“Come here and give your old man a hug,” Colton said as he moved closer to Hawk. “You’re never too big to give me a hug.”
Hawk forced a smile and dropped his bags as he gave Colton a half-hearted hug.
Colton slapped Hawk on the back as he collected his bags again. “Here, Son, let me help you with that.”
After a short back-and-forth tussle, Hawk relented and let Colton carry one of his laptop bags.
Colton took the lead and headed up the stairs, checking over his shoulder to make sure Hawk was behind him. “When I heard you were dropping in, I was ecstatic. I got us an 8:30 a.m. tee time tomorrow at Choctaw Course. I’m dying to try out the new driver I just bought.”
“I’ve got a flight back to D.C. tomorrow at 10:15, so I won’t be able to stay for golf.”
Colton reached the top of the stairs and stopped. “Why so short of a stay, son? We’ve got some catching up to do.”
“Unfortunately, I’ve got some pressing business to attend to.”
“So, this isn’t a social visit?”
“Not in the least.”
Colton sighed. “Well, a dad can hope, can’t he?”
Hawk forced another smile and put his bag down in his room before quickly exiting.
Colton dropped Hawk’s bag and followed him out of the room. “Do you at least have time to eat some of the pork barbecue I’ve been smoking for the past two days out back?”
Hawk nodded, and the first genuine smile since he arrived spread across his face. “I’ve always got time for that.”
Hawk headed for the back deck, following his nose. The scent of the barbecue almost carried him there. The hickory wood and Colton’s special marinade overwhelmed Hawk as he opened the glass door leading outside.
“Now this is some serious barbecue,” Hawk said as he reached for the smoker’s handle.
“Uh-uh,” Colton said. “What have I told you about opening the smoker before it’s time?”
“I know. I know. If the heat escapes, so does the flavor.”
“Exactly.” He paused. “Which is why I’m befuddled over your refusal to abide by rule number four of my barbecue manual. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times not to open the smoker until it’s time.”
Hawk looked down at his feet, feeling reminiscent of his childhood. It seemed ridiculous to experience shame as an adult over a mild scolding from Colton, but he did.
The fact that Colton wasn’t even his biological father made it seem even more ludicrous than it was.
How can anyone have this much control over me?
Hawk tried to brush it off and hide his emotions, but he couldn’t. He’d stared down some of the meanest terrorists the planet had to offer, yet when Colton chastised him, he reverted back to being a little kid. And Colton could see it all over Hawk’s face.
“I’m sorry, Hawk. You know how I get around my smoker.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Hawk said, gritting his teeth as he uttered the last word. “It's not the first time I've received a tongue lashing from you for touching your grill.” Hawk paused for a moment and stared at the Georgia pine trees towering overhead. He decided to blow it off with a light-hearted comment. “But can you blame me? This stuff smells so good.”
Colton broke into a grin. He flung open the cooler at his feet and grabbed a couple of beers. He handed one to Hawk. “Have a seat. Let’s catch up.”
Hawk cracked open the can and settled into a chair across from Colton. “What do you want to know?”
“How are things working out with you and Senator Blunt?”
Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know I—?”
“Son, I know everything about you. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the CEO of the nation’s biggest weapons manufacturing company—and we also happen to make some pretty cool surveillance gadgets as well.”
“So, you spied on me?”
Colton laughed. “No, no, no. I’m just joking around with you. Blunt and I go way back. He told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah. I guess. I know you work for an off-book ops division called Firestorm. And I know you’re the lead operative for Blunt’s team.”
Hawk leaned back in his chair and tossed back half his can of beer. He then locked eyes with Colton. “It’s hard to trust a man who knows everything.”
Colton nodded slowly. “Look, it’s not like that.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not spying on you.”
“It sure feels that way. It’d be cool if you asked me some questions about what I was doing instead of using all your back channel connections to find out. You know, like normal dads do.”
Colton sighed. “Do you remember that summer you came up here to visit me when you were nine years old and didn’t know how to swim?”
Hawk nodded. “How could I forget?”
“You wanted to use that rope swing at Pettit Cove so badly you could hardly stand it. But you knew you might drown if you swung out over the lake. So, what did I do?” Colton didn’t wait for an answer. “I jumped in the water and swam out there to catch you. And do you remember what happened next?”
“I swung out on the rope and dropped into the water.”
“And who scooped you up?”
Hawk closed his eyes, reliving the scene. But he remained silent.
“Who scooped you up, Son?”
Hawk sighed. “You did.”
“Exactly. I did. And I did it because I loved you—and I still do.” Colton stood up and walked around for a moment. “Our relationship might not be a conventional father-son one, but it’s a genuine one. You can trust me no matter what, Son.”
Inside, Hawk winced at Colton’s last comment. He did every time he heard the word son come out of the man’s mouth. Maybe Colton knew the truth; at the very least, he was doing a great job of continuing the ruse. Each time he spoke the word, it was said with conviction. And Hawk fought hard not to erupt into a tirade.
For the mission.
“I know, Dad. I know.”
Colton took a swig of his beer and carefully eyed Hawk. “So, what is it you want to talk about?”
Hawk gritted his teeth and prepared to answer. He wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible, survive the night without any major conflict, and get back out in the field. It was nice to relax in such a secluded setting, but he’d never relax around Colton. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m heading to Sierra Leone for a mission, and we have sources that say some of your weapons have been stolen from South Africa.”
“And why are you going after them?”
“Apparently the South African military doesn’t want anyone knowing what a bunch of screw-ups they are to let four long-range missiles get stolen out from underneath their noses.”
“You think you can steal them back all by yourself? You do realize these are rather large weapons, don’t you?”
Hawk rolled his eyes and threw back the rest of his beer, finishing it off. “I’m supposed to track it down and let the Recces take care of the rest.”
“Why wouldn’t the Recces just handle it themselves?”
“I asked Blunt these same questions, but basically it boils down to their mere presence might jeopardize my mission—and apparently my mission is more important in the long run.”
“And what mission is that?”
Hawk shook his head and laughed. “If you’re such good friends with Blunt, ask him yourself. But I’m not really at liberty to say.”
“Fair enough.” Colton got up and checked the meat in the smoker. He didn’t touch anything on the grill and promptly shut the lid. “I do have a way of tracking all our weapons. It’s a GPS tracker we installed on every bomb, missile, and gun that we make. Nothing can detect it, and up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t think anyone knew about this piece of technology. Obviously Blunt knows something or else he wouldn’t have sent you out here. We weren’t authorized to install it becaus
e some people in the military worried that if that information fell into the wrong hands, combatants could identify secret bases around the world.”
“But you did it any way?”
“Of course. Those military officials have no idea about how all this tech works, and they live in fear of the worst. I do, too, but I plan ahead and create safety checks to ensure that the odds of a terrorist or enemy spy ever getting their hands on a device like this are next to impossible. And if they do, I’ll track them down.”
“So you already knew about this?”
“Not exactly. We still need to be notified. We certainly don’t actively monitor every weapon we manufacture. But when the situation calls for it, we’re ready.”
“And where can I get one of these devices?”
“There will be one here in the morning before you return to the airport. I’ll show you how to use it then. In the meantime, just enjoy some of the best barbecue in Big Canoe—or anywhere else for that matter.”
Hawk flashed the thumbs up sign. “Excellent.”
“Don’t worry, Son. I’ve got you covered.”
Hawk held his tongue and forced another smile.
For the mission, Hawk. For the mission.
CHAPTER 7
ALEX AWOKE SHACKLED in a CIA holding cell. Her resistance to arrest outside The Vault forced the guards to inject her with a sedative that she had finally cleared from her system. How long had it been? She couldn’t be sure, but her best guess was several hours.
She banged on the door and screamed through the small opening to let it be known that she was awake and ready to talk to someone. With her ear to the door, she could hear footsteps echoing down the hall.
A few moments later, a guard unlocked the door and an agent entered her cell. The agent wore a blank expression, unwilling to reveal how he felt about his assignment of handling her. Textbook CIA.
“Miss Duncan, so nice of you to return from the dead. I suppose you’re ready to talk now.”
Knowing all the agency’s ploys were advantageous for Alex. “Perhaps I am. But I need to make a phone call first.”
The agent cracked a faint smile. “A phone call? Do you realize you tried to break into the CIA? You don’t exactly get a phone call for something like that. We don’t operate like the Metro PD.” He paused. “But something tells me you already knew that.”
“If you give me a phone call, I won’t say a word.”
He didn’t budge. “Suit yourself. This cell can be a lonely place.”
“You can’t hold me here indefinitely.”
The agent raised an eyebrow. “I read your file—and it says you used to work for the CIA. But based on your responses, I hardly believe it. You know good and well what we can and can’t do.”
“I suggest you give me that phone call right now.”
The agent walked toward the door, his back to Alex until he spun around. “Or what?”
She rushed toward him and lunged at his waist before he pushed her aside. Lying on the ground, she looked up at him. “Have someone call Senator Blunt. He’ll vouch for me.”
The agent chuckled. “That’s what you said in your delirious state near The Vault. And we did. He denied knowing who you are.”
“You lying bastard.”
He held his hand up, middle and index finger raised. “Scout’s honor.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Miss Duncan, I suggest you take a few minutes to rethink how you want to handle this. Otherwise, you might be in here a long time.”
The agent exited her cell and locked the door behind him.
She rushed to the door and listened to make sure he was walking down the hall. Convinced that he was, she hustled to one corner of the room and fell to her knees. She rested her head in the corner, creating a shield against any camera that might be tracking her every move. If anyone was watching her, she made sure they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
Her feeble attempt to rush the agent was never intended to incite a fight—just steal his cell phone. Working quickly, she pounded out a text message to General Johnson, asking him to send a file on her computer to Director Coker. She included the appropriate code to ensure that he understood she was the one writing. As soon as she sent the message, she deleted it from the phone. If he didn’t respond within thirty minutes, she swore she’d be shocked.
Then she waited.
Ten minutes later, she heard footfalls echoing down the hallway. She knew her door was about to swing open in a matter of seconds.
“Alex Duncan,” said the man standing in front of her. It was Director Coker.
She nodded. “Director.”
He smiled. “I never thought we’d meet like this.” He paused. “It’s a shame to see you in such a sad state.”
“I doubt you mind that much.”
He shrugged. “Can’t say that I’m bothered by it, though I am a little shocked at your desperate attempt to blackmail me.”
Alex stood up, her eyes narrowed. “You think this is an attempt. I swear I’ll ruin you if you keep me in here another five minutes.”
“Give me your master copy of the file, and I’ll release you.”
She chuckled and held up her hands, displaying them bound by handcuffs. “These make it kind of hard to do much of anything, much less get you those files.”
He crossed his arms. “I need assurances that you’re going to get me that file or else you’re going to spend the night here.”
“Like the message said, you’ve got one hour to release me. And I don’t think you want to test me—not after what you did to me.”
He sighed and paced around the room. “How do I know that once I let you go, you won’t still use that video against me?”
“It’s a gamble you have to take because there’s only one thing that’s for certain: That video will go out if I’m still locked up.” She paused. “But I’m smarter than that, Director. Leverage is only good until you use it.”
Coker stuck his head out into the hallway and motioned for one of the guards. Quickly, one entered Alex’s cell and ushered her out and down the hall.
“You could’ve been one of the best here, Alex,” he said as she shuffled down the corridor.
She looked back over her shoulder. “Could’ve? I think you know I’m the best agent in the building.” She stopped. “And for the record, it was never my choice to leave.”
“See you soon, Alex. And you can bet next time I run into you, you won’t be getting off so easily.”
She started shuffling down the hall again, her eyes focused on the exit. “Looking forward to it, Director.”
CHAPTER 8
BLUNT PULLED HIS DOOR SHUT and inserted his key into the lock. Most senators leaving for an hour in the middle of the afternoon would never insult the trust of their assistants in such a manner. But not every senator ran a special black ops program that was completely off book.
He glanced at his secretary and shrugged. “State secrets in there. You can never be too careful.”
She forced a smile and nodded.
Blunt could tell it irritated her but he didn’t care. If she ever had the gall to confront him about it, he’d fire her. Besides, it wasn’t any of her business anyway how he managed his private office space.
His progress to make his next appointment was impeded by his top aide, Preston, who motioned for Blunt to go back into his office.
“I’ve got places to be,” Blunt said as he shut the door. “What’s the problem?”
“Sir, there’s an emergency security briefing a week from today, and the President personally called to make sure you were going to be there.”
“Got any idea what it’s all about?”
“I’m not sure, but a couple of days ago, I heard some buzz circulating around that there might be an attempt on the life of some foreign diplomat.”
“But you don’t know who?”
Preston shook his head.
Blunt sat on the edge of his desk and
let out a long breath. “You tell the President that I plan on being there.”
Preston cocked his head to one side. “Plan on being there?”
“Plans can change, but at this moment, I’d say it’s a good possibility that I’ll be there.”
“I’ll pass along the message.”
Blunt put his hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Do you think I should call him?”
“You seem busy. I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks.” Blunt straightened out his desk once more and followed Preston out. Once again locking the door, Blunt smiled at his secretary.
“I’m gonna try this again,” he said.
She smiled back.
Blunt didn’t make it more than a half dozen steps away from his office door before he was confronted again—this time by Alex Duncan.
“What are you doing here?” he said, his eyes bulging.
“We need to talk.”
“Can this wait? I’m in a hurry right now.”
Alex didn’t flinch. “No, it can’t.”
He huffed as he spun around and marched back toward his office, unlocking the door and flinging it open. He turned around again to face her, motioning for her to close the door before he spoke. “What’s so damn urgent that you have to break protocol and come to my office?”
“Why didn’t you vouch for me with Director Coker?”
He leaned back against his desk and shook his head. “I think the better question is why did you sneak into the CIA headquarters today? Care to tell me what you were doing there?”
“Looking for answers.”
“I don’t pay you to look for answers, Alex. I pay you to handle Hawk when he’s out wiping those terrorist pukes off the face of the earth. And that’s it. So, excuse me for not tipping my hand to Director Coker that I’m running an off book, black ops program that is operating outside the bounds of the U.S. government and military—even though you kind of already did that by simply asking someone to call me and verify your existence.”
“Good to know that I can’t count on you to have my back.”
“I’ll never have your back when you go rogue.” He took a deep breath. “Now that we have that settled, do you mind telling me what you were really doing at the CIA?”
Deep Cover (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 2) Page 3
