Final Strike (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 21)

by R. J. Patterson

  A few minutes into the drive to the White House, Blunt turned on the radio to catch up on the news of the day.

  “The big story of the day continues to be the attack on two Iranian oil tankers in the Gulf and how Tehran plans to respond to the apparent act of aggression by two U.S. military drones,” the news anchor said. “In what appears to be an unprovoked attack, two tankers were crippled in the Gulf earlier today. Iran swiftly denounced the assault and pledged to retaliate with force. Our chief White House correspondent, Allison Van Gorder, has more.”

  The anchor’s baritone voice was replaced by the woman’s smoother one.

  “That’s right, Brian. White House officials are huddling this afternoon to figure out how they will handle the growing tension in the Middle East. They still contend that the U.S. military had nothing to do with the assault that leaves a pair of supertankers stranded in the gulf along with more than eighty million barrels of crude oil each. Rescue efforts are under way to salvage the remaining oil that wasn’t lit ablaze during the attack. However, some experts are worried that if the oil isn’t transferred to safer vessels, the Gulf may soon be awash with more than a hundred million gallons of oil, threatening the already endangered wildlife in the region.”

  An engineering expert gave a brief explanation into the structural integrity of ships and how quickly they can weaken under certain conditions.

  Blunt turned off the radio and sighed. Under the current circumstances, Young was likely to be cagey and might be looking for answers, answers Blunt didn’t have. Since his last conversation with the president, the pressure from the media and the general public had reached a fever pitch over the bungling of the situation in Afghanistan with Ebadi. To Young’s credit, he stood his ground and said it was a colossal intelligence error. However, that didn’t satiate the pundits calling for heads to roll, including the president’s.

  After Blunt was stopped at a traffic light, he whipped out his phone and shot back a quick note to Morgan:

  Glad you’re enjoying yourself and the weather there.

  Will call you after my meeting.

  Blunt arrived at the White House twenty minutes later and entered the security protocol. Ten minutes after that, he was sitting in a room awaiting Young.

  When Young finally arrived, his face was red, his hair tousled. He slumped into a chair across from Blunt and sighed.

  “Rough day at the office?” Blunt asked, unsure of exactly what to say to the bedraggled president.

  “If only this was just about a bad day at the office,” Young said as he finger-combed his hair into place. “This is a living nightmare, and I don’t think I could’ve ever been prepared for what’s happened over the last couple of weeks.”

  “Still have the will to win the election?”

  Young nodded. “This is about the American people, not me. You know Collin Radcliffe would be a disaster.”

  “Of course, but it seems like there are a lot of things out of our control at the moment.”

  “You can say that again,” Young said before sitting upright and then leaning forward in his seat.

  “So, what was so urgent that you needed to speak with me today?” Blunt asked. “Our agents are still hard at work in the field, trying to get you some answers.”

  “Well, that won’t be necessary anymore.”

  Blunt furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you seen my approval rating numbers lately?” Young asked. “They’re in the toilet, swirling around.”

  Blunt squinted at Young. “What’s that have to do with me and my team?”

  “We cancelled the G5 Summit next week in London, J.D. Things are bad, really bad. And I have to make some changes and take some action to show the American people that we, as a nation, will not allow such gross negligence to take place without some type of accountability.”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “You’re fired,” Young said. “We’re shuttering the entire program. Your agents will be recalled immediately.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Blunt protested. “Right now, they’re the only people out there trying to get answers in a government that’s been corrupted by Obsidian.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it. We have some of the best and brightest minds trying to solve the riddle of how a highly talented black ops team murdered a man in broad daylight and tried to cover it up.”

  “Cover it up? Are you insane? We were fed faulty intel.”

  “Intel that you’re responsible for checking,” Young said. “Your agents should’ve known who they were targeting.”

  “We were targeting him because everyone else in the U.S. government is chicken shit and didn’t want to get blood on their hands.”

  “Well, your hands are pretty damn bloody now,” Young said. “And I’m not going to let you get away with it.”

  “Are you accusing us of purposefully doing this?”

  Young shrugged. “Not sure, but I do know that you broke several international laws to do what you did.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Blunt said as he stood.

  “Sit down,” Young said as he rose to his feet. He walked across the room and tapped on the door.

  Two Secret Service agents entered and stood behind Blunt, who’d yet to sit down.

  “What is this?” Blunt asked.

  “You’re under arrest, J.D.”

  “For what?”

  “Initiating an unauthorized attack on foreign soil.”

  “This is absurd. I was following orders … your orders.”

  Young shook his head. “I never told you to do any such thing. Unfortunately, it’s come to this. I’ve let you operate for far too long unchecked, and now you’ve killed an innocent man, a man who was actually helping us win the war in Afghanistan. Do you realize how far you’ve set things back?”

  “Do you even believe the words coming out of your mouth?” Blunt asked. “It’s me you’re talking to. There’s no press corps in the room to show how tough you are. It’s just you and me having a discussion about this. Did something go wrong? Yes. Was it our fault? Absolutely not. And if you think arresting me is going to make this go away for you politically, you’re wrong. It’s only going to spell your demise and open you up to unimaginable criticism.”

  “I doubt it,” Young said. “Besides, nothing will happen until after the election.”

  “You’re going to keep me locked up for two months without a lawyer?”

  “You’ll get your due process … in due time.”

  “This is an outrage, Noah.”

  Young nodded at the Secret Service agents who each grabbed one of Blunt’s arms.

  “I can’t believe you think this is going to make your problems go away,” Blunt said.

  The agents ushered Blunt out of the room and down the hall. As they neared a restroom, he stopped. The realization dawned on him that his opportunity to warn his team was about to vanish the moment they put handcuffs on him and drove him off to a black site. He knew how this worked.

  “Before we go, can I use the restroom?” Blunt asked the agents. “This can’t wait.”

  They looked at each and nodded. They followed Blunt into the bathroom where he picked out a stall. He wasted no time hammering out a text to Hawk, imploring him to drain the foundation’s bank account and be prepared to ward off U.S. agents as Young would undoubtedly designate the entire team as enemies of the state.

  One of the agents banged on Blunt’s door. “Let’s go, old man. We don’t have all day.”

  Blunt deleted the text from his sent folder before slipping the phone back into his pocket. Then he flushed the toilet and rejoined the men outside.

  “Shall we?” Blunt said, offering his arms.

  He swallowed hard, unsure if he’d ever be free again. But he didn’t care as much about himself as he did his team. Knowing that his agents were out there trying to stop America’s true enemies and would soon be hunted for trumped-up charges made him
sick. The members of his team deserved better than that, but he wasn’t sure there was anything he could do about it now except hope for the best … and pray.

  CHAPTER 12

  Copenhagen, Denmark

  THE GUN FELT COLD against Mia’s temple as she stared wide-eyed at Lord Override. With narrowed, dark eyes and pursed lips, he glared at her. She scanned the room quickly, searching for anything that she could weaponize if she could get the gun out of his hand.

  “Is that really necessary?” her gaze bouncing toward the weapon.

  “I was hoping this would relay just how serious I am about this,” he said. “Now, I’m not asking again. Tell me who you’re working for.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. “But first I want to tell you something.”

  She drew up and planted a long kiss on his lips.

  Lord Override drew back quietly, a blank expression on his face.

  “Bet you and all your amazing algorithms didn’t see that coming?” she chided.

  “This isn’t a game to me,” he said. “If you saw what I saw about you, there’s no way you would be making light of this situation. I suppose you’re trying to play me for the fool right now, but I’m not falling for it.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” she said.

  “Answer the question, will you? Otherwise, this is where we part ways. And not in an I-show-you-the-door kind of way.” He flicked the safety off his gun and trained it on her chest.

  “I’m not working for anybody,” she said.

  “I find that hard to believe, especially given the fact that you’re on the United States’ terrorist watch list.”

  “Are you jealous?” Mia asked with a wink.

  “You know I’ve been on a suspected terrorist list for years, and so have you. But you’re a different list now. It’s a list reserved for known terrorists. So, tell me. What did you do?”

  Mia sucked in a breath through her teeth and grimaced. “I may have stolen a few files from a CIA agent at a hotel in Prague recently.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I also may have sold them on the black market to the highest bidder,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Lord Override said as he paced in front of the fireplace.

  “It wasn’t like I sought it out,” she said. “But I went to a club, met a guy, yada, yada. We went back to his place for drinks, and I may have snooped through his things while he was down the hall fetching some ice.”

  “That seems beneath anything the Helenos-9 I know would do.”

  She shrugged. “Desperate times, desperate measures? Without access to my bank accounts and no brother to help me land gigs, I’ve had a hard time getting the jobs I used to. I’m not as savvy as he was, hence the fact that I allowed you to pull a gun on me today. So, I needed to do something to generate some positive income.”

  “All you had to do was reach out to me. I would’ve been more than willing to support you for a while, maybe even given you some jobs myself.”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. I went into a depression and fell apart. It’s hard to ask for help when you live the way I did.”

  “Did?”

  “I’m trying to change that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here soliciting your help.”

  Lord Override placed the gun on the kitchen table and walked back over to the couch. He sat down and took Mia’s hands.

  “I know what I did was wrong,” she said, “It was even against my own internal moral code, but I felt as if I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know things were that bad off for you, much less that you even existed. But now that I do, I might be willing to help you get off that list, if that’s what you’re really asking me to do, because for some reason I think this is about more than just getting your assets unfrozen.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. That’s only part of it.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if it that was all there was to it. So, what exactly are we doing?”

  “We’re going to hack into the CIA database.”

  His eyes bulged. “Excuse me. I thought this might be about falsifying some documents or siphoning off money from a bank.”

  Mia shook her head. “No, I need you to help me hack into the CIA database and get my name off that list, as well as some other information while we’re in there.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “I’m not sure I want to tell you that just yet.”

  He sighed. “Then I’m out. Your brother would’ve never kept me in the dark on a project. We went in with eyes wide open or we didn’t go in at all. Stealing secrets doesn’t mean we have to keep them from each other.”

  “Never mind. It’s not important. My most immediate needs are the ones I already outlined. I need my accounts unfrozen and my good name—however good it is—restored.”

  Lord Override clapped his hands. “Then let’s put on a pot of coffee and get to work.”

  The sun beamed into the room through the slits in the blinds. Mia watched motes illuminated by dawn’s light dancing through the air. She blew softly at one particle, which was violently swept away.

  That’s how she felt at the moment. Working with the Phoenix Foundation had given her a renewed sense of purpose. But the allure of the hacking underworld had a two-fisted grip on her soul at the moment. Absconding with a ton of cash was tempting, but she couldn’t leave her new friends hanging. A decision like that would come back to haunt her. And she couldn’t bear to abandon the people who’d nursed her through the darkest hours following her brother’s death. They’d become like her family, the one she’d lost far too early.

  Lord Override handed her a steaming mug of black coffee. She moved her face over the top and inhaled the aroma.

  “Great smelling stuff, isn’t it?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded.

  He led her into his office, which looked more like a science project gone wrong. His chaotic workspace stood in stark contrast to the neat space she once set up in her home. Wires criss-crossed on the floor and along the ceiling. Documents and dot matrix printouts covered up one keyboard. With the swipe of his hand, he cleared one desk and pointed toward the chair.

  “Here’s your spot,” he said. “If I would’ve known you were coming, I would’ve tidied the place up a bit.”

  “As long as I have a functioning computer and a place to put my coffee, I’ll be just fine.”

  The two hackers sat down to get to work. It took them three hours to penetrate the CIA’s firewall, but the moment they did, Mia knew the clock was running.

  “We’ve got no more than ten minutes before they get our location,” she said.

  “I’m on it,” Lord Override said.

  Their fingers whirred across the keyboard. She started collecting information and securing it onto a flash drive. Lord Override was tasked with unlocking her funds, something she’d requested to be done before as a cover. He was a genius when it came to breaking down firewalls but had been known to linger in certain places while searching for pertinent data. However, with a directed focus, Mia could occupy him while she scraped up all the intel necessary to determine who was responsible for inserting the fraudulent information into the CIA’s database.

  “Have you freed my money yet?” she asked. “I’m just waiting to transfer it to another account the moment you say so.”

  A few more keyboard clicks before he raised his hands in the air and declared victory. “It’s done!”

  Mia moved over the money as she watched the data download to her flash drive. It was at sixty percent and moving slowly.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “Almost there,” she said before she heard a loud pulsating noise outside their window. “What is that outside? I can feel it in my chest.”

  “It’s a helicopter,” he said.

  Lord Override’s phone rang, and he answered it cautiously. “Hello.”

  “This is th
e Police Intelligence Service,” a man announced in Danish. “Please come out with your hands up.”

  Mia glanced at Lord Override. “What are they going to do?”

  “They’re going to kill us if we don’t comply.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Milan, Italy

  HAWK READ THE TEXT aloud again from Blunt and sat back down on the couch in Pierce Sterling’s flat in Milan. Alex and Hawk accepted an invitation to join Sterling after he explained his own situation.

  The British agent disclosed that two weeks ago he was forced to become a rogue operative by his department’s standards. Someone framed him by planting evidence because he’d dared question his superiors on a series of decisions that resulted in the loss of two colleagues with impeccable records. According to Sterling, the charges were fabricated but returning to London would’ve kept him from uncovering who was behind all the odd behavior he had witnessed. His brief investigation pointed toward Falcon Sinclair’s secret organization called Obsidian. And when the Phoenix Foundation operation collided with his, Sinclair was able to escape.

  Sterling admitted that he had no plans to interrogate Sinclair. Once he was kidnapped, Sterling was going to kill the Australian businessman, vigilante style.

  Hawk and Alex expressed to Sterling that if they were to work together, Sinclair was to be detained, not murdered. There were still plenty of questions Hawk had that extended well beyond the nature of Obsidian’s end game. Once Sterling agreed, the three pledged to work together and formed an alliance.

  But now instead of Hawk and Alex protecting Sterling, all three of them were likely to be wanted.

  “At least you have a heads up,” Sterling said. “I had no time to react to anything. Before I knew it, all my MI-6 credit cards and passports had been frozen and flagged. But you have a chance to ride this out for much longer than I could with the limited resources I’d concealed.”

  “This is new territory for us,” Alex said. “Any tips?”

  “I have some banker friends in the British Isles who could help us,” Sterling offered. “If you’d like, I can make a few calls.”