Vengeance

by R. J. Patterson

  “Just promise me two things.”

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “I don’t want you on that stage tomorrow, and I want you to warn Fortner in person. Give him a chance to decide what to do for himself.”

  Blunt grunted. “I’ll only agree to one of them.”

  “Come on, you can tell Fortner,” Hawk said.

  “That’s the one I’m going to attempt,” Blunt said with a chuckle.

  “But you could be a target. Don’t be a fool.”

  “If Obsidian really considered me a threat, I’d probably be dead already,” Blunt said. “But if Fortner decides to move forward anyway, I can’t abandon him. What kind of faith would that show in my agents? You and Black are two of the best operatives in the world, or am I mistaken?”

  “Just be careful, sir,” Hawk said before he hung up. He sighed and slumped into his seat.

  “So,” Alex began, “what did Blunt say?”

  “He said he’d talk to Fortner—and that we better catch Walsh tomorrow and make sure nobody dies.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from our fearless leader,” Black said.

  Alex stared with her mouth agape. “He’s not going to urge Fortner to cancel the dedication?”

  Hawk shook his head. “He’s going to let Fortner make that decision, but Blunt acted like that was little more than a courtesy call.”

  “Of course Fortner is going to hold the ceremony as planned,” Black said. “He’s a proud Army man and has high expectations for the people he’s leading now.”

  “In that case, let’s make sure we don’t disappoint Blunt or Fortner tomorrow,” Hawk said.

  * * *

  BLUNT TOOK A SEAT on the park bench in Rock Creek Park, folded up his Washington Post, and tucked it beneath his armpit. He gnawed on a cigar and waited five minutes until a man wearing a dark suit and sunglasses approached from the east. He tightened his scarf and sat down next to Blunt.

  “Great day for a walk,” the man said.

  “Great day to be alive,” Blunt answered back.

  The man leaned forward, his fingers interlocked in front of him. “He’ll be in the white SUV on the northwest corner of the park. Five minutes.”

  Blunt nodded at the man, who stood and casually strolled away.

  After the allotted time, Blunt stood and lumbered toward the Fortner’s vehicle. Once inside, Blunt found the director poring over the latest intelligence report.

  “What new threats are we facing today?” Blunt asked.

  “Nothing new in here,” Fortner said without looking up from his documents. “This stuff never changes. Terrorist cells trying to assault American interests abroad. Sleeper cells recruiting heavily on the web. To be honest, I’m really disappointed at the lack of originality these days by those people who are hell bent on bringing America to its knees. This is like amateur hour.”

  “Well, I’ve got one for you that I can almost guarantee you haven’t read about this week.”

  Fortner stopped and looked over the top of his glasses. “Something original? Now that would be refreshing.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to like this one,” Blunt said.

  “Try me.”

  “We have credible intelligence about an attack at tomorrow’s National Security Complex dedication.”

  Fortner furrowed his brow. “Really? Someone has the cajones to make an attempt there?”

  “It’s very serious.”

  Fortner chuckled and shook his head. “And I welcome the opportunity to show the strength of American security.”

  “I’m not sure I would laugh this one off.”

  Fortner eyed Blunt. “Okay, I’m listening. Who’s behind this?”

  “Obsidian.”

  Fortner chuckled again. “I thought you said this was serious.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, Obsidian has supposedly been lying in wait for years now, and nothing they’re ever supposed to do happens. Just the name Obsidian has become the intelligence community’s wolf.”

  “And I'm sure they would prefer to have it that way,” Blunt said. “Tomorrow, there's going to be a strike, and I suggest you heighten the threat level.”

  “Will your star agents be there?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “Then I have nothing to worry about, now do I?” Fortner slapped Blunt on his knee with a file folder and nodded toward the door.

  “That’s it?” Blunt asked.

  “I’ve got a lot to do today in preparation for the big day tomorrow—and apparently, so does your team.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Langley, Virginia

  National Security Complex

  HAWK PACED AROUND the perimeter of the public area designated as the staging ground for the building dedication. While security was understandably tight, Hawk studied the face of every person he came in contact with working the grounds. The facility had its own set of guards who patrolled outside the gate and inside it as well. On top of that, several senators insisted upon bringing their personal sentries.

  “This is a disaster just waiting to happen,” Hawk said into his coms. “If something goes down, there will be so much posturing over territory and jurisdiction that by the time they settle who’s in charge, the perpetrators will be gone.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Black said.

  Hawk made eye contact with his colleague, who was surveying the other side of the late-arriving media. Several reporters hustled to set up their equipment in advance of the beginning of the ceremonies. Five minutes before the event was scheduled to start, access to the area was prohibited. An NSC staffer performed a mic check for all the television and radio stations recording the event and received thumbs up gestures from various members of the media.

  “This is the two-minute warning,” the man said into the microphone before slinking off stage.

  “You hear that, Alex?” Hawk asked on his coms. “We’ve got two minutes.”

  “Gotcha loud and clear,” she said. Staying behind in the team’s van, she volunteered to watch a bank of monitors she gained access to after tapping into the facility’s security feeds. She reported that there wasn’t any suspicious activity to speak of.

  “This all feels too easy,” Hawk said.

  “Maybe Mrs. Templeton was just messing with us,” Black said.

  “No,” Alex said forcefully. “She wasn’t lying. Now, it’s possible that Walsh decided to change his mind or Obsidian got cold feet. But I know what I saw—and you saw it too. She was genuinely terrified about what her son might do, not to mention what he’d already done to her.”

  “Unfortunately, I'm not seeing anything that's giving me a reason to think Walsh is planning on attacking today,” Black said. “Just look at this place. It's buttoned up tighter than a camel's ass in a sandstorm.”

  “Thanks for helping me visualize that one,” Alex said. “Without that colorful description, I would’ve just assumed that terrorists were skipping around like it’s recess at an elementary school.”

  “I’ve got no metaphors for you,” Hawk said, “but I think we may have been played. I’m seeing no movement anywhere nor have I noticed even the slightest bit of suspicious activity. But just keep your eyes peeled.”

  Hawk scanned around the area once more and noticed NBC correspondent Brittany Tillman making notes on her tablet. She tucked her brown hair behind her ears and looked up as the public address system boomed with an introductory video being broadcast on two giant screens flanking the stage. Holding up her phone, she appeared to be recording the event.

  Hawk had watched her short piece on the event the night before as she gushed about the bipartisan effort to create this historic collaborative effort between the country’s intelligence agencies. And for someone on the outside like Brittany Tillman, the NSC’s creation seemed to be a step in the right direction for keeping the country safe. But Hawk knew better. There were plenty of threats beyond the U.S. borders, but the more da
ngerous ones came from within by people who were willing to betray their country for power and money.

  The rolling video displayed footage from World War I and II as well as Vietnam and Korea. With a baritone voice, the narrator tugged at the heartstrings of American patriotism.

  “When the world needed someone to stand up to powerful dictators, the United States military was up to the task.”

  From there, the images changed to more cloak and dagger scenes along with footage of the Berlin wall. Then images of terrorist acts, including the toppling of the World Trade Center towers on September 11th.

  “Since that time, the theater of war has changed many times, but the brave men and women of this great country have stepped up to answer the call each time.”

  While bundled up for the Washington winter weather, Hawk still felt the goosebumps on his arms. He couldn't deny the feelings stirred within him as he listened to the emotional narration.

  The video came to an abrupt halt as the screen was hijacked by a video espousing a different message. Footage of President Young appeared on the screen of him filmed unknowingly discussing a situation with several foreign ambassadors.

  “I know everyone is familiar with the phrase that America doesn't negotiate with terrorists,” Young said as he waved his hand dismissively. “But that's just our public message. You bet your ass we're willing to get some of those men home and will do whatever we need to make it happen.”

  The men sitting with President Young nodded knowingly as the conversation continued.

  Hawk heard a murmur roll across the crowd. He glanced at the stage and saw several officials glaring angrily at a man just offstage in the audio/visual booth. He threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender, resulting in clenched jaws and fist-shaking from the men standing near the lectern.

  “What’s going on?” Alex asked. “Everyone looks like they want to charge the stage.”

  “Someone has seized control of the video screen and is sharing leaked footage of President Young negotiating a backroom deal with the Iranian ambassador,” Hawk said.

  “Did you know Young did that?” Black asked, joining in the conversation on the coms.

  “Absolutely not,” Hawk said. “Though I understand why someone might break precedent.”

  “And for that, I’m thankful,” Black said.

  “You should be,” Alex said. “But we wouldn’t have allowed you to rot in an Al Fatihin prison. We had ulterior motives for negotiating for you.”

  “Gee, Alex, you know how to make a guy feel special,” Black said.

  She snickered. “Glad I could boost your esteem.”

  A dull roar sounded over the speakers when someone yanked the power plug on the video system. But the damning video of President Young had already aired.

  “Somebody is gonna get canned for that,” Alex said.

  “Maybe even some jail time,” Black added.

  The buzz among the crowd created a distraction, but Hawk maintained his focus. He watched for any sudden movement and noticed a guy who looked like Walsh dressed in a security uniform hustling around the perimeter of the crowd.

  “I think I see him,” Hawk said. “He’s on the southwest corner, wearing an NSC security outfit.”

  “Are you sure?” Black fired back. “I’m on the northeast side, and I see Walsh.”

  “Uh, guys,” Alex said. “I’ve found two more men who are spitting images of Walsh.”

  “So which one is really him?” Black asked. “Alex, can you shed any light on this for us?”

  “I’m trying,” she said. “I just found Hawk’s Walsh and am looking for yours now. I’m running a still shot through NSA’s facial recognition program.”

  “Found him yet?” Black asked. “He’s moving away from this area.”

  “Got him,” Alex said. “Just give it a second.”

  Hawk eased his way through the crowd without drawing any attention. Everyone was still talking about what they’d just seen that they didn’t even notice the commotion on the fringes.

  “Alex, can you follow me?” Hawk asked. “I’m trailing this one guard who looks just like Walsh.”

  “I see you,” she said. “I’m tagging him right now with the system software. Feel free to go wherever you need to in pursuit of him.”

  Less than a half minute later, Hawk caught up with the man and grabbed him from behind before spinning him around. The guard fumbled for his gun, but Hawk drew his and told the man to freeze. When Hawk got a clear look at the man, he realized it wasn’t Walsh.

  “This is a dead end,” Hawk said.

  “And I suspect all these other men are too,” Black said.

  “You’re right,” Alex chimed in. “None of the men are showing up as serious threats in the NSA facial recognition database. So, now what?”

  Hawk scanned the front of the new building. He did a double take when he thought he saw something.

  “Wait a minute,” Hawk said. “I see something on the roof.”

  He broke into a sprint and rounded the corner of the building. He stormed through a side entrance, nearly bowling over a guard who sat on a chair against the wall. He muttered something to Hawk, but he didn’t stop.

  “You don’t have clearance to be in here,” the guard shouted with his gun drawn.

  “So sue me,” Hawk said as he rounded the corner. The man fired a shot, but it had no chance of hitting Hawk, who sprinted up the steps.

  “Talk to me, Alex,” Hawk said. “Help me get to the roof.”

  She groaned. “You’re on your own this time. I don’t have any schematics of the NSC’s new building, nor is there any place for me to find them in a reasonable amount of time. You’re going to have to rely on your instincts.”

  Hawk didn't stop climbing the steps until he reached the fifth floor. One more level remained, but there wasn't clear access to it.

  “I’m hoping you’re seeing something that I’m not,” Hawk said.

  “Negative,” Alex said. “You’re going to have to get creative.”

  Hawk found a hose from an emergency firebox located near one of the outer offices. Working quickly, he pulled out his knife and sliced through it, making a defacto rope. He hurled a chair against the window and barely avoided the rebound. His second attempt led to some spidered glass as the chair glanced off the side. Hawk picked up the chair a third time, wrapping his fingers around the sides of the back. With one furious throw, the chair shattered the glass, opening a large enough hole for Hawk to work with.

  He scrambled over to a chair and used his knife to disassemble the wheelbase before tying it to the end of the hose, which served as a grappling hook. Once Hawk got into position near the window, he hurled his makeshift rope onto the roof. He yanked on it until it held tight before climbing up. When he reached the top, he noticed a man lying prone on the far corner of the building. Hawk drew his gun and raced toward him.

  Easing up behind the man, Hawk poked him with his foot.

  “I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Hawk said.

  The man didn’t move—and then Hawk realized it wasn’t a man, but a dummy.

  “Dead end,” Hawk said, followed by a string of expletives.

  “That wasn’t him?” Alex asked.

  “Just a dummy,” Hawk said.

  Before Hawk could do anything else, he heard a gunshot rip through the grounds. He ducked down, getting as low as he could until he could figure out what was happening.

  “Hawk,” Alex said, “that was the real shooter. That was Walsh.”

  CHAPTER 27

  HAWK SURVEYED THE ROOFTOP and noticed another figure on the far side lying prone with a rifle attached to a tripod. The man turned and flashed a grin at Hawk before firing in his direction. Hawk dove to the ground and rolled behind an air conditioning unit in an effort to take cover.

  “I found Walsh,” Hawk said. “He’s atop the southwest corner of the building, shooting from the roof.”

  Down below, the crowd scattered in
a panic. The people on stage crouched low and raced toward safety. Bodyguards swarmed around the government officials to protect them from any more shots.

  Hawk leaned around the corner to take a shot at Walsh. He was gone.

  “Damn it,” Hawk said. “Walsh is on the move. I’m going after him.”

  “Don’t let him get away this time,” Alex said. “He just shot Fortner.”

  “What?” Hawk said as he started to run toward the last spot he saw Walsh.

  “Fortner’s down,” Black said. “I can confirm that. A couple of paramedics are giving him medical attention right now.”

  “I’m gonna kill that bastard,” Hawk said.

  “No,” Alex said. “We need him alive, Hawk. Don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

  At that moment, a bullet whizzed right past Hawk’s leg. He instinctively dove to the ground.

  “What was that?” Hawk asked. “Is there another shooter?”

  There was a momentary silence on the coms.

  “Alex? Black? Do either of you see anything else?” Hawk asked.

  “Wait a minute,” Alex said. “I’ve got the security channel on here. They think you’re the one who shot Fortner. There’s a shoot-to-kill order out on you, Hawk.”

  “Please set them straight, Alex.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Hawk stayed low as he found the rooftop access and descended back into the bowels of the building. He raced down the steps and saw Walsh two flights below.

  “I’m still tracking him,” Hawk said over the coms. “Alex, watch for where he goes after he exits on the southwest corner of the building.”

  “Roger that,” she said.

  Hawk hustled down the steps, skipping two or three at once in order to make up some time.

  Moments later, Alex updated Hawk on Walsh’s position. “He just turned and went due north.”

  “Where does it look like he’s going?” Hawk asked.

  “Straight for the Potomac.”

  Hawk’s lungs burned as he broke into a full sprint outside. In the distance, he could see Walsh, who had a hundred-meter head start. And then, he disappeared into the trees.