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What Others Are Saying
About R.J. Patterson
“R.J. Patterson does a fantastic job at keeping you engaged and interested. I look forward to more from this talented author.”
- Aaron Patterson, bestselling author of SWEET DREAMS
“Patterson has a mean streak about a mile wide and puts his two main characters through quite a horrible ride, which makes for good reading.”
- Richard D., reader
“Like a John Grisham novel, from the very start I was pulled right into the story and couldn’t put the book down. It was as if I personally knew and cared about what happened to each of the main characters. Every chapter ended with so much excitement and suspense I had to continue to read until I learned how it ended, even though it kept me up until 3:00 A.M.
- Ray F., reader
DEAD SHOT
“Small town life in southern Idaho might seem quaint and idyllic to some. But when local newspaper reporter Cal Murphy begins to uncover a series of strange deaths that are linked to a sticky spider web of deception, the lid on the peaceful town is blown wide open. Told with all the energy and bravado of an old pro, first-timer R.J. Patterson hits one out of the park his first time at bat with Dead Shot. It’s that good.”
-Vincent Zandri, bestselling author of THE REMAINS
“You can tell R.J. knows what it’s like to live in the newspaper world, but with Dead Shot, he’s proven that he also can write one heck of a murder mystery.”
- Josh Katzowitz,
NFL writer for CBSSports.com
& author of Sid Gillman: Father of the Passing Game
DEAD LINE
“This book kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. I didn’t really want to put it down. R.J. Patterson has hooked me. I’ll be back for more.”
- Bob Behler
3-time Idaho broadcaster of the year
and play-by-play voice for Boise State football
DEAD IN THE WATER
“In Dead in the Water, R.J. Patterson accurately captures the action-packed saga of a what could be a real-life college football scandal. The sordid details will leave readers flipping through the pages as fast as a hurry-up offense.”
- Mark Schlabach,
ESPN college sports columnist and
co-author of Called to Coach
Heisman: The Man Behind the Trophy
Other titles by R.J. Patterson
Brady Hawk series
First Strike
Deep Cover
Point of Impact
Full Blast
Target Zero
Fury
State of Play
Seige
Seek and Destroy
Into the Shadows
Hard Target
No Way Out
Two Minutes to Midnight
Against All Odds
Any Means Necessary
Vengeance
Code Red
A Deadly Force
Divide and Conquer
Cal Murphy Thriller series
Dead Shot
Dead Line
Better off Dead
Dead in the Water
Dead Man's Curve
Dead and Gone
Dead Wrong
Dead Man's Land
Dead Drop
Dead to Rights
Dead End
James Flynn Thriller series
The Warren Omissions
Imminent Threat
The Cooper Affair
Seeds of War
A DEADLY FORCE
A Brady Hawk Thriller
R.J. PATTERSON
For Jerry, a good friend,
and even better husband and father
CHAPTER 1
Dubai, UAE
BRADY HAWK SMOOTHED both lapels on his jacket and then adjusted his pocket square. Standing behind the coat check counter in the Burj Al Arab Jumeirah hotel restaurant was the perfect location to eye every guest. It was also the best place to nab Max Littleton’s thumb drive full of dangerous secrets. Hawk smiled and nodded at Littleton as he entered the dining area, hoping to catch his attention.
All the intel on Littleton showed that the former Colton Industries engineer was a meticulous man as well as a creature of habit. The CIA put Littleton under surveillance several months earlier when he reportedly absconded with some of his company’s top prototype weapon designs. Even worse, he planned to sell them to Russian arms dealer Andrei Orlovsky. However, instead of detaining Littleton, the agency decided to see what he would do with the information.
Littleton always checked his blazers when he entered restaurants. And he always kept his flash drive in his inside coat pocket. Several of the CIA reports highlighted how Littleton’s carelessness with such a prized possession made him vulnerable, exposing his amateurism in the world of espionage. But one agent contradicted those conclusions, surmising that Littleton feared getting arrested in public with the stolen information in his possession and that checking his coat was a way to keep the device but not get caught with it.
Whether Littleton was sloppy or cautious, Hawk was positioned to take advantage of the move, ready to swap out the flash drive without the engineer suspecting anything.
“Good evening, sir,” Hawk said. “May I take your coat?”
Littleton tilted his head down and peered over the top of his dark-rimmed glasses. “Not today. Thank you.”
Hawk nodded and forced a smile. “Enjoy your dinner, sir.”
Littleton shuffled over toward the hostess out of earshot before Hawk spoke.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” Hawk said into his coms. “Littleton refused to give me his coat.”
“That’s a first,” said Tim Carson, Hawk’s onsite partner from the CIA.
“It’s also why we always have a plan B,” said Alex, Hawk’s wife and handler. “I thought you would’ve learned that by now.”
“But plan A was so easy,” Hawk said. “For once I’d like one of our ops to run smoothly.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Carson asked. “Besides, if you made the simple switch, I’d be dressed in this janitor’s uniform for nothing.”
“Just hang tight and keep your fingers crossed,” Hawk said. “If all goes well, I’ll be guiding the asset in your direction momentarily.”
Hawk strode over to the bar and asked for a glass of wine, suggesting that he was helping out one of the other servers. Despite a wary glance from the bartender, he poured a drink for Hawk, who promptly placed it on a tray and meandered across the room toward Littleton.
“I’m approaching the target now,” Hawk said. “Wish me luck.”
“If you can’t land a wine glass in a man’s lap, this mission is going nowhere fast,” Alex said.
“I make no apologies about preferring to shoot a man from a half-mile away,” Hawk said. “Clumsily tipping a drink onto an unsuspecting diner wasn’t in my Navy SEAL training.”
“I’d heard Navy training was getting soft these days, but I just didn’t realize how much so,” deadpanned Carson.
“Everyone’s a comedian today, aren’t they?” Hawk asked.
As he neared Littleton’s table, Hawk glanced around the room to see if anyone was paying him any attention. They weren’t. Satisfied that he was clear to proceed, he turned and feigned a stumble, splashing the red liquid all over Littleton’s pants and white dress shirt.
Littleton shoved his chair backward with his knees as he stood. Staring slack-jawed at his drenched clothes, he tried to dab his pants with his napkin.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Hawk said. “Let me help you with that.”
Littleton drew back as his eyes widened. “I think you’ve done enough already.”
“Sir, please. I insist.”
Hawk whipped out his pocket square and began mopping up the excess liquid on Littleton’s pants. However, the engineer jumped back.
“Do you mind?” Littleton asked before muttering a slew of expletives.
“Let me show you to the restroom,” Hawk said.
Littleton sighed and looked at his lunch guest. “I’m sorry. It’ll only take a moment for me to clean this up.”
The man nodded and leaned back in his chair. Meanwhile, two waiters rushed over to attend to Hawk’s mess that had attracted the attention of nearby diners.
Hawk gestured toward the restroom with an extended hand and scurried after Littleton. Embarrassed by the stain, he used his napkin to keep the spot on his shirt hidden.
When they reached the restroom, Carson was mopping the floor, appearing disinterested as he bobbed his head to the music blaring through his earbuds. Hawk flashed a faint smile at Carson who kept easing his mop across the wet ground. In the event that they had to resort to their backup plan, Carson was prepared, stocking his cart with a stain remover. Hawk hustled over to his partner and grabbed the cleaning solvent.
“Let me help you with that,” Hawk said as he took the front of Littleton’s shirt and sprayed the cleaner all over it. “Again, I’m so sorry, sir. I should’ve been more careful.”
Littleton stopped and studied Hawk closely. “Is that a Texas accent I detect in your voice?”
Hawk nodded and held up his right hand as if he was being sworn in. “Guilty as charged. American by birth, Texan by the grace of God.”
Littleton chuckled at the response. “Nice to hear a familiar accent over here. We Texans need to stick together.”
Hawk nodded. “No question about that. Where are you from? East Texas? West Texas? God forbid one of those sprawling metropolises that’s just ruining our great state.”
Littleton shrugged. “Houston, though I grew up just outside of Lubbock.”
“So, you’re not a transplant?”
“Born and raised,” Littleton said. “I only leave the state to deal with pressing business matters. Regardless of where I go in the world, my mind is always back home in the Lone Star state. It’d be foolish to live anywhere else.”
Hawk extended his hands toward Littleton’s coat. “Let me take that for you and see if I can clean it up. I saw a little bit splash on the sleeves there.”
“Sure,” Littleton said, his tone sufficiently softened by their connection. He handed his jacket to Hawk, who wasted no time in slipping his hand inside Littleton’s coat pocket and palming the device.
Carson eased past them and snatched the flash drive from Hawk’s hand. Hawk shot him a knowing glance before Carson disappeared into the far corner of the room.
While Hawk would’ve scrubbed furiously if his intent had been to remove the stain, he worked his way methodically across the sleeve with his rag in order to give Carson enough time.
“How’s it coming, Carson?” Alex asked over the coms.
“I’m having a little trouble cracking the encryption on this thing,” Carson whispered.
“We don’t have much time, so hurry it up, will ya?”
Hawk listened to the banter in his ear and wished Alex had been able to accompany him on the trip. However, due to the nature of the mission, Carson was chosen because of his computer wizardry. And being a man in a Muslim country also contributed to the decision to pass over Alex.
Come on, come on. I can’t stall forever.
“This shirt almost looks spotless,” Littleton said. “Just a faint stain here. It won’t save the shirt, but at least I won’t be embarrassed the rest of the day.”
Hawk stopped what he was doing and peered at Littleton’s work. “Nice job. Maybe you can show me how to work such magic on this sleeve. I’m not making as much headway as you did.”
Littleton frowned as he looked over the top of his glasses and surveyed the spot on the sleeve. “No need to be so ornery,” he said, directing the comment at his coat.
Without hesitating, Littleton dipped his rag beneath the water and went to work.
“Looks like you’ve almost got it,” Hawk said, encouraging Littleton while simultaneously alerting Carson that time was almost up.
“Carson?” Alex said. “Where are you at with this thing?”
Carson sighed. “I’m still having trouble with—”
After a moment of silence, Alex sought answers. “What is it?” she asked.
“I just got in,” he said. “Give me a minute.”
“I don’t think you’ve got a minute.”
Hawk cringed as he listened to the news. Carson had told him that he needed at least a minute to download the designs from the flash drive and upload dummy files as well as a faux encryption key. And based on how Littleton was moving, Carson was going to have thirty seconds at best.
Littleton held up his coat and studied the sleeves for a moment. “Now no one will think I’m a slob.”
“That’s always a good thing,” Hawk said. “It definitely increases your chances with the ladies. They like men who are put together.”
Littleton shook his head. “Never had much luck with the ladies no matter how neat I am. Perhaps if I knew how to carry on a conversation without stumbling over my words, I might get a second date once in a while.”
Hawk smiled. “Again, sir, I’m incredibly sorry about all this.”
Littleton slapped Hawk on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll survive the rest of the day, and no one will be the wiser.”
“You’re probably right, sir,” Hawk said as he watched the engineer slip into his coat.
Littleton inspected his coat once more and then strode toward the door—and the flash drive was still nowhere to be seen.
“Almost there,” Carson said into the coms. “Stall him for ten more seconds, Hawk.”
“Sir, just a moment,” Hawk said as he walked across the room after Littleton. “You forgot something.”
Littleton placed his hand on the door before stopping and turning. “What is it, Tex?”
Hawk’s mind went into overdrive as he tried to concoct a reason to stop Littleton from exiting the restroom.
“Your pocket square, sir,” Hawk said. “It’s a little crooked.”
Carson flushed the toilet and emerged from the stall. He seamlessly slipped the device into Hawk’s hand, which he held behind his back.
Then Hawk approached Littleton and stood eye to eye with the engineer before taking his jacket by the lapels and easing the flash drive back into the coat pocket. Hawk pulled Littleton’s blazer taut before brushing off a piece of lint on his right shoulder.
“Now you’ll be able to survive the day—and maybe get a second date, too, if you so wish,” Hawk said.
“Thanks,” Littleton said before he spun and exited.
When the door fell shut, Hawk exhaled and turned toward Carson. “What the hell was that?”
“You thought plan B was going to run smoothly after our first idea bombed?” Carson asked.
“I never anticipate everything going as planned, but I thought they brought you on because you were some computer genius and could crack any encryption in a matter of seconds.”
“Perhaps my skills were oversold a little bit.”
Hawk shook his head. “That almost cost us this operation. And we can’t be setting off alarm bells when we’re in this deep.”
“Just relax, will ya? It all worked out.”
Hawk set his jaw and clenched his fist. For a moment, he contemplated punching Carson.
“Do better next time,” Hawk said. “We don’t have the margins to be screwing around here. Every other scenario that could’ve happened would’ve torpedoed this mission, especially our chances of digging deeper into what Orlovsky is up to.�
�
While Hawk and Alex had earlier retrieved a list of clients from Orlovsky’s computer, specific information about who exactly some of the people were and how to contact them were unclear. However, the CIA recognized they had an opportunity to embed a virus onto Orlovsky’s computer that would create backdoor access. Hawk pleaded with Phoenix Foundation director J.D. Blunt to let Alex join them, but he deferred to the CIA, who had assumed command of the operation. With Carson’s near flub, Hawk hoped that would be worthy ammunition to convince the agency that his wife was the best operative with extraordinary skills when it came to computers and various other forms of electronics.
Carson met Hawk’s gaze and locked there for a moment. Nothing was said, but it was clear that the CIA’s darling didn’t like getting called out for sloppy work.
“Let’s get upstairs,” Carson said. “They’re going to make the exchange soon if everything is going well.”
Hawk followed Carson out of the restroom and down a long hallway before taking the stairwell up to the fifth floor. Once they entered their room and shut the door, Carson held up his index finger, signaling for Hawk to be silent. Carson walked across the room and picked up a gray box about the size of a matchbox and flipped a switch.
“Please speak freely,” Carson said.
“I thought I already was,” Hawk fired back.
“Look, I get it. I know you’re upset that we barely were able to get the device back into Littleton’s pocket in time, but we did,” Carson said. “So just chill out. I may not have been your first choice, but we got the job done.”
“It’s not over yet,” Hawk said as he settled onto the foot of the bed in front of several monitors that Carson set up on the dresser. “Littleton still has to go through with it. And I’m not sure he has the stomach for it.”
Carson raised his eyebrows. “You get a soft spot for that traitor all of a sudden just because he said some nice things about Texas?”
“Just call it a hunch,” Hawk said. “But even if he does go through with it, he should be easy to extract all the necessary information from once you capture him.”
Brady Hawk 18 - A Deadly Force Page 1
