collection on one of those subsequent digs.

  Due to the asking price for this artifact, I believe it’s something you’ll want to see in person. Would you like to come to Cairo to examine it for yourself, or would you like for me to bring it to you?

  Let me know within twenty-four hours as I need to move this manuscript within three days.

  Regards,

  Dr. Tarek Ngozi

  Bashir stood from his desk and contemplated what having the Severus Scroll would mean to the value of his collection. It would be a significant addition, one that would result in the artifacts he’d compiled to be worth more than two hundred million dollars.

  Bashir paged Hasim Sattar to discuss setting up a visit with Dr. Ngozi.

  “What is it, sir?” Sattar asked.

  “I need to set up a meeting with my archaeologist friend. Can you gather a vetting team for me in two days?”