Final Strike (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 21)

by R. J. Patterson

  “So, she’s a murderer?”

  Sinclair huffed a laugh through his nose. “Surely you knew that already.”

  “What do you want from me exactly?”

  “I want you to handle her, eliminate her, bury her in a locker at sea. I don’t really care how you do it, but make her disappear.”

  “Okay, I’ll get to work on that. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Don’t underestimate her or anyone else on that team,” Sinclair said. “And keep me posted on your progress. I’m not sure I’ll sleep well at night until I know she’s dead.”

  “Absolutely. Anything else?”

  “That’s all for now. Have a good day.”

  Sinclair hung up and settled into his office chair. He poured a glass of cognac before taking a long pull on the glass as he contemplated his next move. With Blackwood firmly entrenched in Sinclair’s camp, he had to do little more than ask to get anything he wanted in the United States. And he had one more important piece to set into action.

  He waited for a minute before dialing the number of Tahir Nazari.

  “Mr. Nazari, how are you, sir?”

  “Well, and yourself?”

  “I’ll be doing much better if you’ll accept an assignment I have for you.”

  “I’d love to make your day,” Nazari said. “What would you like for me to do?”

  * * *

  WHEN TAHIR NAZARI hung up his phone, he gathered his men for an impromptu meeting.

  “I have an important announcement to make,” Nazari said. “We have secured an assignment of sorts in the United States, the kind that will strike fear in the hearts of Americans everywhere.”

  He watched as the men broke into shouts of joy, followed by a triumphant series of chants: “Death to America! Death to America! Death to America!”

  When the celebration died down, he continued.

  “We’ll be able to do something my brother, Karif Fazil, could never do. We’ll do something not even Evana Bahar could accomplish.”

  He paused for dramatic effect.

  “We will finally bring America to its knees and strike at the heart of their nation in unimaginable ways.”

  The men resumed their celebration, devolving from an organized chant to a primal roar.

  Nazari strutted around in the center of them, soaking in the moment.

  Victory will be ours.

  CHAPTER 37

  Langley, Virginia

  MALLORY KAUFFMAN ORDERED a martini as she eased into the button tufted booth in the back corner of The Speak Easy and waited for her friend. Since Mallory started working at the CIA, she sought out more upscale places for drinks. The loud bar scene was fine for the sole purpose of drinking, but if she actually wanted to conduct a conversation that was intelligible, she needed a more refined locale. And The Speak Easy fit the bill.

  She had barely taken two sips before her friend took a seat in the booth and set her wine glass on the table. Cara Bagwell had taken a job as an analyst with the NSA only six months earlier but had befriended Mallory through the University of Virginia’s Alpha Delta Pi alumni directory. And with Mallory having served at the NSA before moving to the agency, she enjoyed helping Bagwell navigate the political ropes as well as the landmines lurking in the office bureaucracy. In the process, the two had formed a fast friendship despite an age difference of eight years.

  “If you would’ve told me that my idea of a fun evening on the town was talking state secrets at a place like The Speak Easy four years ago, I would’ve laughed in your face,” Cara said. “It’s funny how things change.”

  “That’s the part of growing up that I find fascinating,” Mallory said. “All the things you suddenly like that you never liked before, as well as the things you find yourself disliking that you were obsessed with at one time.”

  “So true,” Cara said before gulping down another mouthful of wine.

  “Now, what was so important that you just had to tell me tonight but couldn’t tell me over the phone?” Mallory asked.

  Cara glanced around the room and then leaned in close. “You told me that you had some friends who were in danger after the fallout in the death of Omar Ebadi, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “From what I recall, you told me they were supposed to be killing Tahir Nazari.”

  “That’s correct. What’d you find?”

  “We intercepted a communication last night between Nazari and—get this—Falcon Sinclair.”

  Mallory’s eyes bulged out. “Sinclair was talking with Nazari?”

  Cara nodded. “And he mentioned something about going to New York City and getting it right this time. Got any idea what that means?”

  Mallory sighed and slowly shook her head. “Nazari is picking up the pieces of a terrorist organization that has ties to his step-brother, Karif Fazil. After Fazil died, his cousin, Evana Bahar, renamed the group Al Fatihin. But she recently died, so it sounds like Nazari is trying to breathe new life into the group.”

  “But what does any of that have to do with New York?”

  “Karif Fazil tried to unleash a dirty nuclear bomb on New York City, but he was stopped by a secret agency. The people in that agency are the same ones being hunted by their own government right now as President Young searches for a scapegoat in that debacle outside Baghran.”

  “So, now Nazari and some people from his cell are coming back to the Big Apple?”

  “And apparently with some help from Falcon Sinclair.”

  Cara finished off the rest of her wine. “We need to warn them as soon as possible.”

  “I will,” Mallory said. “But I can’t just pick up a phone and call them.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cara, do you remember me telling you what the first rule of working in espionage is?”

  “Yeah,” Cara said sheepishly.

  “What is it?”

  “Never trust anyone, not even those you trust the most.”

  “Exactly,” Mallory said. “From where I sit, it’s pretty clear that Sinclair has bought half of Washington, if not half of the world’s top leaders. Not recognizing that and acting accordingly would be foolish.”

  “So, what are you gonna do?”

  “I’m going to do what a good spy does: I’m going to transmit the information to a place where only they can find it.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING, Mallory returned home to her apartment and fired up her computer. She resisted the urge to try and reach Alex through her cell phone, so as not to endanger her. Mallory knew the FBI, Homeland Security, and every other organization was so dialed in to Alex and all her points of contact that reaching out would be akin to professional suicide. No, Mallory needed to use a different way.

  She fired up her computer and went to work. In a matter of minutes, she was scanning the dark web, hunting for a place to tuck away all the information she’d discovered. Upon settling on a location, she dumped the info there and hoped that Alex would find it. She wouldn’t have to look hard, but she’d still have to look.

  Mallory made a few keystrokes on her computer before taking a deep breath.

  This better work, Alex.

  CHAPTER 38

  Sydney, Australia

  SHIELDS AND MIA retreated to their hotel to contemplate their next move. Their venture into Sydney hadn’t gotten them the answers they hoped for. And now the linchpin figure in their Obsidian investigation was dead. Not that Falcon Sinclair’s death was a bad thing in and of itself. But without him, showing the nefarious nature of Obsidian would be more difficult until they could identify other leaders within the organization. And that had proven to be a fool’s errand so far.

  Shields crashed onto the bed, lying still as she stared at the ceiling.

  “So, what next?” Mia asked. “And I’m really hoping you say something that results in me sitting behind a computer.”

  Shields shook her head subtly. “Without Sinclair alive, there’s not much for us to do here
. Plus, the sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

  “Do you think Sinclair’s death will put an end to us being fugitives?”

  “I doubt it. We’re going to need to get some proof, maybe some confessions.”

  “Who’s going to admit they were working with Sinclair?” Mia asked.

  “Someone will. We just need to find the right person to pressure.”

  “Are you certain that will work?”

  Shields sat up. “I’m not sure about anything these days. I don’t know which people are my friends and which ones are my enemies.”

  “That makes two of us. So, how do we figure out which politicians to target?” Mia asked.

  “We look for the ones who are the most vulnerable when it comes to their upcoming election. Exposing them would likely land them in jail. We need to find someone who’d admit to everything, someone who the justice department could grant immunity to in exchange for their testimony.”

  “I think I could help identify a few of those individuals,” Mia said. “I’d do pretty much anything to avoid heading back into the field.”

  Shields chuckled. “You weren’t bad out there. Without you, Sinclair might still be alive. And all you had to do was flash some coy looks at a security guard.”

  “I disarmed him with a sultry glance,” Mia joked.

  The two women broke into laughter.

  When they stopped, Shields picked up her phone. “Let’s call the rest of the team and give them the news.”

  Black answered his phone on the first ring. “Did you get anything?”

  “Well, that depends on what you were after,” she said. “If by anything do you mean watching Falcon Sinclair die? If so, then yes.”

  “What?” Black asked.

  The shock in his voice jarred Shields. “You heard me. Sinclair is dead.”

  Black repeated her news to the rest of the team.

  “Did you kill him?” Black asked.

  “No. The cowardly bastard popped what looked like a cyanide pill as I was questioning him.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Black said. “A narcissist like that isn’t going to allow anyone to arrest him and be humiliated in front of the world.”

  “Unfortunately, that doesn’t guarantee that Obsidian is no longer a threat. In fact, it makes our job more difficult in some ways.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere after breaking out Blunt. And we’re headed to a place to hideout and figure out what to do next.”

  “We want to join you.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Black said. “They are hunting us, and if you try to get back into the country, they’re going to catch you.”

  “We have good disguises and plenty of aliases,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”

  She could hear Hawk and Alex pleading in the background for them to stay put.

  “As you can probably tell, nobody in this vehicle thinks coming back to the U.S. is a good idea.”

  “We can’t stay here forever,” Shields said. “I feel like we’re more likely to get caught here the longer we stick around.”

  “Then go somewhere else, maybe back to Lisbon. Just don’t come here.”

  “Okay, fine,” Shields said. “We’ll go somewhere else, and we’ll be in touch.”

  Shields hung up and looked at Mia.

  “From the half of the conversation I heard, it doesn’t sound like they want us,” Mia said.

  “They’re just being cautious,” Shields said. “But we have some other options. I just don’t want to stick around here and risk getting fingered for Falcon Sinclair’s death.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Good,” Shields said as she dug out a handful of passports from her bag and tossed them on the table. “Let’s sort through these aliases and figure out the best ones to travel under.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Shields adjusted her blonde wig before approaching the ticket counter at the Sydney airport. She and Mia presented their fake passports to the agent, who purchased them a pair of tickets.

  “Do you have any bags to check?” the man asked.

  They shook their heads.

  “Excellent. Just proceed to your left and head around that corner. Continue straight until you see the security checkpoint for your terminal on the right.”

  Shields glanced up at the television as they waited in line. With Falcon Sinclair being such a rich and powerful person, she was surprised not to see a report detailing his death from the night before on the local news. She noticed a pair of police officers stroll past the line of passengers and check them out. One of the officers approached the security guard checking tickets and passports and whispered something in his ear. Then the two policemen eased back from the security kiosk and walked away.

  “Did you see that?” Shields whispered to Mia.

  She nodded. “Should we be worried?”

  “I think we’re fine.”

  A couple minutes later, Shields approached the checkpoint and presented her passport and ticket. The man studied her documents before signaling to the cops. The two men rushed over to Shields. One handcuffed her, while the other set his sights on Mia. Her attempt to run was cut short as she tripped over a woman’s bag. Before Mia could do anything else, she was face down on the airport floor, her hands cuffed behind her back.

  Shields shook her head. “What is going on?”

  “We’re taking you to the U.S. Embassy,” the officer said.

  “What for?”

  “You’re wanted in connection with a couple of murders last night.”

  “Murders? Me?”

  “That’s right. You, Miss Shields.”

  “Shields? That’s not my name. I’m—”

  “Save it,” one of the officers said.

  “Who says I murdered anyone last night?” Shields said, struggling against her bindings. “I was with my friend here.”

  “That’s why we’re bringing her in too. We need to question both of you.”

  Shields sighed. “Who in the world is accusing us of murder?”

  “Oh, nobody that important,” the other officer said. “Just a guy named Falcon Sinclair.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Bellegrove, Maryland

  WHEN ALEX AWOKE the following morning, she needed a minute to remember where she was. A handful of birds perched outside her window serenaded her with various tunes, making her bolt upright. Peering through the blinds, she admired the towering pines surrounding the house with Savage Mountain looming in the distance. She scanned the room and found Hawk curled up asleep on a small couch against the far wall. He wasn’t moving, so she tiptoed across the floor the second the aroma of coffee wafted beneath the door.

  She shuffled into the hallway and found Big Earv, his megawatt smile on display as he held up a mug.

  “Want some?” he asked.

  “Do I ever,” Alex said before settling onto a barstool at the kitchen counter.

  “Do you take cream or sugar or both?”

  “Usually I like mine loaded, but I’ll drink it black if it means I can have it right now.”

  He placed the mug in front of her. “Far be it from me to deprive a woman of her coffee in the morning.”

  She managed a smile and then tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Is Hawk up yet?” Big Earv asked.

  “Nope. It’s been a few days since he’s been able to sleep like this. He sleeps like a bear in hibernation after these big operations.”

  “Well, with Blunt out of custody and Sinclair dead, I’m hoping we can all get some sleep soon,” he said.

  “We really appreciate your help last night, especially since this will probably cost you your job.”

  Big Earv waved her off. “If I’m lucky. To be honest, I never liked the Secret Service. It was always too stodgy for me. We weren’t allowed to have personalities with the peop
le we interacted with. It was like we were the Queen’s Foot Guards at Buckingham Palace. I need to be able to be me, even if I’m cracking heads and saving people’s lives.”

  “And you couldn’t ever do that?”

  “Only when it was just us with the president, which wasn’t very often. He always had somebody yammering in his ear about something.”

  “So, what do you think about President Young? Honest opinion, please.”

  Big Earv sighed and then took a sip of his coffee before answering. “He’s well meaning, but weak. I don’t know how many times you guys saved his ass, but it’s more than I can count. I think he’s scared about what Sinclair was going to do to him politically.”

  “Do you think he’ll pardon us after telling the truth?”

  “Doubt it. He’d be exposing himself at that point. And Radcliffe would eat his lunch on that in the debates. Maybe if he loses, he’ll find a way to do that, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Alex’s shoulders slumped as she closed her eyes. “I just knew something like this would happen eventually.”

  “Well, that can all change if you can prove everything. I mean, the guards we injured don’t exist, supposedly. So, I doubt we’re in danger there. But you’ll just need to prove that someone switched those images on you. And it’s possible that people will believe it was Quinn since he’s no longer working for the administration anymore. A good journalist could handle that story.”

  “The problem is there aren’t many of those around anymore, though if it had the possibility of making President Young look bad, someone might go for it.”

  Big Earv nodded. “Get as much evidence as you can, and I have a strong feeling that you’ll be able to beat these bogus charges. I know some good lawyers too.”

  “We do as well, but none of them will be able to help us in court if we can’t do what you’re recommending and gather enough documentation to prove our innocence.”

  “What exactly do you need?”

  “I need someone who can pinpoint the IP address of the user who logged in under Quinn’s name and changed all of Tahir Nazari’s photos in the database. Mia could help me with this, but I don’t want to drag her deeper into this thing in case she got busted.”