Hawk noticed a ghost of a smile appear on her face. “Like the picture of that devilishly handsome man there?”
She snickered. “Hardly. Too rugged for my tastes. I like my men more refined and not-so-rough around the edges.”
“I guess you’ve changed.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” she said. “Besides, that night in Annapolis I was more than a little drunk.”
“What did you major in again at USC? Wasn’t it revisionist history?”
“I went to UCLA, you—”
The wry grin spreading across Hawk’s face caused her to stop.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said.
“Just trying to keep you on your toes, all while I point out your lies. These days, I have little time for lies and deception; I’m majoring in the truth.”
“Well, good luck with that in the world of espionage.”
Hawk checked his rearview mirror and continued his route toward the airport. After a long pause, he resumed their contentious conversation.
“Is that why you quit?”
“What? Quit? What are you talking about?”
“Is that why you quit your role in espionage? I mean, it hardly got started before you bolted.”
“Someone could say the same about you,” she said. “But if truth be told, I quit espionage because of Brian. That and the fact that I could make a boatload of money protecting Europe’s elite from the Islamic extremists flowing across the borders.”
“Is that all this is to you—money?”
She shrugged. “I have to admit the money is nice.”
“Hence your extortion of me for more of it.”
“Don’t be so bitter, Hawk. You’ve been playing this game long enough to know that you can’t trust anyone.”
“Don’t I know it all too well.”
“Apparently not well enough,” she said, waving his passport for emphasis. “You’re not leaving this car until I have eight million transferred to my account.”
“I can’t exactly do that while I’m driving.”
Moxie sighed. “Why don’t you have your little girlfriend do it for you?”
“I can’t reach her. We were having trouble with the coms—remember?”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Moxie said as she dug into her pocket and pulled out a small square device. She fiddled with the device for a few seconds. “Try her now.”
Hawk sighed. “Alex, can you hear me? Alex, this is Hawk. Can you hear me?”
***
ALEX SPEWED SOME OF HER COFFEE out of her mouth when she heard Hawk’s voice over the com device in her ear. She’d been monitoring his movements—or at least, the movement of his cell phone—over her computer. Before he reconnected with her, she could tell his cell phone was en route to the airport. Alex had also been hoping that Hawk was headed there, too, and heading there alive.
“Hawk, you’re okay,” she said.
“Yes, just out for a Sunday drive,” he said. “But I need you to do me a favor.”
Alex had a hunch about what was happening, but she couldn’t confirm anything without Hawk. And while she knew he was alive, she also understood that he was in trouble. They had several phrases for different situations that signaled trouble discreetly. One of them was Sunday drive.
“How can I help? Can she hear me?” she asked.
“Well,” Hawk started, utilizing their code for answering negatively to her yes-or-no question. “I need you to transfer some money for me.”
Hawk and Alex had developed a system for communicating without answering directly in the event that only half of a conversation was audible to a third party. They also had protocol for when one of them was on speaker and a third party could hear everything. In this particular scenario, well meant no and, hmm meant yes. Hawk was also careful to talk in short sentences to give Alex ample time to get her questions answered.
“How much? Are you headed to the airport?” Alex asked.
“Hmm,” Hawk began, “I think we agreed upon seven million.”
Alex could hear Moxie in the background. “Eight,” she said sharply.
“Make that eight million,” Hawk said.
“I can do that, but I’ll need the account number to initiate the wire transfer. I’ve been tracking the Al Hasib agent who scored the winning bid, and he’s on his way to the airport, too. His face finally came up in facial recognition.”
“Splendid,” Hawk said. “Let me get that account number for you.”
Alex watched on her monitor while the vehicle headed straight for the airport. She’d managed to tag Abdul Sarkis, the Al Hasib operative who’d won a hotly contested bidding war for some rare Zoroastrian scrolls, and was following his movements over closed circuit feeds she’d tapped into from Vienna’s traffic cams. While she wrote the account number down, she glanced up to see Sarkis turning into the airport parking lot.
“You better hurry,” Alex said. “He’s already there.”
“It’s going through now,” Hawk said.
“You can’t just grab him, Hawk. It’s going to cause a commotion, and you’ll need to have some pre-text for you to apprehend him. Do you have your CIA credentials in case you run into trouble?”
“Hmm. You’re having trouble with the transaction?” Hawk said. “Let me know the moment it clears.”
“Good luck,” she said. “I’ll be monitoring everything from here.”
“Excellent,” Hawk said. “I’ll tell her the good news.”
The line went dead again.
CHAPTER 17
Vienna International Airport
Vienna, Austria
ABDUL SARKIS HANDED HIS PASSPORT to the agent perched on a stool behind a podium by the entrance to the security checkpoint. The woman glanced at the picture then up again at Sarkis, an act she repeated three times before finally stamping the passport and sliding it back toward the patient passenger.
Sarkis slung his small overnight bag on the conveyor belt and strode through the metal detector at the behest of another security agent. Once he was cleared, he grabbed his luggage and headed toward his terminal. His flight for Dubai was scheduled to begin boarding in forty-five minutes, just enough time for him to purchase a cup of coffee and read a newspaper.
Once he arrived at his gate with his drink and paper, he scanned the area for a seat. The only two available were located next to an American woman talking loudly on her cell phone and an elderly woman wearing a tichel. It wasn’t easy to decide between two deplorable people—an infidel or a Jew. He considered standing for a moment to avoid making an unpleasant choice, but opted against it out of fear that it might draw unwanted attention by making others around him nervous. The last thing he wanted was to be noticed.
He settled next to the Jewish woman and placed his boarding pass on the small table on the other side of him. He then flung open his paper, demonstrably so in order to signal that he didn’t want to be disturbed.
The woman didn’t receive the message as he’d intended.
“Have you been to Dubai before?” she asked as she tapped him on the arm.
Sarkis lowered his paper and turned deliberately toward her. “Is that where we’re going?” he said. “I thought this flight was headed to Paris.”
The woman studied him for a second and then broke into a wide grin. “I’m Chava,” she said. “It’s always a pleasure to travel with someone who has a sense of humor.”
“And you’re sure we’re traveling together?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.
She nodded and cast a quick glance at his boarding pass. “You’re even in the seat next to me.”
“What are the chances?” he asked before raising his paper again.
“You travel often?” she asked.
Sarkis sighed and shook his head. “Not commercially.” He was already beginning to lament the fact that he wasn’t flying on a private jet for this brief mission.
“Me either,” she said. “I prefer trains. You meet the most inter
esting people on trains.”
“Nothing like being trapped with a stranger for hours,” he quipped.
“I totally agree,” she said with a grin, completely mistaking what Sarkis intended by his statement. “I think I’d have such a far more narrow view of the world if it weren’t for all the amazing people I’ve met in my travels.”
He looked up at the clock. There were still thirty minutes remaining before the scheduled boarding time.
How will I ever endure this?
“Travel does tend to broaden one’s horizons,” Sarkis said without any conviction. He couldn’t muster it up since he found travel to only confirm the reason why he’d pledged his allegiance to Al Hasib. The world was teeming with infidels—and they needed to be purged.
“I once met a Russian diplomat on a train headed for Zurich,” she said, launching into a story without attempting to gauge Sarkis’s level of interest. “For so many years, I hated the Russians. I have relatives who once lived in Kiev but were forced out by the Tsar. They made the unfortunate decision to move to Vienna, somehow surviving the Nazi invasion during the war by entering into hiding. But I digress.”
Sarkis had dropped his paper completely and was listening with interest to the woman’s story. “But you liked this Russian diplomat?” he asked, prodding her back to her original story.
“Oh, yes,” Chava said with a giggle. “Handsome young man, he was. He was completely respectful toward me and even apologized on behalf of his fellow countrymen for how they treated my people. I’ve even considered going back and visiting after meeting him.”
“There are always exceptions to every rule,” Sarkis said. “But people can be deceiving.”
“Perhaps, but deep down, we’re all human and should be able to relate to each other. The world rulers’ attempts to divide us are what keep them in power. I find it all sad and depressing.” Chava paused. “But then I talk to a person and my outlook is brightened again. I actually have hope for humanity.”
Sarkis shook his head. “I wish I could share in your optimism. Unfortunately, the more people I meet, the more pessimistic I become.”
“Perhaps you need to meet different people.”
Chava tightened her tichel and picked up the book that had been in her lap.
Sarkis stared ahead, considering her words for a moment. Then he dismissed them as the ramblings of a disillusioned old Jew before fantasizing about slitting her throat while she read.
CHAPTER 18
WHEN HAWK PULLED into the airport parking lot, he formulated a plan of attack. He needed to ditch Moxie and get away from her jamming device. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t see any reason why she’d want to stick around for what he was about to do and invite unwanted scrutiny, but she hadn’t lowered her gun.
“You can put that thing down now,” Hawk said, glancing at her gun. “You got all your money already.”
She didn’t budge. “Remember, I don’t trust anyone.”
“I don’t have a gun in my pocket, and I sure can’t take one through security at an airport.”
“I’m sure you could find a way.”
“Perhaps, but now is not the time for that. This operation will require a different type of skill.”
“And what skill is that?”
“Improvisation. Are you planning on tagging along?”
“No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
“Great. I’ll let you off at the curb before I park.”
She huffed. “You’re not going to let me take the car back to my place?”
“I just gave you eight million dollars. I’m sure you can afford another mode of transportation.”
The car skidded to a halt in the parking lot.
“I thought you were going to take me to the curb.”
Hawk shook his head while he unbuckled his seat belt. “I thought you never took anyone at their word? Maybe you should heed your own advice.”
She sighed and methodically climbed out of the car. But Hawk didn’t wait around to watch her. He’d already embarked on a short hike to the airport, breaking into a half jog. Once he heard the car door slam behind him, he fingered the fob in his pocket and locked the door. After a couple high-pitched beeps, Hawk looked back over his shoulder at Moxie, who wore a scowl and struggled to walk in her Christian Louboutins.
He waited another minute before he tried to reach Alex on the coms.
“Are you available to help me out here, Alex?” he asked.
“I never took my eye off you,” she said.
“Is that so? Was that for professional or personal reasons?”
“Now’s not the time for wisecracks,” she said. “Abdul Sarkis is going to be on a plane in about thirty minutes along with that list of agents. You’re going to have to pick up the pace if you intend to stop him.”
“Can you buy me a ticket and send it to my phone?”
“I can try.”
Hawk reached the sliding doors and entered the ticketing area. His phone buzzed with a message from Alex.
“You are a miracle worker,” he said.
“I try,” Alex answered.
“Let’s see if you can try to help me maneuver my way through this airport and catch Sarkis.”
Hawk froze as he looked at the long security line through a snaking maze of black ropes.
“This isn’t going to work,” he said as he looked at his ticket. “Alex, is there a fast pass lane around here?”
“I’m afraid I can’t get you access to that. One of the cons of flying on private jets all the time.”
“I guess I’ll have to wing it then,” he said as he surveyed the crowd of passengers waiting like cattle trudging toward the slaughter.
“Wing it?” Alex asked. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“I could tell you, but then you’d try and talk me out of it. Just keep watching. I’m still going to need your help—probably a lot of it. So, if you haven’t already pulled up the schematics on the airport, you might want to do that.”
“What are you going to do?”
Hawk didn’t answer. He took a deep breath and broke into a dead sprint toward an unsuspecting man toting a black leather bag. Hawk snatched the attaché from the man’s hands and continued racing toward the checkpoint.
“Hawk, are you crazy?” Alex squawked in his ear.
He was half wishing Moxie’s jammer was still operating, half wondering if Alex was right.
But it was too late now.
He was already hurtling through the checkpoint, a guard screaming for his colleagues to arrest Hawk.
CHAPTER 19
THOR TOOK A LONG PULL from his glass of bourbon and leaned back in his seat. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath and reflected on his failed attempt to take out Brady Hawk. On one hand it was a professional embarrassment. Thor couldn’t deny that his arrogance had cost him the chance to eliminate his nemesis and claim his spot as one of the world’s most lethal assassins. On the other hand, he’d taken a swing at Hawk and survived. Not many people—if any—could say that.
The overlords at The Chamber, namely Katarina Petrov, wouldn’t be pleased with the result. The organization didn’t hire Thor to almost kill targets. No, they expected successful mission after successful mission. It was the only way to stay on their good side, much less their payroll. While Thor had built up a significant amount of equity with his new employers, Hawk’s head was the one trophy kill Thor promised them. And he’d failed … this time.
Thor typed up a short message and sent it straight to Petrov. He wasn’t going to try come up with an excuse for why he’d botched the operation, though he knew deep down it had everything to do with his deep-seeded belief that he was superior to Hawk. But Hawk had surprised Thor. Several years ago when they’d essentially competed for the top agent within Firestorm, Thor always felt like Hawk had won due to dumb luck. Less than two hours after a bungled attempt on Hawk’s life, Thor questioned his own judgment.
Maybe Hawk is better.
Thor quickly dismissed the idea and started to hatch another plot to take out his archrival. If Thor hoped to maintain the backing of The Chamber, who’d generously funded his assignment, he needed to present a plan for moving forward, a plan for how he’d take out Hawk in a future encounter.
The plane leveled out, and Thor leaned forward. He peered out the window at the majestic landscape below. He wished he’d had more time to explore it. But that day would come in due time. Until then, he needed to figure out a way to take out Hawk.
CHAPTER 20
HAWK NAVIGATED THE PASSENGERS wandering listlessly along the concourse between gates. Most of them were engaged in cell phone conversations or watching videos on their preferred media devices or listening to music. The fact that a man was hotfooting it upstream with airport security personnel in pursuit barely registered with most of them.
“Talk to me, Alex,” Hawk said. “Are you with me?”
“I’m with you, but I’ve got no idea where we’re going.”
“We’re making it up along the way. Now, can you find me the nearest janitorial closet?”
“There’s one up ahead on your left, about twenty meters.”
“I see it,” Hawk said. “But I was thinking about one around the corner instead.”
“I got ya covered. Take the next right, and there’s one on the left just past the men’s restroom.”
“Roger that,” Hawk said.
Armed with directions, he pumped his arms harder, increasing his speed. He didn’t look back but kept his eyes focused in front of him, searching for a potential agent approaching him from the front. But there was nobody.
Perfect.
He raced to the supply room and tried to open it—locked. He pulled his knife out of his pocket and picked the door open in a matter of seconds. Slamming the door shut behind him, he first ditched his light jacket and promptly began searching the room.
“What are you doing now?” Alex asked. “You’re off CCTV.”
“Good. Did you see me enter the closet?”
“No, but they’ll figure it out soon enough if they were watching.”
Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6 Page 34