With his back against the wall, Hawk turned the doorknob slowly. He presumed the guards had left it unlocked in the event that they needed to make a quick escape.
At least they’re afraid.
Hawk tiptoed into the parlor and dug deep into his pocket to grab a pair of treats for Meemaw’s beloved pets, Mitzi and Maria. The pitter patter of their feet captured the attention of one of the guards.
“Hey! Where are you two mutts going?” he yelled once the dogs bounded down the hallway.
Hawk heard the guard’s heavy footfalls continue for a few seconds before he turned and walked in the opposite direction.
“Good girls,” Hawk said, kneeling down and holding out his hand with a treat for each dog. He rubbed behind their ears and pleaded with them to be quiet. The dogs obliged and went upstairs.
Hawk quietly worked his way down the hall until he reached the dining room, adjacent to where the two guards seemed far too relaxed given that an assassin was just moments away from killing them. He watched Meemaw for a moment. She was strapped to a chair, her back to the hallway. She couldn’t have seen Hawk if she wanted to.
Moving himself into position, Hawk steadied his hand and prepared to shoot.
Then Mitzi barked.
The two guards spun around to look at the dog.
This is as good of a time as any.
Hawk fired a shot at one of the guards, hitting him in the head. The other guard dove behind the couch, using it as a shield against Hawk’s attack. Lying on the floor, Hawk shot the man in his knees. He crashed to the ground, and Hawk put a bullet in the man’s head.
“Game over,” Hawk said.
He got up and rushed toward Meemaw.
“Brady, is that you?” she asked as she tried to turn around.
“Yes, it’s me, Meemaw. I’ve got you.”
He began untying the ropes.
“Did you just kill those men?” she asked.
Before he could answer, Hawk froze as he heard a gun click behind him.
“I suggest you don’t move another inch,” said a man. “Keep your hands where I can see them, and step away from the old lady.”
Hawk complied, holding his hands in the air. He turned around to see another guard with a rifle trained on him.
“Looks like you miscalculated, Mr. Hawk,” the guard said.
“How do you—?”
“Know your name?” the guard said. “Al Hasib never forgets when you murder one of our own.”
“Or several dozen.”
“Watch your mouth,” the guard said. “I will kill you here myself if you continue. If not for a sizable reward, I would.”
Realizing the guard preferred to take him alive, Hawk whistled.
“What are you doing?” the guard demanded.
Mitzi and Maria came barreling down the hall.
Unnerved by the noise, the guard turned to see what the commotion was about and tried to pick up his feet to avoid the dogs. Seizing his opportunity, Hawk rushed toward the guard and hit him in the chest, driving him straight to the floor. Hawk delivered several swift blows to the man’s face before knocking him out cold. Snatching the gun out of the guard’s hand, Hawk shot him in the head.
“Did you just kill that man?” Marge asked.
“Meemaw, I’m just trying to protect you,” Hawk said as he hustled back across the room toward her. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
He called Johnson and held the phone between his shoulder and ear while untying Meemaw.
“I’ve got her,” Hawk said. “She’s secure. Let the FBI know.”
He hung up and helped her to her feet.
“What’s going on, Brady? I had no idea you knew how to use a gun like that. I thought you were in the Peace Corps still.”
“It’s been a while, Meemaw. We’ve got a lot to catch up on. But not now. There are some bad people after you, and I need to get you to a safe place.”
She smiled and patted his hand, her loose skin turning wrinkly as she flashed him a big smile.
“You always were my favorite grandson,” she said.
CHAPTER 28
BILL LITTLETON SWALLOWED HARD and kept walking along the concourse at Oracle Arena. The chatter over the Bluetooth in his ear was nearly inaudible yet deafening. However, it wasn’t enough to make him stop.
“Bill!” said one of the FBI agents. “We’ve got Marge Colton. She’s safe.”
Bill didn’t stop, trudging forward in a zombie-like state.
“Did you hear me, Bill? You don’t have to give them the file. We’ve rescued Marge Colton. They don’t have any leverage now.”
Instead of stopping, Bill walked faster.
“What are you doing, Bill? Listen to me. Stop where you are and turn around.”
Bill made eye contact with the man who was sitting next to the empty seat where he was supposed to deliver the folder. The man nodded at Bill and held out his hand. Bill froze and took a deep breath before thrusting his hand forward and giving the folder to the man.
“Bill! Stop! Don’t do it!” the agent squawked in his ear.
The agent’s protest failed to dissuade Bill.
“You didn’t see the picture they sent me this evening of my house wired with C-4 explosives and guards standing watch outside of it with my family inside,” Bill said as he scurried away. “I’m sorry, but I had no choice.”
“Now thousands will die because of you,” the agent said.
He stumbled over his words. “I-I had no-no choice.”
FBI agents rushed past him as he collapsed onto the concourse floor.
CHAPTER 29
ALEX FOLLOWED THE MAN with her eyes as he circled her while tugging on a thick piece of rope. She’d slid to the floor and felt his heavy steps vibrate off the ground as they echoed throughout the vacant room. Each trip around her, he tightened the rope around one hand until the twine couldn’t be tightened any further, followed by the slow unraveling of it from around his hand.
“Tell me what you want,” Alex said. “Let’s get this charade over with.”
“Oh, you’re going to tell me what I want,” the man said, still disguising his voice. “And then when Brady Hawk comes for you, I’ll show him your dead body before I finish him off.”
His comments didn’t rattle Alex.
“I’ll make a bet with you right now that I leave this place alive and you don’t.”
The man laughed maniacally and then stooped down near Alex, putting his face right next to hers.
“You do realize I could ensure that I win this bet, don’t you?”
Alex shrugged. “But then you wouldn’t be able to collect on my debt, would you?”
The man stood up again, running his finger across the sharp blade he’d pulled out from his ankle holster.
“There are ways to make the dead pay.”
She sneered at him. “Well, you still have to kill me first.”
“I’m getting to that, but first we need to talk.”
“Did Mister Tough Guy flunk psychology? Or was it a failed practice? So, now you hone your craft by kidnapping clients? Which is it?”
“That quick-witted tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble,” the man said, pointing his knife at her. “Perhaps I should cut it out and just lecture you. After all, someone failed miserably at teaching you how to be respectful of others.”
“Respect can’t demanded; it must be earned.”
The man chuckled. “That’s a nice saying. Where did you get that from? A fortune cookie?”
“I read it in a book, something a knuckle dragger like you wouldn’t know how to open, much less know how to read.”
He crouched down in front of Alex. “Don’t you worry. I read plenty.” He stood up. “And I’m well versed in the art of torture.”
“Yeah. Go ahead. Check off the literate box on your long list of life accomplishments. It’d be the third most significant one, just beneath learning to walk and learning to wipe your own ass.”
/> Without warning, the man uncoiled a punch, hitting Alex square in the jaw and rattling her head off the pole.
“I’m going to make a lady out of you yet.”
Alex opened her mouth, stretching her jaw. “Can we get this over with? I’m really getting bored. Either kill me or don’t. But whatever you do, please stop talking.”
“I’m just getting started, Alex. We need to talk about the man you once drowned after you drugged him.”
“It was self-defense.”
“Really? Once you drugged him, you felt it was necessary to drown him?”
“It happened in Texas in my apartment. I was standing my ground.”
“What about the heist you pulled off with your mother?”
Alex furrowed her brow. “Wait. Wha—? How do you—?”
“Or the murderer you helped escape from a Turkish prison or the—?”
“Okay, enough. I get it. You know a lot about me and all my dark secrets. It does you absolutely no good to kill me.”
“You’re right, which is why I have some questions that you must answer—or else I’ll make sure the world remembers you for the criminal that you are.”
“I’m not anything like you,” Alex said as she sneered.
The man smiled and steepled his fingers, pressing them against his chin as he spoke. “Two sides of the same coin, Miss Duncan. Two sides of the same coin.”
“The only thing I share with you is oxygen. And the sooner I’m not doing that, the better off I’ll be—even if I’m dead.”
“We’ll get to that in a moment, but first I have a question about your involvement with The Chamber.”
As the man turned toward his toolbox, two bullets ripped through the office. The first one hit the man in the chest, the second hit his head. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess.
Alex looked across the room at the gunman.
“Parker?”
He rushed toward her, pausing only to check and make sure the man was dead.
“I heard Hawk was a little preoccupied.”
He knelt down and started to untie her.
“Seriously? How the hell did you find me?”
Parker smiled. “I told you that you were very important to The Chamber.”
“I guess so,” she said, rubbing her wrists and stretching to celebrate her newfound freedom.
“Let’s get out of here.”
She stopped. “I’m not going anywhere until I find out who this creep was.”
Alex bent over and tugged his mask off. She dropped it and gasped.
“You know him?” Parker asked.
She nodded. “But I just can’t believe it.”
CHAPTER 30
MAHMOD EYED THE MAN who walked purposefully toward the empty seat across the aisle from him. Based on the way the man stared at the fan sitting next to the empty seat, Mahmod could see the Colton Industries employee expected that fan to be the one collecting the folder.
Amateurs.
Mahmod heard the clatter of boots storming in his direction. He looked over his shoulder to see a SWAT team closing in on their position.
Hurry up. Do it now. We’re running out of time.
On cue, the concourse was set ablaze. One Al Hasib operative smashed a couple of Molotov cocktails on the ground. Another operative yanked the fire alarm. Complete chaos ensued.
Fans nearby started to scatter once they realized a fire had begun to rage behind them. They stampeded down the aisles, while others raced up the steps toward the closest exit, unaware a fire was burning in the concourse. The result was mass hysteria in the middle with neither side willing to let the other pass.
Talib Al Asadi selected the upper portion of the lower bowl of the arena because the back rows were hidden from security cameras due to the overhang from the upper deck. He figured that even if U.S. law enforcement officials eventually identified the operative who picked up the drop, it’d be far too late. Mahmod was that operative.
He scurried across the aisle, stuffed the folder in his shirt, and joined the fray below. He worked his way over the seats until he reached another section of the arena that was exiting in a more peaceful manner. Despite feeling confident that he’d avoided detection, he ducked into a bathroom and took off his jersey and turned his hat around. With everyone rushing for the exits, he had the restroom all to himself and took a moment to look at himself in the mirror.
Too easy.
Mahmod smiled at himself and then left the restroom, joining the flow of fans spilling through the turnstiles. He was about twenty feet away from the exit when he heard someone yelling for another man to stop.
Mahmod kept going, but after the fifth time, he glanced over his shoulder and made eye contact with a police officer.
“You!” the officer said.
Mahmod pointed at himself and mouthed, “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Come here.”
Mahmod turned slowly and fought upstream against the fans who were leaving.
What could this be all about?
The officer put his hands on his hips and stared at Mahmod for a second before breaking into a wide smile.
“You’ve got toilet paper stuck to your shoe, my man,” the officer said. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be that guy.”
Mahmod looked down and started to laugh.
“Thank you, Officer. You had me scared there for a minute, like I did something wrong.”
“Well, have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Have you done something wrong?” the officer said.
Mahmod shook his head. “I have been on my best behavior.”
“Of course you have,” the officer said with another grin. “Go Warriors.”
“Go Warriors,” Mahmod responded before he spun and turned toward the exit.
He didn’t exhale until he reached the street.
Mahmod stopped and looked around at the pandemonium occurring outside the building where just moments ago a basketball game had been taking place.
About a hundred meters away, several police officers were wrestling a man to the ground and screaming at him. Mahmod recognized him right away as one of the operatives he’d been working with, the one who’d thrown the Molotov cocktails. It was painful to see one of his brothers dragged away and beaten, but in the end, it didn’t matter. They’d accomplished their mission.
Time to get to work.
CHAPTER 31
HAWK DROPPED OFF MEEMAW at an FBI bureau downtown. He hugged her tight before he stopped, fearing that he might hurt the feeble woman.
“These good people are going to take care of you, Meemaw,” Hawk said. “They’re going to get you someplace safe.”
“Do you trust them, Brady?”
Brady paused for a moment, surprised that he even had to ponder her question. To him it was a multi-layered one. In a general sense, he didn’t trust them. But in this specific instance, he figured no FBI agent wanted to have an elderly woman get injured on his watch. Hawk concluded that if Meemaw was taken to a safe house, she’d be out of harm’s way.
Hawk nodded. “I do,” he said before leaning in close and speaking in a hushed tone, “but I trust you more to keep them in line.”
He straightened up in time to watch her face light up with a hundred-watt smile. She waved dismissively at him with the back of her hand.
“Oh, stop it, Brady,” she said, trying to suppress a laugh. “I’m not quite as quick on my feet as I used to be. I outran the Gestapo once and lived to tell about it, but I’m not sure I could handle another attack from a bunch of terrorists.” She tapped her chest. “This ole ticker hates surprises.”
Hawk took her hand and gave it a little squeeze as he looked into her eyes. “You’re going to be all right. I promise.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it then.”
As Hawk headed for the exit, one of the FBI agents thanked him.
“Great work out there today, Mr. Hawk. Are you sure you don’t
want to come work for the Bureau?”
Hawk emphatically shook his head. “This isn’t the pace of life I want.”
“Too fast for you?”
Hawk shook his head again. “No, too slow.”
He left the Bureau and tried Alex’s phone again, hoping to talk to the bastard who’d taken Alex.
“Hawk?” she asked as she answered her phone.
“Alex? Is that really you?”
“Alive and well.”
“What happened to you?”
“I got drugged by some guy, and I woke up in an abandoned office building. They were hoping to use me as bait to catch you.”
Hawk sighed. “It would’ve worked.”
“Even though we’re not supposed to know each other? You would’ve risked our cover.”
“We’ve risked our cover before—and I’m sure we’ll do it again.”
“What happened with you?”
“Long story, but I’m glad you’re back. I had to work on an op with Johnson. He didn’t get any of my Bollywood references.”
“That’s why you were so worried about me?” Alex asked, her tone suggesting dismay.
“I had a long list of reasons why I was concerned, and that wasn’t exactly at the top.”
“Yet you mentioned it first.”
“Most of the other reasons make me too emotional. I can’t lose you, Alex. I need you helping me on these missions. Apparently, both our lives depend on it.”
Alex chuckled. “Let’s just make sure you’re not double booked next time, okay?”
“So, how’d you manage to escape?”
“Kade Parker helped me.”
Hawk thought he’d misheard her. “Kade Parker? The Searchlight agent?”
“That’s the one.”
“How did he—?”
“It’s not important how he knew, but what’s important is that he saved me and put a couple bullets in the guy.”
Brady Hawk Box Set Page 40
