Brady Hawk Box Set

by R. J. Patterson

  “I’m heading to Sierra Leone for a mission, and we have sources that say some of your weapons have been stolen from South Africa.”

  “And why are you going after them?”

  “Apparently the South African military doesn’t want anyone knowing what a bunch of screw-ups they are to let four long-range missiles get stolen out from underneath their noses.”

  “You think you can steal them back all by yourself? You do realize these are rather large weapons, don’t you?”

  Hawk rolled his eyes and threw back the rest of his beer, finishing it off. “I’m supposed to track it down and let the Recces take care of the rest.”

  “Why wouldn’t the Recces just handle it themselves?”

  “I asked Blunt these same questions, but basically it boils down to their mere presence might jeopardize my mission—and apparently my mission is more important in the long run.”

  “And what mission is that?”

  Hawk shook his head and laughed. “If you’re such good friends with Blunt, ask him yourself. But I’m not really at liberty to say.”

  “Fair enough.” Colton got up and checked the meat in the smoker. He didn’t touch anything on the grill and promptly shut the lid. “I do have a way of tracking all our weapons. It’s a GPS tracker we installed on every bomb, missile, and gun that we make. Nothing can detect it, and up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t think anyone knew about this piece of technology. Obviously Blunt knows something or else he wouldn’t have sent you out here. We weren’t authorized to install it because some people in the military worried that if that information fell into the wrong hands, combatants could identify secret bases around the world.”

  “But you did it any way?”

  “Of course. Those military officials have no idea about how all this tech works, and they live in fear of the worst. I do, too, but I plan ahead and create safety checks to ensure that the odds of a terrorist or enemy spy ever getting their hands on a device like this are next to impossible. And if they do, I’ll track them down.”

  “So you already knew about this?”

  “Not exactly. We still need to be notified. We certainly don’t actively monitor every weapon we manufacture. But when the situation calls for it, we’re ready.”

  “And where can I get one of these devices?”

  “There will be one here in the morning before you return to the airport. I’ll show you how to use it then. In the meantime, just enjoy some of the best barbecue in Big Canoe—or anywhere else for that matter.”

  Hawk flashed the thumbs up sign. “Excellent.”

  “Don’t worry, Son. I’ve got you covered.”

  Hawk held his tongue and forced another smile.

  For the mission, Hawk. For the mission.

  CHAPTER 7

  ALEX AWOKE SHACKLED in a CIA holding cell. Her resistance to arrest outside The Vault forced the guards to inject her with a sedative that she had finally cleared from her system. How long had it been? She couldn’t be sure, but her best guess was several hours.

  She banged on the door and screamed through the small opening to let it be known that she was awake and ready to talk to someone. With her ear to the door, she could hear footsteps echoing down the hall.

  A few moments later, a guard unlocked the door and an agent entered her cell. The agent wore a blank expression, unwilling to reveal how he felt about his assignment of handling her. Textbook CIA.

  “Miss Duncan, so nice of you to return from the dead. I suppose you’re ready to talk now.”

  Knowing all the agency’s ploys were advantageous for Alex. “Perhaps I am. But I need to make a phone call first.”

  The agent cracked a faint smile. “A phone call? Do you realize you tried to break into the CIA? You don’t exactly get a phone call for something like that. We don’t operate like the Metro PD.” He paused. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

  “If you give me a phone call, I won’t say a word.”

  He didn’t budge. “Suit yourself. This cell can be a lonely place.”

  “You can’t hold me here indefinitely.”

  The agent raised an eyebrow. “I read your file—and it says you used to work for the CIA. But based on your responses, I hardly believe it. You know good and well what we can and can’t do.”

  “I suggest you give me that phone call right now.”

  The agent walked toward the door, his back to Alex until he spun around. “Or what?”

  She rushed toward him and lunged at his waist before he pushed her aside. Lying on the ground, she looked up at him. “Have someone call Senator Blunt. He’ll vouch for me.”

  The agent chuckled. “That’s what you said in your delirious state near The Vault. And we did. He denied knowing who you are.”

  “You lying bastard.”

  He held his hand up, middle and index finger raised. “Scout’s honor.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Miss Duncan, I suggest you take a few minutes to rethink how you want to handle this. Otherwise, you might be in here a long time.”

  The agent exited her cell and locked the door behind him.

  She rushed to the door and listened to make sure he was walking down the hall. Convinced that he was, she hustled to one corner of the room and fell to her knees. She rested her head in the corner, creating a shield against any camera that might be tracking her every move. If anyone was watching her, she made sure they wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

  Her feeble attempt to rush the agent was never intended to incite a fight—just steal his cell phone. Working quickly, she pounded out a text message to General Johnson, asking him to send a file on her computer to Director Coker. She included the appropriate code to ensure that he understood she was the one writing. As soon as she sent the message, she deleted it from the phone. If he didn’t respond within thirty minutes, she swore she’d be shocked.

  Then she waited.

  Ten minutes later, she heard footfalls echoing down the hallway. She knew her door was about to swing open in a matter of seconds.

  “Alex Duncan,” said the man standing in front of her. It was Director Coker.

  She nodded. “Director.”

  He smiled. “I never thought we’d meet like this.” He paused. “It’s a shame to see you in such a sad state.”

  “I doubt you mind that much.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t say that I’m bothered by it, though I am a little shocked at your desperate attempt to blackmail me.”

  Alex stood up, her eyes narrowed. “You think this is an attempt. I swear I’ll ruin you if you keep me in here another five minutes.”

  “Give me your master copy of the file, and I’ll release you.”

  She chuckled and held up her hands, displaying them bound by handcuffs. “These make it kind of hard to do much of anything, much less get you those files.”

  He crossed his arms. “I need assurances that you’re going to get me that file or else you’re going to spend the night here.”

  “Like the message said, you’ve got one hour to release me. And I don’t think you want to test me—not after what you did to me.”

  He sighed and paced around the room. “How do I know that once I let you go, you won’t still use that video against me?”

  “It’s a gamble you have to take because there’s only one thing that’s for certain: That video will go out if I’m still locked up.” She paused. “But I’m smarter than that, Director. Leverage is only good until you use it.”

  Coker stuck his head out into the hallway and motioned for one of the guards. Quickly, one entered Alex’s cell and ushered her out and down the hall.

  “You could’ve been one of the best here, Alex,” he said as she shuffled down the corridor.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Could’ve? I think you know I’m the best agent in the building.” She stopped. “And for the record, it was never my choice to leave.”

  “See you soon, Alex. And you can b
et next time I run into you, you won’t be getting off so easily.”

  She started shuffling down the hall again, her eyes focused on the exit. “Looking forward to it, Director.”

  CHAPTER 8

  BLUNT PULLED HIS DOOR SHUT and inserted his key into the lock. Most senators leaving for an hour in the middle of the afternoon would never insult the trust of their assistants in such a manner. But not every senator ran a special black ops program that was completely off book.

  He glanced at his secretary and shrugged. “State secrets in there. You can never be too careful.”

  She forced a smile and nodded.

  Blunt could tell it irritated her but he didn’t care. If she ever had the gall to confront him about it, he’d fire her. Besides, it wasn’t any of her business anyway how he managed his private office space.

  His progress to make his next appointment was impeded by his top aide, Preston, who motioned for Blunt to go back into his office.

  “I’ve got places to be,” Blunt said as he shut the door. “What’s the problem?”

  “Sir, there’s an emergency security briefing a week from today, and the President personally called to make sure you were going to be there.”

  “Got any idea what it’s all about?”

  “I’m not sure, but a couple of days ago, I heard some buzz circulating around that there might be an attempt on the life of some foreign diplomat.”

  “But you don’t know who?”

  Preston shook his head.

  Blunt sat on the edge of his desk and let out a long breath. “You tell the President that I plan on being there.”

  Preston cocked his head to one side. “Plan on being there?”

  “Plans can change, but at this moment, I’d say it’s a good possibility that I’ll be there.”

  “I’ll pass along the message.”

  Blunt put his hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Do you think I should call him?”

  “You seem busy. I’ll handle it.”

  “Thanks.” Blunt straightened out his desk once more and followed Preston out. Once again locking the door, Blunt smiled at his secretary.

  “I’m gonna try this again,” he said.

  She smiled back.

  Blunt didn’t make it more than a half dozen steps away from his office door before he was confronted again—this time by Alex Duncan.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, his eyes bulging.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Can this wait? I’m in a hurry right now.”

  Alex didn’t flinch. “No, it can’t.”

  He huffed as he spun around and marched back toward his office, unlocking the door and flinging it open. He turned around again to face her, motioning for her to close the door before he spoke. “What’s so damn urgent that you have to break protocol and come to my office?”

  “Why didn’t you vouch for me with Director Coker?”

  He leaned back against his desk and shook his head. “I think the better question is why did you sneak into the CIA headquarters today? Care to tell me what you were doing there?”

  “Looking for answers.”

  “I don’t pay you to look for answers, Alex. I pay you to handle Hawk when he’s out wiping those terrorist pukes off the face of the earth. And that’s it. So, excuse me for not tipping my hand to Director Coker that I’m running an off book, black ops program that is operating outside the bounds of the U.S. government and military—even though you kind of already did that by simply asking someone to call me and verify your existence.”

  “Good to know that I can’t count on you to have my back.”

  “I’ll never have your back when you go rogue.” He took a deep breath. “Now that we have that settled, do you mind telling me what you were really doing at the CIA?”

  “It was a favor for Hawk.”

  He broke into a sarcastic laugh. “So, not only is love blind, it’s also stupid. If you have any questions, come ask me.”

  “Apparently he wasn’t getting the answers he wanted.”

  “And did he ask you to do this for him?”

  Alex turned her gaze toward the window and remained silent.

  “That’s what I thought. He at least has enough respect for you that he wouldn’t ask you to embark on such a frivolous endeavor.”

  “It’s not fair what’s been done to him, you know. Lying to anyone is never a good way to earn a person’s trust.”

  “Neither is sneaking around behind someone’s back. But that didn’t stop you, did it? Please, spare me the moral high ground.”

  “I’m relentless, Senator. That’s why you hired me.”

  “No, I hired you because I believe you’re damn good at what you do, which is operating behind the scenes. I also happen to believe in second chances, especially for people who are committed to the mission. And part of Firestorm’s mission is to make sure that nobody knows what we’re doing. You jeopardized that today.”

  “Sorry, sir. That wasn’t my intent.”

  Blunt took a deep breath. “So, why’d they cut you loose?”

  “Leverage, sir. It’s always good to have a little leverage.”

  “Don’t I know that.” He smiled big. “Nope, I’m still glad I hired you. Now get outta here before anyone else sees you. I’ve got a meeting to get to. General Johnson has the details of your next assignment with Hawk ready.”

  Alex nodded and exited the room.

  Blunt wondered how long it would be before Coker began surveilling him. Blunt would have to be more careful than ever before. But he was pleased to know that at least one of his operatives had some dirt on the Director that he might have to use in the future—if it ever came to that.

  ***

  BLUNT BOARDED THE METRO BLUE LINE bound for the Capitol Heights stop. During his time in Washington, he’d scouted out every subway station and found one specific bench that wasn’t covered by surveillance cameras. The camera directly above the bench didn’t pan directly down, while the nearest camera situated about twenty meters away on each side was shielded from the bench by strategically placed fixtures that displayed the Metro map as well as advertisements. When Blunt first found it, he wondered if some spook created this blind spot for the express purpose of passing intel. Or it could’ve just been a design flaw. Without any major incidents ever occurring at Capitol Heights, Blunt doubted anyone ever questioned the slight gap in video coverage.

  Not that he would ever complain about it. He’d been passing and receiving valuable information on that bench for several years and would loath searching for another safe location should some security head identify the cameras’ blind spot.

  Blunt stepped onto the subway platform and watched his contact make a dead drop in plain sight. A copy of The Washington Post was neatly folded on the end of the bench, and the newspaper remained there after the man stood up and hustled onto the train. As Blunt walked toward the bench, another man sat down and snatched up the paper. He whipped it open and began reading it.

  Though the man didn’t appear to be affiliated with any government agency based on his attire, Blunt would have to wait. Any move toward the man might look suspicious if anybody was watching, though Blunt doubted it.

  Blunt tried to mitigate any tails by maintaining random visits to the station along with various methods of drops. Sometimes the drops were notes affixed to the bottom of a bench; other times it was a written on a sheet of paper in plain sight that could only be read with a black light. Then there was the classic newspaper drop. The only constant Blunt ever held was his regular visits to the Library of Congress. And when those messages necessitated more immediate action, he’d make his way to Capitol Heights.

  After checking the monitors for when the next train was arriving, Blunt realized he had three minutes to get his hands on that newspaper before the man on the bench possibly vanished onto a train with it. He couldn’t afford to chase down a random stranger and take his paper from him. But he couldn’t afford to let the man tak
e it either. Thinking quickly, Blunt scanned the station and identified a box with copies of The Washington Post near the entrance. He hustled toward it, glancing between his immediate path toward the box, his mystery man, and the monitor updating what time the train was due to arrive.

  Blunt dug into his pockets for six quarters and mumbled to himself about the ridiculous price of single copies of newspapers. At one quarter short, his plan was falling apart. After checking the monitor again, he realized he had one minute left to get a paper and dash back down to the bench and attempt the swap. He started to panic and bashed the coin release button with the side of his fist.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around.

  Blunt laid eyes on a man who sported a scraggly beard, unkempt hair, and tattered clothing. With a black plastic bag flung over his right shoulder, the man held out a newspaper in his left hand.

  “Mister, you can have my paper,” he said with a toothy grin. “Ain’t much in there these days, and it certainly ain’t worth beatin’ a machine for it. But if you’re that determined, I suppose there’s still something you might find in there that’ll interest you.”

  Blunt took the paper and thanked the man before jamming five quarters into his hand. “Have a good day.”

  The train brakes echoed as they screeched down the tunnel. Blunt saw the word “arriving” flashing on the monitor and wasted no more time in hustling back toward his bench. All the people on the platform crowded near the edge, awaiting the train to stop and the doors to slide open.

  Fighting against the crowd, Blunt’s manners decreased as his panic increased.

  The man with the paper was no longer on the bench—and nowhere nearby.

  Blunt stood up on the bench and tried to look for the man over the crowd. His dark pea coat looked like the one worn by dozens of other men milling around on the platform. He then started to look for the man with a paper tucked beneath his arm.

  There he is!

  The doors opened, and a handful of passengers disembarked. The crowd hardly waited until the doorways were clear before they pressed forward as one, shoehorning their way into the train. The man Blunt was targeting stood just inside the door, the paper still tightly snug beneath his arm. Blunt didn’t think he could reach the man in time, though he figured his desperation might actually benefit him.