Brady Hawk 18 - A Deadly Force

by R. J. Patterson

  “No, not the general. You’re just trying to get me to go along with your scheme.”

  Black whipped out his phone and swiped a few times until he reached the image of his sister tied up and looking like she’d just endured a few rounds in a boxing ring against a far more physical opponent.

  Kitty’s mouth fell agape. “Well, I—how do I know you’re not lying? That just seems absurd.”

  “If you’ve been around him as much as you claim you have, I think you know the truth,” Black said. “You, perhaps more than anyone, wouldn’t want to go on protecting someone like that, would you?”

  Black understood his confrontation with Kitty would require a thorough knowledge of his opponent. Before she became arguably Washington’s most famous madam, Black learned that she had been kidnapped as a college student by one of her father’s enemies in the dark underworld of illegal sports gambling in Las Vegas. She was eventually released but not until she had spent three weeks confined to a small room with just a pillow and a blanket to comfort her each night as she slept on a concrete floor. But she never saw her father again as he was killed in a car bombing the morning before her abductors let her go.

  Black didn’t want to lead with that information, instead skillfully guiding the conversation to that point where he could wield the past as a way to pry a gap between her and Fortner.

  Kitty shook her head. “Nice try, Mr. Black. You have the version of that story I wanted everyone to know. Unfortunately for you, the tugging on my emotional heartstrings won’t work, especially since I engineered the entire episode. My father was a very abusive man, and he got a just end.”

  Black paused, unsure of what to say since his grand plan had just been thrown a curveball by a master manipulator.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re speechless, though that shouldn’t be entirely surprising since I have quite a talent for making men shut up.”

  Black glared at her.

  Kitty moved closer and patted him on the chest. “Now, I’m gonna go ditch this loser at the bar and you’re going to stay right here.”

  Black decided his pleasant approach had gone on long enough. If he was going to get Kitty Tiller to cooperate, he needed to employ a more forceful tactic.

  “No, you’re coming with me,” Black said as he opened up his coat and showed her his sidearm. “I’m not against carrying you out of here kicking and screaming. And if you try to make a scene, you and I both know you’re not going to get the benefit of the doubt from anyone. Most importantly, I doubt it will be good for your business.”

  Kitty sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “It’s very important that I find him,” Black said. “Where is he, Kitty?”

  “I have no idea. Like I said, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, I swear to God. It’s the honest truth. I haven’t seen him.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Black said. “I saw him near your apartment last night.”

  “Okay, look, I haven’t seen him, but he has his own key. He’s obviously around.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he left his phone at my apartment last night.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  She drew a long breath and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, it’s in my purse.”

  “I’ll leave you alone and walk right out of here if you’re willing to give it to me.”

  “Let me get it,” she said.

  Black kept an eye on her around the corner as she went to her seat and dug a cell phone out of her purse, ignoring the inebriated fool next to her. She returned moments later and handed it over to Black.

  “Here it is,” she said. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave discreetly. People over there were already asking questions about who you were.”

  “What’s the password?” Black asked.

  She shrugged. “Try my birthday.”

  “And what’s that date?”

  “You’re a resourceful guy,” she said with a wink. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  Black glanced at his watch. It was almost 5:00 p.m. He dialed Alex’s number to pass along the good news and see if she could give him Kitty Tiller’s birthdate.

  After a few rings, the call went to voicemail. He tried again, and it didn’t even ring before Black was listening to Alex’s message once again.

  Come on, Alex. Pick up your phone.

  CHAPTER 11

  New York City

  HAWK AND ALEX HUSTLED up to A Hand Up’s offices right at 4:30 p.m., hoping to catch Milton Reese before he left for the day. They arrived just in time to see him pulling the door shut and scrambling to insert his key into the deadbolt.

  “Mr. Reese,” Alex called, “we were hoping we’d catch you.”

  Reese turned around, and his wide smile dissipated as his gaze met the couple. “Mr. and Mrs. Davenport, I’m afraid I have to get going. Are you here to make a donation?”

  “That’s what we came down here to speak with you about,” Hawk said.

  “In that case, I can probably keep the office open for a few more minutes,” Reese said as he pushed the door open. “Please, do come in.”

  Once they were inside, he relocked the doors and slipped the keys into his pocket. “Just in case anyone else comes along, I don’t want them to think we’re still available. My assistant went home early with a cold, so I’m stuck with handling everything on my own today.”

  “Looks like you’ve got it under control,” Alex said.

  Reese ushered them into his office and gestured for them to sit in the chairs across from him. They complied as he strode around to his desk and opened up the side drawer. He retrieved a handgun and trained it on Hawk.

  “Enough with the games,” Reese said. “I want to know who the hell you people are because you sure as hell aren’t any Davenports that I could find.”

  “Oh, hey now,” Hawk said, gesturing for Reese to lower his weapon. “What’s that? Goodness me, Mr. Reese. What’s gotten into you? Perhaps you’ve had a rough day or you just need a stiff drink, but we have no idea what on Earth you’re talking about?”

  “No idea?” Reese asked as he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Alistair. I know a scam when I see one—and you two are running some sort of game. And I refuse to be taken advantage of.”

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Alex said. “We just want to help, but I’m not so sure now.”

  Sweat beading up on his forehead, Reese remained on his feet, bouncing his gun back and forth between Hawk and Alex.

  “Please put that away,” Hawk said, his hands still raised. “We just stopped by to chat. But maybe I need to find another charity to donate all this money to.”

  “Enough with the charades,” Reese said. “You’re both lying, and I can prove it.”

  “Prove what?” Alex asked, the tension in her voice rising. “I believe you told me that you looked into us and everything checked out. We’re the ones who want to give you money.”

  “Sometimes you just need to take a closer look,” Reese said. He opened a folder on his desk and spun the stack of documents around so they could see them. On top was a photo of Alex and Hawk both slinking down an alleyway with their weapons drawn.

  Hawk waved dismissively at the picture. “Look, I don’t know why anyone would feel the need to concoct such a story against us, but that image has clearly been worked over by Photoshop. I mean, I do sometimes carry a gun when I’m visiting a potential industrial property in certain sections of L.A., but we’re not out hunting anyone. This is a ridiculous accusation, compounded by the fact that you feel the need to hold us at gunpoint. I can assure you that I’ll be alerting non-profit watchdogs about your outlandish behavior.”

  “There’s nothing crazy about being wise in every circumstance,” Reese said. “Now, stay put while I tie you up.”

  “Who told you this about us? Max Ellington?” Alex
asked.

  Reese paused but didn’t answer before resuming his search. His momentary glance back at Alex signaled that she was right.

  “If Max suggested that we’re dangerous con artists, I can’t tell you how rich that is,” Hawk said. “I’ve never met a bigger thief than Mr. Ellington. He is ruthless.”

  “Then why didn’t he wait until you already made your donation before he tried to blindside me?” Reese asked. “The fact is he knew you were never going to give me a dime, so he warned me.”

  “First of all, that’s not true,” Hawk said. “I came prepared to offer you a large check today. Just look in the right breast pocket on my blazer, and tell me what you find. Go ahead. I won’t bite.”

  Reese fished out a check that was written to A Hand Up in the amount of two hundred fifty thousand. “There’s just one problem.”

  “What’s that?” Hawk asked.

  “It’s not signed.”

  “Of course not,” Hawk said. “I always want to see how things are going before I lug around a check ready to be deposited. I wasn’t born that long ago, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Now, if you let us go, I’ll just sign that little check and you’ll never hear from us again—ever. I promise.”

  Reese scratched the side of his face and crinkled up his nose as he stared off in the distance. “As tempting as that offer sounds, I value my life so much more.”

  “What are you going to do?” Alex asked in a breathy voice. “Call the police?”

  Reese grinned slyly. “You wish. No, I’m going to handle you in a more appropriate manner for your skill set.”

  “Skill set?” Alex asked. “What are you going to do? Bury us on one of the properties we represent?”

  Reese glared at her. “Let’s cut the realtor bullshit. I know you both work for the government in some capacity as special agents. I don’t even really care who. All I know is that you need to stay here while I get someone to help deal with you.”

  Hawk glanced at Alex and subtly shook his head.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Reese?” Hawk asked. “Can’t handle your own dirty work?”

  “I have half a mind to shoot you right now,” Reese said with a growl.

  “That’s way too much clean up for a man in your position. And right now, it’s all hands on deck for your employer’s next big move.”

  Reese chuckled. “You sure are tenacious, but it’s not going to work with me. I’m onto your tactics and what you’re trying to do here. But I’m not going to confirm or deny anything about what my employer is directing me to do. The only thing I’ve been ordered to do at the moment is collect donations and offer triple matching to every qualifying gift.”

  “I think we can also cut the charity bullshit, too,” Hawk said. “We all know that you work for Obsidian and that the organization has a major event planned next week. And it’s not going to be a simple donor drive—it’s going to be a drive to fill its coffers in another method.”

  “That’s enough,” Reese said before he drew back his handgun and acted as if he was going to hit Hawk with it. The CEO relented and instead knelt behind Hawk and affixed his hands and arms to the chair, wrapping a rope around his wrists as well as his ankles and fastening them to the seat legs.

  When finished with Hawk, Reese moved on to Alex and finished tying both of the once-prospective donors to their chairs.

  “I hope Max was right about you,” Reese said.

  “Either way, you’ve made an enemy,” Hawk said. “And you’re going to regret this decision every waking hour for the short time that I allow you to keep inhaling oxygen on this planet.”

  “You talk a big game for someone who’s going to die later today,” Reese said.

  “I suggest you tone it down just a little bit before I start shooting.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Hawk said with a sneer.

  “Better quit while you’re ahead,” Reese said before recoiling and smacking Hawk in the head with a pistol. Hawk moaned, teetering in and out of consciousness before finally relenting and passing out.

  CHAPTER 12

  BLACK WAITED FOR TWO HOURS without hearing back from Hawk or Alex before he decided to call Blunt and discuss the matter. With Fortner’s phone in hand, Black didn’t feel like the team could afford to lose much more time if they intended to capture the renegade general. Black had tried several combinations of Kitty’s birthday for the password, but none of them worked. But with only three attempts remaining before the phone locked, he decided to let someone more proficient in hacking into such devices handle the duties.

  Blunt grunted when he answered the phone. “You do realize I’m in the middle of my weekly chess game, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Black said. “You’ve only been playing for a whole month now, but you haven’t forgotten to mention that almost every day in the office.”

  “Yet here you are calling me.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing it unless it was an emergency.”

  “The Russians better be raining down nukes on our heads.”

  “I’m sure you would’ve heard from someone else by now if that was the case.”

  “In that case, I’m gonna hang up now and get back to my game.”

  Black sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for interrupting you, but I need to know if you’ve heard from Hawk and Alex. I’m getting worried about them.”

  “Let me assure you that they are more than capable of handling themselves in just about every situation imaginable. Now if there isn’t anything else—”

  “As a matter of fact, there is.” Black decided to shift tactics and pique Blunt’s interest with a piece of good news.

  “What is it?”

  “I found Kitty Tiller.”

  “Big deal. I could go to Off the Record and be slurping down some fruity cocktail with her in fifteen minutes if I wanted to.”

  Black smiled at Blunt’s bluster. “But could you pry Fortner’s phone out of her hands?”

  “She gave you his phone? Out of the goodness of her heart?”

  “I may have incentivized her a bit.”

  “That’s why you’re my favorite agent.”

  “I think you misspoke there,” Black said. “You pronounced the word best like the word favorite. Common mistake. People do it all the time with me.”

  “And what have you found out from getting Fortner’s phone?”

  “Nothing yet,” Black said. “That’s why I’m desperate to get in touch with Alex and Hawk. I need her to hack this thing open for me before he slips through our fingers again.”

  Blunt groaned. “Hell, Black, you sure know how to ruin my night out.”

  “You’re always talking about my special set of skills,” Black deadpanned.

  “Let me see if I can get her to pick up, and I’ll call you right back.”

  For the next five minutes, Black paced around the Phoenix Foundation and awaited Blunt’s call. With everyone gone, Black sat down at Alex’s terminal and entered his password. Then he opened up the program that tracked their cell phones. Hawk’s and Alex’s were listed as offline.

  Black’s phone buzzed. He quickly swiped it open and answered the call from Blunt.

  “What’d you find out?” Black asked.

  “Neither one of them are answering for me,” Blunt said. “And even more troubling is the fact that I called Mallory Kauffman to see if she could determine Alex’s location from pinging her number off the cell phone towers.”

  “No dice?”

  “Nothing. Alex’s phone was last activated about a half hour ago near A Hand Up’s office, which means she was there. But nothing since.”

  “What’s your gut telling you?” Black asked.

  “Get to New York and find out what’s going on.”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “If something changes and I hear from them, I’ll call you,” Blunt said.

  “I’ll do likewise.”

  Black grabbed the duffle bag tucked in t
he back of the filing cabinet next to his desk. He had everything he needed, including enough weapons and ammo to engage in a standoff with gunmen for a couple of hours, not that he anticipated getting into a protracted gunfight. But it was always best to be prepared for anything.

  Five minutes later, he roared out of the parking lot and headed for New York.

  * * *

  THE DRIVE WAS MONOTONOUS, though devoid of the usual traffic jam along that 250-mile stretch of interstate. Black’s car hummed along, the tires bumping rhythmically as he pushed the speed limit while the Bee Gees’ greatest hits album pumped through the stereo system. During his trip, he called Alex and Hawk multiple times only to get sent straight to voicemail.

  Once Black reached the city, he found a parking spot along the same street as A Hand Up’s offices and hunkered down for a stakeout. He ventured outside only to get a cup of coffee to combat the frigid February temperatures. By New York’s standards, this city block was relatively dead, a fact that could be attributed to the weather. The most exciting activity he witnessed were shivering dog walkers hurrying along the sidewalk and the occasional police car racing by with sirens blaring.

  Black took a power nap and awoke to find the street stiller than ever. But by 7:30 a.m., that started to change. And just before 8:00 a.m., Milton Reese entered the office building housing A Hand Up.

  An hour later, Black straightened his tie, grabbed his briefcase, and strode into the charity’s lobby. A woman with a headset on greeted him with a warm smile.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m here to meet with Mr. Reese.”

  “And you are?”

  “Arty Winchester from YCS.”

  “YCS?”

  “Your Computing Solutions,” Black said. “I had an appointment to speak with Mr. Reese regarding your organization’s software.”

  The receptionist furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, but I’m not seeing that on his calendar.”

  “Well, I spoke with him last week to confirm.”

  “Just have a seat,” she said. “He started an important conference call a few minutes ago, but I’ll try to get a message to him when I get a chance and see if he wants you to stick around or reschedule.”