Forty minutes before the plane was scheduled to land, she noticed Michaels’s aides had all abandoned him for the moment. She seized her opportunity. Loading a drink onto her trap, she nodded at the secret service agent standing at the entrance. He waved her through.
“I thought you might want a drink, Mr. President,” Petrov said.
Michael, who’d been studying a thick packet of documents, looked up with a scowl. “I didn’t order anything.”
“It’s on the house . . . from The Chamber.”
“The Chamber?” Michaels said as he bolted upright in his seat.
The secret service agent took a couple of steps toward Michaels. “Is everything all right, Mr. President?”
“Everything’s fine,” Michaels said before waving off the agent.
Once the guard returned to his post, Michaels glared at Petrov. “What are you doing on this plane?”
“I came to deliver a message.”
“I could have you dragged away and put in handcuffs right now if I wanted to.”
“But you won’t,” she said. “Your career would be over. Plus, you’d likely go to jail. So, I suggest you listen very closely to what I’m about to tell you.”
Michaels slunk back down in his seat. He grabbed the glass and started drinking. After he set the tumbler down, he winced.
“I always make mine with a double shot,” she quipped. “Now, here’s what you need to do. Stay cool and calm. No rash decisions or knee-jerk reactions. Got it?”
Michaels nodded.
“We don’t need any more drama as we get close to the launch next year.”
“Easy for you to say,” Michaels said. “I may not even be around for it.”
“You certainly won’t be around for it if you keep trying to act like a dictator when you’re little more than an elected official.”
“This elected official is leader of the free world,” he said with a growl.
“Easy come, easy go—isn’t that what you Americans are so fond of saying?” Petrov asked. “My advice to you is to step aside temporarily so the Department of Justice can conduct their investigation without any interference from you. It’ll look better. Then once you’ve survived, you can spin it as a political witch hunt, engendering all kinds of sympathy toward your plight. The other party will be cast in a bad light, while you emerge victorious.”
“Sounds all well and good, but you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“The evidence.”
Petrov shrugged. “Evidence has a strange way of disappearing sometimes.”
One of Michaels’s aides returned to the room.
“Don’t forget what I said,” Petrov said in a whisper. “Your future depends on it."
CHAPTER 37
HAWK AND ALEX AWOKE on rickety double beds across the room from each other. Moaning and grabbing his head, Hawk rolled over and tried to stand. He staggered for a moment before he gained his balance.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
Alex’s eyes were closed as she remained on the bed. “I don’t know, but I’m beginning to wonder if the vice president actually cares about us.”
“You’re just now beginning to wonder that? I think that’s quite evident at this point.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge, Hawk.”
“I live by Blunt’s golden rule: Never trust anyone. It’s served me well so far.”
Alex opened her eyes, squinting at the light. “And look where that’s gotten you.”
“You’re actually proving my point, you know? There are still a few patriots left in this country, you said. You convinced me to trust the VP . . . and here we are.”
“Just give him a chance to explain. At least we’re not in a jail cell yet.”
“Yet,” Hawk grumbled.
“What is this place anyway?” she asked as she climbed out of bed and inspected the room.
“I’ll take a wag at it. I’ll say it’s an FBI safe house.”
“Why would he have us taken here?”
“I don’t know. You’re the expert in trusting people. I’m sure you can come up with a positive spin for this whole adventure.”
Alex moved toward Hawk and playfully punched him in the stomach. “Will you just stop with all your cynicism?” Then she grabbed him and kissed him.
The door flung open, and a man wearing a suit poked his head in the door. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
Hawk shook his head. “Not now. But do you mind telling us where we are and what we’re doing here?”
“You’re under the protection of the Secret Service, ordered by Vice President Noah Young,” the agent said.
Hawk stared at the man. “You look familiar. Were you in the box last night at the Nationals game, a game which I didn’t get to see any of thanks to you and your friends?”
The agent flashed a big grin. “I was there. Cameron, the agent in the other room, and I injected you with a little cocktail designed to render you unconscious. Sorry about that. Feels like a mild hangover when you wake up.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Alex asked.
“Keep you safe until we get further orders,” the agent said before leaning forward and offering his hand. “Name’s Mack, by the way.”
Mack shook Hawk’s and Alex’s hands before exiting the room and closing the door.
A smile spread across Alex’s face. “See, I told you. He’s here to protect us. I always wanted my own body guards.”
“We definitely need them since we’ve exposed the president.”
Another knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Mack didn’t wait for a response before opening the door.
“Yes?” Hawk asked.
“Vice President Young is here to see you.”
Hawk and Alex left their room and followed Mack into the main living area. The decor was simple and clean, yet it appeared cobbled together from a Goodwill shopping spree. Nothing matched, and Hawk noted how everything seemed to creak or squeak, especially the floor.
Young sprang to his feet when they entered the room.
“I want to apologize about last night,” Young said, offering his hand. “It was really the only way. I didn’t have time to explain everything, and it’s much easier to transport unconscious people.” He held up his hand. “I know, I know. It sounds crazy, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
Hawk shook Young’s hand. “You’ll have to pardon me if I don’t race to extend you my trust. I’m in short supply of it these days.”
“I understand, but I want to talk with you about some recent developments that happened overnight and see if we might be able to help each other.”
Hawk and Alex sat down opposite of the vice president.
“We’re listening,” she said.
“This morning, President Michaels announced that he was temporarily yielding his duties to me in an effort to give the DOJ room to conduct its investigation without interference from the Executive Office,” Young began. “This afternoon, I’ll be taking command, but I was wondering if you could help me with some issues that the CIA and FBI can’t.”
“Go on,” Hawk said.
“I know your focus has been on Karif Fazil and Al Hasib’s operations across the globe, but with him out of the picture, I think we all know that there are some other nefarious groups that need to be dealt with and dealt with severely.”
Hawk took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I’d be interested in talking about this, but only if J.D. Blunt is back in the picture.”
“And you?” Young said as he turned toward Alex.
“I feel the same way.”
“So, you want to resurrect Firestorm?” Young asked.
“It never died,” Hawk said. “We just had to hide from our own government, which decided to finger us as traitors. All we’ve ever done is eliminate terrorists and foil their deadly plots.”
Young clasped his ha
nds together. “I can get behind that.”
“So, you can help us with Blunt? Because the last we heard, a guy named John Earhardt in the Special Activities Division at the CIA was holding Blunt against his will.”
“I think I know where you can find him.”
CHAPTER 38
Little Island
Washington, D.C.
J.D. BLUNT BLEW the water off his face and gasped for air. The sensation of drowning gave him serious pause as to whether resistance was the best course of action. At question was Hawk’s whereabouts. Finding Blunt wouldn’t be easy, given that Hawk had likely never even heard of the CIA’s clandestine holding facility located on the small island just south of Theodore Roosevelt Island situated in the middle of the Potomac River. The official literature about the park claimed that it was only accessible by boat. But Blunt knew better. The secure access tunnel from the Virginia side of the river was a well-guarded secret. However, he figured an approach from the water would be more Hawk’s style. As Blunt shook the water off, he only hoped Hawk had sought help in locating his mentor.
With full knowledge of Hawk’s skill, Blunt had begun to consider giving up the protocol for contacting Firestorm’s most dangerous operative. Earhardt’s CIA team stood a strong chance of meeting an untimely demise at Hawk’s hands.
But there were two things stopping Blunt. First, he knew that Hawk and Alex were likely together. And while Hawk could handle himself, he wasn’t sure if Alex was ready yet to thwart a CIA-led raid. No matter what, he couldn’t put her in harm’s way. Second, Blunt figured that information was the only thing keeping him alive. The moment the directions rolled off his lips, a bullet would likely rip through his brain.
But the waterboarding still had Blunt hedging.
Earhardt lumbered over to Blunt’s chair and hovered over him. Earhardt cast a large shadow that temporarily shielded Blunt’s eyes from the blinding lightbulb swaying a few feet away. The interrogation tactics didn’t surprise Blunt. He’d witnessed plenty of interviews as the CIA preferred to term them. Blunt had even participated in a few himself, operating strictly from the questioning side of the table. But none of that knowledge could truly prepare him for the moment when the table was turned.
“I can go all night,” Earhardt roared. He leaned forward and stopped only a couple of inches from Blunt’s face. “What about you, J.D.? Can you go all night?”
Earhardt whistled and motioned for one of the other guards, who repeated the barbaric interrogation technique.
Blunt lost all resolve in the most recent round of torture. He didn’t care if he was about to get shot or stuffed into a box and kept in a hole in the ground for the rest of his life. And Alex? He was ready to make a bet that Hawk would protect her. Blunt just wanted to make it all go away.
Gasping for air, Blunt struggled to lift his head and look at Earhardt. The whole ordeal had been exhausting.
“Okay, okay,” Blunt said. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Attaboy,” Earhardt said, slapping Blunt on the back. “I knew you’d eventually see it my way. Let’s get you all dried off and give you a place to sit down and write it all out.”
***
HAWK DRAGGED THE ROWBOAT ashore and secured the rope around a log. However, he had no intention of using the small vessel as a means of escape. If he did, it likely meant he had failed and death would be stalking him in the form of ruthless CIA agents working under Earhardt’s thumb—all along with a complicit President Michaels.
Hawk moved stealthily toward the facility entrance that Young had cleared him to gain knowledge of. Rescuing Blunt would require ample technical skill, according to the Secret Service agent who briefed Hawk. He’d need to hack the security panel to access the entrance without anyone knowing about it, put down about half a dozen guards, and then sneak Blunt out without a gun fight. But Hawk wasn’t planning on taking on this mission by himself.
Alex opened her laptop and directed Hawk toward the hidden entrance.
“It shouldn’t be much farther,” she said. “I’m showing we’re about fifty meters away.”
Hawk slipped through the low-hanging branches until he came to a small berm.
“It’s right there,” Alex said.
Hawk ripped away several vines used to conceal the door. For the next minute, he worked to uncover the door and give Alex easy access to the security panel.
“You’re up,” he said.
Alex pulled out a few cords from her backpack, connecting them between the panel’s electronic interface and her computer. Two minutes later, the door unlocked, sliding open.
“You’re a genius,” Hawk said. “Keep me posted using the feed from the security cameras.”
Alex winked at him. “It’s already on my screen.”
“You won’t need to save me this time,” he said.
“I hope not. One of these days I’m going to miss.”
“Funny,” Hawk quipped before ducking inside.
He wound his way through a series of tunnels until he came to a long hallway. At the far end was a door guarded by a pair of armed men.
Hawk inserted a pair of tranq darts into his gun and shot both men from the shadows. They crumpled to the floor. Hustling toward the exit, Hawk proceeded to drag the bodies into a small room off to the side.
“How are we looking?” Hawk asked.
“It looks like Blunt is done,” Alex said through her comlink.
“What do you mean done?”
“He’s sitting down at a desk and is about to write something.”
“I’ll put an end to that,” Hawk said as he opened the door.
Striding through the door, Hawk trained his gun on Earhardt.
“That won’t be necessary,” Hawk shouted.
Earhardt turned in the direction of Hawk. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Here I am, in the flesh,” Hawk said. “Now, untie the senator and let him leave.”
Earhardt laughed. “I hardly think you’re in any position to start making demands.”
Hawk shrugged. “Perhaps, but your men outside aren’t in any position to defend you either. They’re in what I like to call the fetal position, wrapped up all tight. If it’s me you’re after, let Senator Blunt go, and let’s handle this between the two of us.”
Earhardt pulled his gun out and held it at Blunt’s head. “It’s a little too late for you to be giving the orders. You had your chance. So, here’s how this is going to go. My good friend Cory over here is going to frisk you. If you’re clean, he’s going to lead you to sit down at that desk over there. I’ve got a statement he’ll give you that you can read while you look directly into the camera. After that, I’ll let your friend here go. That’s the way it’s going to go down. If any variation occurs, I shoot the both of you. Understand?”
“Just take it easy. Everything sounds straightforward,” Hawk said as he walked forward with his hands in the air in a posture of surrender. “Just leave Blunt out of this. I know I’m who you’re really after.”
“Put your gun down on the desk,” Earhardt said.
Hawk complied and stood still while being searched by Cory.
“He’s clean,” Cory said to Earhardt.
“Good. Let’s get this over with then,” Earhardt said, handing Hawk a folder. “Just read what’s in there once the red light turns on, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”
Hawk cleared his throat and held up the sheet of paper. “I don’t know. I’m starting to have second thoughts.” He watched Blunt closely and gave him a quick wink.
“This isn’t the time for second thoughts,” Earhardt said.
The door swung open, and several Secret Service agents stormed inside.
“It’s absolutely time for second thoughts,” said the agent leading the tactical team with guns trained on Earhardt. “It might even be time for a third or fourth thought considering the situation you’re in. However, there’s only one choice that’s going to get you out of her
e alive. Set your gun down now. There’s not going to be any propaganda videos made tonight.”
Glaring at Hawk, Earhardt slowly put his gun on the ground.
“Kick it over to me,” the agent said.
Earhardt complied, raising his hands in the air. Once the gun was clear, two other agents rushed over and handcuffed the Special Activities Division deputy director.
“Perhaps you haven’t heard since news doesn’t travel fast on Little Island,” Hawk said as Earhardt was marched forward, “but Michaels stepped aside temporarily as president.”
Earhardt twisted and turned in a failed effort to shake free of the agents guiding him toward the exit. “We’re not done, Hawk.”
“I think we are,” Hawk said. “But if not, I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER 39
A WEEK LATER, Hawk and Alex waited with Blunt in a conference room in the west wing of the White House. Alex stared wide-eyed at all the paintings on the wall, moving around the room to study each one. Hawk looked pensively out the window, while Blunt drummed his fingers on the table.
“I can’t believe these paintings,” Alex said. “It’s like an art museum in here.”
“Don’t fall in love with the place,” Blunt said. “It’s best that we make this our only visit here.”
Hawk refrained from entering into the conversation. Over the past few years, he’d gone from dedicated Navy Seal to disenfranchised soldier to humanitarian aid worker to skilled assassin. His relationship with the U.S. government had been equally tumultuous. He’d fought for it, worked with it, and sought to defend himself from it. At least there was a man sitting in the oval office who Hawk could trust—even if only temporarily.
One of Noah Young’s aides entered the room. “Just one moment,” he said before ducking back out into the hallway.
A few seconds later, Noah Young marched into the room. Blunt stood, while Hawk and Alex turned around to give Young their attention.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Young said.
Blunt reached forward to shake Young’s hand. “It’s the least we could do after you helped rescue me.”
Brady Hawk 07 - State of Play Page 14
