First Strike (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 1)

by Jack Patterson

  “What did she say?”

  “She wrote a post this morning that all but accuses you of killing Nancy Goetter and claims to have an admission from you.”

  Blunt’s pulse quickened, and he closed his eyes. “I turned off her recorder during that interview.”

  “Maybe she had a backup.”

  Blunt glared at him. “Sonofabitch!”

  “What did you say, sir?”

  “I told her to go ask Nancy Goetter—or something like that?”

  “Definitely not admissible in a court of law.”

  “She has no intention of getting this to a legal court—she wants me tried in the court of public opinion.”

  “That’s far more damaging to what you’re doing here.”

  “Exactly.” Blunt paused for a moment. “And you’re sure it’s her who’s running that site?”

  “She’s been careful not to put her name anywhere, but I had one of the aides analyze the writing and compare it to her Post articles. Based on the writing style and her apparent sources, I’m confident it’s her.”

  Blunt stroked his chin. “Perhaps she needs additional incentive.”

  “I can make that happen, sir.”

  “Make it happen fast. We need to nip this in the bud before it creates more problems than I’ve got time for.”

  CHAPTER 32

  HAWK WALKED INTO HIS CLASSROOM and scanned the familiar environment. Cracked paint on the walls, dusty floors, desks that looked like they’d been around since the 1950s, and a shoddily cleaned chalkboard. He’d never been in that particular room, but it looked like ones he’d been in before. The surroundings sparked both hope and despair in him. Hope that maybe he could help change those people’s lives in some small way; despair that nothing would ever transform the country and her people who were little more than unshackled prisoners to the terrorists who governed with guns and bombs and fear. Would the Afghan people ever rise up and take their country back? Or did they even want to? Did they have any idea what kind of freedom the world held beyond the tightly-guarded sandbox?

  There’d been no Arab spring in Zaranj—or any other part of Afghanistan. If those people were ever going to get a taste of freedom, someone was going to have to spoon feed it to them.

  Just before 8 a.m., students began filing into the classroom, most of them with their heads down, staring at their smart phones.

  I guess a few things have changed since I was last here. Looks just like home.

  Hawk worried that with the proliferation of smart phones his cover could be in jeopardy. It’s why he chose to operate in a disguise. For his whole life, Hawk battled fast sprouting facial hair, sporting a five o’clock shadow by noon. It was such a mind-boggling phenomenon that he wondered if someone sprinkled fertilizer on his face while he slept each night. But for once, it served him well. He used a costume beard for a few days until his own beard grew out enough that he could go au natural. If things this time went like they did last time, his beard would eventually get pulled by one of his students.

  His introduction to English class contained fourteen students, most of which were under the age of twenty, all male. The youngest was a smart aleck kid named Kahlil who Hawk pegged to be about fourteen years old. Realizing he was the youngest, Kahlil wasted no time in using self-deprecating humor as a way to not only draw attention to himself but keep imminent mockery at bay.

  However, it was a seventeen-year-old kid named Raja Tawhid who grabbed Hawk’s attention.

  Raja handled himself differently than most of his classmates. Instead of viewing English as a fun subject and a way to get some of his questions answered about the country, he took it seriously. He scowled at classmates who made jokes. He stayed after class to talk further with Hawk about certain nuances of the language. At the end of the third week of classes, Hawk invited Raja to tea, and he accepted.

  Hawk wasn’t sure Raja would show up for their meeting after he was more than fifteen minutes late, but he finally did. Hawk didn’t mind as he enjoyed watching the sun slip away on the horizon.

  “I apologize, Mr. Wells,” Raja stammered. “Is that the correct word?”

  Hawk smiled and gestured for him to sit down. “It is, and if I were to give you a grade right now, it’d be an A-plus.”

  “That is good, no?”

  Hawk leaned forward in his seat and laughed, slapping the table playfully. “Yes, that is the best possible score. Do you understand?”

  Raja nodded and smiled. “I know what best means.”

  Hawk sipped his tea and set it down before locking eyes with Raja. “So, why do you want to learn English so badly? You’re not like the other students.”

  “I want to understand Americans more.”

  “So you’re curious about America?”

  Raja looked down. “No. Not really. I think I know what it’s like already.”

  “And what do you think it’s like?”

  “Guns. Alcohol. Sex. Greedy people. How do you say, arrogant?”

  “You’ve just described a Hollywood movie, but that’s not what it’s really like.”

  Raja shifted in his seat. “So, tell me what a normal day is like for an American.”

  Hawk leaned forward in his seat and took a deep breath. “Many Americans have families, just like you do here in Afghanistan. They care about their children. They want to see them get educated. They want to live in peace and have the freedom to pursue their dreams. It’s not all that different from what you want here. Most days, Americans go to work and come home and spend time with their families and friends.”

  Raja’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  Hawk chuckled. “Yes, that’s what most people do—what most people want. But it’s not always so easy.”

  “No?”

  “No, it’s not. There are people who don’t have an easy life. They don’t have enough money to pay their bills or feed their families like they wish they could. They must do everything just to survive. It’s difficult for them.”

  “That is what my family is like.”

  Hawk rubbed his beard. “Tell me about your family.”

  “My mother must work two jobs just to provide food for us after my father helped some U.S. soldiers but was shot two days later.”

  Hawk’s eyes and forehead expressed sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”

  “A neighbor shot him. He told my father that only a coward would help the Americans, and I agree with him.”

  Hawk shrugged. “I don’t think everything is so easy to understand. Perhaps your father thought he was doing the right thing, as did your neighbor. Situations like these are never easy.”

  “Everyone I know has treated me like I have—what do you call it—a disease?”

  Hawk nodded in agreement.

  “So, I have a disease. I had a father who cared more for the Americans than he cared for his only family.”

  “Maybe he cared for the Americans because he cared for his own family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe he saw that helping the Americans was a way to help you in the future. Maybe he thought if the Americans won, then his family would have a chance to pursue their dreams.”

  Raja furrowed his brow and took a sip of his tea. Hawk could tell that the young man had never truly pondered why his father would’ve helped the Americans. At least, not positive reasons.

  “Your father cared about you,” Hawk said. “He wanted the best for you.”

  “You know nothing about my father.”

  “I know that he likely wanted you to experience a life full of opportunities he never had.” Hawk paused for a moment. “Do you have any sisters?”

  Raja nodded.

  “Maybe he wants the best for them, too.”

  “Women are only good for cooking and cleaning and bearing children.”

  Hawk held up his hand and waved it dismissively at Raja. “I can tell you that’s not true. Women can do so much more than that.”
r />   “Are you married?” Raja asked.

  Hawk held up his left hand. “See,” he said, pointing to his ring finger. “No ring. I’m not married. If you want to learn more about American culture, that’s something you can keep in mind. Most married people wear a ring on this finger.”

  Raja shrugged. “A ring does not always tell the whole story.”

  “Neither does a first encounter with someone—and sometimes a second or a third. And when it comes to our enemies, making them less human and more evil is how we convince ourselves that our actions are justified.”

  “Do you see us as your enemy?”

  Hawk shouldn’t have been surprised by Raja’s candor, but it still caught Hawk off guard coming from such a young man.

  “Well, of course, not. I try to view everyone as my friend.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But sometimes, there are people who pose great threats to others and those close to them. Those enemies are people I’d rather not get to know.”

  Raja smiled and raised his cup of tea. “Me, too. How do you say, ‘I’ll drink to that’?”

  Hawk laughed. “Usually people say that with a glass of wine or beer, but since we’re in Afghanistan, I guess a cup of tea can work, too.” He set his cup down on the table in front of him. “So, who are these enemies you’d rather not get to know?”

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

  Hawk forced a smile and picked up his cup again. He suddenly had an uneasy feeling about his student.

  ***

  THE NEXT DAY AFTER CLASS, Hawk decided to embark on a reconnaissance mission. With an hour before the noontime Dhuhr prayer, and not much in the way of intel, he decided to use his time wisely to gather as much information about Zaranj as possible and begin to covertly figure out where Nasim Ghazi’s base of operations might be. And based off Raja Tawhid’s chilling comments the day before, Hawk decided to follow him and see where he went.

  Meandering somewhat aimlessly behind Raja, Hawk kept his eye on the kid at all times. At first, his stroll through the streets of Zaranj seemed harmless enough. He purchased a few items in the market, but it all seemed benign. A few strands of cloth, some string, a couple of loaves of fresh bread. Raja scanned the market and proceeded to slip into a small watch and clock repair shop. Then he vanished.

  Hawk wondered how he could’ve lost Raja so quickly. There was no way he could’ve been made by a kid with no experience. From Hawk’s perspective, Raja appeared to feel comfortable in his hometown, cruising around the market like he owned it, waving and saying hello to undoubtedly familiar faces. But something happened—Raja was gone.

  CHAPTER 33

  BY NATURE, GUY HIRSCHBECK tended to be careful about everything he did. He never turned on his car without first being buckled in properly. If there was a hint of rain in the forecast, he carried his compact umbrella with him that day. When flu season was in full swing, he kept a small stash of antibiotic wipes in his pocket for handling door knobs and faucet handles. So, it was curious that when he entered the world of espionage, he didn’t incorporate more safeguards to protect him.

  Perhaps taking the same route home every evening proved to be the safest way in Hirschbeck’s mind. It also proved to be his undoing.

  With a summer thunderstorm rolling across the Chesapeake Bay, Hirschbeck employed his windshield wipers, which swept furiously back and forth to maintain a clear field of vision. He pulled up to a stoplight and watched as the rain pelted the pavement, almost bouncing across the road. His phone rang, and he pushed the hands-free option on his steering wheel.

  “This is Hirschbeck.”

  “Sir, I wanted to inform you that Senator Blunt has positioned one of his assassins in Afghanistan,” said the man tasked with running his secret program.

  “For what purpose?”

  “It’s unclear at this point, but we believe he’s going after another Al Hasib asset.”

  Hirschbeck slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “That old man is going to set us back fifty years in foreign relations once this blows up in his face.”

  “Do we have any assets on the ground there?”

  “There’s a U.S. military installation in Zaranj, which was the assassin’s last known location.”

  The light turned green, and Hirschbeck eased onto the gas. “No, that’s too messy and difficult to explain. I’m thinking someone more covert.”

  “We do have an asset in Zaranj—a guy by the name of Frank Culbert. He’s mostly just there to monitor local activity, more like an analyst than anything. Works with the Peace Corps as his cover.”

  “Think he can handle the job?”

  “It might be a bit of a stretch.”

  “Task him with it and give me a full report. I want this taken care of within two weeks at the most. Tell him it’s got to be neat and to let us know if he needs help with clean up.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  Hirschbeck hung up and eased onto the brake pedal again as the traffic light tottering from a wire draped across the street turned red.

  His phone rang again. He growled and answered it.

  “What?”

  “Why so angry?” the other caller asked. “You ever consider taking yoga classes or looking into meditation?”

  “I have considered quitting.”

  “Your country needs you, Senator. Besides, we put you here for a reason, and you must not forget why.”

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t.”

  “Excellent. So, how are things going with eliminating Senator Blunt’s Project Z? Have you defunded him yet?”

  “We hit a small snag there, sir.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, the committee took fifty million from my project and gave it to his.”

  “Good thing you aren’t really funded by that petty cash fund then, isn’t it?”

  Hirschbeck chuckled. “If he only knew.”

  “Well, inside jokes aside, this is still a setback.”

  “Yes, but we have a bead on Blunt’s top operative, who we have reason to believe will be making a move soon.”

  “Good. Let’s eliminate him as soon as possible. If we can’t cut off the head of the snake, let’s cut off its body.”

  “I’ll keep you posted, sir.”

  Hirschbeck hung up and headed down the road again, exiting the city and climbing into the Virginia hills, where he lived on a secluded lot in a heavily wooded area. He navigated his car up the winding roads as the rain subsided.

  When the car behind edged closer than he was comfortable with, he adjusted his rearview mirror, annoyed that the vehicle’s bright headlights were making it difficult for him to see. He tapped his brakes a couple of time, hoping that the driver got the hint to back off. Instead, the car roared up behind him and tapped him.

  Hirschbeck stomped on the gas and roared forward. And so did the car tailing him. It hit Hirschbeck twice more before driving him off the road and into a ditch.

  When Hirschbeck’s car came to a stop, it did so with a sudden thud against a Virginia oak. He fought off the airbag that had inflated from the steering wheel and tried to open the door. He couldn’t since it was jammed due to the force of the hit that apparently bent the car’s frame.

  Hirschbeck slid into the passenger’s seat and tried to get out there. That door wouldn’t budge either. However, the automatic window still worked. He depressed the button and the glass slid down. Hirschbeck pulled himself up and through the window. The rain returned, ripping through the canopy above with fierce determination.

  The moment Hirschbeck’s feet hit the forest floor a hard object hit him in the head. Knocked off balance, Hirschbeck tried to spin around and face his attacker, but he couldn’t, instead tumbling to the ground.

  The man pounced on top of Hirschbeck and rolled him over, pulling out a gun and jamming it into his forehead.

  “Why are you doing this?” Hirschbeck asked. “I didn’t mean to tap my brakes.”

  The man glared down at him. “This isn’
t about road rage.”

  “Then what is this about? Maybe we can work something out.”

  The man smiled and shook his head. “Senator Blunt sends his greetings.”

  Then he pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 34

  WHEN HAWK WENT DEEP COVER, Alex had more free time on her hands than she preferred. Instead of coordinating missions, she hacked databases and looked at ways to expose underground terrorist cells. It was a valuable way to spend her time, just not that exciting. The cyberspace world never held much allure for her despite how vital it was to the success of their missions.

  She’d last heard from Hawk three weeks prior, and she wasn’t sure when she’d hear from him again. Though she vowed to maintain a professional relationship, she struggled to keep herself from developing feelings for him. He was a globe-trotting assassin, and she knew there’d never be much of a life with him even if she ever had a chance. But that didn’t stop her from letting her mind wander.

  After she finished rooting out low-level terrorists online one afternoon, she decided to do some unauthorized snooping on Hawk. If she couldn’t get to know him better in person, maybe she could find something to help her connect with him through personnel files.

  As Alex started to look into a number of files with Hawk’s name attached to them, she noticed something strange.

  What is that all about?

  Several of the files were restricted. Using her hacker prowess, she managed to crack a few of them. However, even within each file, there were still portions that remained classified as top secret, and figuring out a workaround proved to be a challenge.

  Undaunted, Alex figured out a way past the firewalls preventing her from getting a look at the classified information.

  At first, most of the information seemed benign. Then something caught her eye and made her gasp.

  Hawk’s never gonna believe this.

  CHAPTER 35

  WHEN RAJA TAWHID FAILED to show up for class after three days, Hawk decided to go to his house and find out what happened. A woman wearing a burqa answered the door.