Brady Hawk 08 - Siege

by R. J. Patterson

  “In one of the higher profile journalist abductions in recent years, New York Times war correspondent Lee Powell was abducted today during a live video report from Afghanistan. He was covering a skirmish outside of Kabul that broke out late yesterday evening. However, when he went to file a live report with the action in the background, a group of terrorists snatched him and drove off, leaving his camera still running. Officials have yet to determine who is responsible for the kidnapping, though more than a half-dozen known terrorist organizations have claimed responsibility. However, one U.S. official from the Pentagon said all indications point toward Al Hasib as the responsible party.”

  “A bunch of fools still trying to be relevant,” Doblestort said, scoffing at the report. “They are so desperate to gain the sort of attention that made ISIS and other groups famous that they resort to guerilla tactics on such an easy, low-value target. They will get nothing from him.”

  Petrov waved him off. “Crazy world we live in, but I wouldn’t dismiss them so quickly. It doesn’t take much to make a comeback in today’s terroristic environment.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

  She didn’t look up, tapping slowly on her phone’s screen. After a few seconds, she stopped and proceeded to sit at the table.

  As Doblestort joined her, his attention was arrested by a buzzing phone. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened before he turned his focus toward Petrov.

  “Why?” he said, holding up his phone. “Why would you do this? I already said I would help. This isn’t right.”

  “Just making sure everyone marches to the same beat, Heinrich,” she said. “We can’t have people making their own rhythm if this is going to work.”

  “I can’t believe you would do something like this.”

  “You can’t? A few moments ago you seemed to suggest that I was little more than a terrorist myself.”

  “I said that in jest, but now I see I was right all along.”

  Petrov smiled and laughed softly. “Well, you do whatever you like, but if you don’t want to embarrass that pretty little wife of yours and those five beautiful children you have, I suggest you put this plan into motion.” She slid a file folder across the table at him. “It’d be a pity if those pictures found their way to the internet, catalogued for the world to see for all of eternity.”

  He grabbed the papers off the table and responded tersely. “I’ll get right on this, your highness.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Washington, D.C.

  J.D. BLUNT CHEWED ON A CIGAR as he climbed aboard a Segway. The motorized device rolled forward smoothly before Blunt stopped it and spun around to face his entourage. Hawk, Alex, and Samuels stared back at Blunt with slight smirks.

  “Would any of you mind telling me what you’re laughing at?” Blunt asked.

  Alex spoke up first. “Nothing, sir. It’s just that—” She stopped, unable to contain her laughter any longer. Hawk and Samuels joined her.

  “So, you think it’s funny to see an old man on top of one of these machines?” Blunt asked. “I’ll have you know that you’ll all be wishing you had one of these in a half hour when we’re still walking.” He zipped the machine around in the opposite direction. “Now, come along.”

  Blunt powered the machine forward, and with a slight lurch began his journey toward the White House’s secret meeting room buried beneath the bowels of Washington.

  Just before the Library of Congress was completed in the late 1800s, the famous architect Edward Casey was brought in to oversee the final stages of construction. Casey’s father had served as a brigadier general in the the Army Corps of Engineers—and it was at his request that a network of tunnels were constructed between the library and several key government buildings in Washington in case high profile officials ever needed to escape a siege. One of those buildings was the White House.

  “What kind of excursion is this?” Hawk asked after following Blunt for nearly a half hour through narrowing tunnels that seemed to darken with every step. “Is this one of your life lessons?”

  Blunt chuckled. “I can assure you that I prefer to teach my life lessons on a boat in the open water while holding a glass of scotch. This wouldn’t be my preferred way.”

  “So, this trip has a purpose?” Samuels asked.

  Blunt nodded. “Indeed it does.”

  “I don’t remember reading about this in any of the documents you gave me before I joined the team,” Samuels said. “I’m getting a little uncomfortable with this, sir.”

  “Geez, Samuels. You must be a ton of fun at parties.”

  “The life of them, sir,” Samuels said matter of factly. “It’s what seeing the world does for a young man. It gives him a sense of purpose and meaning in life, not to mention some kick ass stories to share around the punch bowl.”

  “Punch bowl?” Alex asked incredulously. “Blunt, where the hell did you dig this guy up? And why did you place him on our team?”

  Blunt gnawed on his cigar for several more seconds before taking it out of his mouth. “I’m going to let someone else explain all of that to you in just a few minutes. Not much farther now.”

  True to his word, Blunt finally came to a stop and climbed off his Segway in front of what appeared to be a dead end. The narrow tunnel had widened just before it ran out, leaving his companions in a bewildered state.

  He smiled and asked, “So, anyone want to make fun of my wheels now?”

  All three were quiet.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Alex spoke up. “So, this was one of your lessons? Just drag us through a bunch of tunnels and wear us down while you simply roll along on your little Segway. I’m not sure what the lesson is here, sir, but it certainly seems like a cruel one.”

  Blunt crammed his cigar back into his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. Were you under the impression that we had arrived at our final destination? I’m afraid we still have to walk a little bit more.”

  He walked toward the wall and put his hand on it. Seconds later, a panel slid open, revealing a dashboard of electronics. Blunt leaned in and opened his eyes wide.

  “Oh, a retinal scan,” Alex said. “Standard in most Washington tunnels from what I hear.”

  Blunt watched the doors in front of him open. “More than you know, Alex.”

  He strode ahead, glancing back at the trio to make sure they were following. The new section of the tunnel was state of the art, clean, and flanked by small rooms off to the side.

  “What is this place?” Samuels asked.

  “It’s where they make the manuals,” Hawk deadpanned. “But you better not touch anything, per item T, section three on page forty-seven.”

  “Ha ha,” Samuels said. “Real funny, Hawk.”

  “Oh, so he does understand sarcasm,” Alex said as a wry grin spread across her face.

  “This way,” Blunt said, directing them toward an elevator. Once they were all inside, he swiped a card in front of a black pad. A muted ding came from the overhead speaker, and the elevator descended.

  Blunt enjoyed the looks on their faces, confident they would all expect to go up.

  “How deep does this thing go?” Samuels asked.

  Blunt smiled. “Deep enough.”

  After about half a minute, the door slid open and Blunt led them into another corridor before turning the corner. He walked up to a door, which was guarded by a pair of secret servicemen. One of the men opened the door and held it as he motioned for Blunt and his entourage to enter.

  “The president has been expecting you,” he said.

  Blunt hobbled toward a sitting area with three small couches and two chairs. He walked up to President Noah Young, who stood to welcome his guests, and shook hands.

  “J.D., I’m so glad your team could join me here today,” Young said. “Can I offer any one of you a drink?”

  “They definitely need hydration after that walk,” Blunt said with a chuckle. “They complained so much I think I know ho
w Moses felt leading the Israelites out of Egypt.”

  “As long as there were no marauding Egyptians hot in pursuit, I think it’s probably safe to proceed,” Young cracked.

  “None on the radar, sir,” Hawk said. “We do our best to make sure we cover our tracks so nobody can follow us.”

  “Very well then,” Young said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Let’s proceed. Please, have a seat.”

  Young sat down first and leaned forward in his chair, while the rest of the Firestorm team followed his instructions.

  “Now, J.D. tells me you have some important information for me, but before we get to that, I thought I would formally introduce you to the newest team member I requested to be placed with you.”

  Young gestured toward Samuels.

  “Shane Samuels was placed in your unit at my special request for a number of reasons,” Young said. “For starters, I needed to have a way to connect with your team if Michaels somehow manages to regain control of the presidency. At this point, I think it’s a long shot, but you never can be too sure in Washington. Nothing is a given, and I mean nothing. Michaels doesn’t know about Shane Samuels, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Samuels said.

  Young continued. “Now, I’ve known Shane and his family for years and helped him get into the FBI years ago. He worked on a counterintelligence team for the FBI in several countries throughout the Middle East. He’s well connected in both official and unofficial capacities. But if anyone tries to find a connection between me and this Firestorm team, they’ll be hard pressed to do so, especially now. From now on, all my communication with the team will go through Shane. And it’s simply for your protection and for mine in case the unthinkable happens.”

  “So, once Michaels is removed for good, we can return to normal business operating procedures?” Alex asked.

  Young shrugged. “We’ll have to play it by ear. Michaels will still have plenty of allies even if he ends up getting tossed out of office. But I hope that will be the case. So, any more questions?”

  Nobody said a word. “Excellent. There’s one more order of business we need to discuss before moving forward.”

  “And what exactly is that?” Hawk asked.

  “It’s about your newest team member.”

  Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Young’s connection to him already appeared to make him uncomfortable, but with the acting president’s latest comment, the newest Firestorm member turned a dark shade of red.”

  “What about him?” Alex asked. “He’s certainly a dedicated rule follower.”

  Young placed both his hands on his knees and leaned back before taking in a deep breath. “That’s not all he is.”

  “What do you mean?” Blunt asked.

  Young surveyed his audience for a moment and then proceeded. “He’s also Alex’s brother.”

  Alex’s mouth fell agape. “My brother? But I—”

  “Half brother to be more precise. Your father had an affair with an FBI agent about five years after you were born, Alex. It was kept quiet for a number of reasons, reasons which the bureau was content to oblige him with. I knew his mother from several interagency collaborative projects I worked on and eventually became good friends with her and her husband.”

  “This is strange,” she said. “I’m not sure how I feel about all of this.”

  “I’m not asking you to feel any way about it,” Young said. “All I’m asking you to do is to work together and get along. Think you can do that?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “You good with that Hawk?”

  Hawk shrugged. “I guess so. You might want to ask Samuels if it’s in the manual because he seems to have a difficult time proceeding without knowing where it’s located within the book.”

  Samuels shot Hawk a nasty look.

  “Sometimes you just have to go off book,” Young said.

  “Thank you,” Hawk said, looking at Samuels while gesturing toward the president. “See, I’ve been telling you that, but you won’t listen. We don’t have to follow everything in the manual just because it’s there.”

  Young cleared his throat and eyed Hawk closely. “But we don’t need to discard it altogether. The manual is there for a purpose—and usually that purpose is to protect us. Understand?”

  Hawk nodded. “Understood, sir.”

  “Good,” Young said as he snapped. “Now, let’s get down to the real reason we came here. I understand that you have something to show us, Alex.”

  Alex dug into her pocket for the flash drive and held it out. “Do you have a computer for me to work on, Mr. President?”

  “Of course I do.” He stood and retrieved a laptop from a desk in the corner of the room. “Will this work?”

  She nodded. “It should do the trick.”

  Slipping the flash drive into the USB port on the computer, she waited a moment for the folder to appear on the desktop.

  “Where did this information come from?” Young asked.

  “A counterintelligence asset by the name of Ahmet Polat. He’d been gathering intelligence on The Chamber, and more specifically Katarina Petrov, our favorite traitor and murderer of a mother.”

  “Have you been to therapy for that?” Samuels asked. “Because I know a really good—”

  “I’d stop right there if I were you,” Hawk warned. “You know that part a few seconds ago where she mentioned she prefers action?”

  Hawk let the implication of his question sink in for a moment, a clue that Samuels quickly got and heeded. He remained quiet while Alex worked.

  “Look at this file,” Alex said, pointing to the screen.

  “Scheduled meetings,” Hawk read. “This has some interesting information inside.”

  Alex clicked on a file folder. Immediately, a document opened that listed all of The Chamber’s meetings, including several names of famous leaders within the global financial sector who Hawk recognized.

  “Do you know how all these people are connected to The Chamber?” Alex asked.

  “We’re not sure how in bed they are with her,” Hawk said. “They could just be ancillary partners, knowingly or not. Petrov has incredible sway on people.”

  Alex nodded. “And if she can’t persuade them with her words, she sure knows how to leverage people’s secrets against them.”

  “Whatever she’s up to, there’s only one meeting on here that looks worth crashing,” Hawk said as he tapped a specific line on the monitor.

  Young exhaled and patted Samuels on the back. “Looks like the Firestorm team has its next new mission. Wheels up in twelve hours. You’re heading to Stuttgart.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Stuttgart, Germany

  PETROV TOOK THE TABLET from her aide, Anatoly, and stared at the screen. She studied the numbers closely, grimacing at some, expressing delight at others. After several minutes, she set the device on the table and sighed.

  “I know it’s not what we were hoping for, but it’s a start,” Anatoly said.

  Petrov waved him off. “I’m not sure the others will see it that way. We’re not playing the market here; we’re trying to wreak havoc with it.”

  She stood and paced around the room for several minutes, fingers steepled and pressed to her lips.

  “Would you care for a drink?” Anatoly asked, breaking the silence.

  She shook her head and continued pacing. “We will never hit our target if we don’t become more aggressive.”

  “I agree, but being aggressive in our current financial environment requires some stealth. We are supposed to operate behind the curtain, if I recall correctly.”

  Petrov meandered toward the balcony, pausing briefly to slide open the glass door. She walked outside and pulled out a cigarette, holding it to her lips. Anatoly flicked his lighter and offered the flame to her. She stooped slightly and sucked in, the tobacco crackling as it caught fire.

  “We only need to be shrouded as long as it takes to sen
d the market in turmoil,” she said. “If the two things happen at once, it won’t matter.”

  Anatoly shrugged. “If you think that’s best, please proceed. Tomorrow’s meeting could be most uncomfortable if you’re unable to explain where we go from here.”

  “The Chamber answers to no one,” she said, casting a sideways glance at her aide. “Besides, those in attendance at tomorrow’s meeting won’t utter a single complaint if all goes according to plan.”

  “How exactly do you intend to appease them?”

  “It will be subtle yet effective. In the meantime, we have to do more to shake these markets up.”

  Anatoly folded his arms and eyed her closely. “So, do you have any ideas on how to do that?”

  She shrugged. “Perhaps I do. However, it will be bold and brazen.”

  “Just like you, no?”

  Petrov smiled. “You need to work on your flattery. It isn’t so subtle if I can see right through it.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “I do love a good compliment though.”

  “I just meant—”

  “Sshhh,” Petrov said, holding up her index finger. “Any attempts to explain yourself will only make it worse. What I need right now are ideas on how to bring more instability to the market, preferably before next week’s gathering with the board.”

  “You’re satisfied that the German financial leaders will follow your lead at the meeting tomorrow?”

  “I’m not so concerned about them. We have more powerful people who must be satisfied.”

  Anatoly gestured toward Petrov’s cigarette. “May I?”

  She handed it to him and watched him suck in a long breath before exhaling.

  “There is someone who might be able to assist you,” Anatoly said.

  She turned her gaze toward him. “I’m listening.”

  “Before this person will agree to anything, you’ll need to meet with him in person.”

  “If he’s capable of doing what needs to be done, I’ll travel anywhere.”

  “That’s a good thing because you just might have to. He’s not exactly the kind of person who comes to you.”