Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6

by R. J. Patterson

  She shrugged. “You could call it that.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “I need your help, Hawk—but not in the way you might think.”

  Hawk maintained his focus on the road while fiddling with the com in his left ear. “Want to tell me where we’re going?”

  “In time. Just keep driving straight.”

  A few minutes of awkward silence passed before Hawk re-engaged Moxie in conversation.

  “I’m starting to feel like a hostage,” he said. “Is the gun really necessary?”

  “You are a hostage, Hawk. And I’ve known you for a long time—the gun is absolutely necessary.”

  Hawk drove on quietly.

  “Don’t think I like doing this,” Moxie said.

  “Then why are you?” Hawk asked.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  Moxie sighed. “I got approached by some guys a few days ago. They looked like the riffraff I deal with all the time, except they were different. There were more than a dozen men. They surrounded my car and demanded that I get out.”

  “So you complied?”

  “I had no choice. They all had their weapons drawn. Anything but compliance wouldn’t have ended well for me.”

  “I can relate. What happened next?”

  “They threw me into a van and blindfolded me. When we arrived at our destination, I was taken to a small room and shown a live video feed of Brian.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “More like common law husband if we still lived in the states.”

  Hawk forced a smile. “I always knew he was nothing but trouble.”

  “It wasn’t his fault, Hawk,” she said, her voice climbing several octaves as she spoke. “They must’ve nabbed him off the street.”

  “If he was a real agent, he could’ve handled those terrorist wussies.”

  “Wussies?”

  “Yeah. How many of them were there?”

  She scowled. “How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t there.”

  “One, maybe two? Al Hasib never sends more men than they need to. I’m betting it was just one guy with a gun.”

  “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment since they sent about a dozen men for me.”

  “You should,” Hawk said, matter-of-factly.

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter now how many people came for me or Brian. The bottom line is they have him now.” She paused. “How do you even know it was Al Hasib?”

  Hawk shook his head and continued to drive straight ahead. “If they were coming after me, it was Al Hasib.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  “Why? Because I’m universally reviled?”

  “Al Hasib has plenty of cells all over the world, but there aren’t any consistent characteristics that distinguish them.”

  “There are if you know what you’re looking for. I’m certain these men were with Al Hasib.”

  “Well, now it doesn’t matter who they were with,” she said. “The only thing that matters is that they’re going to kill Brian if—”

  She paused and bit her bottom lip. To Hawk, it looked as if she was trying her hardest to hold back tears.

  “If what?” he asked.

  Moxie took a deep breath. “If I don’t give them five million dollars by tomorrow.”

  “And you don’t have access to that kind of money with all your contacts?”

  She shook her head. “The money isn’t flowing like it was before.”

  “And you told them this?”

  She bobbed her head. “Of course I did. That’s when they gave me another option.”

  “Me?”

  “They said if I turned you over, they’d do a straight up exchange.”

  “Me for Brian? Wow, that’s depressing. I figured I’d at least be valuable enough to get a few people released. But Brian?”

  “Don’t be so full of yourself. You’re not nearly as valuable as you think you are since you left the Navy Seals.”

  “So, how do you see this going down? You really think they’re going to give you Brian once you turn me over?”

  “I’m not exactly brimming with options here. My best play is to hope they keep their word.”

  “At my expense, of course.”

  “Look, you can handle yourself.”

  “You mean, I can take the shit getting kicked out of me by a bunch of terrorist thugs?”

  “If you want to put it that way—”

  Hawk squeezed the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening by the second. “You know what strikes me odd about your story?”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re in Vienna in private security. This is one of the few places in Europe that isn’t teeming with an influx of refugees from Islamic countries. And if there were really a dozen men who surrounded your car, I’m sure you would’ve pursued them. It’s not in your nature to be so compliant.”

  “You think I’m making this whole story up to kidnap you?”

  Hawk rubbed his chin and nodded. “There’s not a doubt in my mind.”

  “I swear to God, Hawk. It’s all true. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  Hawk chuckled and shook his head. “This is the third time you’ve sworn on your mother’s grave, and every time it’s been a lie. Now, do you still need five million dollars to get Brian back or not?”

  “Yes, that’s the honest-to-God truth.”

  “Look, quit trying to invoke God’s name in your lies. Now, I don’t think I’m going to get a straight answer from you, but maybe I will on this one question: Will five million get Brian back?”

  “It’s not that easy, Hawk. I know they’d prefer you.”

  “Would they? I’m inclined to disappoint anyone looking to have a good time at my expense. I’ve had enough of being apprehended by terrorists.”

  “At this point, it doesn’t matter what you want,” she said. “I’ve got the gun.” Then she held up a small electronic device. “I’ve also got a jammer for your communications.”

  Hawk furrowed his brow and cut his eyes toward her for a second. “You’re a special kind of backstabber.”

  She smiled and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “I’d be more than happy to give them the second-best option: money.”

  Hawk feigned shock, dropping his jaw. “I never would’ve guessed you had a heart.”

  “Even my heart can be changed for eight million dollars.”

  “Eight million? Where’d that figure come from?”

  “That’s the price of you escaping capture.”

  Hawk nodded in the direction of an approaching intersection. “Still straight,” she said. “I’ll tell you when to turn.”

  Hawk rubbed his chin and thought for a minute before answering. “Fine, I’ll pay it—on one condition: I want to know who’s behind all this. I’m assuming you’ve spoken to him. I like to know who my enemies are.”

  She glanced down at her gun and sighed. “Yeah, I know him—and you do, too.”

  “The name,” Hawk demanded.

  “Bozeman,” she said. “His name is Harry Bozeman.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Somewhere in the Bavarian Alps

  BLUNT POURED HIMSELF a cup of coffee and settled into the plush leather recliner. He propped his feet up on the hearth and let out a long sigh. Still shaken from the narrow escape that almost claimed his life on a mountainside not more than ten kilometers from where he was sitting, Blunt had stayed up long into the night talking to the pilots as they explained to local officials what happened. Blunt was intent on avoiding his name being placed in any official document. In the event that some horrific crash occurred, he had placed the plane under the ownership of a pseudonym with a shell company located in the Caribbean. It’d take a determined and experienced investigator just to track down his known affiliations, much less his full name. Being on record as a passenger threatened his ability to remain hidden in plain sight. That’s why the pilots lied wh
en asked if anyone else was aboard.

  As much as Blunt should have cared about the men who’d saved his life with a harrowing landing on a mountainside, he felt like his mission was bigger than just a life or two. It was bigger than his own, if he was honest. Should The Chamber ever possess the ability to control elections in various countries, they’d be difficult to stop with their people in place. The type of unified coalition Katarina Petrov sought was one worth risking everything to stop. But Blunt stopped short of concluding that his life was one that needed to be sacrificed right now. If he wasn’t around to stop The Chamber, the clandestine organizations would soldier ahead. Blunt could count on one hand the number of people who actually knew what was happening.

  Blunt was still mulling over the best approach to expose The Chamber when his phone rang. It was Brady Hawk.

  “I hope you have better news than I do,” Blunt said as he answered.

  “Well, earlier today I was being held at gunpoint by what I once thought was a trusted friend. How was your day?”

  “I guess we’ve got a tie. Sabotage on my private jet, resulting in a crash in the mountains.”

  Hawk laughed softly. “Well, you obviously survived.”

  “I’m too old for this shit,” Blunt said. “And if it weren’t for The Chamber, I’d be sitting on a boat somewhere in the South Pacific.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. You’d find some other organization to torture your poor soul.”

  Blunt took a long sip of his coffee. “You’re probably right, but that’s what I say to make myself feel better.”

  “Whatever it takes, right?”

  Blunt politely laughed. “So, what did you call about? I’m assuming it wasn’t to compare who’s had the most tumultuous twenty-four hours.”

  “Well, I’m kind of still a hostage.”

  “What do you mean?” a bewildered Blunt asked.

  “I mean, I’m not home free just yet.”

  Blunt knew what Hawk was driving at. “How much do you need?”

  “Eight million—and your permission.”

  “Eight million? And my permission? Who do you think I am?”

  “The man who holds the purse strings and writes hall passes,” Hawk quipped.

  “Fair enough. I can get your money. But what kind of permission are we talking about here?”

  “The kind that’d allow me to go after Harry Bozeman.”

  “Harry Bozeman? You think that old has-been is worth pursuing?”

  “I’ve heard his name twice in the past several months while working on different missions. Why shouldn’t it be worth pursuing a man who’s trying to kill me?”

  “Because he’s a minor player in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Sounds like he’s the one pulling the strings to me.”

  Blunt pulled out a pocketknife and started to shave off the bark from a small oak branch. He watched the shavings quickly pile up on the floor. “Harry Bozeman is a merchant for hire,” he finally said. “He’ll do whatever he can to make a buck, partner with whatever organization will take him.”

  “This confirms that Bozeman is after me as it isn’t the first time he’s tried to take a swing at me.”

  “Are you sure Bozeman is behind this?” Blunt asked as he pensively gazed out the window. “This feels somewhat strange, even for him.”

  “I’m quite certain it’s him.”

  “Why? Did you get this information from the woman who was holding a gun to you?”

  “Yes, but she can shake him if we give her eight million.”

  Blunt pulled a cigar out of the box on the end table next to his chair and flicked his lighter. “Eight million? Are you out of your mind? You just think we’re endowed forever, don’t you? I hate to break it to you, but we’re not. I just can’t go writing massive checks every time you get in a pinch. Word will get around. Firestorm isn’t an ATM; we fight terrorists. And Bozeman isn’t a terrorist—he’s an opportunist.”

  “At this point, that’s semantics as far as I’m concerned. The bottom line is that guy isn’t going to stop trying to kill me.”

  Blunt blew a steady stream of smoke upward and gazed at the large beams overhead. “I’ve got a better mission for you.”

  “Only if you’ve got my eight million dollars.”

  “That’s not exactly the way I want to handle things, understand? Why don’t you give that pretty little thing the slip, okay?”

  “She’s not going to do anything until she gets her money.”

  “Well, maybe you need to think about eliminating her first.”

  “Come on, Senator,” Hawk pleaded. “Surely you can spare a cool eight mil.”

  “A cool eight mil turns into a cool twenty mil before you know it. And so on and so forth—and I can assure you there’s nothing cool about it.”

  “If I don’t give her the money—”

  “Figure out a way,” Blunt roared. “Use your charm, your good looks, an empty promise. Whatever it takes to get her off your back. I’ll even leave her a message, too, so it looks like you’re going to get the job done. Good enough?”

  “I guess so,” Hawk conceded.

  “Now, on to more important things,” Blunt said. “I’ve got another mission for you, one with dire consequences if you don’t succeed.”

  Hawk laughed. “You’ve never pitched a mission with me any other way.”

  “This is no joke.”

  “Of course it’s not,” Hawk snapped. “But if you think I’m going on some damned fool mission that’s really about a personal vendetta, you can forget it.”

  “It’s not like that. They just tried to kill me.”

  “I couldn’t care less. You’re worried about becoming an ATM for terrorists; I’m worried about becoming target practice for terrorists.”

  “Fair enough, but I’m not going to let you off the hook this time. I have a very specific task for you to accomplish—and I’m not going to get off the line until I hear you agree.”

  “What difference does it make?” Hawk asked rhetorically. “We can destroy The Chamber, but does it matter if we don’t have anything worthwhile to go home to? A puppet government? No matter what, I’ll likely be a fugitive for the rest of my life. But I’m less concerned about that as I am about helping our country regain its footing in the world politically. And that will never happen if I go running down every personal vendetta of yours.”

  “I’m glad you’re in agreement with me,” Blunt said, ignoring Hawk’s protests. “I know you’ll do the right thing. I’ll send you some documents pertaining to the mission later.”

  Blunt hung up and threw his head back. He turned and stared out the window at the clear skies emerging from the breaking dawn. A forecast of intense thunderstorms never materialized.

  The storm just missed me.

  A faint smile crept up around the corners of his mouth. He stood and walked around the deck, listening to the call of a crow deep in the forest and watching the brook bubbling down below. Such a rare opportunity to soak in the raw life surrounding him provided Blunt with a moment of peace, even if it was sure to be a fleeting one.

  The volume on his computer was turned up loud enough that even from the deck he could hear the ominous series of tones signifying the arrival of email. Blunt lumbered over to the desk in the corner of the room before logging into his computer.

  The first several messages were spam notifications. “I came back inside for this,” he muttered.

  Right as he was about to sit back down outside on the deck, his computer beeped again.

  Blunt’s curiosity was too much to overcome. He returned back inside the cabin and clicked on the odd email sent from a contact he didn’t recognize. Almost immediately, he knew its contents were going to be helpful, rewarding Blunt for his insatiable desire to open his private emails without delay.

  The sender was anonymous, yet Blunt had a hunch who might have sent him such sensitive information. He chose not to dwell on that mystery and turned his att
ention to the tranche of files and images that could most certainly be weaponized and aimed in the direction of The Chamber.

  The photos revealed several members of The Chamber—and several members who Blunt had never seen before.

  “This has to be them,” he said under his breath. “In fact, I’ll bet my life on it.”

  However, Blunt was determined to go much further than empty promises. He wanted to eradicate Petrov and her ilk from the planet. If Blunt had his way, there wouldn’t be a single member of The Chamber to turn the lights off when it was evident the end was near.

  Armed with the information in the strange email sent to him, Blunt was going to make damn sure the end wasn’t just near but chugging ahead full speed for Petrov and her power-hungry ego.

  CHAPTER 16

  Vienna, Austria

  ARMED WITH THE NAME of the man who seemed to haunt him, Hawk jammed his foot on the gas. He weaved in and out of traffic, zipping through a residential area before reaching the entrance to the highway. He slowed down and came to a stop at the intersection, trying to regain his bearings and figure out which way to turn.

  “What are you doing now?” Moxie asked.

  “Just waiting on you to tell me the fastest way to the airport,” Hawk answered.

  “It’s over. Just forget about the flash drive. It’s probably all just an elaborate ruse anyway.”

  Hawk cut his eyes toward her and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I’m really starting to wonder if I can trust you to tell me the truth about anything.”

  “What? You don’t think someone is capable of constructing an elaborate plan to draw you out?”

  “Perhaps, but we have intel on this that suggests otherwise,” Hawk said.

  “Intel fed to you by people trying to kill you.”

  “Or extort me,” Hawk quipped.

  “Regardless, it’d be a fruitless endeavor to go to the airport at this point. Besides, I haven’t received my money yet, and I’m not about to let you out of my sight until you do.”

  Hawk reached into his back pocket and pulled out his passport. He held it out toward Moxie. “Here, this ought to suffice. You know I’m not going anywhere without this.”

  She opened it and glanced at the picture.