Brady Hawk 08 - Siege

by R. J. Patterson

  “I think they’ve repaid that favor hundreds of times over,” Blunt said. “But I’ll make sure the message is passed along to them that we have evidence of a credible threat. I’ll just fail to mention you’re there.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Samuels said. “Sounds like we’re on our own.”

  Blunt nodded. “I can’t exactly tell them we’re sending you when you’re supposed to be wanted by both the FBI and Interpol.”

  Hawk slapped Samuels on the back. “Welcome to the world of being expendable.”

  “This isn’t what I signed up for,” Samuels said.

  “Take it up with Young,” Blunt said. “For now, this is what you get. Now, I suggest you formulate a plan to stop the attack on the Verge refinery and figure out a way to survive.”

  Hawk shoved a clip into his gun and gave Samuels a wry grin. “Taking down terrorists is exactly what I signed up for.”

  “And it’s time to get to it,” Blunt said. “I’m getting a plane ready for you at Hyde Field. Everything you’ll need for the mission will be there. Wheels up in four hours.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Paris, France

  KATARINA PETROV SLOWLY CIRCLED the table packed with financial leaders from countries all across Europe and the Middle East. With the way the banking system had been constructed, each leader had the power to make their currency rise or fall with the stroke of a pen. One investment here, one interest rate there—the moment the media took hold of the story capturing what move had been made, chaos ensued. The frenzied economic activity could be positive or negative. Petrov cared little which direction the indicators pointed in each country as long as everyone unwittingly ceded their power to Petrov.

  “Gentlemen, what I want is a new currency, one that every country can fully support and trade,” she said. “Look how well it went for Europe. The Euro maintains one of the strongest exchange rates on the open market, something that couldn’t be said for many European countries before the move. Their currency was weakened, subject to the whims of the various decision makers. In some ways, the Euro has fool-proofed itself against the fluctuating market.”

  Hans Nilsson, the head of the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority, lifted his hand. “You raise a good point, but certainly not the kind that will sway those in the European Union. If their currency is so strong on its own, why would they want to merge with you?”

  “An interesting question from a man whose own country has refused to incorporate the Euro, a decision you no doubt regret,” she said. “However, I understand what you’re saying. And to such protests I say, ‘Don’t you want to be stronger?’ It’s nice to have a strong Euro, but it’s still not the strongest currency in our global economy.”

  Ahmed Al Manahk, the head of the Kuwait Central Bank, stood. “And why exactly would we want to start another currency when ours is the strongest in the world?”

  “Strong today, weak tomorrow,” Petrov said. “What would happen if, say, all of your oil production was shut down or your oil fields began to dry up? Then what? Would the Kuwait Central Bank be able to boast such power in the market? I think not.”

  She lit another cigarette and continued talking. “The fact of the matter is we’re strong together. All of us in this room can strike out on our own in hopes that we’ll be able to avoid the inevitable disasters that befall every nation. And perhaps during your lifetime, you will. But what about those who come after you? Do you want future generations in your country to say your name with disgust or reverence? Will they see you as a visionary or a failed leader? Will you lift up future generations, or will you let them down? The choice is yours.”

  The room erupted in vigorous debate, men shouted back and forth across the table as to why it was nonsense, while others seemed eager to sign on for Petrov’s plan.

  “A one-world currency could reduce financial crime and create wealth for nations struggling to find it,” one of the men said.

  “Printing new money doesn’t create wealth,” another man countered. “Besides, Ms. Petrov isn’t suggesting we give away this money as if it were candy in a parade, is she?”

  Petrov held up her hand. “Absolutely not. There will be a minimum buy-in—and those who can’t buy in immediately will be ushered in slowly until they have paid in the oldest currency on the market.”

  “You plan on using gold as the standard for this currency?” another leader asked. “If so, count me in. Printing something on a piece of paper and acting as if it’s worth something is what’s ruining the market, country by country.”

  More vigorous debate ensued.

  Petrov smiled faintly as she took in the scene. She blew a stream of smoke out of the side of her mouth as she watched the men bicker over the best way forward. As she paced, she noticed the door to the room swing open and, out of the corner of her eyes, saw Anatoly slip into the back. She walked over to him.

  “What is it?” she asked in a low voice.

  “I just received a call from two of our operatives wanting to know if you want them to proceed.”

  “Give them the green light and report back to me when the news picks it up,” she said.

  He nodded and scurried out of the room.

  “So, gentleman,” Petrov said, quieting the chaos for a moment while she walked back toward the table, “have you come to any consensus yet?”

  The room sprang back into an uproar, making it clear to Petrov they were far from reaching a tentative unified decision. Any verbal decision today would need to be ratified by each country’s governing bodies and wouldn’t be something that could happen overnight. But Petrov was confident if she could gain momentum with such a large group of influencers, she’d see her dream realized soon.

  For the next half hour, a robust discussion continued with the leaders debating the merits of each pathway. However, it all came to a crashing halt when Anatoly poked his head back in the door.

  Petrov walked quickly over to him.

  “Turn on the television,” he said. “It will end all debate.”

  She hustled back over to the table and picked up a remote. She turned it on, flipping through the channels until she reached a popular cable news station.

  On the screen, a forlorn anchor delivered the solemn report that more than a hundred were feared dead from a terrorist attack at the Madrid airport. On the screen beneath him, the ticker rolled past, providing updates of Spain’s sudden collapsing financial markets. Then the anchor highlighted the loss of wealth from various stocks.

  “Think you’re all insulated from such an attack? Think again,” Petrov said, delivering her final pitch. “So, who’s ready to join?”

  She smiled as more than ninety percent of the men in the room raised their hands.

  This might be easier than I thought.

  CHAPTER 14

  Kuwait City, Kuwait

  UPON ARRIVING IN KUWAIT, Hawk was greeted at the airfield by Chris Moore, a private security contractor who worked on a couple special projects for Blunt more than a decade ago. Moore handed the keys for a black armored Humvee to Hawk and helped load the team’s equipment into the trunk.

  “Seriously?” Hawk asked. “An armored Humvee?”

  “Blunt was good to me,” Moore said with a smile. “Still is.”

  Once they finished loading, Moore offered to drive and brief them along the way.

  “How credible is this threat?” Moore asked Hawk after giving him an overview of the Verge oil refinery operation.

  “We think it’s real, but based off the last intel we gathered, we can’t be too sure,” Alex chimed in from the back.

  “We’re here, so we’re not taking it too lightly,” Hawk said. “If this goes down, it’s going to be a mess.”

  Moore nodded. “It took months to return oil production back to normal levels after the last attack.”

  “Do you know the head of Verge’s security?” Hawk asked.

  “He’s a fellow employee, Doug Dorman. Works for Thunder House Security like m
e,” Moore said. “But don’t expect much out of him. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch and views any government types like yourself as intrusive and unnecessary. He thinks everything runs more smoothly without Washington getting involved.”

  Hawk chuckled. “I second that notion, but we’re not exactly sent here on orders from Washington.”

  Moore arched his eyebrows. “It was my understanding that Blunt authorized this operation.”

  “He did, but he’s not exactly part of the Washington machine any more—at least, not officially anyway.”

  Moore threw his hands in the air. “Whatever, man. I don’t care who’s sending you here as long as you’re affiliated with Blunt. It doesn’t hurt that he’s paying me to assist you.”

  “Good,” Hawk said. “I’m going to need you to help us set up some visual surveillance around the facility and along the pipeline.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “We also need to talk to this Dorman guy, make sure he understands we’re not here to step on his toes.”

  Moore sighed. “This ought to be interesting.”

  * * *

  THE TEAM TOOK TWO HOURS to rest and get situated in the house Moore rented for them for the week. Samuels stayed behind with Alex to get all the computer equipment fully functional. Moore rode with Hawk out to Verge’s plant to get a quick face-to-face meeting with Dorman.

  When they pulled up to the security office, Dorman was standing outside, hands on his hips, with a dark green hardhat on, chewing on a cigar. He barely acknowledged their arrival other than to swat at the dust cloud kicked up by the braking Humvee.

  “Moore,” Dorman said in a gravelly voice, “is this meeting really necessary? You know I’m going to say no to whatever it is you’re asking for.”

  Hawk offered his hand. “Brady Hawk.”

  Dorman didn’t move, glancing down at Hawk’s hand. “Who is this newbie? He’s way too enthusiastic to be from around here.”

  “He’s the agent I told you about on the phone,” Moore said. “They believe there’s a credible threat to the Verge pipeline and facility that could occur within the next day or two.”

  Dorman laughed and crossed his arms. “What kind of credible threat are we talking about here? Certainly not one I’ve heard of.”

  “It came straight from the Pentagon,” Hawk said.

  “Oh, the Pentagon,” Moore roared. “As if Washington doesn’t have enough problems of their own that they have to come mucking around in our sandbox. Need I remind you that it was Washington that created this mess out here in the first place?”

  Hawk took a step back. “Look, Washington didn’t send me. It’s complicated, but I’m not here to meddle in your operation. However, I am here to assure that Al Hasib doesn’t turn Kuwait’s sand black and take down the world’s economy.”

  Dorman broke into a hearty laugh, taking his cigar out of his mouth. “You think something like that is going to happen on my watch? You’re sorely mistaken. I’ve got some of the best trained security professionals in the world who could handle anything thrown at them.”

  “Normal sabotage, one-off attacks—sure,” Hawk said. “I think you could defend against those, but that’s not how Al Hasib operates.”

  “I didn’t know Al Hasib even existed any more. I thought they went the way of the dinosaur.”

  “Well, they’re back and itching to make a splash in Kuwait City by bombing the Verge facility.”

  Dorman shook his head. “That still makes no sense. From what I know, they used to get most of their funding through people making money off this pipeline. It’d be crazy for them to do that.”

  “Not if they’re getting a new source of income. But I can’t get into all that right now. All I can ask is that you trust me on this one.”

  Dorman put his hands back on his hips and rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes. “I’m afraid you traveled a long way for no good reason, Mr. Hawk. I’m not inclined to give carte blanche access to my facility to some wet-behind-the-ears operative, especially when you can’t even tell me anything beyond your veiled statements.”

  Moore finally spoke. “Come on, Dorman. Hawk and his team are legit, certainly not fresh meat. They’ve taken out more than their fair share of terrorists.”

  Dorman scowled. “According to who? Them? Or is that just another piece of information they aren’t at liberty to disclose?”

  “According to a longtime friend of mine who supervises them.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “J.D. Blunt.”

  Dorman’s face relaxed, and he turned to look at Hawk, eyeing him closely. “You work for J.D. Blunt?”

  Hawk nodded.

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Blunt is a good friend of mine, too. He taught me the finer points of chewing on a cigar.”

  Hawk exhaled. “So, you’re good with us assisting your security team over the next couple days to make sure we neutralize this threat?”

  Dorman stroked his face with his hand and stared past Hawk. “I guess we can make that work. But I need to set up some clear boundaries. And you need to understand one very important thing.”

  “What’s that?” Hawk asked.

  “I’m in charge, no matter what. No engagement with hostiles unless I get the okay for it. Understand?”

  “Absolutely,” Hawk said.

  “Good,” Dorman said. “Let me connect you with one of my assistants who can get you everything you need.”

  After the meeting concluded, Hawk and Moore returned to the house to gather the rest of the team and set up additional motion detection cameras at key points along the pipeline near the oil production facility. Moore volunteered to drive farther out and set some up as far as two hundred kilometers away. Four hours later, Hawk was satisfied they had the surveillance equipment necessary to spot an attack, and they went back to the house to catch a few hours of sleep before monitoring the pipeline and facility during the night.

  * * *

  FIVE MINUTES PAST 1:00 A.M., the first motion detection alarm went off on Alex’s machine.

  “That didn’t take long,” Alex muttered while Hawk and Samuels scrambled out the door and into the Humvee.

  The two men raced out to the point along the pipeline where the movement had been detected. Hawk peered through his infrared binoculars across the rising sands for a sign of the aggressors.

  “I see them,” Hawk said. “Three hostiles to the northwest.”

  Samuels looked in the direction Hawk suggested. “I see them too. I also see two hostiles in the northeast.”

  Hawk set down his binoculars and pulled out his sniper rifle.

  “What are you doing?” Samuels asked. “Moore said we weren’t to engage any hostiles without Dorman’s permission.”

  “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Act now, ask for forgiveness later?’” Hawk asked.

  “Yeah, but it’s not exactly a wise rule of thumb to live by,” Samuels said.

  “It’s appropriate now. Besides, I’ll fire off a few warning shots while you call Dorman so you can let him know his pipeline is under siege.”

  Samuels called Dorman and filled him in on the situation, resulting in a flurry of expletives that Hawk could hear several feet away. After a few seconds of peace, Hawk broke the silence.

  “You hung up yet?” Hawk asked.

  “Dorman warned us not to shoot until his men arrived.”

  “Good for him,” Hawk said before squeezing off several shots at the hostiles. He struck one in the head, while the other he hit in the chest.

  “Did you get them both?” Samuels asked.

  “Only one kill, from what I can tell.”

  Bright flashing lights bounced along the horizon near the refinery entrance, arresting Hawk’s attention.

  “Looks like the cavalry is on its way,” he said.

  “Hawk,” Alex said over the coms, “there’s more trouble north of you.”

  “How far north?” />
  “Maybe fifty kilometers or more. I’m having trouble getting an exact reading on your location.”

  “How many hostiles?”

  “A dozen, maybe more. They’re spread out, too. Looks like about every five kilometers,” Alex answered. “I’ll update you if I see any new developments.”

  “What the hell?” Samuels asked. “It only takes one hole in the pipeline to create a leak.”

  “It takes days to fix each breach though,” Hawk said. “Petrov wants to make sure this is a crater on the market graphs, not a blip.”

  “Dorman is gonna be pissed.”

  “And not just with them,” Hawk said.

  “What do you plan on doing?” Samuels asked.

  “The refinery just became a sitting target,” Hawk said. “Al Hasib is going to blow it to kingdom come if we don’t get back and stop it.”

  Hawk and Samuels hustled back to the Humvee and roared past the caravan of Verge security vehicles tearing out across the desert.

  “Get Dorman back on the line and find out who’s guarding the refinery,” Hawk said as their vehicle bumped along.

  Samuels dialed Dorman’s number and put the call on speaker.

  “What is it now?” Dorman growled.

  “Who’s minding the refinery?” Hawk asked.

  “I am.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Well, yeah,” Dorman said. “I can handle it.”

  “We’ll be there in a minute. Keep your eyes peeled. The pipeline attack was just a diversion. The real prize is the refinery, and that’s what they’re coming for.”

  Hawk hung up, unwilling to give Dorman a chance to throw his meaningless weight around. Hawk cared only about the mission, which was thwarting Al Hasib’s attack on Kuwait’s prized refinery.

  A few minutes later, Hawk roared up to the gate and buzzed it to gain entry. No response. Hawk hit the button several more times impatiently.

  “Come on, come on.”

  Nothing.

  “I ain’t got time for this,” Hawk said as he put his Humvee in reverse and backed up about thirty meters before stomping on the gas.