“And what about the diamonds?”
“I’ve got an exporter in Accra who works with the CIA who’s willing to take on the diamonds for you.”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy, Alex.”
“You could say that.”
“How’s Blunt been?”
“I haven’t heard from him in a few days.”
“Is that unusual?”
“When we’re in the middle of an operation, it is. I know he went to his ranch in Texas, but I haven’t heard from him since he left.”
“See if you can reach him. He needs to know what’s going on here. If I pull this off, this will seriously cripple Al Hasib’s operation for a while.”
“Let me try again. Hang on.”
Alex put Hawk on hold while she dialed Blunt’s number. Still nothing. She then called his chief of security. Straight to voicemail.
“Hawk?” she said.
“I’m here.”
“Still not gettin’ anything from him. I’m starting to get a little bit worried, since he’s usually checked in or called me back by now after I left him a couple of messages. I even asked General Johnson, and he hasn’t heard from him either.”
Hawk sighed. “Well, relay to him what’s going on for me, will you? I know this will be a big feather in his cap.”
“Especially if you can find those weapons.”
“Just give me some time. I’m working on it.”
CHAPTER 30
HAWK PULLED INTO THE gravel parking lot in front of Sefadu Holdings, kicking up a cloud of dust that hung thick in the evening air. He climbed out of his vehicle and strode toward the small office building. The window air conditioning unit hummed, forming a strange melody with the nocturnal animals calling out into the night.
Hawk tapped on the window and waited. In a matter of seconds, Ibrahim greeted him and ushered him inside.
Demby stood in the center of the room with a grin on his face. “Mr. Martin, it’s so good to see you. We have much to talk about.”
Hawk smiled back. “So I understand.”
“Please,” Demby said as he gestured to a chair in the corner of the room across from a desk, “have a seat.”
Hawk sat down and took a deep breath. While he enjoyed engaging with the enemy in close quarters, this environment felt claustrophobic. More coffin than level playing field. If anything went wrong, he couldn’t see himself escaping alive.
“So, do you think we can do some business?” Hawk asked.
Demby nodded. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now.”
“Well, how can I help you?”
Demby leaned back in his chair. “Sefadu Holdings has some sensitive product that requires export. With some of the recent uprisings, it’s become very difficult to move our product out of the country to some of the unique locations we do business with.”
“And that’s where I come in?”
“We were hoping you could provide a solution for us—at least you intimated as much.”
Hawk nodded. “Let’s dispense with the vague talk, Mr. Demby. Are we talking diamonds?”
Demby nodded.
“In that case, I can assure you that I’ll have no problem moving your product for you. I’ve moved hundreds of similar products between countries using my taxidermy business and have never even had a client searched twice in customs.”
A faint smile spread across Demby’s face. “Tell me more.”
“It’s a very simple process. I create an animal that has space inside. I work some of my magic—and even the best customs agent with his high-powered scanner will never be the wiser. And that’s a promise.”
“Who transports the product?”
“It’s your product, so naturally you do. That way you don’t have to worry about taking your eyes off your prized possession. You can check the stuffed animal that's serving as a mule for your product. Then you pick up the animal at baggage claim—and no one has a clue what you’re really doing.” Hawk eyed Demby closely. “Do you have someone who can fly with your product?”
Demby nodded. “I do. And this sounds easy enough. What’s your fee?”
“Two-hundred-fifty-thousand U.S. dollars per transaction. I trust that won’t be a problem.”
“Not at all. But we’re kind of in a hurry. How quickly can you make this happen?”
“If you buy the ticket, I can have you heading out of the country tomorrow on a plane? Fast enough for you?”
Demby smiled again. “Most definitely.”
Hawk offered his hand, which Demby shook. “So, where do I sign?”
Before Demby could answer, he was approached by one of his lieutenants who proceeded to whisper in Demby’s ear before walking away and standing against the wall.
Demby glared at Hawk.
“Do we have a problem?” Hawk asked.
“I think we do, Mr. Martin,” Demby said, drawing his gun. “Now, who are you?”
Hawk put his hands up. “We must have a misunderstanding of sorts. I-I don’t know what this is all about.”
“I’m quite certain you do.”
Hawk cocked his head to one side.
“I wish I could help you, but if this is how it’s going to be, I’ll be leaving now.” Hawk made a move toward the door.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
Hawk fumbled for the right words. “Like I said, I’m afraid this has been a—a big misunderstanding.”
“I’m afraid it hasn’t. I’ve been cynical about you for several days now, while everyone around me convinced me that you were legitimate. Well, apparently you aren’t.”
Hawk put his hands in the air. “Regardless of what you might think you know about me, I’m still your best bet to move your product. Now, if you have specific questions, just give me a chance to explain.”
“I have little tolerance for people like yourself.”
“I swear, whatever information you’re getting about me that’s making you pull a gun is bad information. My name is Oliver Martin, and I’m a taxidermist from New Zealand.”
Demby walked over to Hawk and pistol-whipped him in the back of the head, sending Hawk to the floor.
“Tie him up. We’ll deal with him later.”
CHAPTER 31
BLUNT SHIFTED IN HIS SEAT once his private jet reached cruising altitude. Ever since the attack at his ranch, he hadn’t had a moment to relax as he remained on edge the entire time. Convincing Dimmit County’s Justice of the Peace, Ernest Fowler, to avoid an investigation into the deaths was no small task. Fowler happened to have a weakness for hunting, and Blunt leveraged that to avoid not only an investigation into the deaths of the two men outside his cabin along with Lord Williams but also any future potential investigations. The cover story would be a poker game gone awry. The men were drunk and armed—and it didn’t end well for any of them. The media would lap it up, using the story to push its agenda for stricter gun control and neglecting to investigate the claims. Fowler assured Blunt that all three bodies would be cremated and that he’d be cleared of any wrongdoing by setting the time of death well after he’d taken flight back to D.C.
But those were immediate concerns that he’d dealt with already. The more troubling concerns were the ones surrounding The Chamber and figuring out who he could trust. He might be able to trust his ex-wife, but he doubted she would even speak to him. He wasn’t even sure if he could trust his own team at Firestorm or any of the aides in his office.
For the first hour of the flight, he didn’t want to call anyone. But he had to. Knowledge was power, and he needed to know what was happening with Thor.
Blunt’s most recent conversation with his No. 2 operative revolved around a blown assignment. Obviously, the Danish prime minister, Liam Jepsen, had been tipped off that an attempt would be made on his life, and The Chamber believed Blunt was the mole. For The Chamber to reach such a conclusion, Blunt realized that there was only one person who could’ve convincingly scapegoated him to everyone else.
Blunt called General Johnson to see if he could get an update on Thor. The only way Blunt would be able to salvage his reputation with The Chamber was if Thor succeeded. And with someone pulling strings within the organization and tipping off Jepsen, Blunt saw his assignment as one that consisted of insurmountable odds.
“Have you heard from Thor yet?” Blunt asked.
“Not yet, but just give it some time,” Johnson answered. “When he’s on these missions, I sometimes don’t hear from him for days. I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.”
“Well, I am. I’m beginning to be concerned that he’s been set up.”
“What makes you think that, Senator?”
“For starters, there are too many strange coincidences happening. If Liam Jepsen didn’t know about a pending assassination attempt on his life, why would he have a body double? He’s the prime minister of Denmark, for God’s sake. It’s not like they’d be out to get him.”
“Have you watched the news lately? He’s not the most popular leader there.”
Blunt scoffed at Johnson’s suggestion. “He’s a political leader in Europe. The last leader beloved by any constituency with any overwhelming consensus on that continent was Hitler.”
“Churchill was popular.”
“Not before he was wildly unpopular, and he always had stout detractors.”
“Well, no matter what the case, it’s clear to me that he wasn’t universally beloved by the Danes.”
Blunt sighed. “But that doesn’t mean he’d be worried about an attempt on his life. To have a body double? That’s a whole other level of paranoia. Something’s just not right about that situation.”
“Perhaps, Senator, but like I said, Thor is diligent and will get the job done. Don’t you worry. He’ll get his man.”
“I hope you’re right,” Blunt said before he hung up.
My life depends on it.
CHAPTER 32
WHEN HAWK REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS, he didn’t know where he was. Demby’s goons had bound Hawk’s hands and feet with rope, tethering him to a pole in the middle of a small room that appeared to be a pantry of sorts. Hawk could barely make out his surroundings, but the light seeping beneath the door was sufficient enough to see a general outline of the environs.
He shook off his grogginess and sat upright when he heard muffled voices approaching. The voices grew louder before one voice rose to a discernible level.
“I said enough,” a man roared. “You stay right there, and I’ll get it for you.”
The sound of keys rattling in the doorknob gave Hawk hope that he might be able to find a sympathetic ear. The door swung open, and light from outside flooded the room. Hawk took a deep breath to yell for help when he stopped short upon seeing the guard holding a gun in one hand along with his index finger on the other hand tightly pressed to his lips.
“If you want to stay alive, you’ll save your breath,” the man said.
Hawk slowly exhaled.
“I’ll be back to deal with you soon enough,” the guard said in a low voice as he slammed the door behind him.
Hawk knew the protocol. Stick to the script; stay alive. But he couldn’t be blamed if he wanted to leave it behind for a few minutes and freelance. It wasn’t his best plan, but it might work—just as soon as he was unshackled. In the meantime, he had few options.
The voices outside became muted tones again, even as Hawk strained in the direction of the door to hear what was being discussed on the other side.
The footfalls on the concrete floor grew faint until Hawk heard another door slam shut.
With no one around to hear him, Hawk seized the opportunity to try and free himself, but the knots were too tight. He wasn’t going anywhere.
After his wrists started to bleed from attempting to wriggle free, he stopped trying and slumped on the floor. That’s when he heard another set of footsteps, though not nearly as heavy as the last ones.
When the door flew open and the lights flickered on, Hawk stared up at the person above him as a smile broke across his face.
“Dr. Ackerman,” he said in a whisper, “do you think you can help me out?”
She shut the door and knelt down next to him. “What are you doing in here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“This isn’t the time for joking around.”
Hawk furrowed his brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“I’m not sure what you’re doing, but helping you is likely going to get me in trouble.”
“I think you’re the one in trouble. Demby isn’t who you think he is.”
“He’s a compassionate man who’s funded my work out of the goodness of his heart.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
She sighed. “Fine. Whatever. You got me. I know who he is.”
“And you’re not going to help me?”
“Look, I want to help you, but Demby will kill me if he finds out I assisted you—and I don’t mean that in some metaphorical sense either. He’ll shoot me in the head or kill me some other way. No matter what he decides, it won’t be pleasant.”
Hawk raised his hands as much as he could. “So you’re just going to leave me in here like this?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. You’re just afraid to make the right one.”
“If I help you, I understand that there will be thousands upon thousands of people who won’t get helped around here as a result of Demby’s generosity. Who am I to let all those people perish just because you’re tied up in a closet? If you thought about it for a moment, you’d realize that it’s the right decision, the only decision.”
Hawk shook his head. “There you go with a classic either-or decision. What if you could have it both ways?”
“I’m listening.”
“I don’t want to get into all the details now, but this isn’t about deciding between me and all those people here you serve. It’s about choosing to do the right thing no matter what.”
“Can you guarantee me you’ll make sure SLAM remains funded?”
“I’ll do you one better: I’ll make sure it gets endowed.”
“Endowed? How can you—?”
“Never mind the details. I’ll tell you all about it later. In the meantime, can you just cut me free? We’re losing valuable time here.”
Dr. Ackerman slid a knife out of her back pocket and began slicing through the ropes binding Hawk. She was so busy hacking her way through the ropes that she didn’t hear the footsteps that snuck up on both of them.
The door swung open and Ackerman turned around in horror, looking up at Demby, whose looming body nearly blocked all the light from outside.
“What have we here?” he said as he circled Ackerman and Hawk. “Your own little version of The Great Escape, I see. Too bad it’s not going to work.”
“It’s not what it looks like,” Ackerman stammered.
Demby backhanded Ackerman. “Do you think I am that stupid? Do you think I’m going to believe any lie that you’ve concocted to save yourself? I know exactly what this looks like—and I know exactly what’s going on here.”
“Please, sir,” Ackerman pleaded.
Demby ignored her and turned toward Hawk. “And you,” Demby said as he held up a small comlink in his hand, “look what I found in your ear.” He paused for a moment before he crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. “You won’t be talking to anyone else tonight.”
“I swear, you’re getting the wrong idea,” Ackerman said, taking another tact.
“Silence, Doctor. I know what you’re up to—and you’re not going to like what I’m about to do next.”
CHAPTER 33
ALEX JUMPED WHEN HER PHONE buzzed on her desk. She leaned over the screen to see who was calling. It was Senator Blunt.
“Good to hear from you, Senator,” she said. “I was beginning to get concerned.”
“I can handle mys
elf.”
“I never doubted you could.”
“Have you heard from Hawk? Does he have a location for the missiles yet?”
“Not since I last spoke with him. Right now, I’m trying to track him. He’s gone off the grid for the moment.”
“Update me the minute you hear from him. I need to know what’s going on with those missiles.”
“Will do.”
She hung up and started typing furiously on her keyboard. Someone had repositioned her satellites, and she wasn’t excited about the prospect of re-tasking satellites, a chore that wasn’t as simple as it looked in the movies. The hulking chunks of metal orbiting the earth didn’t just magically move around at the whims of some programmer sitting at a computer. It took time to move a satellite into position to see a certain segment of the grid.
She picked up her phone and dialed General Johnson.
“Do you know why my satellites are out of whack this morning?” she asked.
“Beats me. I know there were navigational issues with a few of them this morning, but I’ve got no idea if any you were handling were in that batch.”
“I wish people around here would let me know that kind of pertinent information. I’m not here for my health.”
“I’ll try to make sure you’re better informed next time.”
“One more thing, General Johnson,” Alex said and then paused. She wanted to ask him about Searchlight, but she doubted it’d do much good over the phone. She needed to ask him in person.
“What is it, Agent Duncan?”
She decided to ambush him later instead. “You have a good day, sir.”
Alex drummed her fingers on the desk while she waited for the satellite to get into position. After a few minutes, she decided to go get a cup of coffee around the corner. Her former supervisor at the CIA used to chide Alex for her determination to sit and stare at the screen when a satellite was in the process of being repositioned.
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