Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6

by R. J. Patterson

  “What makes Searchlight that much more of an attractive option for you? You know nothing about them.”

  “I know more than you might think, and quite frankly I don’t have enough time to enumerate all the issues I have with Firestorm and Blunt.”

  “But what do you really know about Searchlight?”

  “I know that Kade Parker saved my life, and he gave me plenty to think about concerning Blunt.”

  Hawk shook his head slowly and gazed at the ceiling. After a long sigh, he turned his attention back toward Alex. “How do you know that attack wasn’t all staged?”

  Alex smiled and patted Hawk’s hands. “You’re really perfect for this job, you know?”

  Hawk crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

  “This isn’t like you. I-I just don’t understand why you’d want to join an organization that wants me dead.”

  “I can protect you.”

  “But will you?”

  “Hawk, what’s this really about? Do you have feelings for me? If you do, just say so.”

  Hawk eyed her closely. “Would it make a difference if I did?”

  “At this point? No.” Alex stood up and walked around the table before patting him on the back. “Good luck, Hawk. I’m sure you’re doing what’s best for you. I’ve got to do what’s best for me.”

  She took a few steps before Hawk spoke again.

  “Would a Bollywood marathon change your mind?” he asked.

  Alex stopped and turned around. “Did Blunt tell you to say that?”

  He nodded. “It was worth a shot.”

  “Goodbye, Hawk.”

  He watched as she walked away. If he was honest with himself, he definitely had feelings for her. But they weren’t easy feelings to sort out. They’d been to battle together. Their teamwork saved lives, hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. And she seemed eager to throw it away. But for what? A more transparent boss? A clearer mission?

  Hawk couldn’t deny Blunt’s Firestorm operation contained flaws, chief among them was the leader himself. But it wasn’t a strong enough reason to walk away. Hawk had been afforded to do the kind of work he wanted to do after he understood the seriousness of the threat terrorists imposed on every person who lived on planet Earth. He’d experienced the loss they could inflict on a person. And all for what? To gain a little more power on their part of the rock? To lash out at some ideals they didn’t understand or detested as prescribed by their religion? It was all too much for him to stand by idly. Yet Hawk understood this kind of undertaking required a cooperative effort. No matter how well he operated as a solo operative, he was never truly on his own—at least, he didn’t want to be.

  He waited until she disappeared into the stairwell before he counted to a hundred beneath his breath. It was a simple protocol they’d established to make sure they weren’t in an open place at the same time. According to Blunt, they weren’t even supposed to meet, publicly or privately, but they stopped adhering to that rule after his mission in Zaranj. However, this procedure still made sense to Hawk.

  He trudged toward the stairwell and exited the building. Stopping at the bottom of the National Archive building steps, he scanned the sidewalk running parallel to Constitution Avenue for her. After a few seconds, he spotted her on the sidewalk near the southwest corner of the block. Almost immediately, three men surrounded her and pushed her toward a van facing north parked along the side of 9th Street.

  Hawk watched for a few seconds, unsure if he needed to help her or not. By the time he realized she was resisting, it was too late. He sprinted along the sidewalk toward her, but by the time he reached the corner, the van door had slammed shut before the vehicle lurched forward down the road.

  All Hawk could do was watch. He’d never felt so helpless since before joining Firestorm—or alone.

  CHAPTER 3

  International Waters

  30 miles offshore of California

  BLUNT SPLASHED THE SIDE OF HIS GLASS with scotch as his boat, the Pequod, rocked with the waves. He uttered a few expletives under his breath before he picked up his glass to steady it. Waiting for a moment of peace on the open waters so he could pour cleanly, he gazed at the horizon. Other than an occasional fish leaping out of the water, Blunt struggled to find any more signs of life. It was how he liked it—at least under the given circumstances.

  He took a long pull on his scotch before resting the glass on the table. The serenity he experienced at sea was necessary to clear his head and figure out a way forward for his beleaguered Firestorm operation. Too much was at stake to simply disappear, even though that would’ve been Blunt’s preference. With more than sufficient funds to live out the rest of his days at sea, he could’ve given the world a figurative middle finger and enjoyed his retirement. It wouldn’t have been how he always imagined it, but he’d be alive and left alone. And those were two things he couldn’t complain about if he considered how much of an agitator he’d been among some of the world’s most powerful people. Despite his attempts to vanish, his enemies might still try to kill simply because they could.

  However, if Firestorm was going to be successful moving forward, it needed Brady Hawk sharp and polished. And Alex, the one who’d been responsible for keeping Hawk that way, had just indicated she was heading over to work for Searchlight.

  While Searchlight was a relatively new player in the shadowy world of espionage and anti-terrorism units, Blunt had enough intelligence on it to know its agenda wasn’t exactly as noble as it purported to be. Its tactics were also dirty and underhanded, even as Blunt somewhat admired their audacity. Instead of taking on Hawk head on, Searchlight opted to remove his savvy handler. Without Alex, Hawk wouldn’t be able to enter into some of his missions with the confidence that someone somewhere had his back. In a profession with razor thin margins, losing such a partner could mean the difference in life and death. And without Hawk, Blunt had nothing. Firestorm would be nothing.

  Blunt finished his glass and picked up his satellite phone to give Hank Munson a call. Munson served as a recruiter for the CIA years ago but had transitioned to working in the private sector once he retired. His vast network and keen eye for potentially talented agents made him a sought-after man, even though he was well into his seventies. However, it was Munson’s underground connections that drove Blunt to reconnect with his old friend. Blunt needed someone to replace Alex, someone who was really good at the job. Discreet, covert, hacking skills off the chart, and off everyone’s radar—they seemed like an odd combination for an employer to look for, but that was the perfect mix for an ideal candidate to replace Alex and give Hawk the help he needed.

  The phone rang several times before it went to voicemail.

  Blunt left a message and a callback protocol in the off chance that the CIA was listening in on Munson’s phone. It wasn’t likely, but Blunt wasn’t taking any chances.

  Blunt wondered if maybe Munson not answering was a sign. After all, it wasn’t like Blunt wanted to break in another handler, no matter how potentially good the person could be. It would require much more effort and time than he wanted to invest. He’d rather woo Alex back to Firestorm. Maybe more money would do it. Pay raises worked for most people. He’d double Searchlight’s offer. It’s not like it would hurt Firestorm’s bottom line. Or maybe she simply would accept more transparency. He could tell her what she wanted to hear if it meant getting her back and board and working with Hawk again.

  After a few minutes, Blunt’s phone rang again. Anticipating the call from Munson, Blunt picked up after the first ring. He was briefly disappointed when Munson’s voice wasn’t on the other end; instead, it was Hawk’s.

  “They took her, right in broad daylight,” Hawk said.

  “You’re talking about Alex, right?” Blunt asked.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t believe how brazen of a kidnapping this was. Four guys surrounded her, escorted her to a van, and drove off after they forced her inside.”

  “And it looked like a kidna
pping?”

  “She looked like she was complying because she had no other choice.”

  Blunt picked his glass up and flung it into the water.

  “Damn it! This is my fault. I shouldn’t have sat on my hands about this for so long.”

  “As much as I hate it, you can’t blame yourself. She’s a grown woman and makes her own decisions.”

  “But she’s making a very bad decision, just like her mother. I swore I wouldn’t let this happen to her.”

  “Her mother? What happened with her mother?”

  Blunt sighed. “Look, I don’t want to get into that right now. Let’s stay focused here. We need to get her back ASAP.”

  “How does this affect the mission to save Abbadi?”

  “I don’t see how you can do this without her, but if I don’t have another handler in place by tomorrow, you’ll still need to travel to Prague and take care of it on your own. Think you can handle it?”

  “If it’s as important as you say it is, I’ll figure out a way.”

  “Good. Now, one more question: Do you think it was Searchlight that took her?”

  “She told me she was waiting for them to make contact, so I don’t know who else it could be.”

  Blunt stared at the horizon, still devoid of anything but slow rolling waves.

  “And they’d contact her by kidnapping her? Are you sure you’re not letting your feelings for her get in the way of how things looked.”

  “I saw what I saw. I’d just spoken with Alex. She’d said her good-byes, but I don’t know. It just seemed off to me.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t Searchlight. Perhaps some other group has a beef with her.”

  “Their whole recruitment of her has been very contrived, if you ask me. And as private of a person as Alex is, I couldn’t see her getting mixed up with anyone else.”

  “You don’t know her whole past, do you?”

  “Care to enlighten me?”

  Blunt hobbled down the steps into the galley to get another scotch glass.

  “Not at the moment. But if you think this is solely the work of Searchlight, I might be able to help.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Washington, D.C.

  THIN BEAMS OF LIGHT slipped through the scant cracks in the door to the holding room, which felt more like a prison to Alex. She glanced at the bindings holding her ankles together. A similar tie wrapped around her wrists also constricted her hands.

  If this is how Searchlight treats someone they’re recruiting, I’d hate to see how they treat their enemies.

  Several hours before she’d been so convinced that Searchlight was a better place to put her tech skills to use that she walked away from the best operative she ever worked with. And for this? She’d only regained consciousness a half hour ago.

  I hope this is some kind of vetting process.

  Alex tried to assess her surroundings and see if there was any opportunity for her to cut off her bindings, maybe even surprise the next visitor. But if there were, she wasn’t seeing them. The room was mostly dark, but what she could see seemed bare. The walls were smooth and barren. No chair to sit on. There wasn’t even a door handle, only a steel box containing a scanner embedded into the wall next to the sole entrance and exit.

  Another hour went by, and Alex didn’t hear a thing other than the moans and groans of an air conditioning unit turning on and off. The silence was a deafening sound, one that only gave time for her to sit and think—and regret. She wished she could literally kick herself for basing her decision to leave Firestorm based off some gripes that seemed trivial now. Somehow, Kade Parker managed to convince her that Blunt was not who he seemed to be. Parker painted a picture for her that appeared eye-opening on the surface. However, Alex knew it was devoid of nuance, and she never gave Blunt the opportunity to explain. As good as he’d been to her, salvaging her off the CIA’s trash heap, she owed Blunt that much. Let him answer then judge if he was trying to play politics and evade the question. It was a simple courtesy she should’ve extended to him. And now all she could do was sit and wish she had.

  Alex drifted in and out of sleep for a half hour before a loud click jolted her upright. She watched as the door opened and light from the outside hallway flooded the room. A silhouetted figure filled the frame and strode slowly toward her.

  “Who did this to you?” the man asked.

  Alex’s eyes struggled to adjust at first, but she knew that voice all too well.

  It was Kade Parker.

  “What’s going on, Kade?” Alex asked. “This isn’t exactly the welcoming party I expected when I told you I was agreeable to your terms.”

  Parker clipped Alex’s bindings around her ankles and then her wrists before saying a word. He slipped his knife into his pocket and took a couple of steps back.

  “We’re very serious about our privacy here, and we had to make sure no one was following you,” Parker said.

  “Wait—you guys are supposed to be elite in the world of espionage and you don’t know how to shake a tail?” Alex waited a beat. “Unbelievable.”

  “If you only knew how many times outside agencies have tried to infiltrate our ranks, you’d understand why we take such precautions. We’re so good at what we do, we still remain a myth to the majority of the intelligence community.”

  A woman entered the room. “We’re more like a legend, Kade. Get it straight.”

  Alex rose to her feet with the help of Parker.

  “Who’s this?” Alex asked.

  “May I introduce you to Violet Lowry, the head of our intelligence division and your new supervisor,” Parker said.

  Violet offered her hand to Alex, who ignored it.

  Alex chuckled for a moment, putting her hand over her mouth in an effort to keep her snickers from escaping. “What is that?” Alex asked. “Your stage name?”

  Violet glared at her. “A sharp tongue? I like that. We’re going to get along just fine.”

  Violet grabbed Alex by the arm and led her out of the room and down a short hallway, which led to a series of what appeared to be interrogation rooms. Once they stopped, Violet unlocked one of the rooms and shoved Alex inside, locking the door behind her.

  Alex sat down in one of the room’s two chairs, which were positioned across from each other at the table. About a minute later, Parker entered and sat in the empty chair.

  “What’s the meaning of all this?” Alex asked, slamming her fists on the table. “If you think I’m going to work for that woman, you’re out of your mind.”

  Parker opened a folder and spread it out in front of him. He smiled and shook his head.

  “Violet’s harmless,” Parker said. “She can act a little tough at times, but trust me when I say her bark is bigger than her bite.”

  “Why are you treating me this way? You better start talking now or I’m walking out of here.”

  Parker kept his head down, eyes trained on the documents in front of him. He flipped through several pages, reading under his breath while refusing to answer Alex.

  She abruptly stood up and slid the chair farther behind her with the back of her legs.

  “I’m done.”

  She turned and stormed toward the door. Like the room she was in earlier, it had no door handle, just a steel box that contained a scanner.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Alex,” Parker said. “Please, sit back down. We have much to discuss.”

  Alex turned back toward Parker and walked slowly to her seat. She dragged it across the floor, creating an agitating high-pitched sound in the process. Once she finally stopped, she sat down and interlocked her fingers, resting them in front of her on the table. She didn’t speak but glared at Parker.

  “Thank you,” Parker said. “Now, we may begin.” He rearranged his papers again, ensuring they were perfectly aligned. “We’re aware of your past history with the CIA,” Parker continued. “Do you care to elaborate more on what led to your dismissal?”

  “If you recruited me without doin
g due diligence in your research of my previous employment, I definitely have no intention of working with Searchlight, so we can just end this little charade right now. I’ll be out of your hair and on my way.”

  “Alex, of course we’re aware of what happened to you. However, we wanted to give you a chance to tell us your side of the story.”

  Alex shook her head. “What’s there to tell? I reported some shady stuff that was going on, someone didn’t like it, I got fired. It’s really just that simple. I was right to report it. They were wrong to fire me. Need I elaborate more?”

  Parker’s eyebrows shot upward, and he made a quick notation on a sheet of paper in front of him. He took a deep breath before he continued. “How familiar were you with J.D. Blunt’s endgame with Firestorm? Did he make you privy to any of his future plans?”

  “Future plans? You mean like the ones to systematically and skillfully remove terrorists from the face of the earth? Those kinds of plans? That’s all we ever did.”

  Parker tilted his head to the side and then wagged his index finger. “Not exactly. That’s certainly not the only thing you did, not with Blunt at the helm.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you had questions about Blunt’s true intentions, and let me just tell you that your premonitions were correct. He’s far more devious than you think.”

  “Such as?”

  “He basically created the situations for most of your team’s missions to exist.”

  She eyed him closely. “I’m not sure I buy that.”

  Parker shrugged. “You can ignore facts and believe whatever you want; it’s exactly what most people in the world do anyway. But take your last mission, for example. We have intel that suggests Blunt fed Al Hasib, the very organization he’s supposed to be committed to destroying, information about how to obtain the schematics for the PUB-47.”

  “That can’t be true,” Alex said, waving dismissively at Parker.

  “It is, and I’ll be happy to show you the intel on it once you’re on board.”