Young’s eyes widened as he watched Peterson excoriate him personally in such a public manner.
“Earlier today, officials at the Federal Bureau of Investigation informed me that someone with political ties to Young rigged this very meeting room with hidden cameras in an attempt to live stream what you were all privy to today. But as you can see, this wasn’t what was advertised. You likely came here to see me strike some under-the-table deal on terrorism with Russia, but instead you found out the true reason for this meeting—for the betterment of the world.
“And that’s what my presidency is going to be about. We’re not only going to make America strong, we’re going to make the world stronger by doing things that benefit all of humanity instead of just one country. Meanwhile, Noah Young and his campaign will likely deny all this. Their plan is to continue to do more of the same that will leave us more susceptible than ever to terrorist attacks and at the mercy of those who seek to do harm to us all. It’s evident we need each other more than ever in the world today, and that’s what you’re going to get with me.
“Noah Young hoped to expose me as a traitor, but the real traitor is already temporarily sitting in that Oval Office. Let’s make sure it’s very temporary. I’m James Peterson, and I approve of this message.”
The feed went dark.
Young’s phone started to buzz with texts from political allies. His secretary buzzed him with calls from his lawyer. He turned on the television in his office to watch the commentators on cable news already offering an instant analysis to what just unfolded in front of millions of Americans.
Young buried his head in his hands as he wondered if there was any way he could possibly spin this into a positive moment for his campaign. And as far as he could see, there wasn’t.
CHAPTER 14
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT SHIFTED IN HIS SEAT as he watched Justin Frazier settle into a chair across the table. After serving on the Senate Intelligence Committee, Blunt had spent plenty of time with Frazier poring over reports and discussing policy. They’d also accumulated hours together on Blunt’s fishing boat, reeling in large mouth bass and drinking their fair share of beer. With so many memories of good times, Blunt struggled with the fact that Frazier obviously had a hand in Blunt’s arrest.
“I wish I could say it was nice to see you, Frazier,” Blunt said. “But given the circumstances, I think you’d know I was lying.”
“Do you want a lawyer present before we talk?” Frazier asked.
“Do I need one?”
“Depends on how you want to play this?”
Blunt shook his head, still in disbelief. “Does that mean I have a choice?”
Frazier leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table.
“Even when we’re presented with only one option, there’s always a choice. You can decide to go along or resist. It’s really up to you. But whatever you choose, there will always be consequences, some good and some bad.”
“Cut the bureaucratic crap,” Blunt said, punctuating his statement with a grunt. “I know you’re the reason I’m sitting here right now.”
“And you’re the reason I’m the head of the NSA, at least partially the reason. Without you, I don’t know if I’d ever have found my way up the ladder in the intelligence community.”
“Then how about do your old friend here a solid and get me out of here,” Blunt said. “And when you’re done with that, go on record with the press to clear my name. It’s hard enough fighting all the baseless reporting these days, so an outright statement of my innocence would be most appreciated.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how is going to work.”
“What’s your problem, Frazier? What have I done to piss you off so royally that you’d do this to me?”
“I know this is unsettling for you, but you need to sit back and relax. There are some things at play right now, things bigger than you ever imagined. You just so happened to be the pawn we needed to make the right move.”
“So that’s what I am to you now? A pawn?”
“Are you listening to me? This isn’t really about you.”
“It certainly feels that way when you have me handcuffed and perp walked up the front steps of the FBI. Now, why don’t you fill me in on this grand plan?”
“I’ve been instructed not to.”
“By whom?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t? Which is it?”
“Look, I’m trying to let you know in no uncertain terms that there are some things going on right now that require us to keep you here.”
“So am I under arrest or not?”
“For all intents and purposes, you are.”
“So this is all for show?”
Frazier nodded. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Then you’re eventually going to drop the charges, right? Because we both know this is some bullshit.”
“I know it might be hard for you to believe right now, J.D., but I am on your side. However, you know what you were doing wasn’t exactly legal.”
“Let’s not get hung up on technicalities here. You run the NSA and should know a thing or two about the blurred lines when it comes to capturing a criminal.”
“And if such a situation arises when we need to do something a little above and beyond, we figure out a legal loophole.”
“Give me time with my lawyer, and I’ll find one, too.”
Frazier shook his head. “But that’s the thing—we need you here, under arrest by the FBI for what you did. It’s the only way.”
“The only way for what?”
“J.D., we both want the same thing, that much I know. And I wish I could tell you more, but I’m just not at liberty to do so.”
“I’ve got as much clearance as you do, if not more, by direct permission of the President of the United States.”
“This has nothing to do with the president,” Frazier said. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Know we have the nation’s best interest at heart.”
“What about my best interest?”
“When have you ever been one to elevate your personal interests over the interest of the country?”
“I don’t usually, but right now I’ve got a lot going on and need to be helping. One of my agents is in the Middle East at this very moment on a dangerous op to find out where Al Hasib intends to use the state of the art sea mine weapon they stole from Colton Industries.”
“Which agent? Brady Hawk?”
Blunt nodded. “If he doesn’t find out where Al Hasib intends to use that weapon, there will be some serious consequences.”
“I’m sure Brady Hawk will be able to take care of himself,” Frazier said. “From what I understand, he’s got a damn good track record.”
“But he might need my help.”
“Might. But we definitely need to keep you here if this plan is going to succeed.”
“I’m begging you, Frazier, don’t keep me in the dark on this.”
“I wish I could tell you more, but this is a tight internal operation right now, and you being here is vital for its success. But don’t worry—it should be over very soon.”
Frazier stood and exited the room without glancing back at Blunt.
Blunt was left to seethe over his treatment and figure out a way to find out what was really going on. Whatever it was, if Frazier was so tight lipped about the operation, Blunt concluded it couldn’t be good.
CHAPTER 15
Washington, D.C.
ALEX WATCHED THE LIGHT flicker off the metallic ducts as she steadied her breathing. Her elbow itched, the feeling of fire covered her arm. But she dared not move. Waiting out the prying eyes of at least two FBI agents was a challenge, but she was up to the task, given the dire consequences that would befall her if she got caught. She refused to strand Hawk.
“You see that?” one of the agents asked while his light danced down the duct.
�
��Where?” asked his colleague.
“Up against the edge there, about halfway down. Do you see it?”
“What is that?”
“It looks like a flash drive of some sort to me.”
Alex stayed still. The vent cover creaked as one of the agents swung it open.
“Come to papa,” one of the men said.
Alex heard the man’s hand sliding down the duct until the sound stopped with a slight knock against the side.
“Would you look at that?” the man said.
“Thumb drive?”
“It would appear so. But it’s clever. She disguised it to look like a bullet.”
Damn it.
Alex remembered that she’d placed a novelty flash drive that looked like a bullet in her pocket. The device contained the conversation between President Michaels and the fabricated voice of Oliver Ackerman. Resisting the urge to dig into her pocket to confirm her suspicions, she listened to the rest of the agents’ conversation.
“What do you think is on it?” one agent asked.
“If this belongs to Alex Duncan, there’s no telling. Based on the file I read on her, she’s probably seen more state secrets than anyone working at the NSA.”
The vent cover creaked as the agents slammed it shut.
“What are you doing?” the other agent asked.
“Our work is done here.”
“You don’t think she could’ve crawled inside there?”
The other agent laughed. “She’s an analyst and a handler, not an acrobat. No way she climbed up in that duct and shimmied far enough away so we wouldn’t find her. Besides, I’m hungry.”
“Roger that. Let’s get out of here and grab a bite to eat. She’ll eventually turn up, if one of our agents downstairs hasn’t spotted her already.”
Alex held her breath until she heard the door slam shut, the noise reverberating off the walls of the empty room. The apartment was temporary and she’d barely had time to purchase a bed and other essentials, much less furniture for other parts of the home.
Though she let out a sigh of relief, she remained relatively frozen for a half hour before gathering up the nerve to re-enter the apartment. Letting herself down feet first, she pushed open the vent and eased onto the floor. She crept up to the front door and looked through the peephole to see an FBI agent posted outside.
Faced with a new problem, Alex realized she needed to get out of the apartment before more agents returned to scour the place again. She tightened the strap on her laptop bag and headed for the side of the apartment that connected to the fire escape. Before she opened the window, she glanced across the room at the desk where her desktop computer once sat. All that remained were a few stray cords strewn across the floor.
She took a deep breath and eased the window up. Poking her head over the ledge, she tried to identify any agents standing guard nearby. From her first cursory glance, she didn’t see any. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one lurking below. She had enough experience to know that the homeless man rooting around in the garbage could very well be someone working under cover. But she couldn’t wait any longer, especially if she wanted to help Hawk again.
Slipping through the open window and onto the fire escape, she decided to go up instead of down. Taking two steps at a time, she ascended to the roof. She walked up to the edge of all four sides of the building, stooping over just far enough to get a picture of what was happening on the street. As she suspected, the front of the building facing the street was busy, but the alleys were generally clear and presented an easier path to disappearing into the bustle along the sidewalk. After surveying the situation for a couple minutes, Alex concluded the best way to exit the building would be to leap to an adjacent building and leave through the downstairs entrance.
The closest building was no more than six feet apart, but it felt like sixty to Alex. She took a deep breath, backed up along the roof, and broke into a dead sprint. Just as she reached the edge, she jumped—but her foot hit the small cement lip around the perimeter and sucked away her momentum.
Alex let out a squeal when she realized her attempt to make it safely to the other building was in jeopardy. She threw her hands as high as she could before she felt them smack the other ledge. Grabbing on with all her might, she stabilized her body against the side of the building and pulled herself up.
She looked at her hands, which were shaking. Peeking over the edge, she shuddered to think how close she was to a swift fall to her death.
Alex hustled over to the center of the roof and opened the access door. She descended the stairs until she reached the main lobby. As she looked outside, she saw an FBI agent standing outside monitoring the pedestrian traffic. She cursed underneath her breath and sought another way out of the building.
She identified a side exit where residents could dump larger trash. Easing the door open, she stuck her head outside to see if there were any more potential roadblocks to her escape. The coast appeared clear.
Alex decided to utilize the alleyway and head to a parallel street. Just as she was passing the dumpsters, a man clambered out from behind several garbage bags and stumbled after her.
“Hey, Miss,” he said, slurring his words. “Could you spare some change?”
Alex ignored him, casting only a suspicious glance at him as she tightened her grip on her bag strap.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. Can’t you help an old man out?”
She glanced back over her shoulder once more and didn’t notice the man who’d stepped right in her path. Alex slammed hard into the man.
“Well, what do we have here? A nice little lady like you in a place like this?”
Alex tried to sidestep the man, but he slid in front of her.
“Excuse me,” Alex said as she tried to push past him.
Meanwhile, the first man who’d been speaking to her was now just a few feet behind. Alex looked at him again and realized he wasn’t so drunk as she initially thought—it was all an act.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she said, attempting to get past the man once more.
“Neither do we,” the man in front of her said.
“What’s in the bag?” the other man asked.
Alex pursed her lips and darted to the left and then back right, eluding the man’s grasp. She pumped her arms and ran as fast as she could, knowing her best chance was to make it to the street before they caught her.
She thought her plan would work—right up until the moment one of the men caught her from behind, tackling her onto the ground.
Alex hit her head hard but didn’t lose consciousness. However, she did lose her grip on her bag, which was quickly snatched up by one of the thieves.
“Don’t be so stingy next time,” the other man said. “A little bit of kindness goes a long way.”
The two men hustled off as Alex was left to deal with the scrapes and bruises she’d sustained. She felt fortunate they didn’t harm her any more physically. But the laptop was gone—and with it, her chances of helping Hawk dwindled.
CHAPTER 16
Iraq, undisclosed location
THE SECOND ROUND of beatings Hawk took weren’t quite as vicious as the first, but the comparison would’ve been meaningless to most people. Hawk had been tortured before, even by Al Hasib goons, yet this time felt different. As he remained tied to a chair, he wondered how the body had so many pain receptors. He didn’t want to pass out again, but he felt that was inevitable.
Hawk awoke some time later, unsure of whether it had been minutes or hours. But it was just in time to receive yet another beating. Two men loomed over Hawk and traded turns walloping him. Body blows, kicks, roundhouse punches—fists and feet collided with Hawk at a torrid pace. He finally fell backward in his chair as the men mercifully decided they were done. Hawk’s face was drenched, though he couldn’t tell whether it was sweat or blood before concluding it was likely a healthy mixture of both.
I just might die this time.
Hawk res
isted the urge to accept his fate. He understood his limitations and realized he couldn’t survive another attack. If he didn’t escape before the tag team torturers returned, his fight against Al Hasib would end at their hands.
A half hour passed before the door opened again.
Hawk moaned. “Can’t you just wait a little longer this time?”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hawk,” the man said in English. “I’m just here to bring you some food and water.”
There was something about the man’s voice that sounded familiar, though Hawk was unable to identify anyone with any certainty due to the dim lighting and his swollen eye. Hawk craned his neck toward the direction of the door, wincing with pain as he did.
“I’m gonna have a helluva time trying to eat with my hands tied up like this.”
The man eased across the floor and set a tray down at Hawk’s feet. “Relax, Mr. Hawk. I’m here to help you.”
Hawk squinted, searching his memory banks for the name of the man. “Do I know you?”
“Indeed. It was quite some time ago, but given your state, it’s understandable you don’t remember me.”
Hawk’s memory kicked in. “Kejal? Is that you?”
“I apologize for underestimating you, Mr. Hawk.”
“You’ve learned English?”
“Uncle Jaziri taught it to me before I joined Al Hasib.”
Hawk smiled and sat upright in his chair as Kejal began untying the bindings.
“Your uncle is a good man.”
“Allah rest his soul,” Kejal said.
“He’s dead?”
“Someone in Al Hasib killed him.”
“Then why are you . . .” Hawk’s voice trailed off, answering his own question before he finished asking it.
“Revenge, of course,” Kejal said. “I was more or less forced to join, but I decided to find out who pulled the trigger and killed Jaziri. He was such a good man, especially to me. I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to herd my goats and be left alone.”
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