“In that case, I’m happy to hold down the fort.”
“Stand by,” Hawk said. “We should arrive in less than half an hour.”
“That’s not very far out into the Strait of Hormuz.”
“That’s what I said, but Abid acted like he didn’t know anything about what the Al Hasib agents did. And if he did, he’s not talking about it.”
“I knew there was something sketchy about that guy.”
“Nothing we can do about it now. He seemed pleased to get the cash and is driving me out to sea.”
“Hopefully not to just shoot you and dump your body.”
“I’ll be ready if he tries to pull such a stunt.”
As the ship cruised along, Hawk reviewed the protocol for disabling the torpedo launcher. The directions he’d been given seemed straightforward, but he didn’t have any margin for error. He needed to be sure he knew every step in the protocol. By the time he finished, the boat bounced as it slowed.
“Almost there,” Abid called to Hawk.
Hawk nodded and put on his wet suit. By the time he was dressed appropriately, Abid sauntered down to the main deck.
“This is where we anchored,” Abid said. “How long should we plan on you being down there?”
“Not long. What’s the depth here?”
“It’s about fifty meters, give or take a few. You should be fine in your suit.”
Hawk checked his oxygen tanks once more before securing them on his back. He put on his flippers.
“See you soon,” Hawk said before adjusting his goggles over his eye. He jumped into the water and began his descent to the bottom.
Though Hawk had lights, he didn’t need them at first. The water appeared surprisingly clear for the first twenty meters. But as he dove downward, a milky substance clouded his vision. Hawk activated the lights on his goggles and continued on.
However, Hawk never made it to the bottom before an object shot right past him.
What the hell was that?
He stopped and looked upward to see what appeared to be two men clutching sea scooters and moving straight toward him. Hawk noticed one of the men had a spear and quickly deduced that was the object that had just flown past.
Hawk reached for the knife he’d put in the holster around his shin and prepared for a fight.
About five meters away, the two men split up, forcing Hawk to choose where to go. He preferred to go after the spearman instead of getting tangled up with the other man before getting shot in the back.
The man zipped by and circled around.
Hawk turned off his lights and descended in an attempt to level the playing field. Without a sea scooter, he could only hope to strike a glancing blow as the men raced by.
Hawk wondered who the men were as he waited to strike. He watched for the lights of the men and tried to sense their direction from the hum of their propulsion devices. Scanning the water for bubbles wasn’t the best option either since his field of vision was limited due to the darkness and murky water.
Just as Hawk was growing impatient, one of the men came zooming past. Struggling to turn his spear around, he appeared to be as taken aback as Hawk was.
Hawk seized his opportunity, reaching for the man’s spear and yanking it out of his hands. However, the man didn’t give up without a fight, engaging Hawk with hands.
The man pulled out a knife, matching Hawk weapon for weapon. Treading water, the two men jockeyed for position before the attacker struck first. Hawk rolled out of the way and jammed his knife into the man’s arm. The man flailed at Hawk, missing him but slashing his air tube. Blood spewed from the man’s arm, but Hawk caught him smiling. He motioned toward the sea floor and then pointed above before he shrugged, his pantomimed message clear to Hawk: The weapon or me—what is it going to be?
The other man swooped in to drag his partner to the surface, while the injured man waved mockingly at Hawk.
Hawk had no choice, though disabling the weapon seemed like the last thing he’d do before drowning in the Strait of Hormuz.
He reactivated his lights and held his breath. Once he reached the bottom, he located the launcher and progressed through the steps Dr. Morton had given him. The key was removing a communication chip that essentially served as the device’s brain. Working quickly, Hawk opened a compartment that housed the chip and yanked it out. The device went dead, and Hawk began his ascent to the surface.
He went over all the possible scenarios as he rose to the top. He could be recaptured and dragged aboard or immediately killed in some other manner. Whatever the circumstance, he resolved not to go down without taking them out with him.
But Hawk wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he reached the surface—the boat was gone. The only thing left was Abid’s body floating in the water.
Hawk gasped for air as he removed the dead weight in the form of oxygen tanks from his back. He found his emergency flare gun and fired it, hoping someone would see it and pick him up.
Rolling over onto his back, Hawk broke into the backstroke. He figured he wouldn’t make it to land, but the closer he was, the better chance he’d have at someone finding him.
But it didn’t take long for someone to notice his flare. Ten minutes after he fired it, a fishing boat puttered up next to him. Once the fishermen noticed Hawk, they tossed a line to him and helped him aboard.
Hawk explained that someone had attempted to murder him while exploring the water and left him to die. He asked the men to take him back to Kumzar, and they obliged.
As they cruised back, Hawk couldn’t stop thinking about Alex. She was a sitting target, unaware that anyone was on to her—and Hawk had no way to notify her. He watched in the distance as the Kumzari harbor came into view.
Hawk was still looking when an explosion rocked the mainland. He glanced up in horror to see a portion of the Shati Albahr Inn blown apart and a fire raging. With his mouth agape, Hawk stared at the unfolding scene while the fishermen chattered among themselves.
That was our room.
CHAPTER 26
HAWK EXPRESSED HIS GRATITUDE to the fishermen and focused on the harbor ahead. The moment their ship came within leaping distance of the dock, he jumped and hit the wooden boards with a hard thud but maintained his balance. Breaking into a sprint, he rushed toward the hotel.
Chaos filled the streets as a crowd rushed toward the explosion. However, about halfway up the hill, people streamed downward, running away from the fiery inn. Sensing a difficult navigation ahead, Hawk darted to the outside to circumvent the crowds.
“Alex! Alex!” he called, scanning the mass of humanity for her face.
Nothing.
Hawk raced farther up the hill, his legs burning as they churned. Moving so swiftly, he barely felt his feet touch the ground.
Once he reached the top, several law enforcement officials put up a hand to Hawk, warning him to stay back.
“It’s not safe,” an elderly said in Arabic. “Don’t try to go in there, please. I beg you.”
Hawk sighed and ignored the man, breaking past the negligible barrier of men and running toward the burning site. Dark smoke billowed upward. The surrounding area was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by crumbling rubble and the blaring fire alarm.
Navigating the debris, Hawk pressed on until he reached the back of the hotel. There wasn’t a soul to be found.
Hawk returned to the perimeter the officials had set up.
“I was staying here,” Hawk said to the man who’d tried to stop him earlier. “Why aren’t you trying to save everyone? There must be people inside who are injured.”
“The fire alarm went off five minutes before the explosion,” the man said. “There was smoke coming from the elevator. No one was inside when the hotel exploded, at least not that we know of. Allah has had mercy on us all.”
Hawk turned and ran back down the hill.
It wasn’t Allah, old man. It was Alex.
Hawk didn’t stop running until he reached
the airfield. He ran up to the sole hangar and saw a man rubbing his hands with a greasy rag.
“Are you Mr. Hawk?” the man asked.
Hawk nodded.
“Good,” the man said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“We?” Hawk asked.
Alex emerged from a door behind the man and greeted Hawk with a big grin.
“I thought you were dead,” he said. “When I saw that big explosion while still out at sea, I figured they’d caught you for sure. But . . .”
“But then you found out someone pulled the fire alarm first?”
“That’s when I knew it was you,” Hawk said. “Those thugs would’ve just let everyone else die as well. Only you would’ve been so thoughtful before blowing up the place.”
She laughed. “A woman’s gotta do what a woman’s gotta do. I knew you were in trouble and Al Hasib’s men were on to us. Had to leave no doubt that I was dead. I faked my own death and slipped down here wearing a burqa. Spying as a woman in Muslim countries has its advantages.”
“And how’d you make a bomb like that on the fly?”
“Gas stove, toaster fire—it wasn’t rocket science. You need to tell me what happened to you. I was listening in up until the point that two men boarded The Marlin before tossing your earpiece overboard.”
“I’ll fill you in on our way,” Hawk said. “Now, let’s get out of here. We’ve neutralized the threat, and I’m ready to get home for some much-needed time off.”
Alex dug into her backpack and pulled out a phone. “Do you want me to do the honors or are you saving that for yourself?”
“What are you talking about?”
“We need to tell Blunt it’s over.”
Hawk shook his head. “Let’s just wait and tell him later. I’m exhausted right now, and the last thing I want to do is explain to him all the loose ends we’ve left here.”
“I think we’ve left everything nice and tidy,” she said.
“Aside from that big hole in the Shati Albahr Inn.”
“We’re both intact, and nobody knows it was us.”
“Nor will they,” Hawk said as he tossed their backpacks to the pilot so he could weigh them.
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Hawk turned to the pilot. “Are we good on weight?”
The pilot flashed a thumbs-up sign and motioned for them to get in the plane.
Hawk held the seat back for Alex before climbing in after her.
“Cozy,” she said.
“And no place to stick your head out in case you get sick,” Hawk said. “Are you sure you can handle this better?”
“Without a doubt.”
CHAPTER 27
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT WIPED THE SLEEP out of his eyes as he awoke to the television still on in the living room. After falling asleep in the recliner, he never woke in the middle of the night to get in his bed. And neither did the FBI agent tasked with watching him. Blunt admired the man’s dedication yet seized the moment and took full advantage of his slumber. The agent clutched the remote even as he slept but left his phone lying on the end table. With the other agent already in bed, Blunt snatched the cell that had taunted Blunt before he fell asleep.
The floor creaked as Blunt eased down the hallway toward the bathroom. The guard stirred for a few seconds but remained asleep. Turning the water on, Blunt sat on the toilet and called Hawk on his burner cell.
“I don’t have long to talk,” Blunt said as Hawk answered the phone.
“Where are you?” Hawk asked. “It sounds like you’re on the river.”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is that I’m in FBI custody. How are things going with you?”
“Great,” Hawk said. “Alex and I just completed the mission. We rendered the weapons system inoperable but had to leave it there due to unforeseen circumstances. I’ll send you the coordinates for it later so you can send someone else to collect it. We’re in Muscat now, but we’re going to get some rest and relaxation somewhere in the Caribbean—at least that’s the plan.”
“You might want to put a hold on those plans. We’ve got bigger problems now.”
“Bigger problems than Al Hasib wreaking havoc in the Strait of Hormuz?”
“Karif Fazil is here in the U.S., and he’s plotting something in New York in the coming days.”
“Wait. Back up. How did Fazil even get in the country?”
“I can’t explain everything right now. But you two better get back here ASAP. Whatever Fazil is up to, I can promise you it won’t be good. He’s failed a couple of times before but only because of you.”
Hawk sighed. “It’s never easy, is it?”
Heavy footsteps storming down the hall startled Blunt. “Look, I gotta go, but I’ll track you down once you get back.”
Blunt flushed the toilet as the agent pounded on the door.
“I’ll be out in just a minute,” Blunt said.
“Where’s my phone?” the agent roared.
Blunt deleted the number he’d just called and feigned ignorance.
“How should I know?” Blunt said, slipping it into his pocket. “You guys wouldn’t let me call my own mother if she was on her deathbed.”
The agent stomped back down the hall, and Blunt exhaled. He had to figure out a way to get the Firestorm team involved in stopping Fazil—and fast.
* * *
HAWK RELAYED THE conversation with Blunt to Alex as they waited for their plane to arrive at the gate at the Muscat International Airport.
“You need to put an end to this,” Alex said. “Karif Fazil and his Al Hasib thugs are going to continue inflicting their terror on us if you don’t do something to stop it.”
Hawk forced a smile. “We need to put an end to this. Remember, we’re a team. We do things together. Just because I’m the one on the forefront doing things doesn’t mean I’m working solo here.”
“You’re right,” Alex said. “I’m just frustrated—and I need a vacation.”
“Perhaps we can do something about that soon enough. In the meantime, we can’t really worry about this until we get back to Washington and get briefed on what’s going on.”
“Sounds like Blunt doesn’t know much himself,” Alex said. “Didn’t you say it sounded like he was in a river? What’s he doing in FBI custody?”
“Who knows? I haven’t looked at the news in quite a while, but I’m sure we can find something about it on the internet. In the meantime, we need to think about what Fazil might do.”
Alex crossed her arms. “Clearly, this whole stunt was a diversion. Fazil wanted us to come after this so he could have time to do whatever it is he’s doing back home.”
“Whatever Fazil is up to, Blunt sounded scared.”
“Scared? Blunt?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s unusual, but I heard a tremor in his voice.”
“So, now what?”
Hawk’s eyes widened. “First things first. I need to call Thomas Colton and let him know that we neutralized his weapon.”
“I’m sure he’ll sleep better at night.”
“I doubt he’s lost a wink of sleep over the whole ordeal.”
Hawk pulled out his phone and dialed Colton’s number.
“I’ve got some good news for you,” Hawk said.
“Brady! It’s so good to hear your voice,” Colton replied.
“If you think the sound of my voice is good, wait until you hear what I’m about to say—we disarmed the weapon.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Hawk caught a tinge of reticence in Colton’s tone.
“Is everything all right?” Hawk asked.
“Well, first off, I’m glad you disabled the weapon. I appreciate what you did to make sure there wasn’t a crisis in the Strait of Hormuz. I hope it wasn’t too difficult for you.”
Hawk huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “I guess that assessment would be relative.”
“Secondly, there’s something you nee
d to know.”
“I’m listening.”
Colton sighed. “I just found this out myself and haven’t found the gumption to call J.D. and let him know about it. But I need to let someone know as soon as possible because it’s important.”
“What happened?”
“Al Hasib stole something far more dangerous than our prototype torpedo weapons system, but nobody noticed it until now.”
“What did they take?”
“We developed a suitcase nuke.”
Hawk laughed nervously. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s heavy as hell, but it will actually fit in a briefcase.”
“And what kind of damage can a weapon like that do?”
“It could wipe out a square mile in a city, maybe more.”
“That’s all?” Hawk asked.
“I wish I had better news, but we just found out about it. Al Hasib’s theft was actually all about that. The weapons system was just to throw us off track.”
“They did a damn good job, didn’t they?”
“I wish you weren’t right, but you are. They fooled us all.”
Hawk sighed. “That’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Except you don’t even know where the haystack is.”
“Actually, I do. It’s New York City, which doesn’t help much. But I’ll be in touch,” Hawk said before he hung up.
He looked at Alex, his face telling.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Al Hasib stole a true suitcase nuke,” Hawk said. “We’re screwed.”
He picked up his phone and started dialing another number.
“Who are you calling now?” she asked.
“I’m calling the president.”
* * *
NOAH YOUNG LOOKED at the number on his phone and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to take Brady Hawk’s call. If anyone learned that they were communicating, Young’s political future could be in jeopardy. With all the alleged links between Young and Blunt, adding a former Navy Seal to a list of connections could be all that Peterson needed to seize control of the election narrative a few weeks before the vote. The news report suggesting that maybe Conrad Michaels didn’t actually die of natural causes—and that at least one black ops agent was at Camp David—was already becoming a growing headache for Young. And if someone tied Young to Hawk in the public sphere, Young’s campaign could be sunk.
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