“Be my guest,” Hawk said as he released Joseph.
Black delivered a menacing blow that put the senator out. The two agents lifted him off the ground and placed him in a wooden chair. They secured his hands and feet and waited for him to wake up.
“You really think he’s lying?” Hawk asked.
“If not, we’re in a heap of trouble,” Black said. “But what do we know to be true after doing this as long as we have?”
“If it smells fishy, it is fishy.”
“That’s right,” Black said. “We don’t have time to be conned by a guy who’s made his living off swindling the American people in the name of public service.”
“Let’s wake him up then,” Hawk said.
Black snatched a mug off a nearby desk and returned a minute later with a cup brimming with water.
“Would you like the honors?” Black asked.
“All yours,” Hawk said.
Black splashed Joseph in the face, resulting in a disoriented awakening.
“What ha—where am I?” Joseph asked as he looked around and struggled to break free.
“You’re in the same place you were when you were continuing to lie to us,” Hawk said. “If it’s not already abundantly clear, my colleague and I aren’t big fans of blatant dishonesty. We’re not too fond of politicians either. So you’ve got two strikes against you. It’s up to you to make sure you don’t reach a third. We certainly don’t care for free swingers who think there are no consequences for their actions—or maybe you didn’t see what happened to your buddy Shane Samuels.”
“Who?” Joseph asked.
Hawk punched Joseph in the knee, eliciting several shrieks of pain. “Don’t try to play us for fools. Understand, Senator?”
Joseph nodded as he grimaced in pain.
“Good,” Hawk said. “I’m glad we could come to a mutual understanding for once. Now, I know based on some of your speeches in the senate that you’re not a big fan of waterboarding because you think it’s not a viable way to get terrorists to talk,” Hawk said. “However, I must disagree with you. In my experience, it’s worked wonders. But here’s your chance to prove me wrong. You be honest with me and I won’t resort to waterboarding. My colleague here has a really good bullshit meter. So, he’ll know if you’re trying to pull one over on us.”
Joseph’s eyes widened with fear. Hawk immediately knew he was dealing with a novice in handling a stressful situation.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Joseph said.
“Let’s start with this question,” Hawk said. “How did you know Shane Samuels?”
Joseph looked down at his feet, his jaw clenched shut.
Hawk lifted his captive’s chin. “I don’t ask questions a second time, just FYI.”
Joseph sighed. “I met him at a fund raiser. He told me that he worked for a powerful group of people who could put me in high positions if I did what they asked.”
“And what did they ask you to do?”
“Nothing, at first,” Joseph said. “I was beginning to wonder if the whole encounter was just some sort of hoax. But then the money started to roll in to my campaign.”
“Illegally, of course,” Black said.
“No, it was all legal. Small donations from Americans all over the country. Everything was aboveboard there. And quite frankly, without that money, I probably wouldn’t have retained my seat in the senate.”
“So they had you by the throat,” Hawk said.
Joseph nodded.
“And did you meet any of these higher-ups?” Hawk asked.
“Aside from Samuels, I only knew of two other people affiliated with the group.”
“Who were they?” Black asked.
Joseph pursed his lips. “One was named Milton Reese, who recently passed away.”
“We’re familiar with him,” Hawk said. “And the other?”
“The other I met once at a charity gala in New York. This guy came up to me and told me that he was part of my funding group and said he was proud of the work I had done and was going to do.”
“I need a name,” Hawk said.
“Falcon Sinclair,” Joseph said.
“Sinclair of Sinclair Holdings?” Black asked. “The Australian billionaire who’s giving Elon Musk a run for his money on who can take tourists to the moon first?”
“That’s the one.”
Black whistled. “This is worse than I thought possible. Sinclair Holdings is one of the three richest investment companies in the world. If they’re making a serious play to gain control everywhere, we’ll all be under their thumb before we know it.”
“And what was your role in all of this tonight?” Hawk asked.
“I was meeting with President Young and had a cell phone that I was supposed to dial as soon as he left the room,” Joseph said as a tear streaked down his face. “I had no idea I would be setting off a bomb. If I had known they were going to ask me to do that, I would’ve refused.”
“Spare me the waterworks,” Hawk said. “You knew what you were doing was illegal, forming a partnership with some shadowy financial support group.”
“But I’m not a murderer,” Joseph pleaded. “At least, I never thought I’d ever be one.”
“We’ll let the courts decide about that,” Black said as he turned off the recording app on his phone. “We’ve got this entire conversation on tape. Maybe it’ll help with your trial because I can assure you that no prosecutor with an eye on any type of advancement is going to offer you a plea deal after you detonated the bomb that killed the first lady.”
“She’s dead?” Joseph asked, his face going white. “But she and I were—we were friends.”
“Apparently, she was friends with a lot of people in Washington,” Black said. “But it doesn’t matter now because she’s dead, thanks to you.”
Hawk signaled for Black to step out of earshot from Joseph so they could speak privately.
“What do you want to do with this dirt bag?” Black asked.
“Let’s have Randy Wood’s crew deal with him. We don’t need the headache—and we’ve got a new lead to track down.”
“Roger that,” Black said. “I’ll coordinate this pick through Blunt.”
“And I’ll update Alex and see if she has anything else for us.”
Hawk eased out of the office and dialed Alex’s number.
“We got him,” Hawk said.
“Joseph was there?”
“Along with Samuels, who was here when we arrived holding Joseph hostage. I’m not sure if it was an act or not, but we didn’t really have much time to ask questions.”
“So you caught Samuels?” Alex asked.
“He’s dead,” Hawk said. “He was about to shoot me when Black gave me a hand.”
Hawk could hear her measured breathing on the other end of the line as she remained quiet.
“Are you okay? I know he was your half-brother and all.”
“Yeah, I’m surprised at how I feel right now. I thought I’d be more relieved than sad, but I’m not.”
“Today’s been a hard day—but a good one in terms of justice.”
“And you think justice has been served?” she asked.
“I know that’s not really for me to decide, but we know Samuels was working for an organization that was intent on ruthlessly killing millions of people for financial gain and gaining a stranglehold on global power. It’s going to be a strange time in our country the next few weeks as everyone mourns the first lady’s death, too.”
Alex sighed. “Yeah, about the first lady. I’m not sure she’s dead.”
“What do you mean? I thought the running theory was that Samuels pulled a fast one over on her and killed her with that explosion a day earlier than he said.”
“That’s what we thought, until now,” she said.
“What’d you find, Alex?”
“I finally cracked a few of those encrypted messages from Fortner’s phone that Black gave me.”
“And?” Hawk asked.
“Madeline sent Fortner a message that contained a series of coordinates. And when I entered them into my mapping program, it came up as the site of the Potomac Airfield.”
“Are you suggesting that she faked her death?” Hawk asked.
“I think she was in on this thing the whole time—and she’s working with Fortner.”
CHAPTER 31
Two hours earlier
The White House
A HAND CLAMPED AROUND Madeline Young’s mouth as a masked man snatched her from beneath the covers in the residential quarters of the White House. She fought for a few seconds before he whispered in her ear.
“You have to get out now,” he said. “Stop fighting. I’m here to help you escape.”
The man eased his grip and released her. She twisted and turned for a moment before locking eyes with him.
“What do you want?” she said in a whisper.
“The general sent for you,” the man said. “It’s time to go right now.”
“But I didn’t—”
“It’s now or never,” the man said. “I mean that in every sense of the word. If we don’t leave now, we’re going to be killed by that bomb you set.”
She looked up at the ceiling at the device with a green light blinking rapidly. “But I thought—”
“Now!” the man said, gesturing toward the closet.
She finally complied, hustling around her bed and into the spacious walk-in closet that contained a doorway leading to a secret escape tunnel. As she opened the door, another man carrying a large plastic bag emerged from the tunnel.
“Give me your ring,” the man demanded as he held out his hand.
“My ring?” she asked. “What on Earth for?”
“Just do it,” the other man barked. “We need to move.”
Madeline twisted the ring off her finger and depressed it into the bagman’s palm. She watched him drag the sack into her room and start to unzip it.
“Trust me,” the other man said. “You don’t want to see what’s in there.”
Madeline grabbed her pre-packed bag and stepped into the passage. She continued along with her escort until she left the space beneath the White House. Following her guide’s directions, she wove through a series of tunnels and eventually emerged street level three blocks away from the presidential residence.
They sped along the Washington surface streets that had quieted down for a few hours before 5:00 a.m. rolled around and the city sprang back to life at full throttle.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“The plan hasn’t changed, ma’am,” the guard said. “We’re still taking you to General Fortner.”
She was staring toward Pennsylvania Avenue when she heard the explosion and felt the ground rumble through the car. Suddenly, alarms filled the night as fire trucks and law enforcement vehicles raced to the scene in response to the explosion. While she was still hesitant to assist in the plan, she thought she knew what she’d feel like when she was free from Noah’s grasp, not that he held her tightly. That was always the problem. It was like he didn’t care at all. But finally she was about to be reunited with a man who claimed that he just couldn’t live without her. Madeline wasn’t entirely convinced General Fortner was telling the truth when he professed the depths of his love to her. But she didn’t care. It was better than her current situation, not to mention she fancied the idea of listening to people talk about her after she was gone.
They drove for fifteen minutes before they switched vehicles beneath an overpass. Instead of driving straight toward the airfield, the new car doubled back and headed toward the city.
“What are we doing?” Madeline asked as she scooted the front edge of her seat and leaned forward. “It seems like we’re going in the wrong direction.”
“Just a precautionary measure, ma’am,” the driver said. “We’re trying to throw everyone off our scent so we can get you to the destination safely.”
“You think someone is following us?” she asked.
“Not at the moment, ma’am, but any of the agencies could be tracking our vehicle using satellite imagery. We need to be extremely careful since the full weight of the government’s resources are at your husband’s disposal.”
“You mean he wasn’t the intended target?” she asked.
The other man escorting her shook his head. “This attack served a two-fold purpose, primarily for helping with your extraction.”
“Extraction?” she said, furrowing her brow. “You make me sound like some CIA asset. I’m First Lady of the United States.”
The man chuckled and shook his head. “Not any more, you aren’t.”
Madeline swallowed hard and leaned back in her seat, pondering the reality of his statement. She had grown to loathe the duties and expectations that came along with being First Lady, but that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy the title. After a few minutes, she realized she had to come to terms with the fact that she had traded a title for love. Perhaps it would be the wrong choice, but there was no going back now.
Madeline and her escorts switched vehicles three times as they crisscrossed the city for an hour before finally heading to Potomac Airfield. By this time, the radio airwaves were flooded with on-the-scene reporting about the attack on the White House. Just as they pulled up to the hanger, Madeline made the driver keep the car on while she listened to one that mentioned her name.
“The explosives ripped through the residential quarters of the White House, where experts believe that the president and first lady would’ve been at that time in the evening,” the newscaster said. “However, we can confirm that President Young survived the blast and is being treated at an area hospital. The extent of his injuries as well as his condition are unknown at this time. Meanwhile, there has been no official report on the first lady, leading to rampant speculation that she may have perished in the attack along with three other staffers in that section of the White House.”
“Congratulations,” the driver said as he peeked over his shoulder at Madeline. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“That’s not what he said,” Madeline countered. “Did you not hear him use the word speculation?”
The man pulled out his phone and scrolled through a social media site. He snickered and shook his head.
“What is it?” Madeline asked.
“Everyone already believes you’re dead. The hashtag #RIPFirstLady is trending right now. It worked.”
“Speaking of which, we’re both going to be dead if we don’t get out and escort her to the general,” the other guard said.
They scanned the area before exiting the vehicle and opening Madeline’s door. She shuffled to the side and placed her feet on the concrete, which seemed to stretch on endlessly in every direction leading away from her location.
“Is the general here?” she asked.
One of the men nodded. “He’s been holed up here for a few days now while waiting for you.”
“That’s the kind of romantic idea you can’t encapsulate in a short four-line rhyme inside a greeting card,” the driver said.
“And that’s a good thing,” Madeline said.
About twenty yards outside the hanger, the engines on a Gulfstream G600 were already humming, drowning out all other noise.
She took a deep breath and strode toward the office located just inside the hangar. When she opened the door, General Fortner stood and greeted her with a hug and a kiss.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes, I just have to grab my bag from the car,” she said.
“We need to go quickly before someone figures out what happened to you,” Fortner said.
“But I thought you said everything we were doing would protect me from the truth ever getting out.”
Fortner nodded. “And I hope it does, but I don’t want to take any chances. That’s why it’s just you and me tonight flying this bird.”
“What?” she asked, her mouth falling a
gape.
“You heard me.”
“But I haven’t flown in several years, much less ever captained one of these planes.”
Fortner held out his hands in a calming gesture. “You’ll be fine. I’ve flown this plane plenty of times. I’ll show you the ropes. Now go get your stuff so we can get going.”
Madeline forced a smile as she twirled her silky, brown hair around her finger, a nervous tick she thought she’d left behind in high school. The weight of her decision had already hit, but the real adventure was about to begin. And she couldn’t wait to get started.
She strode toward the vehicle and reached inside to grab her bag. The driver handed her a gun.
“You might need this,” he said.
“I hope not,” she said.
As soon as she slammed the door, the car sped away. She stopped and bit her lip, suppressing a wide grin. Fortner stood at the top of the steps and motioned for her to join him.
“Come on,” he yelled. “Let’s blow this joint.”
She took one step toward the plane when she saw a pair of headlights bouncing along the tarmac and closing fast on her position. She hesitated, unsure of whether she had enough time to make it to the plane before the car arrived.
When the first shot was fired, she didn’t hesitate any longer and sprinted back toward the hangar.
CHAPTER 32
HAWK STRAINED TO SEE who the person was standing just outside the hangar, while Black roared toward it. A Gulfstream G600 jet was waiting about thirty yards away from the person’s position. Hawk checked his gun and scanned the area once more. There was no backup coming. Blunt had stressed that this situation with the first lady needed to be handled in as quiet of a manner as possible.
As they drew closer, Hawk realized the person was Madeline Young.
“That’s her,” he said. “Cut her off so she can’t reach the plane.”
“That was my plan,” Black said.
Hawk rolled down his window and fired a warning shot in Madeline’s direction. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she would chance a dash toward the jet or retreat to the hangar. After a quick glance back at the jet, she raced inside the hangar’s office.
Brady Hawk 18 - A Deadly Force Page 16
