Brady Hawk 09 - Seek and Destroy

by R. J. Patterson

  Blunt poured himself another cup of coffee and took a seat at the head of the table, opposite of where Alex had settled.

  “If you ever think of this job as a task to be finished, you’re never going to be satisfied with your work,” Blunt said.

  “Then what’s even the point?” Alex asked. “I mean, even if we are successful in taking down Petrov, does that really matter? Will the one-world currency movement live on after she dies?”

  “That’s not something I can answer right now, but I hope to make this less of a hypothetical question and find out exactly what will happen in short order,” Blunt said.

  “I think we should still go after Petrov,” Hawk said, tapping the table for emphasis. “She’s the one person holding this whole thing together for The Chamber. If she goes away, so does the momentum for this crazy plan that’s going to either set the U.S. back to the Dark Ages or put us under the thumb of an oppressive leader—and I’m not comfortable with either of those outcomes.”

  Blunt’s phone rang and he snatched it up off the table.

  “I need to take this,” he said.

  Staggering to his feet, Blunt shuffled into the study and shut the door behind him.

  “There’s something big happening in Washington right now,” said the man on the other end. “Very big.”

  “Slow down, Noah,” Blunt said, determining quickly it was the Vice President, Noah Young. “What’s going on?”

  “I just got a call from our mutual Secret Service friend,” Young said. “Apparently, Michaels just slipped his security detail and went down to the Library of Congress for a special meeting. But you won’t believe who he met with.”

  “The Russians? The North Koreans?”

  “Nothing quite that disturbing from the arena of global politics, but a group that makes meeting with him far more sinister.”

  “You got me.”

  “The Supreme Court.”

  Blunt let out a long slow whistle. “I need more details on this.”

  “I wish I had more, but I don’t. All I know is that one of our agents knew Michaels donned a disguise and proclaimed to be a man named George Orwell, using his false identity to book a meeting room at the Library of Congress. The agents found him, but only after the meeting had dispersed. A few minutes later, our mutual contact identified three Supreme Court justices in the building.”

  “Perhaps the justices were there for research,” Blunt countered.

  “You know how big that place is, which means you know how preposterous those words sound coming out of your mouth.”

  “So, what if he did meet with them? What does that prove?” Blunt asked.

  “The scuttlebutt around Washington right now is that the Supreme Court is going to agree to listen to a challenge to the Federal Reserve Act of 1913.”

  “A law that’s been intact for over a century?”

  Young forced a laugh. “Uh-huh. My sentiments exactly. I’m betting Michaels had to convince them just to take the case.”

  “Not to mention get assurances that the votes will fall in his favor.”

  “If not, why even go through all the trouble in the first place? The only thing that makes sense is that Michaels is mounting this challenge with the express purpose of wresting control away from Congress.”

  “But he’d still need an amendment to give that power to the executive branch.”

  Young hesitated. “Not exactly. There are other ways to exert your authority if you’re President.”

  Blunt’s mind whirred as he tried to conceive of what pathway would provide Michaels with the clout to seize governance over the country’s finances. Then it dawned on him.

  “He wouldn’t?” Blunt said, half asking, half stating.

  “He’ll kill me, given the chance,” Young said. “Do you really think he’d stop at nothing to make this a reality?”

  “But why? I don’t understand it. Petrov tried to kill him.”

  “Petrov is playing him for the fool that he is. Michaels is very concerned with getting re-elected right now. But that will be the least of his concerns once this story leaks out. Jail will be a likelier option if the FBI has the guts to launch an investigation against him. The lying and the coercion will barely cause someone to arch an eyebrow once the rest of what he’s done comes to light.”

  “This is a mess,” Blunt said.

  “You’re telling me. Just go figure out a way to fix this fiasco.”

  “Roger that,” Blunt said before he hung up.

  He rummaged through his desk drawer before finding a lighter. However, he’d been looking for his cigar cutter for days and figured this was as good of a time as any. After a few minutes of fruitless searching that included loud swearing and the intermittent pounding of fists, Blunt slumped back in his chair. He was already irate over Michaels’ attempt to usurp the Constitution in a sneaky—albeit it, legal—way.

  A knock at the door interrupted his frantic search.

  “Looking for these?” Hawk asked.

  Blunt turned around to see Hawk holding up a cigar cutter in one hand and a cigar in the other. Forcing a smile, Blunt nodded.

  “Well, I was looking for the cigar cutter, but that stogie looks far fresher than this one which was hanging out in this drawer for who knows how long.”

  “Rough phone call?” Hawk said as he strode across the room and handed both objects to Blunt.

  “Yeah, let’s talk about it with the rest of the team.”

  Blunt stood up and returned to the dining room with Hawk.

  “We have a serious problem,” Blunt said as he clipped one end of the cigar and then jammed it into his mouth. “Michaels held a secret meeting with several members of the Supreme Court today. Nobody outside of a handful of Secret Service agents even know about this.”

  “And now us,” Hawk said.

  Blunt nodded. “Now that we do, we must act immediately. There isn’t time to waste here.”

  “So, we’re officially done with Petrov?” Samuels asked.

  Blunt chewed hard on his cigar. “We’re never going to be done with her, but for now? Yes. We’re going to lay off her for the time being. We need to weaken her position first and at least give Michaels the illusion that we’re on his side.”

  “He has to know that we figured out he ordered some agent to kill you,” Hawk said.

  Blunt shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. My money would be on Michaels who initiated the hit, mostly because he’s probably the only person who could’ve tracked us there. But he needs to take a number and get in line behind a slew of others who want me dead. The best thing for us to do right now is to act as if we’re following his orders and falling in lockstep with his commands.”

  “That move will certainly play to his ego,” Alex said.

  “But that means we’ll be back in Washington with big targets on our backs,” Samuels said. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with that plan.”

  “If you think things are bad for us now, I can promise you our situation will be a hundred times worse if Petrov has convinced Michaels to join her on this fool’s errand,” Blunt said. “We have to lay low and bring Michaels’ scheme to light.”

  “It’s all so dizzying,” Alex said. “What could my mother—Petrov—have done to get Michaels back on board? She tried to kill him a few weeks ago.”

  Blunt shook his head. “Petrov has a knack for finding just the right pressure point.”

  “You mean she has blackmail material for everyone?” she asked.

  “Same difference. In the end, she’s going to get her way. She’s always been like that.”

  “Unfortunately for her, she’s running up against her own daughter who has inherited her mother’s resolve,” Hawk said with a smile and a wink.

  “So, this is settled?” Samuels asked.

  Blunt nodded. “We’re going to go stop Michaels first.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Washington, D.C.

  THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS in Washington were fill
ed with enough news to dominate the national headlines. President Michaels watched the cable news channels and wondered how many CEOs would choose a time like this to announce a recall or some other news that would normally result in severe damage to their company’s reputation. But in a week where Washington politics were front and center? No one would likely notice.

  The news about dustup on the House floor between two congressmen resulted in an enormous number of commentaries, not to mention enough memes and gifs to saturate social media for weeks to come. Almost lost in the throwback to the 19th century era of American politics was what caused the fight to begin with: Two bullheaded politicians trying to gain the political high ground in the debate over the Federal Reserve’s reluctance to embrace the one-world currency. Politicians had held their finger to the wind of American sentiment, anxious to determine which way the public was swaying before taking a position. And in classic 21st century politics, the two prevailing parties couldn’t reach a consensus and work together. Credit had to trump cooperation.

  Michaels smiled as the news unfolded. Every last piece of news was playing into his hands. Lost in raucous was the fact that in the lower courts, two attempts to challenge the constitutionality of the Federal Reserve Act of 1913 had been dismissed. There wasn’t even a mention in The Washington Post’s political round up, apparently deemed as some moronic crusade unworthy of the public’s time and attention.

  However, that all changed the following morning when the Supreme Court announced it would hear briefs in the case and would hold them in two days in an emergency hearing. The announcement caught everyone off guard. Journalists scrambled to report who was behind the challenge and what the potential fallout of a reversal of the law could mean, a law that had withstood far more aggressive challenges throughout history than this one.

  Michaels sipped on a cup of coffee as he flipped the channel across several news channels to listen to what commentators were saying. Some agreed with the challenge and said it should’ve been overturned years ago. Others thought the lawsuit was ridiculous, as was the “antiquated” Supreme Court justices for agreeing to take it up. But regardless of what any pundit thought about the situation, Michaels’ name was glaringly absent. Not even a mention of what the president might think about a potential landmark change to the law.

  With Washington abuzz over the news and impending case, Michaels recorded his weekly radio address to the nation. He didn’t have the flair Roosevelt did with his fireside chats, but Michaels found the opportunity to speak his mind directly to the American people without a filter quite refreshing. He liked using social media as well, but he found messages were often lost or misinterpreted in the small number of characters allowed to craft his idea. He also felt any form of digital communication was often subject to the loss of tone, giving the user the power to determine the intent of whatever was conveyed. Michaels found utilizing social media oftentimes counterproductive. But the radio address was golden.

  He entered the studio to record something he’d written himself. No speech writers, no input from aides. Just Michaels and a pen with some paper. He’d never felt so proud of his oratory skills than he did when he read what he’d written. Everything he said, he did so with conviction and passion.

  For the first time since he’d been elected, Michaels felt like he was poised to make a difference. He was convinced that his leadership for the country was necessary in a time like this.

  In a moment of gut-wrenching honesty, Michaels realized he was overselling his importance. And his leadership was little more than dancing to the tune Katarina Petrov commanded him to. But no one had to know. He’d gone to great lengths to make sure he was shielded from any controversy. The only people who could blow the lid off his plan were the five justices he’d asked to attend a secret meeting. And if one of them dared to expose Michaels, they’d all be considered equally guilty by the public and perhaps even by governing law boards. If any of the justices cared about their position and reputation, they would never breathe a word of what happened to anyone—and Michaels knew they all cared deeply about legacies. All judges with aspirations for the Supreme Court eyed their place in U.S. history with great contemplation. But Michaels escalated their dreams by offering the proverbial carrot on the stick: Vote for me and you will find yourself on the first world court.

  Michaels had no idea if it would come to pass or not—at least not while he was in office. But his offer was compelling enough to sway any fence sitters. Ultimately, how the justices voted regarding the challenge to the Federal Reserve Act was all that concerned Michaels. There would be no going back for them once the law was struck down, clearing the path for the next phase of Michaels’ plan.

  Everything was falling in to place. And as long as nothing went wrong, Michaels would be celebrating an unprecedented political coup in less than a week.

  Michaels listened to his recorded address several times before signing off on it. Satisfied with the tenor of his recording, he returned to his office. He hadn’t been sitting down more than two minutes before his secretary buzzed him on his phone.

  “Mr. President?” she asked.

  “Yes, Heather. What is it?”

  “You’ve got a call on line 2. It’s urgent.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Just take the call,” she said before hanging up.

  Michaels pressed the blinking light on his phone and answered.

  “This is President Michaels.”

  “Who knew it’d be so easy to reach you?” said a woman.

  “Justice Williams, what a fine pleasure it is to speak with you today. It’s been quite some time. What is it I can do for you?”

  “Quite some time?” she said. “Cut the bullshit. I don’t care if this conversation is being recorded or not.”

  “No need to dispense with proper decorum or begin with such hostility. However, I can tell that something isn’t right.”

  “You know damn well something isn’t right,” she said. “I know what you’re up to.”

  “Of course you do,” Michaels said. “I shared it with you.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I figured out what your end game is and I’m not going to be party to these shenanigans that are making a mockery of our Constitution.”

  “What are you going to do, Justice Williams? Report me? Need I remind you that I buried plenty of skeletons from your past when I was on the Senate Judiciary Committee that was working hard to get your nomination cleared?”

  “You didn’t bury anything,” she said. “You keeping a few embarrassing things from my past personal life out of the mainstream media could hardly be considered burying something. That was a professional favor. I could’ve endured it, though it doesn’t matter now that Henry’s dead.”

  “So you think now that your husband is dead that it wouldn’t be any less embarrassing to you if it became public?”

  “Do whatever you wish, but I’m not on board with what you’re trying to do here. And I can promise you that—”

  “Save your angry rhetoric and empty promises for the brief, Justice Williams. And if it’s not in favor of what I suggested, I hope it’s for the dissenting opinion.”

  Michaels hung up and stewed for several minutes. He hadn’t anticipated any defectors so soon. But there were other ways to deal with Justice Williams and the problem at hand.

  Michaels picked up his phone and buzzed his secretary.

  “Heather, get me Frank Stone at the Pentagon on the line. Let him know that I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Milan, Italy

  KATARINA PETROV SURVEYED the group of leaders she had assembled in pressing forward with her plan to initiate the one-world currency. In a conference room atop the UniCredit Tower, the diversity of the people gathered around the table was vast, as were their feelings toward her. Against her better judgment, she strong-armed Fournier and Tabart into compliance. The Chinese and South Korean delegates had
been willing participants, eager to join a seismic shift in global economics. But Petrov held fast to the belief that the ends justified the means—and this was just the first step.

  She stood up from her seat at the head of the table and leaned forward on her knuckles.

  “Thank you all for coming together for this truly historic meeting,” she said. “There’s little doubt in my mind that years from now what happens in this room today will be written about in the annals of history. It will be the moment described as when the world banded together, all for the good of the whole.”

  She started to pace, her tone measured as she spoke.

  “For some of your countries, the decision to make this shift will mean your economy will suffer in the short term,” she continued. “It’s not easy to convince your fellow citizens that even though it’s not immediately in their best interest to do this, it will be better for the world as a whole. Most people care more about their current state of affairs than anything else. But you—you are all visionaries, people with a dream about what this world can become. And it is because of you and your ability to set aside poll numbers and public opinion in favor of simply doing what is right. Every one of you is a hero. And while you may not feel like it now, in due time, you will. People will celebrate your courageous leadership for years to come.”

  She cast a glance at Malcolm Tabart, who refused to make eye contact with her from the moment he entered the room. She scanned the table and locked eyes with Gaspard Fournier, who forced a smile, though his narrowed eyes betrayed him.

  “As we gather here in Milan, just north of one of the most famed cities in the world, we are aware of a famous axiom about this city: Rome was not built in a day,” Petrov said. “In fact, Rome was built over many years of hard work by ambitious politicians and generals who imagined an empire that would benefit the entire world. That is our aim as well. We know that what we are on the cusp of doing is not something we can accomplish by signing a document and making a statement in front of journalists. No, what we decide today in this room is just the beginning.”