“Tie him up. We’ll deal with him later.”
CHAPTER 31
BLUNT SHIFTED IN HIS SEAT once his private jet reached cruising altitude. Ever since the attack at his ranch, he hadn’t had a moment to relax as he remained on edge the entire time. Convincing Dimmit County’s Justice of the Peace, Ernest Fowler, to avoid an investigation into the deaths was no small task. Fowler happened to have a weakness for hunting, and Blunt leveraged that to avoid not only an investigation into the deaths of the two men outside his cabin along with Lord Williams but also any future potential investigations. The cover story would be a poker game gone awry. The men were drunk and armed—and it didn’t end well for any of them. The media would lap it up, using the story to push its agenda for stricter gun control and neglecting to investigate the claims. Fowler assured Blunt that all three bodies would be cremated and that he’d be cleared of any wrongdoing by setting the time of death well after he’d taken flight back to D.C.
But those were immediate concerns that he’d dealt with already. The more troubling concerns were the ones surrounding The Chamber and figuring out who he could trust. He might be able to trust his ex-wife, but he doubted she would even speak to him. He wasn’t even sure if he could trust his own team at Firestorm or any of the aides in his office.
For the first hour of the flight, he didn’t want to call anyone. But he had to. Knowledge was power, and he needed to know what was happening with Thor.
Blunt’s most recent conversation with his No. 2 operative revolved around a blown assignment. Obviously, the Danish prime minister, Liam Jepsen, had been tipped off that an attempt would be made on his life, and The Chamber believed Blunt was the mole. For The Chamber to reach such a conclusion, Blunt realized that there was only one person who could’ve convincingly scapegoated him to everyone else.
Blunt called General Johnson to see if he could get an update on Thor. The only way Blunt would be able to salvage his reputation with The Chamber was if Thor succeeded. And with someone pulling strings within the organization and tipping off Jepsen, Blunt saw his assignment as one that consisted of insurmountable odds.
“Have you heard from Thor yet?” Blunt asked.
“Not yet, but just give it some time,” Johnson answered. “When he’s on these missions, I sometimes don’t hear from him for days. I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.”
“Well, I am. I’m beginning to be concerned that he’s been set up.”
“What makes you think that, Senator?”
“For starters, there are too many strange coincidences happening. If Liam Jepsen didn’t know about a pending assassination attempt on his life, why would he have a body double? He’s the prime minister of Denmark, for God’s sake. It’s not like they’d be out to get him.”
“Have you watched the news lately? He’s not the most popular leader there.”
Blunt scoffed at Johnson’s suggestion. “He’s a political leader in Europe. The last leader beloved by any constituency with any overwhelming consensus on that continent was Hitler.”
“Churchill was popular.”
“Not before he was wildly unpopular, and he always had stout detractors.”
“Well, no matter what the case, it’s clear to me that he wasn’t universally beloved by the Danes.”
Blunt sighed. “But that doesn’t mean he’d be worried about an attempt on his life. To have a body double? That’s a whole other level of paranoia. Something’s just not right about that situation.”
“Perhaps, Senator, but like I said, Thor is diligent and will get the job done. Don’t you worry. He’ll get his man.”
“I hope you’re right,” Blunt said before he hung up.
My life depends on it.
CHAPTER 32
WHEN HAWK REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS, he didn’t know where he was. Demby’s goons had bound Hawk’s hands and feet with rope, tethering him to a pole in the middle of a small room that appeared to be a pantry of sorts. Hawk could barely make out his surroundings, but the light seeping beneath the door was sufficient enough to see a general outline of the environs.
He shook off his grogginess and sat upright when he heard muffled voices approaching. The voices grew louder before one voice rose to a discernible level.
“I said enough,” a man roared. “You stay right there, and I’ll get it for you.”
The sound of keys rattling in the doorknob gave Hawk hope that he might be able to find a sympathetic ear. The door swung open, and light from outside flooded the room. Hawk took a deep breath to yell for help when he stopped short upon seeing the guard holding a gun in one hand along with his index finger on the other hand tightly pressed to his lips.
“If you want to stay alive, you’ll save your breath,” the man said.
Hawk slowly exhaled.
“I’ll be back to deal with you soon enough,” the guard said in a low voice as he slammed the door behind him.
Hawk knew the protocol. Stick to the script; stay alive. But he couldn’t be blamed if he wanted to leave it behind for a few minutes and freelance. It wasn’t his best plan, but it might work—just as soon as he was unshackled. In the meantime, he had few options.
The voices outside became muted tones again, even as Hawk strained in the direction of the door to hear what was being discussed on the other side.
The footfalls on the concrete floor grew faint until Hawk heard another door slam shut.
With no one around to hear him, Hawk seized the opportunity to try and free himself, but the knots were too tight. He wasn’t going anywhere.
After his wrists started to bleed from attempting to wriggle free, he stopped trying and slumped on the floor. That’s when he heard another set of footsteps, though not nearly as heavy as the last ones.
When the door flew open and the lights flickered on, Hawk stared up at the person above him as a smile broke across his face.
“Dr. Ackerman,” he said in a whisper, “do you think you can help me out?”
She shut the door and knelt down next to him. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“This isn’t the time for joking around.”
Hawk furrowed his brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but helping you is likely going to get me in trouble.”
“I think you’re the one in trouble. Demby isn’t who you think he is.”
“He’s a compassionate man who’s funded my work out of the goodness of his heart.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
She sighed. “Fine. Whatever. You got me. I know who he is.”
“And you’re not going to help me?”
“Look, I want to help you, but Demby will kill me if he finds out I assisted you—and I don’t mean that in some metaphorical sense either. He’ll shoot me in the head or kill me some other way. No matter what he decides, it won’t be pleasant.”
Hawk raised his hands as much as he could. “So you’re just going to leave me in here like this?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. You’re just afraid to make the right one.”
“If I help you, I understand that there will be thousands upon thousands of people who won’t get helped around here as a result of Demby’s generosity. Who am I to let all those people perish just because you’re tied up in a closet? If you thought about it for a moment, you’d realize that it’s the right decision, the only decision.”
Hawk shook his head. “There you go with a classic either-or decision. What if you could have it both ways?”
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t want to get into all the details now, but this isn’t about deciding between me and all those people here you serve. It’s about choosing to do the right thing no matter what.”
“Can you guarantee me you’ll make sure SLAM remains funded?”
“I’ll do you one b
etter: I’ll make sure it gets endowed.”
“Endowed? How can you—?”
“Never mind the details. I’ll tell you all about it later. In the meantime, can you just cut me free? We’re losing valuable time here.”
Dr. Ackerman slid a knife out of her back pocket and began slicing through the ropes binding Hawk. She was so busy hacking her way through the ropes that she didn’t hear the footsteps that snuck up on both of them.
The door swung open and Ackerman turned around in horror, looking up at Demby, whose looming body nearly blocked all the light from outside.
“What have we here?” he said as he circled Ackerman and Hawk. “Your own little version of The Great Escape, I see. Too bad it’s not going to work.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Ackerman stammered.
Demby backhanded Ackerman. “Do you think I am that stupid? Do you think I’m going to believe any lie that you’ve concocted to save yourself? I know exactly what this looks like—and I know exactly what’s going on here.”
“Please, sir,” Ackerman pleaded.
Demby ignored her and turned toward Hawk. “And you,” Demby said as he held up a small comlink in his hand, “look what I found in your ear.” He paused for a moment before he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. “You won’t be talking to anyone else tonight.”
“I swear, you’re getting the wrong idea,” Ackerman said, taking another tact.
“Silence, Doctor. I know what you’re up to—and you’re not going to like what I’m about to do next.”
CHAPTER 33
ALEX JUMPED WHEN HER PHONE buzzed on her desk. She leaned over the screen to see who was calling. It was Senator Blunt.
“Good to hear from you, Senator,” she said. “I was beginning to get concerned.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I never doubted you could.”
“Have you heard from Hawk? Does he have a location for the missiles yet?”
“Not since I last spoke with him. Right now, I’m trying to track him. He’s gone off the grid for the moment.”
“Update me the minute you hear from him. I need to know what’s going on with those missiles.”
“Will do.”
She hung up and started typing furiously on her keyboard. Someone had repositioned her satellites, and she wasn’t excited about the prospect of re-tasking satellites, a chore that wasn’t as simple as it looked in the movies. The hulking chunks of metal orbiting the earth didn’t just magically move around at the whims of some programmer sitting at a computer. It took time to move a satellite into position to see a certain segment of the grid.
She picked up her phone and dialed General Johnson.
“Do you know why my satellites are out of whack this morning?” she asked.
“Beats me. I know there were navigational issues with a few of them this morning, but I’ve got no idea if any you were handling were in that batch.”
“I wish people around here would let me know that kind of pertinent information. I’m not here for my health.”
“I’ll try to make sure you’re better informed next time.”
“One more thing, General Johnson,” Alex said and then paused. She wanted to ask him about Searchlight, but she doubted it’d do much good over the phone. She needed to ask him in person.
“What is it, Agent Duncan?”
She decided to ambush him later instead. “You have a good day, sir.”
Alex drummed her fingers on the desk while she waited for the satellite to get into position. After a few minutes, she decided to go get a cup of coffee around the corner. Her former supervisor at the CIA used to chide Alex for her determination to sit and stare at the screen when a satellite was in the process of being repositioned.
“A watched pot never boils,” one of her supervisors at the CIA once told her, “and a re-tasked satellite never moves.”
Alex snickered. “I saw them move three times last week.”
“Never spoil a good idiom.”
She decided to take a break and go see Cookie. It’d been a few days since she visited The Golden Egg, and she needed to vent to someone.
“The usual, doll?” Cookie asked the second Alex’s fanny hit the seat at the bar.
“You know me, Cookie. Once I get in my routine . . .”
He winked at her. “Coming right up.”
Alex glanced at her watch. She estimated she had about twenty minutes before the satellites were in position to monitor Hawk. Satisfied that she had enough time, she turned her attention to Cookie, who had just cracked the last egg and tossed it onto the grill.
Wiping his hands on his apron, Cookie turned around and eyed Alex closely.
“So, what is it now? Men problems?”
Alex chuckled. “Men problems? I’d be ecstatic if there was just one man—and I was having problems with him.”
He put his hands on the counter and leaned forward, shrugging before he spoke. “Well, you had that look.”
“A look?”
“Yeah, that one you get when there’s something deeply troubling you. And usually, it’s only about men.”
A faint smile spread across her lips. “Cookie, you know me about as well as any man does.”
“Well ain’t that a shame.” He spun around and jostled the eggs before he turned back to face Alex. “You’re gonna make a lucky man very happy one day. You mark my words.”
“Thanks, Cookie. You’re always so encouraging.”
“That’s what I do.”
She watched him transfer the food from the grill to her plate, which he slid in front of her.
“That and make a mean plate of eggs.”
She took a few bites before she got Cookie’s attention. “Let me ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“If you suspected someone was lying to you, how would you trap them into telling you the truth?”
He furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you don’t have men problems?”
“Positive.”
“Well, all right then.” He took a deep breath. “If it were me, I’d probably say something like, ‘Alice, I know you’ve been cheating on me with Frank.’ And then sit back and watch the person try to wriggle out of it. At least, that’s what my third ex-wife did to me when she caught me gambling.”
“Three ex-wives, Cookie? And you are just itching to give me relationship advice?”
He held up his left hand, showing all his fingers. “Five actually, but who’s counting. Now trust me when I say this, but the majority of the advice I give is what not to do—and it’s all based off personal experience.”
“So, what should I not do if I want this person to admit the truth?”
“You should confront them.”
“Even if it costs me my job?”
“There’s little value in working with people you can’t trust, especially someone like you who’s in the finance industry.”
Alex forced a smile. She hated lying to Cookie, but she realized it came with the territory. He was a friendly—and lonely—chef at a diner, completely harmless. Yet she lied to everyone she knew about what she did and who she really was. She’d developed such a knack for it that sometimes she started to believe her own cover story was true.
She gobbled down the breakfast food that served as her lunch before returning to the office.
Her watch buzzed the second she sat down, and she realized the satellite re-tasking process had been completed.
“All right. Let’s see what we got here.”
She put her comlink in her ear and tried to connect with her asset.
“Hawk, come in,” she said. “This is Duncan. Do you read me?”
Nothing.
She tried again. Still nothing.
In a matter of seconds, she had the comlink’s most recent location, though diagnostics showed that it was no longer functioning. She cross-referenced the location with intel she had on Demby and realized that Hawk had been—or still w
as—at a facility owned by Sefadu Holdings.
“Hawk, come in,” she yelled.
Silence over the airwaves.
After five minutes of trying to raise Hawk to no avail, she decided to track his cell phone, which had also been located in the same facility. But, like the comlink, it had ceased responding about an hour ago.
She zoomed in on the location and identified several armed guards heading into the building.
“Hawk, Hawk! Come in. Please.”
She had eyes on the facility, but as far as Hawk was concerned, she was dark—and so was he. This time, all she could do was hope that he could get out of this predicament by himself.
CHAPTER 34
HAWK HEARD DEMBY WHISTLE for his guards to administer some punishment. Dragging Hawk and Ackerman out of the small closet and into an open warehouse space, the guards followed Demby’s instructions. They tied Hawk face-first to a large support beam before one of the guards pulled out a whip and started lashing Hawk, sending Ackerman into hysterics.
“Stop it, Demby. Just stop it,” she screamed.
He turned to her and smiled, flashing his pearly whites interspersed with several gold teeth. “This is the price of your betrayal, Doctor. But don’t worry—you’re next.”
Hawk tried to ignore the searing pain emanating from his back and spreading across the rest of his body. Concocting an escape plan was the only mental diversion he had. He noticed the sharp edges on the support beam and started to work his plan.
Following the next blow to his back, Hawk wailed and dropped to the floor.
“Get up,” one of the guards said as he grabbed Hawk around his shirt collar and yanked him back to his feet.
Another lash, another collapse to the floor, another jerk to his feet. The cycle continued for about a minute until Hawk was satisfied the rope was sufficiently frayed. One strong tug and he’d be free. All he had to do now was endure the pain and wait for the right moment.
Demby laughed smugly at the scene. “Mr. Martin, I admire your tenacity and your commendable attempt to infiltrate my organization, but I’m afraid in the end it’s going to be nothing more than a footnote on your way to an untimely death on our dangerous continent. Perhaps you’ll slip into crocodile-infested waters and be eaten alive or trampled by an elephant during a stampede while hunting or killed by a band of marauders looking to strip the wealth from an unsuspecting foreigner. The possibilities are almost endless.”
Brady Hawk Box Set Page 26
