Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7)

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Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7) Page 8

by R. J. Patterson


  Blunt narrowed his eyes as he turned toward Hawk. “This better be good.”

  “Look, I don’t want you to get caught off guard by the president, but he asked me to deal with Charles Harris,” Hawk said.

  “Harris has always been a problem,” Blunt said.

  “Well, as much as I respect your opinion on that, I don’t think it’s in the country’s best interest to have the president handing out death warrants because he thinks someone is part of a shadow organization.”

  “There’s little doubt that Harris was involved with the Fullgood Initiative,” Blunt said. “He needs to answer for what he did.”

  Hawk sighed. “If he did anything at all. President Young offered me no proof. He just told me to find Harris and take care of him.”

  “And did you?”

  “Probably not in the way the president wanted.”

  Blunt bit down on his cigar. “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “When did you start showing mercy to everyone?”

  “Look, I don’t have a problem with eliminating someone who is a threat to our national security. But a guy hiding out in Vanuatu doesn’t strike me as some criminal mastermind.”

  “Harris can be tricky.”

  Hawk shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m not about to put a bullet in his head just because the president tells me to. That’s not how this is supposed to work.”

  “So, what’d you do?”

  “I helped him fake his death,” Hawk said.

  Blunt scowled. “What the hell, Hawk? That’s never a good idea.”

  “Simmer down, sir. I’m not irresponsible. I bugged his apartment and both his phones, including his burner.”

  “Okay, that’s not the worst thing in the world to do.”

  “If he’s plotting an attack on the U.S., it’s likely to happen regardless of whether or not he’s involved. So, if we can keep tabs on him, at least we might be able to find out when it’s going to happen and stop it before anyone gets hurt.”

  Blunt pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “That’s not a half-bad idea, Hawk. Who do you have on it?”

  “I gave all the info to Mallory Kauffman to keep her ear to the ground.”

  “Good call. Mallory’s one of the best in her field.”

  Hawk nodded. “Well, I’m telling you all this so if the president asks you about it, at least you know what I’ve told him and what’s really going on.”

  “Harris better not re-emerge.”

  “He’s promised me that he won’t. I think he’s aware that I won’t mind paying him another final visit, the kind that I won’t be so generous about.”

  Blunt inspected his cigar before jamming it back into his mouth. “Thanks for the update. Now, I’ve gotta go whip Fontenot’s ass to pay for my dinner tonight.”

  “Good luck,” Hawk said before he turned and headed back in the direction of the clubhouse.

  Blunt spun on his heels back toward the tee box.

  “Everything all right?” Fontenot asked.

  Blunt nodded. “It will be after I crush you on this round.”

  * * *

  AFTER BLUNT FINISHED his round, he wished Fontenot a good night and told him to schedule a dinner with his assistant in the morning. Fontenot grumbled as he walked back to his car, upset over the fact that Blunt had edged him by one stroke.

  Blunt mulled over Hawk’s revelation from earlier that afternoon. He was playing a risky game, but one that Blunt trusted to be the best move. When Hawk said he figured it was better to know what the enemy was thinking rather than cut off all communication, Blunt concurred that the move was the best one to make. It’s what he would’ve done had he been an asset in the field.

  Blunt glanced in his rearview mirror, unable to resist the sinking feeling he had about Young. Enduring Conrad Michaels’ term had been challenging for everyone involved. But Blunt had hoped that the situation would change under a president believed to be more balanced and less partisan in his approach. Yet in the early days of Young’s tenure, he appeared to be cut from the same cloth as his predecessor.

  Navigating through Washington’s afternoon traffic, Blunt finally arrived at Adrianna Dixon’s office. He was greeted by a cordial woman at the desk who directed him to a waiting room. Moments later, Dixon entered with a wide smile on her face. She approached Blunt and gave him a hug.

  “It’s so nice to see you again, J.D.,” she said, gesturing for him to sit down. “I’m wondering if there’s a way to make this a regular part of my week.”

  Blunt grunted. “I’m a busy man, Adrianna. And as much as I enjoy our visits, I’m not sure I have time to work this into my schedule. Besides, do you really just want to spend time with an old man who wants to shout ‘Get off my lawn’ at pretty much everything that’s happening now?”

  She chuckled. “See? I’m laughing. I don’t do that with anyone else, other than my husband.”

  “Speaking of which, have you told him yet?” Blunt asked.

  Dixon sucked in a breath through her teeth and shook her head. “I was hoping that you could fix this for me so I wouldn’t have to.”

  “The longer you go, the guiltier you look.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just that …” She paused and turned toward the window.

  “Adrianna, is there something you’re not telling me? Are you and Phillip not getting along?”

  “No, we’re … fine. Things are fine. Nothing bad at all. It’s just that …”

  Adrianna paused again, this time content to move off the subject.

  “For a former lawyer who persuaded many juries in the courtroom, you’re not very convincing right now.”

  She sighed. “Maybe it’s because I know I can’t lie to you.”

  Blunt shifted in his seat, unsure of what he was about to hear. “It sounds like you’ve already tried.”

  “The truth is Phillip and I are going through a rough patch. And if I told him about this, it might be the last straw, even if it’s completely fabricated. I’m afraid he might want to believe it just so he can justify leaving me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a rough patch,” Blunt said. “More like you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff.”

  She shook her index finger at him. “And you wouldn’t be wrong about that either.”

  “You know what I say, Adrianna?”

  She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Honesty is the best policy.”

  “It’s what made me somewhat of a unicorn in this town.”

  “But you still stretch the truth sometimes, don’t you?”

  Blunt nodded. “Yes, but only when national security is at stake. Otherwise, I’m a straight shooter. That’s why what I’m about to tell you regarding Cunningham isn’t going to make you happy.”

  “What? Did he say what he’s after?” she asked.

  “No, that’s because he didn’t do it. At least, that’s my read on him. I don’t think Cunningham is your guy. He oozes a hundred different flavors of shady, but he seems to admire you.”

  “He played you too, huh?” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Earl Cunningham can turn on the charm when he must,” she said. “He didn’t become one of Alabama’s premier developers by being a goody two shoes.”

  “No, I could sense his penchant for deception, but there was something in his voice when he talked about you.”

  “So, the perv has a crush on me? Big deal. It’s not like he’s settled more than a dozen harassment cases out of court.”

  “That could’ve been some of what I sensed in his voice, but I just had a feeling about the guy. He likes you, genuinely. Maybe in an unhealthy way, maybe fine. I don’t know. But I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere if you try to get him to confess something, especially since I don’t believe he has anything to confess.”

  Dixon buried her head in her hands and rubbed her face before making eye contact again with Blunt.

  “What else are you
not telling me?” he asked.

  She sighed and grabbed a piece of paper off her desk before handing it to him. “It’s this.”

  “What am I looking at?” Blunt asked.

  “I got this delivered to me today by a courier. I demanded that he tell me where it came from and he said he didn’t know. His job was just to deliver the messages.”

  Blunt scanned the letter, which demanded that Dixon resign or else the pictures would be made public.

  “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” Blunt said. “You’re in a tough spot.”

  “Don’t I know that,” she said.

  “Before you do anything, tell Phillip,” Blunt said.

  Dixon shook her head. “Whoever is doing this to me is going to pay.”

  “So, you’re not planning on resigning?”

  She narrowed her eyes and then slammed her fist down on the table. “That thought has never once crossed my mind.”

  “Then what will you do?”

  “We’re gonna find the sonofabitch who thinks he can do this to me and push me around,” she said. “Will you still help me?”

  Blunt fought back the lingering doubt in his mind about Dixon and who she really was. They’d been friends for a long time and he hesitated, wondering if his long-time friendship with her was clouding his judgment. But the hook had been set. Blunt was like a dog with a bone when it came to cases of corruption in Washington.

  “I’m in,” he said. “Let’s find the bastard.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Kazan, Russia

  BLACK SHUFFLED ACROSS the parking lot with Kozlov, following all of Petrov’s directions. He led them to his car and secured them to the inside of each door.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Petrov said. “I have something I need to take care of.”

  Black waited patiently for Petrov’s return, but Kozlov squirmed in an effort to get out of the handcuffs.

  “There’s no use in fighting that,” Black said. “If they found us this time, they’ll find us again.”

  “It’s you they want,” Kozlov said. “If I get away, the FSB won’t hunt me down like they did you.”

  Black shrugged. “Perhaps, but they’ll eventually find you.”

  “Not if I get out of the country first.”

  “It’s a great idea,” Black said. “You’re starting to think like an operative. But you’re never going to get out of these cuffs unless Petrov releases you. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  Kozlov rattled the handcuffs in frustration before ceding. “This is all your fault.”

  “That’s not the kind of talk that’s going to endear you to me once I break free,” Black said.

  Kozlov furrowed his brow. “You just said it’s impossible.”

  “To get out of these,” Black said, holding his hands up as far as he could move them. “But I’ll figure out a way to escape.”

  “Do you have an army on the way to rescue you?”

  “Hardly,” Black said. “My government will disavow that I was on a sanctioned mission and will portray me as a traitor, should it come to that.”

  “Then how do you intend to escape?”

  “I’m still working on that.”

  Kozlov drew in a deep breath before exhaling in exasperation. “We’re going to die, that’s what you’re telling me. I need to make peace with that in a hurry, but I’m not ready to.”

  Petrov returned to the car wearing a slight grin. “Thank you for waiting.”

  “I didn’t realize we had a choice,” Black said.

  “You’re not as funny as you think,” Petrov said, wagging a finger at his prisoners. “But relax. We have a nice drive ahead of us before we will stop again.”

  Petrov started his vehicle by pushing the ignition button and eased onto the main street in front of the hotel. He drove out of the city and into a remote area. When they finally came to a stop, Black stared at the forest setting. Pine trees dotted the landscape, as did large rocks and boulders. The snow covered everything else.

  Black didn’t see the small cabin until he was almost walking up the steps. Without any lights other than Petrov’s headlights when they arrived, the darkness enveloped the area.

  “Watch your step,” Petrov said as they hustled up the steps.

  For a fleeting moment, Black considered darting into the woods and seeing how far he could get. But the snow and his unfamiliarity with the terrain would’ve ended with either a harsher interrogation or a bullet to the back of the head. He dismissed the idea and focused on doing what he could to stay alive until the opportunity to escape arose.

  Petrov led his prisoners inside and turned the lights on. He instructed them to sit down at the table.

  Black complied as he took in his surroundings. A stone fireplace dominated the far wall in the cabin’s open floor plan. Rickety chairs and a well-worn wooden table comprised the dining area, which was cordoned off by a set of stairs leading to the second floor.

  “I’ve heard horror stories of Russian prisons and even visited one,” Black said as he settled into his seat, “but I must admit that this is not what I expected.”

  Petrov removed his jacket and eyed Black. “Do you always feel the need to fill the silence with some witty remark? You Americans don’t appreciate silence.”

  Black shrugged. “Unless I’m mistaken and you brought us here for a surprise guy’s weekend, I think your intent is to make us talk.”

  “Yes, with meaningful words,” Petrov said.

  “I’m not sure there’s much more to say based on our conversation at the hotel,” Black said. “You won. You captured me and my fellow comrade here. All you have to do is drop us off at one of your Siberian prisons, maybe even the one on the Kamchatka Peninsula.”

  Petrov chuckled again, tapping the barrel of his gun against the side of his head. “That’s too simple, nor is that what I want anymore.”

  Black scowled. “I’m more than a little confused at this point.”

  Petrov nodded. “Of course you are. I’m not like you, who just goes from point A to point B without any wavering. You obey commands without thinking. You’re like a robot.”

  “But not you,” Black said, pointing at the Russian. “You’re a savvy, more nuanced man who knows how to spin things in his favor.”

  “I do, and that’s why I want to form a partnership with you and your comrade here, an alliance to help us achieve an outcome we all want,” Petrov said.

  “And what is that?” Black asked.

  “You want to live, do you not?”

  Black nodded. “And what do you want?”

  “To catch the DarkNite, of course,” Petrov said.

  “What has he done to Russia?”

  “He’s done plenty, but the most egregious thing he’s done has been hacking into the president’s personal cell phone and sharing his pictures online. It hasn’t been looked upon favorably by Mr. Putin.”

  “And then what?” Black asked. “You’re just going to let us go?”

  “Why not?” Petrov said with a shrug. “I’ll tell everyone I buried your body myself and you can leave this country with a promise never to return. That way you’ll give me what I wanted twice, Agent Black. First, freedom from my horrible job and my depressing marriage. Now, prestige and power along with favor from the most powerful president in the world.”

  Black nodded, recognizing that his ability to bargain was severely hampered by the circumstances. Refusing the deal would mean either a bullet or the rest of his days spent in misery at Lefortovo. Accepting the deal at the very least bought him more time. Black didn’t have much of a choice.

  “I accept,” Black said.

  Petrov turned toward Kozlov. “And you, comrade? Will you help?”

  Kozlov shrugged. “I’m the only one who can help.”

  Black struggled not to react. Kozlov was about to out Black and make him expendable.

  “Is that so?” Petrov asked. “Tell me more.”

  Black cleared his throat and glare
d at Kozlov, who didn’t look in Black’s direction.

  Kozlov pushed his glasses up on his nose with the back of his hand and then shifted in his seat. “The reason Agent Black pursued me was because I am the only one who can locate DarkNite. I was going to lead this man to the computer savant in exchange for my life, but I owe no allegiances to him.”

  Petrov stroked his tightly groomed salt-and-pepper beard for a moment before responding. “While keeping a third member of our alliance may create some challenges for me, it also affords us greater strength. And at this point, who knows what it will take to apprehend DarkNite. And I prefer unity over rugged individualism. As a Russian, you should too.”

  Kozlov nodded but didn’t say a word.

  “Very well then,” Petrov said. “You will share a room in the back that has a toilet in it and remain locked in there until the morning. Then we’ll eat a good breakfast before being on our way. Which reminds me—”

  He paused and stared at Kozlov.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Petrov asked.

  “St. Petersburg. That’s where my contact for DarkNite is.”

  Petrov signaled for the two men to get up. When they did, Petrov, with his weapon still in his hand, rushed over and snatched the small earbud out of Black’s ear. After holding up the device, Petrov spoke loudly.

  “We won’t be needing that anymore,” he said. “And if your people try to come after you, you will die.”

  Then he threw the small mechanism onto the floor and ground it into splintered pieces with the heel of his shoe.

  “Get a good night’s sleep, comrades,” Petrov said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

  CHAPTER 16

  San Francisco

  BRADY HAWK GREETED the bespectacled young blonde with a faint smile and a firm handshake. Clutching a clipboard, she gestured for Hawk to proceed down the hallway. The sound of dogs barking echoed from the doors leading into the Moscone Center’s main meeting space.

  Hawk zeroed in on Martin Kellerman, the entrepreneur and tech mogul fingered by Charles Harris as someone who was preparing to execute nefarious plans on the U.S. But Kellerman didn’t look the part as he held up a puppy and nuzzled its nose. Several news photographers snapped pictures of the scene, while another woman issued directions on where he needed to stand and how exactly to hold the chocolate lab.

 

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