CHAPTER 38
DEMBY PARKED HIS SUV in a small clearing in the jungle and dialed a number on his cell phone. Around him, a hive of activity began with the simple wave of his hand. Armed guards scurried across the jungle floor, preparing several transport vehicles. Deeper in the jungle covered with branches was a truck. Demby scanned the area as he waited for the party on the other end of his call to pick up.
Demby’s Al Hasib contact had left him several messages, each one demanding to know if they were still moving forward with the deal. On the final voicemail, the Al Hasib agent sounded irked and impatient.
“Where are the diamonds?” the man said.
Demby sighed. “They’re with me. I’ll be leaving shortly with them.”
“And the missiles?”
“I’m afraid you lost out to a higher bidder.”
“We had a deal and—”
“I’m always open to negotiations, and this particular client doubled your price.”
“Karif Fazil won’t be happy about this.”
Demby chuckled. “And what’s he going to do about it? I am, after all, the only way he’s able to liquidate assets without getting caught.”
The agent wasn’t amused. “Don’t underestimate Fazil. He will take your mine if he wants to.”
“I’d like to see him try.”
“Will you be at the drop-off point in an hour?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Don’t be late.”
Demby hung up and watched the men busily preparing for the trip ahead with one of the smaller trucks, while another team uncovered the missile transport truck and gassed it up. In one fell swoop, he was going to make not one but two big scores. Once he got his money, he had no intention of ever spending another day at Sefadu Holdings. He’d pay someone else to manage day-to-day operations while he lived it up on a beach somewhere. He’d heard the Caribbean was a nice place to live.
However, he refused to let himself smile, even though the urge was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t going to relax until he had the money in his bank account and was flying over the ocean.
Demby still had a long way to go.
CHAPTER 39
HAWK PULLED A LOW-HANGING BRANCH to the side and studied the camp that apparently served as the base of operations for Demby’s other enterprises. A thin veil of fog settled over the jungle canopy as midmorning rays of sunlight speckled the ground. Munitions and weapons were stacked in crates six feet high on one side of the camp; a loaded missile transport truck sat parked on the other. Visser leaned up against the missile truck along with Soto and Perryman.
How come I’m not surprised?
In the two minutes he’d spent observing, Hawk concocted a rough plan of attack. But he never had the chance to enact it.
Hawk whipped his head in the direction of a covered flatbed truck that roared to life. Demby stood nearby and barked orders. Hawk couldn’t make out everything that was said, but he heard enough to know what was on board.
Without hesitating, Hawk broke into a dead sprint, managing to stay parallel to the truck and using the thick vegetation to stay hidden from the guards patrolling the area. Upon entering the compound, Hawk discovered that Demby used a camouflaged fence for security purposes. If Hawk’s calculations were right, he’d have enough time to jump into the back of the empty flatbed truck when it slowed to get through the gate.
Hawk panted as he crouched down, waiting for his moment to strike. The truck came to a halt before one of the guards opened the gate to allow passage. Once the vehicle reached the main road, the guard secured the gate and hustled back to the cab. That was Hawk’s cue.
He dashed after the truck, this time clambering aboard the flatbed of the transport vehicle as it lurched forward while the driver shifted gears. Refraining from taking immediate action in order to avoid the possibility of Demby’s men happening up on them, Hawk didn’t move for a couple of minutes. In his mind, he visualized every punch he was about to throw, every kick he was about to deliver. He never saw himself losing.
With a deep breath, Hawk initiated his plan. His first challenge was to scale the outside of the truck in order to gain access to the cab. He’d almost made it to the cab when he saw the door spring open and a guard turn to take aim. Anticipating the move, Hawk kicked the gun out of the man’s hands before swinging into the cab.
Hawk kicked the man in the face before wrapping his feet around the man’s head. Hawk twisted until he heard the man’s neck snap. Flinging the guard’s body out of the truck, Hawk looked up to see the driver training a gun on him.
The driver took aim and fired a shot, hitting Hawk in the left shoulder. When the driver went for a second shot, the gun jammed. Then the driver pulled out a large knife and waved it in Hawk’s direction.
“Out—now, or else I stop this truck and carve you up,” the driver said, gesturing for Hawk to exit the cab. “I didn’t get the nickname ‘The Butcher’ on accident.”
The driver was so focused on Hawk that he didn’t have time to prepare for the pothole that jarred both men when the front tires slammed it at sixty kilometers per hour.
Seizing the opportunity created when The Butcher’s knife slipped out of his hand, Hawk lunged for the steering wheel and jerked it hard to the right. The man resisted admirably, landing a few punches on Hawk but failing to regain control of the steering wheel.
As the truck rumbled along, Hawk edged it closer to the trees lining the left side of the road. Once they got close enough, Hawk grabbed the steering wheel and used it as leverage to jam his feet into The Butcher’s rib cage, prying lose his hands. Then Hawk used his foot to reach across The Butcher and open the driver’s side door. Hawk followed up with another kick that sent The Butcher flying out of the cab and into a tree. Even above the roar of the engine, Hawk could hear the thud and cracking of the man’s ribs.
That ought to take care of him.
Hawk gained control of the vehicle before stomping on the brakes. He rifled through the glove box in search of the diamonds.
Nothing.
He checked a toolbox underneath the passenger’s seat.
No diamonds.
Hawk pounded the steering wheel with his fist. He knew he didn’t imagine them being there.
“Looking for these?” came a voice from behind Hawk.
Hawk spun around to see the driver holding up the sack of diamonds.
“I’ll take that now,” Hawk said.
“Over my dead body,” the man said as he staggered toward Hawk.
Without waiting another second, the man shoved the diamonds into his pocket and rushed Hawk.
Hawk needed only two hits to incapacitate the man, hitting him once in the neck before delivering a punishing blow to the face. Hawk jostled behind The Butcher and quickly snapped his neck.
The Butcher collapsed onto the ground. Hawk yanked the diamonds out of the man’s pocket and stared at the limp body beneath him.
“Words have meanings, mate,” Hawk said, mocking the fresh corpse. “Next time try not to be so literal, okay?”
Hawk rushed back to the truck and drove back toward the camp, crashing through the camouflaged fence and storming into the staging area of the compound. In need of a high-powered weapon, he slammed on the brakes and skidded the truck to a stop in front of the munitions. The truck served as a cover for him to arm himself and as a bunker to fight from.
Beneath a hail of bullets, Hawk scrambled to find the right weapon and get it operational. It took twenty seconds—twenty agonizingly long seconds—to get armed and start fighting.
Using one of the AK-47s in the crates, Hawk started methodically picking off Soto and Perryman along with the half dozen remaining guards. However, Hawk realized he hadn’t killed all of them: Visser and Demby remained.
On the other side of the camp, the missile transport truck fired up with Visser occupying the driver’s seat and Demby assembling a rocket launcher in the cab next to him.
Oh, hell, no. I’m not
getting on another moving vehicle today.
Hawk ran toward them and peppered the cab with his machine gun.
Visser seemed unfazed and drove ahead.
Careful not to destroy the missiles, Hawk raced back toward the weapons cache and opened a grenade launcher. All he needed to do was disable the truck, confident he could handle Visser and Demby on the ground.
Working quickly to assemble the launcher, Hawk kept one eye on the truck, which was on the cusp of exiting the camp when he saw it surprisingly come to a stop.
It must be Christmas.
Hawk raced in the direction of the truck, staying low in the vegetation surrounding the camp. If they hadn’t seen him, he’d have the element of surprise on his side as well as plenty of trees to take cover in if they came after him.
Demby jumped out of the cab, his feet hitting the ground with a solid thud.
“Come on out, Mr. Martin,” Demby said, toting a rocket launcher. “I have a surprise for you.”
Hawk bit his lip, unwilling to give up his location over a childish taunt. Maneuvering through the bushes to get a plain view of the front of the truck, Hawk steadied his launcher and fired. The grenade hit the right front portion of the cab, setting off an explosion that started a small fire. Demby suffered an indirect blow and lay motionless five meters away from the initial point of impact.
While scanning the area for Visser, Hawk heard a motorcycle kick start before he saw it rumbling along the road toward the exit. Still out of sight, Hawk waited for the right moment and then heaved a large stone at the front tire of Visser’s bike. Upon contact with the rock, the bike wobbled. Visser overcompensated and lay the bike down.
Hawk didn’t want to take any chances with Visser, putting two bullets in Visser’s chest and another one in his head before returning focus to Demby.
By the time Hawk reached Demby, the fire at the front of the truck was raging. Crawling toward the trees for a safe haven, Demby struggled. And Hawk had no interest in extending the monster any mercy.
He used his foot to roll Demby onto his back. Bruised and bleeding, Demby was in no shape to fight. But Hawk made sure Demby heard a final lecture before putting him out of his misery.
Demby looked up at Hawk but said nothing.
Hawk pulled out the sack of diamonds and dangled them in the air.
“I know these may just look like regular diamonds to you, but I’ll tell you what these diamonds really do,” Hawk said. “They murder and maim innocent children. They lead to the death and destruction of families and livelihoods and nations—and all so you can get your cut. You disgust me.”
Hawk shook his head and glanced around the compound to make sure no one else was moving. They weren’t.
“Now, I’m going to do what you should’ve done to me when you had the chance—kill me quickly.” Hawk trained his gun on Demby, who cowered behind both of his hands.
Hawk pulled the trigger, emptying three shots into Demby.
“By the way, my name’s not Martin—it’s Hawk.”
CHAPTER 40
BLUNT’S FEET RHYTHMICALLY POUNDED the treadmill in his downstairs gym. Locked away in his fortress in a posh enclave in McLean, he considered his home a safe haven, untouchable by anyone in the outside world, cordial or nefarious. Home was the only place he wanted to be while he sorted out what was going on. His position within The Chamber seemed tenuous at best as he was unsure whom in the group he could trust. Perhaps Lord Williams acted alone or he was acting on orders from the group wielding the most power. Blunt needed answers; he needed a plan.
The sun had crested the towering pines that covered the back of his hilly lot, which stretched to the edge of Bullneck Run Creek. Blunt finished his workout and put on a pot of coffee while he pondered a path that didn’t result in his death. When he decided to first engage with The Chamber and become their inside guy in D.C., he knew this was a possible eventual outcome, though he never wanted to admit it. The money proved to be a helpful perk, but the power intoxicated him. He’d been around D.C. long enough to know that whoever sat in the Oval Office was nothing more than a puppet. Democrat, Republican—it didn’t matter. Those leaders immortalized in the history books did the bidding of special interest groups. Blunt learned it was all an illusion. The real power rested with those who operated outside the bounds of archaic documents and tired unified organizations like the U.S. Constitution and the U.N. Security Council. And Blunt enjoyed exercising such power.
He broke out of his trance when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Blunt poured a cup of coffee and took a sip before answering.
If I could just stay here and drink the world’s finest coffee every day . . .
“This is Blunt,” he said as he answered his phone.
It was Hawk, who proceeded to give the run down on everything that had just happened, including seizing the weapons and taking control of the diamonds.
“Great. Bury the diamonds and then send me the location. Also include the coordinates for the missiles. I’ll arrange to have someone pick them all up.”
“You sure you want to leave that to chance?” Hawk asked. “I just left a high body count here. Who’s to say that more men aren’t on their way?”
“This isn’t a discussion.”
“I know I can sneak the diamonds back. You’ll have no way of verifying if you’ve been stiffed or not.”
“Just follow my orders, Hawk. You’ve done all that I’ve asked you to do and more. It’s time to get you back home.”
Blunt hung up and proceeded to dial General Patrick.
“The package is almost ready,” Blunt said. “I’m sending you the coordinates for the pickup in just a few minutes.”
“You’re going to owe me big time,” Patrick said.
“How about we call it even after this is all over with? Besides, you’re going to be a hero for seizing back those stolen missiles right from underneath the terrorist’s noses.”
“It’ll be a lie.”
“Some lies are worth being told and repeated. Your career will thank you for it.”
“Quite frankly, I’m just hoping I don’t regret it.”
Blunt took another sip of his coffee. “All you have to do for me is return a small sack of diamonds, no questions asked. Think you can do that?”
“Why would I ever ask you a question in the first place? I never get straight answers.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“We’ll await your instructions.”
Blunt pumped his fist. “Excellent. I’ll be in touch.”
He hung up the phone and, for the first time in several years, started to dream about the future. He had hope that not only could he resolve his issues with The Chamber, but that he could thrive within their structure—or maybe shed them altogether.
Blunt sent out an email to request a meeting with one of The Chamber’s agents. The request was readily accepted. Blunt had plenty of questions that needed to be answered, including who was the hacker named Bare Bones and was he or she affiliated with anyone in The Chamber. If he could get all his questions answered, he might be able to make sense of what was happening and forge a path forward.
The fog of fear and uncertainty started to lift as he grew confident he’d find out what he needed to know.
He lit a cigar and jammed it into his mouth. The last loose end he needed to tie up was the affair with Liam Jepsen. Blunt still hadn’t heard back from Thor, though he didn’t have to in order to know that Jepsen was still alive. Without a peep uttered about it on the news, it was clear nothing had happened. Blunt would have to chase down his operative and find out what was causing the delay tomorrow.
But for now, Blunt was back.
CHAPTER 41
TWO DAYS AFTER RETURNING from Sierra Leone, Hawk settled into a booth in the back of the cafe at The National Archives facility in College Park. He was anxious to hear what Alex refused to tell him over the phone. If he was honest with himself, he’d grown quite fond of her
since they started working together. The feeling of being attracted to a woman seemed foreign to him after he bitterly swore off romance following Jessica’s death. But the feeling in his chest seemed strangely familiar the moment Alex walked around the corner.
Hawk stood up and greeted her with a hug, the first time he’d made such a bold move.
“Don’t you look nice,” Hawk said, gesturing for her to have a seat. “I got you a coffee. Are you hungry?”
“No, thanks. I’m going out to eat tonight with a friend.”
Hawk cocked his head to one side. “A friend? What kind of friend?”
“Just a guy friend who helped me out with some work-related projects. No big deal.”
“So, you’ve got a date?”
“Heaven help us if K-Squared thinks it’s an actual date.”
“Wait—the guy’s name is K-Squared?”
“He’s a hacker and—”
Hawk held up his hand. “You don’t need to say anything else. Hackers inhabit their own ethos that I don’t care to enter into.”
“Me either, but sometimes you have to take one for the team.”
“Well, that’s a shame because I was going to see if you want to watch Mughal-E-Azam with me tonight? It’s one of my favorites and playing at the Georgetown Theater for Bollywood Week.”
“One of my favorites, too. Now I’m wondering if I can avoid taking one for the team.”
Hawk chuckled and leaned forward. “So, what’s this big secret that you couldn’t tell me on the phone?”
Alex glanced around the room. She and Hawk were the only two people in the cafe, but she still leaned in close, speaking in a hushed voice.
“When I broke into The Vault at CIA headquarters, your father’s file was empty.”
“Figures,” Hawk said. “They’ve been trying to hide everything from me. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“Oh, no. There’s more. Being the snoopy person that I am, I ventured over to your last name and looked up your file.”
Deep Cover (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 2) Page 14
