Blunt pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I have a plan for how to handle that situation. She’ll talk. Trust me.”
Blunt nodded. “Okay, I’ll make a call, but you better be right.”
“I don't know about all this,” Alex said. “Tying Black's fate to a decision like this seems rather frivolous as if we're playing with his life.”
“It was Black’s frivolous decision to run down the mountain that put us in this situation,” Blunt said. “I’m sure he’s had plenty of time to think about the repercussions.”
Alex sighed. “Fine. I just want the record to show that I’m not a fan of this move.”
“Duly noted,” Blunt said. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to have a chat with our good friend Al White.”
Blunt trudged back to his office and closed his door. He returned to his chair and dialed White’s number.
“We talked it through,” Blunt began. “And we see a big opportunity here to not only secure one of our best agents but also to make some headway in another operation we’re working on.”
“Okay,” White said. “Their exchange offer was presented to us as a quick swap.”
“And I want you to go back with a counteroffer. I want you to tell them that Evana Bahar has to be the one to make the exchange.”
“I doubt she’s going to be interested in having some protracted conversation with one of your agents while there are snipers all around.”
“We can set up parameters to put everyone at ease,” Hawk said. “The bottom line is that we’d be fools to pass up an opportunity to question her. If she can help us—”
“What makes you so sure she'd be willing to talk if she even decides to show up?”
“I have a very persuasive agent.”
White chuckled.
“That’s the same reaction I had,” Blunt said. “But I’ve learned to stop questioning my agents when they’re willing to risk everything to get what we need.”
White sighed. “I’ll make contact with Al Fatihin and see if Evana Bahar will agree to these terms. But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
Blunt hung up and leaned back in his chair. All he could do now was wait for a response.
CHAPTER 4
Undisclosed location, Afghanistan
EVANA BAHAR STROKED HER silky smooth locks while staring at the message transmitted to her by the CIA contact. She tried to suppress a smile that had crept across her lips. As she closed her eyes, she imagined what her life would look like with Amir Torabi helping her secure funding for Al Fatihin. No more clandestine meetings with sketchy bankers. No more wondering if she was being set up every time she tried to come to terms with an underworld money launderer. Instead of wasting time worrying about money, she could be plotting about how to weaken America and bring the imperialistic nation to its knees.
She snapped out of her daydream when Kahlid Salib strode into her makeshift office in the adobe house she’d chosen as the organization’s headquarters for the week.
“You wanted to see me?” Salib asked.
“Yes, I wanted to thank you again for your work in Sudan,” she said. “The Americans took the bait before, and they’re taking it again.”
“That’s outstanding news.”
“However, there is a catch.”
Salib’s eyebrows shot upward. “A catch?”
“They want me to be at the exchange personally.”
Salib scowled and shook his head. “Absolutely not. That kind of demand is out of the question. They’d never send the president to a prisoner exchange if you made that as a stipulation. It’s just ridiculous.”
“I am intrigued by what they want.”
“They want to bring you to justice for the charges they’ve already levied against you through their American media mouthpieces,” Salib said. “They’ve already branded you as a butcher, all while completely unaware of how their own government routinely murders hundreds of—”
“Enough,” Evana said as she raised her hand. “I don’t need you to explain the hypocritical nature of the American military machine. I simply want to stop it. And that’s why I’m seriously considering taking them up on this offer.”
“If given the opportunity, they will kill you.”
She shrugged. “And if they do, I know that Al Fatihin will be in your competent hands.”
“You swore to Karif that you would carry out his legacy and see this to the end. If you’re dead, that will be a difficult promise to keep.”
“You worry too much,” Evana said as she stood up from behind her desk and sauntered over to Salib. She gently put her hands on his chest before slipping her hands behind his back and interlocking her fingers.
His steely gaze met hers. “This hardly feels like the time for a romantic gesture.”
“What are you so afraid of?” she asked. “Do you think you’re going to lose me?”
Salib laughed nervously and looked aside.
“I know how you feel about me,” she said. “There’s no reason for you to hide it any longer.”
“I’m a warrior, and we have an important mission. We can’t be distracted by passions of the flesh.”
Evana released him and eased back a step before ripping his shirt open. Then she drew close again, caressing his rock hard muscles on his bare chest.
Salib took a deep breath before looking down at Evana. He moved in for a kiss. Almost instantly, she shoved him and backed away.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Salib’s face turned a rosy hue. “I thought that you—”
“That was a test and you failed,” Evana said. “You are worried about a little meeting with the Americans that could change the fortunes of this organization, but I believe I'm the one who needs to be worried. Apparently, all it takes is a little attention from a woman along with some simple flattery and you'll crumble.”
“I’m sorry,” Salib said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that—”
“Save your explanations. I’m not interested in hearing your justification for embracing my advances, especially when you have a wife and children at home. What kind of Muslim man are you? Certainly not the kind who takes his vows seriously.”
Salib hung his head for a moment before looking up. “Again, I apologize. That’s not the kind of man that I am, but I must take responsibility for my actions. However, I still feel compelled to urge you to change your mind about agreeing to the Americans’ terms regarding the exchange.”
She smiled and returned to her chair behind her desk. “There aren't many agents I thought they would even be willing to consider an exchange for. But I believe we struck the perfect balance between an operative the CIA cares deeply about and a prisoner they see little value in. To them, Ramin is simply occupying space in a cell. They know by now that he's never going to provide them with actionable intelligence. It's an easy decision, even for a government who likes to thump its chest and brag about how they never negotiate with terrorists.”
“In that case, I will defer to your judgment and pray to Allah that you are not walking into a trap.”
“I don’t trust them, but I don’t believe they will try any tricks when it comes to Agent Black,” she said. “It’s me they need to worry about. I have my own special plans for the Americans.”
* * *
BLUNT POURED A GLASS of bourbon and stared at the photo of the mystery man from the U.N.
“Who are you?” Blunt asked aloud.
He peered closer at the man’s face before placing a loupe over the picture and squinting. After several seconds, Blunt sighed and then leaned back in his chair. There weren’t any identifying marks—jewelry, clothes, briefcase, or watch—that gave Blunt any clues.
He would’ve preferred to figure out who the other man was by some other means. His worst nightmare was allowing Hawk to walk into a trap and Al Fatihin taking out his two best agents in one fell swoop. But desperation had pushed him to thi
s point, though he was sure Evana Bahar would never agree to the terms of their exchange.
Blunt was in the middle of a long pull on his drink when the phone rang. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his index finger and thumb before answering the call.
“This is Blunt,” he said.
“J.D., Al White here. I’ve got an answer for you.”
“So soon? Must be a no.”
“That’s what I thought too, but she agreed to your parameters. Morocco. Three days. I’ll send over all the other details about the meeting tomorrow. Just thought I’d let you know the good news as soon as possible so you can begin prepping for the exchange.”
“Excellent, Al.”
Blunt hung up and glanced back at the photo.
“We’re going to find out who you are soon enough,” Blunt said. “I just hope it’s not too late.”
CHAPTER 5
Three Days Later
Morocco
HAWK RAISED HIS ARMS to be checked for any weapons by the Al Fatihin guard. After a thorough frisking, Hawk was cleared and ushered into an empty room with Ramin Torabi. The two had only been together a few hours, united at the airport after Ramin took a CIA transport plane ride across the Atlantic and Hawk arrived on the Phoenix Foundation’s private jet.
Ramin's hands were zip-tied in front of him, further diminishing his stature. With wire-rimmed glasses and a thin physique, Ramin appeared unimposing. Hawk studied the man, wondering how he fell into fighting with Al Hasib.
“Are you looking forward to seeing your father again?” Hawk asked.
Ramin gave Hawk a sideways glance before looking away with a sneer.
“I never really knew my father,” Hawk said, continuing his effort to engage Ramin in conversation. “If he’s still alive and willing to be in your life—”
“You know nothing about my life,” Ramin snapped.
“Your father obviously wants you back.”
“He wants me back so he can parade me into public and brag about his son. Over the years, he made it clear to me that he doesn’t care what I want.”
Hawk nodded knowingly. “So, that’s what attending Stanford was all about? Fulfilling his dreams for you?”
“I hated being on that campus every day. All I heard were students complaining about how their parents wouldn’t let them fly first class on spring break vacations to Bali or how the sports car their father bought them was previously owned for a year. Meanwhile, people all across our region are barely surviving due to the unjust occupation by the Americans.”
“Stanford doesn’t look like the rest of America, that much I know. There are people who are struggling to survive there too.”
Ramin shrugged. “At least they don’t live in fear of dying from an explosion while walking to the market.”
“Based on how you loathe such things, I find it odd that you joined Al Hasib, the same group responsible for bombing plenty of markets.”
“We always go after the Americans and their war machine. Sometimes there is collateral damage.”
“That statement sounded just like ones I’ve heard from American generals. You don’t have any moral high ground to stand on.”
“I have the Quran, and it’s very detailed about how to handle infidels.”
Hawk scowled and shook his head. “You need to find true salam in your life.”
“I’m sure you would feel differently if you watched an American soldier slit the throat of your best friend in front of you.”
Hawk shifted restlessly in his chair. The conversation had grown uncomfortable, especially as he reflected on all the anger he harbored for his mother’s killer.
Moments later, the door swung open and Black entered the room, accompanied by Evana Bahar. She seemed different this time, almost eerily calm. Sliding into the chair across from him, she sat down and clasped her hands together in front of her on the table.
“Mr. Hawk,” she began, “I suspected you might be behind this, but I’m surprised to see you sitting here. You’re taking quite the risk in being the one to negotiate this exchange.”
“I didn’t take you for the assured mutual destruction type,” Hawk said. “I simply wanted to ask you a few questions.”
She eyed the manila folder lying in front of him. “What’s in there?”
Hawk placed his hand on top of it and shook his head. “After we’ve made the exchange.”
She nodded, and they both got up and ushered their respective prisoners across the room before leading them outside to stand with their armed guards. When Hawk and Evana returned, they took their previous seats and resumed their discussion.
“I was intrigued by your terms,” she said. “I couldn’t help but wonder what you wanted from me. And you, of all people, weren’t exactly cordial to me the last time we met.”
“You had a missile and were trying to kill the president. That will always make me a little hostile.”
“Very well then,” she said. “Let’s get on with it. What did you want to ask me?”
Hawk opened the folder and slid several pictures across the table. “I was wondering if you could help me identify the man in these pictures.”
She craned her neck and glanced at the images before leaning back and furrowing her brow. “Did you honestly think I would just blurt out the man’s name to you?” she said with a soft laugh. “You’re more naïve than I ever took you to be.”
“I’d be disappointed if you did,” Hawk said. “But there’s more to this story. For all our differing ideologies, we must put them aside for a moment.”
“You think it's as simple as our having a different ideology? There is a right and a wrong here—and I'm on the right side, no matter how brainwashed your country has made you.”
Hawk sighed. “If you don’t help me, you may not have anything to fight for.”
“Why? Is this man going to destroy the world?” she said while rolling her eyes. “You must know that you’re wasting both our time.” Evana stood up, pushing her chair back with her knees.
“Please, sit down,” Hawk said. “I’m not finished. There’s something you need to know about him. Have you ever heard of an organization called Obsidian?”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard the name, but it’s a legend. There’s no such group. It’s just a name thrown out to scare people from time to time.”
“No, it’s very real as my good friend Titus Black can attest to. And if Obsidian has their way, they’re going to control the entire world one way or another. Just last month, they intended to unleash a plague on the world that would’ve been devastating and killed millions, if not billions. But we stopped them. However, the man in that photo with you escaped, and we need to find him.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawk. Your effort is to be commended, but I’m not going to reveal his name.”
* * *
EVANA SWALLOWED HARD as she glanced down at the pictures in front of her. Her mouth was dry and she wanted some water, though there wasn’t any in the room. She felt the sweat beading up on her forehead as the American agent refused to yield in his quest to discover whom the man was depicted next to her. She was shocked to see images of herself seated at a table with him, laughing and smiling.
Could he really be working with Obsidian?
The prying eyes hadn't captured her most recent conversation with him, which took place only four months ago. However, she remembered the meeting, though she was unaware that there was a security camera in the room. Her advance team claimed to have cleared the French bakery as a safe place to meet, devoid of any prying eyes. Apparently, that wasn't the case. She made a note to find out who was serving on her detail that morning.
While she acted as if Obsidian was an urban myth, she knew it was real. But the extent to which she viewed it as a threat? She had dismissed it years ago. And she still hadn’t considered the organization as being capable of doing anything to disrupt the world on any significant level. But there was no way her friend would work
with them. He was too dedicated to real causes, not the kind that would simply seek power for power’s sake. She hadn’t thought about that meeting until confronted by the pictures in front of her.
“He’s been in the wind for about six months now,” the American said. “We need to find him before it’s too late.”
“What exactly did he do?”
He shrugged. “We're not sure. We just know he was working with some high-level operatives with Obsidian and may be part of a far more sinister plan, one greater than you or I could dream up, much less execute.”
She winced in pain as she studied the images again, not from the discomfort of being pressed for answers but from her churning stomach. Clutching her midsection, she doubled over and took a deep breath.
“Are you all right, Evana?” the American asked.
“I’m fine,” she said as she eased herself upright again. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
“How long have you been pregnant?” he asked.
Her face flushed red and she looked away, turning her gaze toward the floor.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling well lately. It’s just a stomach cramp.”
“If Obsidian unleashes that plague, you might survive, but your baby won’t. Infants, small children, and elderly adults are the most likely to die. Protecting your son or daughter requires that you do what you can to stop Obsidian. Otherwise, we’ll all be dead, and what will it matter then?”
The American’s argument made sound, logical sense, but it didn’t persuade her. How could it? What gave her the right to disclose the photographed man’s location after all he had done for her? She concluded nothing did and dug her heels in against the begging.
“I’m not pregnant—though I’m not one to live my life in fear of all the hypothetical scenarios. And as proof, I’m right here in front of a man who tried to throw me out of a helicopter.”
“It wasn’t personal,” he said.
“Pardon me for taking it as such. Since it seems we’ve reached an impasse, I’ll be on my way now. See you soon, Mr. Hawk.”
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