Vengeance

by R. J. Patterson

  “Sounds like you've got a nice setup.”

  Mallory nodded. “I do indeed. Now, let’s get to work on your request.”

  She gestured for Alex to sit down on the chair in the corner, which she pulled up next to Mallory’s terminal.

  “Where do we need to start?” Mallory asked.

  “I need to look at some security feeds from the Fort Worth Stockyards last night.”

  “And you think I have that kind of access?” Mallory asked.

  “Well, I thought—”

  Mallory flashed a wry smile and a wink. “Of course, I do. All auction houses on U.S. soil are monitored due to the ease through which illegally obtained goods can be sold and transported. And stockyards aren't an exception. You'd be surprised at how many drug runners we've caught selling off steers who were carrying bags of heroin and cocaine. Apparently, four stomachs make it easy to mask and store drugs.”

  “Who knew,” Alex said.

  “I bet you didn’t think you were going to learn that little gem when you woke up this morning, did you?”

  Alex shook her head. “That’s quite disturbing.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Mallory said as she hammered away on the keyboard. “Now, what exactly are we looking for?”

  “We want to identify the man who spoke with Hawk last night. He’s an Obsidian agent, and I have the exact timeframe of the call.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  Alex slipped Mallory a piece of paper that contained the exact second the call was picked up, the length of the conversation, and a USB drive with a recording of the man’s voice.

  “Quite thorough,” Mallory said.

  “We need to find this guy as soon as possible.”

  Mallory entered some of the search parameters into her program and let it run. There were six men who answered their phones at the exact same moment as the Obsidian operative. One by one, Mallory and Alex eliminated them based on the length of the call until there were only two remaining.

  “We’re running out of options,” Mallory said.

  Alex shifted in her seat. “Just keep going.”

  They tracked the next man’s phone call, and it matched perfectly.

  “Well, we’ve got at least one,” Mallory said as she captured the man’s face and dropped it into a recognition search program. Then she started working on the lone remaining man. She went through the footage and found that the two men hung up at the exact same moment as well.

  “Now we have two,” Mallory said.

  The first man’s image came up in the database as a rancher from just outside of Fort Worth. His rap sheet consisted of only a handful of speeding tickets.

  “He looks like a veritable Boy Scout,” Mallory said.

  “And the other guy?” Alex asked.

  “For some reason, I had a hard time pulling an image of him off the video. I don’t think he ever looks up.”

  Alex slowed down the clip and tried to see if she could pause it where he looked directly at the camera. But he never did. His large cowboy hat did a sufficient job of protecting his face, even when he was looking outwardly.

  “Nothing,” Alex said.

  Instead of giving up, she scanned the images one by one, even after he left. She gasped before pumping her fist, catching Mallory’s attention.

  “What do you see?” Mallory asked.

  “Right after the phone call, he went outside,” Alex said. “Look right there in the car window. There’s a reflection of him. Can you work with that?”

  Mallory nodded. “I’ll give it the old college try.”

  Alex watched anxiously as Mallory worked her magic on the computer. She enhanced and enlarged the photo before finally inserting it the facial recognition program and hitting the start key.

  “Look familiar to you?” she asked.

  Alex shook her head.

  “Not someone else you’ve run into before?” Mallory asked. “A foreign agent? A terrorist operative? A former boyfriend?”

  “Could be the last one,” Alex said. “I definitely dated a lot of shady characters in high school.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve heard all these stories,” Hawk said over the coms.

  Alex laughed, forgetting that Mallory couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation.

  “Your response was only mildly amusing, though I don’t recall you laughing so hard at your own jokes,” Mallory said.

  “It’s something Hawk said. I’ll tell you all the stories you want to know on our next vacation. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Hawk said. “Not that I’m jealous—just curious.”

  “Sure,” Alex said, the sarcasm dripping from her response.

  Thousands of images flickered onto the screen adjacent to the one Mallory had extracted, but nothing registered as a match. The process continued for another ten minutes with Alex and Mallory catching up on recent life events. Then the computer finally beeped, and the image next to the man from the auction house froze on the screen, ending the search.

  “We have a winner,” Mallory announced.

  Alex leaned forward and strained to read the name in small lettering at the bottom of the photo.

  “Mack Walsh,” Alex read. “Ever heard of him?”

  “He’s a big fish,” Mallory said as she opened up a search window and pecked out a web address. “Check this out.”

  On the monitor, the FBI’s most wanted list appeared. Walsh checked in at No. 8.

  “The FBI has been looking for him for over a decade,” Mallory said.

  CHAPTER 13

  BLUNT WAS ALREADY on his second cigar by the time the team arrived at the Phoenix Foundation for an 8:00 a.m. meeting. He was anxious to learn more about the Obsidian agent as well as put together a plan to catch him. Their sole link to the organization's leadership rested in Mack Walsh, and Blunt knew they needed to find the operative or risk losing the best connection they had to Obsidian's top brass.

  When the door swung open, Blunt looked up to see Alex and Hawk. Blunt leaped to his feet and motioned for them to come inside.

  “Do either of you want any coffee?” Blunt asked. “I’ll be more than happy to get you some.”

  Alex and Hawk both held up their paper mugs from a popular specialty café and declined his offer.

  “You two waste so much money at that place,” Blunt said. “You do realize that they over roast their beans, don’t you? And that you pay more than double what you should?”

  He grumbled as he meandered over to the coffee tray and poured himself another cup.

  “I don’t mind getting lectured,” Alex said. “At least, not when it comes from someone who is a paragon of health.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave you alone,” Blunt said. “But don’t come crying to me when one day you get a taste of the great stuff and wonder aloud why nobody told you about how good coffee could really be. I’m telling you right now that the mess you’re drinking isn’t even close to being as good as what I’ve brewed up here.”

  “You’re a bit jumpy and testy this morning,” Alex said. “Any reason for that?”

  “Absolutely,” Blunt started. “I want to learn more about this murderer, and then I want to figure out a way to get him to talk that will intimidate him into telling us all about the people running Obsidian.”

  “Well, I’ll leave the interrogation up to Hawk and Black, but I thought you might appreciate this dossier I prepared on Mack Walsh.”

  “Go on,” Blunt said.

  Black entered the room and quickly took Blunt up on his coffee offer. Once Black settled into his seat quietly, Alex continued.

  “Currently, Mack Walsh is the eighth most wanted man by the FBI for his alleged execution-style murder of a federal judge more than a decade ago,” Alex said.

  “A federal judge?” Blunt asked, his eyes widening. “That takes some cajones to do that.”

  “Yes, it does,” Alex said. “But that's not all that I found interesting. Most court observers were convinced that Judge Nelso
n was going to rule in favor of the government on an eminent domain case. That was how Nelson had ruled more than a dozen times in the past, never once siding with the people. However, after he was murdered, the new judge reassigned to the case ruled in favor of the company, angering the government.”

  “Where exactly is this land?” Blunt asked.

  “Idaho,” she said. “Just on the edge of the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness Area.”

  “Sounds foreboding enough,” Blunt said. “I’m sure you will have a wonderful time there.”

  “You want us to go there?” Black asked.

  Blunt shrugged. “You got any better ideas?”

  “I was thinking maybe we should look in Texas and see what he was up to there first,” Black said. “I’d rather catch him out of his element.”

  “I’d rather surprise him there,” Hawk said. “In my experience, people are always more relaxed in their lair. If he’s out and about, he’s going to be more difficult to catch.”

  “You two work it out,” Blunt said. “I just don't want any stone unturned in our search for this guy. We need to find out more about Obsidian's plans and its hierarchy. All of our leads so far have been people co-opted into serving them. Once we can zero in on who's behind all this, maybe we can start to make some headway.”

  “And more importantly right now, we can avenge my mother’s death,” Hawk said.

  Blunt threw his hands in the air. “Now, wait a minute, Hawk. I understand how you feel, but we need this guy alive.”

  Hawk scowled. “I’ll beat all the information out of him before I end his pathetic little life.”

  Alex placed her hand on top of his. “Honey, it’s okay. We all want this guy dead for what he did to your mother. But let’s think big picture here. Your mother one day, millions of people the next. We’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him.”

  Black nodded in agreement. “I believe it was Confucius who said, ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.’”

  “Well, we’ve already dug one,” Hawk said. “And I fully intend to put that human piece of garbage in the second one.”

  Blunt sighed. “Just promise me that you will at least give us a chance to speak with him first.”

  “You have my word,” Hawk said. “But then I’m going to finish him.”

  “Fair enough,” Blunt said before standing up. “You work it out where you’re going to find this punk and let me know. The jet will be fueled up and ready to take you wherever you decide.”

  Blunt scooped up his documents and exited the room. He knew it was going to be a furious debate, but he wanted the fledgling team to reach a consensus on its own without his involvement.

  It’ll be good for them.

  * * *

  HAWK EXHALED SLOWLY as he pondered the best way to convince Black and Alex that Idaho was a better location to hunt Hank Walsh. Looking up, Hawk scanned the ceiling as he thought.

  “I’m not opposed to going to Texas,” Hawk began, “but I just think our chances of catching him off guard are going to be greater in Idaho.”

  “We’re not even sure that he’s there,” Black countered.

  Alex’s head popped up from behind her computer screen. “Yes, we do. I mean, we don’t know if he’s actually there now, but check this out.”

  She spun her screen around so they could see the pictures she’d called up.

  “Before that case, here are satellite images of that plot of land the government sought to seize on the left,” she said. “Now, look at this shot of the same area taken three years later. That’s a big structure of some sort built right into the side of the mountain. Look at all the supporting infrastructure, too. We might have just stumbled onto Obsidian’s headquarters.”

  “But we don't know what that place is,” Black said, continuing his protest. “Walsh could've just been a hired gun to help fix a problem for whoever wanted to build that facility. If he were involved, you'd think the FBI would've captured Walsh by now.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Alex said. “We already know that Obsidian has its tentacles everywhere. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if it reached into the FBI.”

  Black nodded knowingly. “You make a good point, though that’s sheer conjecture.”

  “But it’s a more solid lead than trying to comb through hours of surveillance footage to find out where Walsh went after his little trip to the stockyard.”

  “If we go to Idaho and he’s not there, that lead out of Texas is going to be worthless.”

  “It probably already is,” Hawk said. “I’d rather smoke him out on our terms.”

  Black sighed. “You’re like a dog with a bone on this one, Hawk.”

  “So, you agree we should go to Idaho?” Hawk asked.

  “I’ll go along with it,” Black said, “but only because I know you won’t change your mind any time soon. Just let it be noted that I’d prefer to go to Texas first.”

  “Noted,” Hawk said. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get moving.”

  Black stood and collected his files. “I’ve always wanted to visit Idaho.”

  Hawk remained in his chair while Alex packed up her computer.

  “Are you coming?” she asked.

  “In a minute,” he said. “I just need a moment alone.”

  She patted him on the back and leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” she said.

  “We’ll catch him.”

  Hawk nodded knowingly and looked back down at the table, keeping his gaze there until Alex shut the door behind her. He glanced up and then pulled out his phone to text Mallory Kauffman.

  I need a favor . . . and I need you to keep it between us.

  CHAPTER 14

  Two Days Later

  River of No Return Wilderness Area

  Idaho

  HAWK AND THE TEAM reviewed the fine details of their plan of attack while flying from Washington to Missoula, Montana. The subsequent three-hour drive south to Salmon, Idaho was spent gawking at the rocky mountain faces and the beautiful scenery blanketing the uninhabited terrain.

  “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to discover Idaho,” Black said.

  “Idaho was discovered long ago, my friend,” Hawk said. “You’re just getting to enjoy it for the first time in your life.”

  “Well, that was far too long of a wait. Why don’t more people live out here?”

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Alex said. “We’ll drive right through Cobalt, Idaho, and if things pan out like investors think it will, this place might be booming in a decade from now.”

  “Cobalt, Idaho,” Black said with a chuckle, “as in the element cobalt?”

  Alex nodded. “Someone finally found a vein of cobalt in the U.S. Supposedly, it’s high-level quality. So soak in this scene while it lasts.”

  “It’d be criminal if this all went away,” Black said as he shook his head.

  Hawk wheeled into the parking lot of an aging motel and checked in, securing keys for two rooms. The white paint was cracking on the slat board siding outside, while the carpet in the office had been worn thin. Hawk guessed it hadn't been changed since the mid-80s if even that soon.

  In the corner, a man sporting a checkered flannel shirt with a pair of overalls rocked back and forth. He clutched a pipe in his teeth and peered over the top of his glasses at Hawk.

  “What brings you to this neck of the woods?” the man said aloud.

  Hawk cocked his head to one side and turned toward the old man. “What draws anyone to this part of the world? The thirst for adventure? A desire to take in the amazing beauty of these mountains?”

  The old man grunted. “I find most people who come here are running.”

  “Running from what?”

  “The past, the present. Hell, some people even run from their future. This is a great place to hide if you want to.”

  “We’re not here to hide. I can assure you that m
uch,” Hawk said. “We’re here to drink in all this place has to offer.”

  The old man shook his head. “What we have to offer is a great place to hide. The rest of the postcard snapshots are rare moments that we hardly ever see around here, especially in the dead of winter when Mother Nature is having her way with us. When there’s ten feet of snow on the ground, you’re only going to see what she wants you to see.”

  “I understand you’re having an unseasonably warm winter this year,” Hawk said.

  “Yeah, only about two feet on the ground right now, but I hear a howler is coming from the west. Those are the worst. You need to watch out for them if you’re going to be venturing into the wilderness area.”

  “We’ll be careful, sir, but thanks for the heads up.”

  “Good luck,” the old man said.

  Hawk helped unload their vehicle and ushered Alex and Black to the two rooms facing Highway 93, which was heavily trafficked by tractor trailers hauling cattle, timber, and oil. Once the team settled in, they grabbed a late lunch from the only option available: a dingy diner connected to a gas station. Instead of enjoying the ambiance, they piled back into their SUV, stopping for a short spell to rent a trailer with two snowmobiles at a local outfitter company.

  “Make sure you take an extra gas can with you and something to serve as a shelter in case you get stuck,” the owner advised. “Snowstorms can sneak up on you out here.”

  Hawk nodded. “An old man at the motel we're staying at told me that a big storm was coming, but I didn't see one forecast for this area.”

  “That was probably Gordon Gentry. If he said there’s a storm a’ comin’, you better believe him. He gets an ache in his knee when a blizzard is brewin’—and he’s never wrong.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Hawk said before they paid and left with their snow vehicles in tow.

  They bumped along the U.S. Forest Service roads that had been plowed by local logging companies. Hawk rolled along, driving cautiously on the slick surface.

  “Glad you got those snow tires with this SUV?” Black asked.