The Shadow Hunter (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)

by R. J. Patterson

  Reaper sighed. “No, I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Excellent,” Mia said. “Good luck.”

  She ended the call and then exhaled.

  “Great work,” Alex said. “Now we just need to do one final check on our clinic, and we’ll be ready to go.”

  * * *

  HAWK MAINTAINED A safe distance as he followed Reaper. While everything seemed to be running smoothly, Hawk didn’t want to take any chances. They were on the cusp of apprehending Reaper and getting some much needed answers to burning questions.

  Reaper hailed a cab and then climbed into the backseat.

  Hawk followed suit, waiting a minute to avoid having his cover blown. With the directions mapped out on his phone, Hawk used the GPA navigational app on his phone to see what route the driver of Reaper’s cab was likely to take. If the car disappeared too quickly from view, Hawk would know something had gone awry.

  The drive would take seventeen minutes, according to the app, most of it occurring on one road leading back to the heart of the city. The first ten minutes were uneventful, but when they reached the city, Reaper’s cab driver turned down a different street leading away from the clinic’s address.

  Hawk covered his mouth with his hand to keep the driver from hearing anything he said.

  “Alex, Mia,” he said over his coms, “we have a problem.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Washington, D.C.

  PRESIDENT NORRIS INVITED Robert Besserman into his office before offering him a drink. Besserman glanced at his watch and then declined. Norris poured himself a healthy portion before taking a seat behind his desk.

  “Everything all right?” Besserman asked, nodding at Norris’s glass.

  Norris shook his head. “You tell me. You’re the one hunting down the traitors. My answer to your question will depend on what you’re about to tell me.”

  “In that case, you have a reason to smile.”

  Norris drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Who was it? Someone on my cabinet?”

  “We traced the order back to Admiral Brent Gaston,” Besserman said. “Apparently, his unilateral decision to increase our presence off the shores of North Korea only ratcheted up tensions. I suggest you demand his resignation immediately or inform him that he will be subject to a court martial.”

  “Why not do both?” Norris asked. “I can send a message that if anyone attempts to usurp my authority as commander in chief, they will be dealt with swiftly and harshly.”

  Besserman shrugged. “That’s totally up to you, but I feel like this might be a scandal you’d rather avoid. If we can usher Admiral Gaston out the backdoor without causing a big stir in the media, everyone wins.”

  “Justice doesn’t win,” Norris said. “He’d be getting away with just a slap on the wrist.”

  “You could have his public position be resignation but technically, you could give him a dishonorable discharge and revoke his pension. That’d be more than a slap on the wrist for an admiral.”

  “I could go with that. So what else did you find?”

  Besserman shifted in his chair. “From all that our investigation gathered, Admiral Gaston acted alone. However, we can’t confirm that at the moment. All we know is that he ordered more ships into the area, which stoked the fire. We haven’t been able to link anyone else to the action.”

  “So, in your estimation, is the threat within our military to undermine me eliminated?”

  “Like I said, we can’t be certain at this point, but removing a high-ranking official like Gaston who was stirring up trouble definitely goes a long way in re-establishing your authority. And while this might not get out to the press for months, this news will definitely circulate among naval officers, serving as a deterrent for anyone who has similar ideas.”

  “Okay,” Norris said. “Good work. Keep me posted if you find any additional links between Gaston and other disgruntled military members.”

  Besserman chuckled. “All military members are disgruntled, sir. I think it’s part of the job description to complain about everything from pay scale to bloated budgets to lack of leadership.”

  “It’s always good to know that the battle isn’t winnable.”

  “That’s right, sir. Just keep doing what you’re doing and don’t concern yourself with all the added noise. It usually amounts to nothing anyway.”

  The men stood and shook hands before Besserman exited the office. Norris paced around the room for a few minutes before sitting down again.

  Getting rid of a rogue admiral was important for his assertion of authority, but he didn’t like Besserman’s dodgy answer. Norris had to know who else was involved and how many. And until he did, he wasn’t sure he’d get much sleep at night.

  CHAPTER 39

  Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

  MITCHELL THREW TWENTY DOLLARS at the cab driver before abruptly exiting the car. The driver thanked him for the generous tip, shouting out the window as he drove off. Mitchell hustled down the street and ducked into an alley. After navigating around the back of a stretch of buildings, he entered the marketplace.

  Farmers and craftsmen hawked their wares as an endless parade of tourists snaked their way in front of all the tables set up in the street. On one corner, a mariachi band serenaded ladies as a subtle request for tips. On another, a chef served up niños envueltos, a traditional Dominican dish consisting of rice and ground beef wrapped in cabbage. Everything from wooden carved toys to furniture to colorful clothing and anything else that could be sold as a souvenir was on display.

  Mitchell ducked into a tent where an elderly woman was selling scarves. Based on the amount of stock hanging off every rack in her store, her items weren’t all that popular in the warm climate.

  “Necesito tomar prestado tu teléfono,” Mitchell said, asking to borrow her phone.

  She scowled at him and shook her head. “Ladrón!”

  Mitchell wasn’t a thief, but if the woman didn’t calm down and acquiesce to his request, he considered overpowering her.

  “No soy un ladrón,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Estoy en problmas. Hay hombres detrás de mí.”

  She glared at him. “Salir ahora.”

  Mitchell snatched her phone out of her pocket and raced out of the tent. She screeched, begging anyone to help her. But her cries were ignored among the tourists who were unaware of what she was saying and the other store owners who weren’t willing to leave their wares unattended.

  Mitchell darted down an alley before re-dialing the number. He went through the same process again until he reached his contact.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, but could you tell me the address again for the clinic?” Mitchell asked.

  “Clinic?” the man asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind,” Mitchell said before hanging up.

  Someone almost played me.

  He deleted the record of the call before returning the phone to the woman. She smacked him several times with the back of her hand, but he apologized and then thanked her by giving her a hundred-dollar bill. She stopped squawking after that and finally offered a weak smile.

  Now, time to disappear again.

  He grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around his head.

  * * *

  HAWK TOLD his driver to stop. After the cabbie complied, Hawk paid the fare and hustled toward the marketplace. He wasn’t sure where Reaper had gone, but Hawk figured if he was in the same position, that’s where he would go. Big crowds were easy for him to disappear into, and he was betting that Reaper was thinking the same thing.

  Hawk alerted Alex and Mia to the situation. “I could be completely wrong, so be alert in case he shows up. But if I were him, I’d save my curiosity for another day.”

  “We’ll be ready for whatever happens,” Alex said over the coms. “Just keep us posted.”

  “Roger that.”

  Hawk wouldn’t have been so inclined to play his hunch, knowing that the od
ds of finding a target in such a crowded place would be infinitesimal. But that’s because until today, he’d never worn a pair of Dr. Z’s Sunglazzes.

  Hawk tugged his cap down low across his face as he mingled with the tourists, going with the flow. He trudged past countless merchants offering everything from traditional food to authentic Dominican clothing. He constantly shook his head as store owners vied for his attention.

  As Hawk moved along, he checked every face. An outline encircled every face and flashed red when it didn’t find a match in the database. This process continued for ten minutes without any results.

  Then Hawk noticed a bulkier woman limping toward him along the edge, dressed in traditional Dominican garb and wearing a scarf. She was hunched over a cane and shuffling slowly. He stared directly at her, but she didn’t seem to notice him.

  Just as Hawk passed her, his glasses outlined her face and flashed green.

  “I’ve got a visual on him,” Hawk said over the coms in a hushed tone. “He’s in the market.”

  “On our way,” Alex said.

  Hawk waited a moment before turning around and following Reaper. Without the glasses, Hawk would’ve likely walked right past him. The disguise was good, but not good enough to outwit Dr. Z’s facial recognition device.

  Hawk maintained a safe distance from Reaper for a couple of minutes. However, when he reached an intersection near the end of the market, he looked around before dashing down a back alley.

  “We’ve got a runner,” Hawk said over the coms as he broke into a sprint in pursuit.

  Hawk pumped his arms, his lungs feeling as if they were on fire after a couple of minutes. Back and forth through a series of alleys and tight streets, the two men ran. Reaper struggled to find any way to separate himself from Hawk, but Hawk wondered how much longer he could keep up the pace. His target didn’t seem to tire, signaling that he was in much better cardio shape than Hawk.

  “How you holding up?” Alex asked.

  “He’s still running,” Hawk said.

  “Just don’t lose him,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

  Hawk followed Reaper for two more blocks before he switched directions and raced down a narrow street that took a hard right turn. When Hawk reached the turn, he found himself staring directly at Reaper’s gun.

  “Over there,” Reaper said, motioning for Hawk to move against the wall, which all but hemmed him in.

  “Look, we just want to talk,” Hawk said.

  “I should’ve finished you off, Hawk,” Reaper said. “I didn’t want to have to kill you, but I figured you would’ve received the message.”

  “All I want to know is who’s sending you those messages you’re so desperate to pass along.”

  Reaper huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “You’ve got a lot of nerve trying to track me down. And I must admit that you almost had me. But I started thinking that maybe I saw you at the pool.”

  “I’m lousy at disguises,” Hawk said before nodding at Reaper. “But your outfit, on the other hand, was pretty damn good.”

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Reaper said. “I’m going to kill you and then make it look like a robbery.”

  “No one will buy it,” Hawk said.

  “What makes you so sure?” Reaper said.

  “Because it’s not going to happen,” Hawk said.

  Reaper trained his weapon on Hawk. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

  AS REAPER PULLED THE trigger, Hawk dove to the ground. The bullet ricocheted off the cinder block wall right to the right of Hawk’s shoulder. When he glanced at Reaper, Hawk saw the gun lying a few feet away and the muscular soldier collapsed in a heap with Alex standing over him. She held a syringe in one hand, signaling a thumbs up to Hawk with the other.

  “Impeccable timing, dear,” Hawk said.

  She grinned. “It wouldn’t have been nearly as close if we didn’t need him alive.”

  Alex sneered at Reaper before kicking him in the ribs. “Mess with my husband again, and next time I won’t be so kind.”

  Reaper’s eyes remained closed, the injection already doing its job.

  “Let’s get this punk into the van,” she said.

  Hawk scrambled to his feet and then helped Alex and Mia lug Reaper’s large body into the back of their van parked along a nearby street. They drove straight to the clinic, preparing the interrogation session.

  When Reaper came to a few minutes later, Hawk and Alex had secured the mercenary to a chair. He opened his eyes and scanned the room, groggily muttering something Hawk couldn’t quite make out.

  “Well, hello there, Sunshine,” Hawk said, waving his hand in front of Reaper’s face. “Nice of you to join us today.”

  “What’d you do to me?” Reaper asked as he winced. “My head. My neck.”

  “You better be thankful that your heart’s still beating,” Hawk said. “Hell hath no fury like a woman who almost watched her husband being gunned down in a back alley.”

  “I already told you that it’s nothing personal,” Reaper said.

  “Likewise,” Hawk said. “I appreciate you not killing me in Sonbong, though I’m sure you’re regretting that decision at the moment.”

  “When I get out of here, I’ll rectify that situation.”

  Hawk shook his head. “Such bravado up till the very end.”

  “You’re not going to kill me,” Reaper said. “If you wanted me dead, I’d be pushing up daises already. So, let’s not waste time with any more bullshit. What do you want?”

  Hawk paced in front of Reaper for a few seconds and then stopped. “Are you willing to talk? Because I’d rather make this as painless as possible for the both of us.”

  “Ask something specific,” Reaper said. “I can’t read your mind.”

  “Who sent you to North Korea?”

  Reaper sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “So you want me to believe you just got on a plane and magically appeared in Sonbong at the same time three other Navy SEALs on a black ops mission were there?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t know who sent me.”

  “You take orders from anyone, even if you don’t know them?”

  “I take orders from anyone who pays me. That’s the definition of a mercenary. I’m just a soldier for hire.”

  “Even against your own country?”

  Reaper shrugged. “I’m a man without a country these days, so my loyalty stretches only as far as my bank account.”

  “I have to admit that I admire your bravado.”

  Reaper narrowed his eyes as he stared at Hawk. “Am I on trial here or something?”

  “In a manner of speaking, you are. I need some information from you, and if you can’t give it to me, I’m going to pronounce you guilty.”

  “Again, be specific.”

  “Okay,” Hawk said as he set his jaw, “what is the name of the person who told you about the mission in North Korea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know or you won’t tell me?”

  Reaper closed his eyes and grunted. “I don’t know it. I just get jobs and I do them. I don’t ask questions and I don’t know who’s responsible for originating them.”

  “You want me to believe that you saw an assignment for taking out a Navy SEAL team and didn’t question where it was coming from?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “What happened to the Doug Mitchell I knew in Navy SEAL training?”

  “He’s long gone,” Reaper said, “battered by the realities of black ops life. If you think you can shame me into telling me something—something I don’t even know—please continue. I’ll warn you that it’s not going to work, but you can still try.”

  “I’ve answered everything you’ve asked me as truthfully as possible,” Reaper said as he started to struggle against the bindings keeping him seated in his chair. “I have
a guy who offers me jobs. I take almost all of them and perform as well as possible. Then, I get a lump sum deposited into my account. I don’t ask questions. I don’t dig deeper. I just do the job. And your team in Sonbong was the job.”

  “But you didn’t kill me?”

  “I thought serving with you earned you at least the decency to have a fighting chance against the North Koreans. I see now that decision was wrong.”

  “I knew you’d come around,” Hawk said.

  “I’m not agreeing with you. I’m just telling you what’s what. It’s not always the best decision to kill your enemies when you can extract information from them.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” Hawk said. “It’s also why you’re not going to die right now.”

  “How kind of you,” Reaper said. “Do you want me to bow down and kiss your feet?”

  “I want you to tell us everything.”

  “I am,” Reaper said. “You know everything I did.”

  Hawk knocked on the door leading to the interior. “Somehow, I just don’t believe that.”

  A handful of CIA agents poured into the room, cuffing Reaper and toting toward him to a van waiting outside the back of the building.

  “I don’t know anything, Hawk,” Reaper said. “You’ve got to believe me.”

  “I wish I could,” Hawk said as he watched Reaper forcefully constrained by a trio of CIA agents.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Reaper said.

  Hawk shrugged. “Maybe. But I can promise you that you’re going to regret not helping me more than I’ll regret anything about this conversation.”

  The man holding Reaper froze and looked at Hawk.

  “This is your last chance,” Hawk said.

  “If you don’t believe me, you can go to hell,” Reaper said with a sneer.

  Hawk nodded at the men, who resumed wrestling with Reaper. After a brief struggle, they subdued him and placed him in the van.

  Hawk looked at Alex. “At least we tried.”

  Mia, who’d been quiet while taking in the scene, shook her head and grinned wryly. She held up Reaper’s phone. “We’re not done trying yet.”