Sinclair decided to join them. But he didn’t get far before a gag went into his mouth and two pairs of strong hands took hold of his arms and dragged him away.
CHAPTER 48
HAWK DROVE THE SUV out of the Paramount Studios backlot, giving a friendly wave to the guard as they left. Blunt rode shotgun, while Black sat in the back with Falcon Sinclair. Aside from occasional grunts from Sinclair, the ride was relatively quiet. As Hawk navigated out of the city, he turned toward Culver City and the Inglewood Oil Fields.
To the west, the sun was nearing its daily disappearing act. And Hawk was hoping to do the same once they were finished with Sinclair.
“How’s everything going?” Alex asked over the coms.
“Fine and dandy,” Hawk said. “And you?”
“You’ve got a green light from your crack tech crew. We’re just waiting on your signal.”
“Roger that.”
Hawk began the drive up the road that snaked through the oil derricks pumping rhythmically around them.
“Up here,” Blunt said, pointing toward a turnoff.
Hawk parked behind a set of three storage tanks towering over a small dirt field. Two derricks squeaked as they slowly pumped liquid gold from the ground. He took a deep breath as he got out and grabbed a barstool and a tripod with a video camera from the back of their vehicle.
Black led Sinclair outside, while Blunt positioned the shot.
“I think this is perfect,” Blunt said, settling the stool onto the ground. “If we shoot from this angle, it’ll be almost Oscar-worthy for best cinematography.”
Hawk chuckled. “It’s good to go out with a bang, isn’t it?”
Blunt furrowed. “You talking about Sinclair?”
Hawk shook his head. “I’m talking about you.”
“What do you mean?” Blunt asked.
“When we set all this up, I had to talk to the president. He told me you were planning on retiring.”
Blunt sighed before fishing in his pocket for a cigar and snipping off the end. “Is that a crime?”
“Of course not. I just thought you would’ve told us first.”
Black seated Sinclair on the stool. “Yeah, why tell him? He’s got no clue. Us, on the other hand, we’ve got your back no matter what. And I think the last couple of weeks have proven that.”
“Okay, okay,” Blunt said before jamming the cigar in his mouth. “I should’ve told my amazing team first. It was a mistake. I’m entitled to make one every decade or so, aren’t I?”
“All’s forgiven,” Hawk said. “I’m just curious as to why now.”
“I don’t know, Hawk,” Blunt said. “One day you wake up and realize you’re just too old for this shit any more. I’d rather be fishing and reading a Stuart Woods novel than hunting down these pukes. I’ve had a good run, and I’ve served my country to the best of my ability, and I just feel like I’m slipping, which means it’s time for me to slip away and let someone else carry the mantle.”
Hawk let out a low whistle. “I wonder what it says about me that I came to the same realization about thirty years earlier than you did.”
“You can’t quit,” Blunt said. “Nobody’s better at rounding up these assholes than you.”
Hawk shrugged as he set up the camera. “Maybe, but there’s more to life than this for me. I might just need a long break, but Alex and I have been talking about it. And since you’re retiring, there might not be a better time.”
Blunt grunted. “Hawk, you’re too valuable. Please, reconsider what you’re saying.”
Before Hawk could defend his decision further, Alex’s voice came through on the coms. “How are you boys doing? Everything set up?”
“Perfect timing, Alex,” Hawk said. “I think we just need to do a little test and launch this production.”
“Turn on your camera, and I’ll make sure everything is working,” she said.
Hawk complied with her request.
“Good?” he asked.
“We’re golden, boys. Whenever you want to start, just say the word.”
“Great,” Blunt said. “Before we begin, I need to make sure Mr. Sinclair understands what he needs to do.”
Black removed the gag and blindfold from their prisoner.
“You people are gonna pay for this,” Sinclair said with a hiss.
“Sit down and shut the hell up,” Blunt said. “I’ve got something for you to do if you want to leave this place alive.”
Sinclair then broke into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Blunt asked.
“The best part about all of this is that you think you’re going to get away with it. But what you don’t realize is that you’re already as good as dead.”
Blunt pulled the cigar out of mouth, resting it between his fingers. He leaned over, placing his hands on his knees and getting down at Sinclair’s eye level. “So, how’s this gonna happen? You gonna spin around and put on your cape, maybe beat us to death with your powerful hands.”
Blunt walked around behind Sinclair and grabbed his hands, studying them before dropping them.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such soft and supple hands belonging to a man in all my life,” Blunt said.
“Uncuff me and you’ll find out that looks can be deceiving,” Sinclair said.
“Let’s get on with it,” Black said. “Give him the paper.”
Blunt held up a page in front of Sinclair. “This is what you’re going to read in front of the camera.”
Sinclair studied it for a moment. “Are you out of your bloody mind? I’d rather get a bullet to the head than read that.”
Black chuckled. “We can arrange that.”
“No,” Blunt said, “we’re doing nothing of the sort. You will read this or you will die here. But not by a bullet. It’ll be a slow and painful death because we’re not leaving until we have you admitting to the world what you’ve done.”
“The damage has already been done,” Sinclair said. “All those journalists saw that footage. My words aren’t necessary.”
Blunt crammed the cigar back into his mouth and stood upright. “These words are what will keep you alive.”
“Give me a bullet, please.”
Black pulled out his gun and jammed the end of it against Sinclair’s head. The Australian businessman threw his hands up and begged for mercy.
“Okay, okay, don’t shoot. I’ll read it.”
The sun vanished into the ocean, ushering in dusk.
“Better get a move on,” Alex said. “There’s not much daylight left before the quality of the video will be corrupted.”
“Roger that,” Hawk said before turning to the rest of the team. “We need to move now.”
Blunt handed the paper to Sinclair to let him study it for a moment. When he was finished, he gave it back to Blunt.
“Ready?” Blunt asked.
“Hold on,” Alex said over the coms. “There’s something wrong with your transmission.”
Hawk took instructions from Alex on how to proceed with troubleshooting for the camera. After a couple of minutes, the problem wasn’t resolved.
“Now what?” Hawk asked.
She sighed. “I’ll come up there and fix it for you.”
“You can’t just walk me through it?”
“It’d be quicker for me to do it myself than to try and tell you how to do it,” she said. “I’m on foot. It’ll only take me a couple minutes.”
“Roger that.”
The men stood around and shot the breeze, discussing everything from the best places to retire to preferred fishing locations to who was going to win the big early season college football games that weekend. By the time they were done, Hawk glanced at his watch. Five minutes had passed.
“Alex, where are you?” he asked in his coms.
Nothing.
“Alex?”
More silence.
“What is going on?” he asked again.
Then he heard another voice, but instea
d of it being Alex’s, it was a man’s in a distinctly South African accent.
“Well, hello, Mr. Hawk,” the man said. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“See me?” Hawk asked. “You must be mistaken.”
“Nope. I can see you just fine. Over here.”
Hawk spun to see a hulking shadowy figure marching toward them, a woman in tow.
When Hawk recognized Alex, he cursed under his breath.
“Drop your weapon or she dies,” the man said.
“Rocky, so good of you to finally show up,” Sinclair said, his dour expression now transformed into a broad grin.
“Like you say, boss: better late than never.”
Hawk laid down his gun on the ground.
“Kick that over to me,” the man said.
Hawk did as he was told.
“Good boy,” Rocky said. “Now, you try anything, she eats a bullet. Are we clear?”
Hawk nodded. He tried to act like the sheer terror sweeping across Alex’s face was no big deal, but he could tell that Rocky wasn’t just going to drop this thing once he got his way. Sinclair wouldn’t let him simply walk away either. Someone was going to pay.
Alex pleaded with Hawk to help her as Rocky yanked her head back using a fistful of her hair to do it.
“No more talking,” Rocky said, speaking each word slowly for emphasis.
“Uncuff me,” Sinclair said to Blunt, who promptly unlocked the bindings.
Sinclair drew back and delivered a vicious uppercut to Blunt, knocking him to the ground.
“Nice hit, boss,” Rocky said.
Sinclair lorded over Blunt. “How about those supple hands now?”
Still lying in the dirt, Blunt inched away from Sinclair, who was rolling up his sleeves.
“Where are you going, old man?” Sinclair said. “We’re just getting started.”
Hawk winced at he watched Blunt suffer a beating from their former prisoner. Yet since the minute Hawk realized their mission was in jeopardy, he remained calm. Sinclair and Rocky worked quickly to secure Black and Blunt to the base of a nearby oil derrick.
“What do you want?” Hawk asked, hoping to speed the proceedings along.
Sinclair turned and marched toward Hawk. “You know what, wise guy? I’m going to get you to confess to everything you just tried to do with me. Only you’re going to confess that a secret black ops program of the U.S. government was responsible for the gas leak, for the spy cameras installed in our Freedom Homes, for the payouts under the shell company of Drisi Enterprises. You’re going to confess to everything, even the murders of my bodyguards. Is that clear?”
Hawk took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
Blunt scowled. “Hell, no! You better not let this man win.”
“There are some things more important than this job,” Hawk said as he looked at Alex. “We don’t all need to die tonight. Give me the script. I’ll fix it and then read it.”
“Excellent,” Sinclair said, rubbing his hands together. “And I want all of you flanking him as he reads it.”
“Everyone except Alex,” Hawk said. “Leave her out of this.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Hawk,” Sinclair said. “It’s too bad we didn’t meet earlier in life. I think we could’ve been fast friends.”
Rocky ushered Alex over to Hawk and Blunt before untying them.
Hawk glared at Sinclair but ignored his comment. “How would you like for me to read this? In my thickest Texas accent? Should I sound educated or broken, maybe a little quiver in my voice?”
Sinclair laughed. “I don’t care if you read it in Farsi. Just say what it says, and I’ll have the FBI come pick you gentlemen up.”
“And my wife,” Hawk added.
“Her too,” Sinclair said, cocking his head to one side. “Now, go ahead. Start reading.”
Hawk took a deep breath and scanned the industrial area behind them. He glanced back down at the paper. “Is that thing recording?”
“Dammit,” Sinclair said. “Just read the bloody paper.”
Hawk licked his lips and peered down at the words a final time before locking his gaze with the lens in front of him. Then he began the apology.
“My name is Brady Hawk, and I’m here to confess a multitude of crimes against my government and other private citizens of both this country and others,” Hawk said.
He was about to launch into the part about how he paid off politicians, but a gunshot echoed through the area. Sinclair spun around in the direction the shot came from, his weapon raised.
“Who’s there?” Sinclair asked.
The next bullet knocked the gun out of Sinclair’s hands. In fear, he dove to the ground, cowering there. “Get him, Rocky.”
Rocky took up a position behind one of the oil derricks, using it for cover. He fired a couple shots back before Hawk seized his moment to escape with Alex. He grabbed her hand and they raced toward the back of the SUV, shielding them from Rocky.
“Get inside,” Hawk said. “See if you can find a gun, and keep your head down.”
Hawk crept around the outside of the vehicle as he approached Rocky, who was unloading on the shooter. “Time’s up.”
Rocky wheeled the gun around and trained it on Hawk’s knee. When he went to fire the weapon, the gun clicked, out of ammunition. Hawk didn’t hesitate, lunging at the bodyguard and engaging him in hand-to-hand combat.
Hawk delivered two big body blows, knocking Rocky back a few feet. But the monstrous man recovered and charged at Hawk. They grappled with one another, rolling to the ground and causing dust to kick up. Rocky muscled his way into the dominant position, straddling Hawk. With his arms pinned to the dirt, Hawk squirmed in an attempt to loosen Rocky’s grip. After a couple tense seconds, Hawk maneuvered from underneath and reversed the roles. Now in control and on top, Hawk began to impose his will on his foe. Slowly but surely, Hawk turned the man over before putting a knee in his back. Hawk wrapped his right arm around Rocky’s neck and squeezed. He fought for a few seconds before succumbing and passing out.
Hawk turned his attention back to Sinclair, who had decided to run. With a footrace on, Hawk didn’t need long before he overtook Sinclair and tackled him from behind.
Sinclair took a few swings, which Hawk adroitly averted. But seconds later, the business mogul was overwhelmed by Hawk’s strength and precision. Hawk secured Sinclair and then untied everyone else. He asked Alex to help him set up the camera. When she was finished, Sinclair staggered to his feet.
“Do you think this is over?” he asked.
Hawk glanced at Rocky, still out, face down in the dirt with his hands zip-tied behind him. “Pretty much.”
“Well, it’s not,” Sinclair said. “Would you care to learn about where your niece Morgan is right now?”
Blunt opened his phone as he stormed over to Sinclair. “I know exactly where she is.”
Sinclair’s eyes widened for a brief second as he stared at the image displayed on Blunt’s screen. Sinclair tried to play it off. “Wait. Wha—”
Blunt revved back and delivered two more gut punches to Sinclair. “You lying piece of shit. You tried to kill her. But fortunately, my agent over here took care of business and killed your hitman. That’s him with a bullet in his head.”
Sinclair’s mouth fell agape. “Well, I—I—”
He stopped, finally out of words, unclear of what to say next or how to respond.
Hawk slapped the document into Sinclair’s chest. “I’m still gonna need you to read this.”
Sinclair sighed and shook his head as he took the piece of paper. He glanced over it a few times and for once spoke the truth.
Hawk didn’t care that it was forced. Neither did Blunt.
Alex took the footage and uploaded it to Sinclair’s social media accounts, streaming it to all his followers. Meanwhile, Hawk called the FBI’s Los Angeles field office to have them arrest Sinclair.
As they were waiting, Big Earv appeared, walking over the h
ill with his rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Sorry, I couldn’t be of any more help,” Big Earv said.
“You kidding me?” Hawk asked. “You literally saved the day.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Big Earv said with a faint smile.
“What happened to you?” Black asked.
“I got caught up in a major accident on the freeway right behind you. By the time I was able to get out of there, I got up here to the oil fields and stopped to see if I could find you based on where you said you were planning on taking Sinclair. When I looked through my binoculars, I saw what was going on and quickly took up a position to shoot from.”
“Well, I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t do that,” Hawk said.
Blunt shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been pretty.”
Hawk looked around and noticed Rocky, who was bound and lying prone, starting to regain consciousness. “Excuse me, fellas. There’s something I need to do.”
Hawk walked up to Rocky and delivered a devastating kick to his face. He groaned and then spit a tooth out.
Hawk knelt next to Rocky. “I don’t know if you’ll ever get out of prison for the atrocities you’ve committed now and in the past, but if you do, don’t ever treat a woman like you treated my wife.”
A parade of law enforcement vehicles stormed onto the scene, sirens blaring, dust swirling.
As Hawk stood and walked away, Alex ran up to him and jumped into his arms. She started to sob, the emotional toll of the ordeal finally breaking her. Hawk held her tight.
“It’s all right, honey,” he said. “You made sure they’re not going to hurt you or anyone else anymore.”
CHAPTER 49
Washington, D.C.
THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION team regrouped two weeks later to discuss the future of the organization. Blunt was chewing on a cigar as he lumbered into the conference room for the last time. He’d long since decided that he’d had enough, but telling all his agents at once wasn’t going to be easy.
He settled into his chair as all eyes remained on him, everyone silent.
“Thank you all for coming in this morning,” he said. “I thought we better talk about where we go from here. You’ve all been nothing but professional throughout this whole operation, and you’re to be commended for that. We dismantled Obsidian, and I doubt it’ll ever come back. If you weren’t secret agents, there’d probably be a big medal ceremony for you.”
Final Strike (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 21) Page 23