Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6

by R. J. Patterson

  After three mixed drinks, Mudin stumbled toward Fazil.

  “You know I’m married, don’t you?” Mudin asked.

  Fazil put his index finger to his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  A wry grin spread across Mudin’s face. He looked up at one of the women giving him a knowing look.

  “Go ahead,” Fazil said. “Have fun.”

  Fazil watched as Mudin and his new friend disappeared to another part of the building.

  One of the other operatives approached Fazil.

  “There’s something I think you need to see,” the man said.

  Fazil followed the man to the window.

  “Do you see that van over there?” the operative asked.

  Fazil nodded.

  “It pulled up about an hour ago, and it hasn’t moved since.”

  Fazil stared out the window and contemplated his next move. “I want you to exit in one of the vans, the one that hasn’t been loaded with any explosives,” Fazil said. “We’ll turn off all the lights, then you exit a few minutes later. That should put to rest that anything is going on here.”

  The man nodded and hustled downstairs.

  “Quiet,” Fazil said. “We need to turn the music off and the lights off for a few minutes. Does everyone understand?”

  The remaining guests and Al Hasib operatives mumbled that they did.

  “Good,” Fazil said as he turned off the lights. The DJ followed suit, and within seconds, the raging party transformed into a setting more suited for a library.

  The operative proceeded to drive out of the compound, shutting the doors to the facility behind him. There was absolutely no reason for anyone outside to stick around. But they refused to leave. And after a few minutes, they scaled the wall and approached the building.

  “Everyone, silence,” Fazil said. “No talking.”

  Cloaked in darkness, Fazil watched a pair of men move toward the building. If they reached him, it was over for sure. If the men could catch Fazil and his operatives, the law enforcement officers would detain him for a long period of time, long enough to miss out on the opportunity to take out the G-8 leaders and Nationals Park on television.

  The men crept closer toward the building, remaining hunched over as they hustled along.

  “What’s going on?” one of the women asked.

  Fazil shot her a look and hustled toward the stairwell. He reached the roof of the building in less than a minute. He scoured the roof for something to distract the agents’ attention. It didn’t take long before he spotted a few rocks. Fazil proceeded to pick them up and launch them across the parking lot, over the heads of the agents.

  The two men stopped and looked over their shoulders before looking at each other again. After they exchanged words, they continued on toward the building.

  Fazil was taken aback by one of the women who whispered in his ear.

  “I won’t allow myself to be arrested by the police,” she said. “If necessary, I’ll give myself up and cut a deal with them.”

  “Ssshhh,” Fazil hissed. “I’ll gut you myself if you make another sound.”

  The woman cowered back.

  Fazil glared at her and placed his index finger to his lips. He then screwed a silencer onto the end of his gun and took a shot at the van’s windows. The sound of glass shattering the street made the two stop for a moment, but they kept moving toward the facility.

  Unsure about what to do next, Fazil hustled down the steps back into the building and told everyone to stand against the wall so they couldn’t be seen from the windows.

  “We’re all screwed if they catch us here,” he warned.

  Fazil edged near the window and peeked into the parking lot to see if he could locate the two men. Their flashlights flickered in night. They were heading straight for the building.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Pachtuv Palace Hotel

  Prague, Czech Republic

  HAWK KNOCKED ON ALEX’S DOOR, begging her to let him in. The door swung open, and she motioned for him to come inside. Hawk staggered toward the bed while still clutching his right arm.

  “What happened to you?” she asked while she locked the door behind him.

  “I got shot while protecting Abbadi,” he said.

  “Is Abbadi safe?”

  “For the time being, but we have to find out who did this and track them down before I’ll feel safe about him going back into public again.”

  “Will he ever be safe again?” Alex asked.

  “I doubt it, but that’s the path he’s chosen—and more power to him.”

  Alex sighed and put her hands on her hips. “So what do we do now?”

  Hawk moved his left hand off his right bicep, revealing a bloody mess. “Think you can fix this?”

  She nodded. “Let me get some hot washcloths, and you take your shirt off.”

  “You’ve just been waiting to tell me that, haven’t you?” he said as he broke into laughter.

  “Do you amuse yourself like this very often?” she fired back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Hawk grimaced as he eased off his shirt. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and waited for Alex.

  “I was hoping you didn’t get caught in the crossfire,” he said.

  “After you left with Abbadi, there wasn’t any shooting,” she said. “It was clear who the target was.”

  “Did you happen to see who the shooter was?”

  “No,” she called from the bathroom. “It was chaotic, and all the people shooting the event started scrambling toward the back wall. It was bizarre.”

  “Not everyone is cut out to be a hero,” he said.

  “Include me in that bunch,” Alex said. “I’d prefer to sip a latte and read a book.”

  “Or watch a Bollywood movie?”

  “That, too.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Alex. I saw what you did for me just a few hours ago. We’d all prefer to sip lattes and read great literature, but sometimes we just have to do what’s right and not spend all day contemplating it.”

  She emerged from the bathroom with several washcloths, all steaming. “Perhaps so, but a woman can dream, can’t she?”

  Hawk forced a smile and braced for her to apply one of the cloths to his arm. When the rag hit his skin, he let out a short scream and winced as she put pressure on the wound.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  Hawk watched her busily work to clean up his wound before digging out the bullet and stitching him up.

  “I think you enjoy that far more than you should,” Hawk said.

  She smiled. “Did I ever tell you that my roller derby name is Nurse Pain?”

  “You? You were on a roller derby team?”

  “I was the best jammer we had. The Lakeside Katz Meow.”

  “I think I need to see pictures to believe this tale.”

  She shook her head. “Hopefully all pictures have been burned into oblivion.”

  “Why’s that?” Hawk asked. “Would you be embarrassed for me to see them?”

  “I volunteered that information to you, didn’t I? Why would I be embarrassed about it?”

  “Pictures are worth a thousand words,” Hawk said. “I’m going to search for you on Google after this is all over with. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m not ashamed,” she said. “However, I will bowl you over if you try to post them onto social media or show any of my friends. And I promise it won’t feel good.”

  Hawk forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested about how I might incur the wrath of Nurse Pain. For now, I’d prefer that she help me by digging out the bullet in my arm and patching me up.”

  “That I can do,” she said.

  Hawk sat still as she wiped off a pair of tweezers again and penetrated deep into his wound to get the bullet. She dug around for a few moments, unable to get it out.

  He reached into his pocket and handed her a small knife.
r />   “Here, use this,” he said. “It’ll be far more painful but will get the job done.”

  She eyed him closely before taking the knife and opening it. In excruciating pain, Hawk gritted his teeth and refused to breathe heavily while she fished for the bullet. A few seconds later, she emerged with it. She then dashed across the room and grabbed the needle and thread off her nightstand.

  “I’m so glad you know how to sew,” Hawk said.

  She grabbed a vial from the minibar and poured vodka over the needle.

  “Don’t get too excited. I said I know how to sew, but I never said I know how to sew well. Just keep pressure on the wound until I can get this ready.”

  Hawk followed her instructions.

  “I know you weren’t expecting to do so much field work on this mission, but you saved my ass at the compound.”

  “Well, it’s certainly not what I signed up for.”

  Hawk chuckled. “Someone wise once told me that we never get what we sign up for.”

  Alex smiled. “This might sting,” she said before pouring vodka on the wound and then sticking the needle into his arm. She intently studied the area where the bullet had entered while crisscrossing the needle and the thread back and forth across the entrance.

  “You’re doing a great job,” Hawk said.

  “By whose standards? Yours?”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, and I’ve had guys stitch me up on the field before.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment then.”

  Once she finished, Hawk gingerly rolled his sleeve down.

  “So, what’s our next move?” she asked.

  Before Hawk could answer, he heard a knock at the door, rushed over to it and peered out into the hallway. “Who is it?”

  “Ivan Dvorak, head of security at The Pachtuv Palace Hotel,” the man answered.

  “Just a moment,” Hawk said.

  He turned to Alex. “Look, that’s not the head of security here. I met the guy the day we arrived, so I don’t know what’s going on. But I want you to stay out of sight. The last thing I want is for you to become a pawn in this twisted game.”

  “Why’d you even say anything?” she whispered.

  Hawk nudged her toward the bathroom. “If I let him in, I have the element of surprise on my side with how I react to him. Otherwise, he kicks the door down and his guns are up and I’m in a much more hostile situation.”

  “That’s why you’re the operative and I’m—”

  “Just get in the shower and wait until I call you out. Or if it sounds like he’s about to shoot me, feel free to rescue me again, okay?”

  Hawk shut the door before she could say another word.

  “Coming,” he said.

  Hawk looked through the peephole again. It appeared as though the man was alone, which gave Hawk confidence that he’d be able to overpower the impostor. In a smooth motion, he flicked the chain lock off and proceeded to open the door.

  As the man stepped inside, he wasn’t moving fast enough for Hawk, who grabbed the man’s arm and yanked him into the room. Caught off guard, the man went for his gun, but Hawk had already played out the scenario in his mind. With two swift chops on the man’s forearm, Hawk knocked the gun to the ground. Then he delivered an uppercut, knocking the man out.

  “Can I come out now?” Alex asked.

  “No. Stay in there until I can figure out what’s going. The less visible you are, the better. I still haven’t decided if I’m going to let this puke live or not, and I wouldn’t want him telling anyone about you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Hawk worked quickly, utilizing bed sheets and pillowcases to serve as bindings. Once he had tied the man to a chair and positioned him sitting with his back to the wall and facing the beds, Hawk sat down and waited for him to regain consciousness.

  However, he quickly took a prone position between the bed and the wall when bullets started peppering the room next door from outside. Hawk’s room had been next to Alex’s, and he realized those bullets were meant for him.

  After a couple of minutes, the man came to.

  “What’s your name?” Hawk demanded, but the man said nothing.

  Hawk could hear the security personnel in the hallway following lockdown protocol, knocking on one door at a time as they neared their room. Yet, Hawk wasn’t convinced they weren’t running the same scam the man in front of him had just run. For all he knew, they could’ve been the men who just rained down bullets on his room.

  Based on the speed at which the men were clearing rooms, Hawk guessed they were only two doors away.

  “You need to start talking now,” Hawk said.

  The man sighed and shook his head. “What difference does it make?” he asked. “I’m dead if I talk; I’m dead if I don’t. So, I’d rather die with some of my principles still intact.”

  “If you were sent here to assassinate Jordanian Prime Minister Yaseen Abbadi, you have no principles.”

  “Sweet irony getting a lecture from you about principles,” the man said. “The man who routinely defies orders and puts others at risk in doing so.”

  Hawk narrowed his eyes. “You think you know who I am?”

  “Everybody knows about the great Brady Hawk … and his treasonous acts against the United States government.”

  “Treasonous?” Hawk huffed. “That’s a good one. Be sure to give your script writer a raise.”

  “You think I’m joking?”

  Hawk shook his head, eyeing the man closely. “Think I’m joking?”

  Hawk tightened the silencer on his gun and took aim at the man’s foot. The man let out a loud moan as the bullet ripped through his shoe. Fragments of leather and blood splatters dotted the floor around him.

  “They’re gonna hear us, you know,” the man said.

  Hawk shrugged. “I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say about your mission. Who are you working for? Searchlight? The Chamber? Who? My patience is running thin.”

  The man broke into laughter. “You really don’t have a clue, do you? Sure is surprising given how they act like you’re the gold standard among assassins.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  The men’s voices grew louder yet again. Hawk figured they were only one room away now.

  “Getting a little nervous?” the man asked. “Well, you should be. Your little escapade here is about to come to a screeching halt, one way or another.”

  “If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that, I’d be doing what I’d rather be doing about now—sitting on a beach in a Pacific isle, reading a good book, and drinking bourbon. But instead, I’m stuck in here with a detestable puke who refuses to tell me what I need to know.”

  “I’m more or less stalling because I want to see how you intend to get out of this thing.”

  “Don’t think you’ll be around to see it.”

  In the hallway, doors slammed and heavy footfalls echoed near their room. The handle moved slightly before a string of shots echoed down the hallway. It was followed by the sound of at least three men dashing off in the direction of the gunfire.

  Hawk let out a small sigh, pleased that he could focus all his attention on the uncompliant prisoner.

  “They’ll be back,” the man said, grimacing.

  “Start talking,” Hawk said as he remained prone.

  “I can wait you out, you know.”

  Hawk fired another round into the man’s left foot, producing the same results. “My next shot will be your knee.”

  The man howled in pain, twisting and turning in his seat. For a moment, Hawk thought the man might be trying to wriggle free, but Hawk knew there was no way he’d break out.

  “Okay, okay,” the man said. “I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

  Before he could utter another word, a bullet ripped through the window, shattering it. Then two more rounds promptly followed.

  Hawk watched the man go limp and then lifeless. Two shots
to the chest, one to the head. It was over before Hawk could get a single answer.

  Crawling on his stomach, he moved forward a few feet and reached the man’s gun he’d kicked aside during their initial confrontation. As he stared at the familiar weapon, he immediately knew the man’s employer—CIA.

  “Crawl out on your stomach, Alex,” Hawk shouted. “We’re about to come under fire.”

  The moment the words left Hawk’s mouth, another wave of shots obliterated the room. The sound of glass breaking and bullets zipping past him nearly drowned out his heavy breathing as he wormed his way toward the exit.

  “You sure that’s a good idea, Hawk?” Alex asked, who remained hidden in the bathroom.

  “As long as you keep low, you’ll be all right.”

  “How do you plan on opening the door?” she asked.

  “Very carefully and quickly.”

  Hawk shimmied on his stomach to the door and then used the small nook area leading to the bathroom as a barrier. He stood up and peeked around the corner. More bullets ripped through the room.

  Alex poked her head out of the door, remaining prone.

  “Can you throw me that towel over there?” Hawk asked. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Alex crawled over to the towel she’d thrown on the floor a few hours before and picked it up before tossing it to Hawk. Creating a makeshift hook with the towel, he used it to latch on to the door handle out of the sight of the men who were watching Alex’s room from the outside.

  But that didn’t stop the shooters from riddling the door with more shots.

  Hawk looked at Alex. “You ready to make a run for it?”

  She nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “On my mark,” he said.

  Hawk yanked on the towel, springing the door open. He dove through the door and held it open with his foot.

  More bullets pounded the door. He waited for a beat.