Brady Hawk Box Set

by R. J. Patterson

Ackerman kept flinging debris away from the opening. “I haven’t forgotten anything. I wish I could say the same for you. You seem to have forgotten your humanity.”

  “That’s enough. I’m going to need you stop and instruct the rest of the people here to follow your lead.”

  “Good luck with that. The people who are here aren’t following me; they’re just being human. And I wish you’d follow their lead.”

  Demby grabbed her bicep and jerked her up until she was face to face with him.

  “Call them off now—or I’ll start detonating the charges we’ve set all around this mine.”

  She withdrew, shaking free from his grip the moment he relaxed. Briefly eyeing him, she decided to call his bluff. “Not even you could withstand the fallout from a move like that. You’d be dead before morning. Besides, you certainly wouldn’t risk killing the only doctor in four hundred kilometers who could save your life if something happened to you.”

  Demby watched her turn her back and walk away. One of his men took a few steps in her direction before Demby called him off. “Just leave her.” Then he shouted to Ackerman. “You have three hours—then,” he said, lowering his voice, “boom.”

  He watched as she frantically organized teams. One of the men with her caught Demby’s eye. He’d never seen the man.

  “Who is that?” Demby asked Ibrahim.

  Ibrahim watched the man hoist a large beam off a pile of rubble and shove it aside.

  “I think he’s some taxidermist from New Zealand just here for the hunting.”

  “So, he just comes to my mine and starts shoving boulders aside and freeing people?”

  “Maybe he met Dr. Ackerman and she asked him to come along.”

  “I thought she said nobody was following her.”

  Demby watched in silence for several more minutes as Hawk continued to move debris in machine-like fashion and efficiency.

  “Does that guy ever get tired?” Demby asked. He hadn’t noticed Dr. Ackerman slip up behind him.

  “That’s not just a guy,” Ackerman snapped. “That’s a real man.”

  Demby shooed her away with the back of his hand and waited until she was working on another section of the mine thirty meters away.

  “Ibrahim, I want to meet that man,” Demby said. “When this is all over, bring him to me. We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER 21

  UNSATISFIED WITH HER INABILITY to find any shred of video evidence that Senator Blunt was even at the National Mall, she tried to think outside the norms of her CIA training. With access to virtually every camera available, if Blunt had been somewhere, he would’ve shown up in at least one of the cameras—unless all the cameras had been hacked. And if all the cameras had been hacked, there would be a digital footprint that she could use to trace back to its origin point.

  She pounded away on her computer for the better part of an hour as she tried to discover anything else about this video camera takeover. Hitting roadblock after roadblock, she realized she needed help. And she knew just who to call.

  Fifteen minutes later in a small coffee shop off Massachusetts Avenue, Alex sat across a table from Kyle Kuhlman, or K-Squared as he preferred to be called. He had other aliases for his more nefarious online work, the kind that Alex’s assignment required.

  “Th-this is going to cost you,” Kuhlman said as he looked at her handwritten note detailing the task.

  “Money won’t be an issue,” she said.

  “Who said anything about money? I just said it was going to cost you; I didn’t say what it was going to cost you,” Kuhlman said, speaking faster with each sentence. “You need to pay attention here, Agent Duncan. There are a lot of moving parts, many moving parts. And you’re going to need me to do this. Do you understand? You’re going to need me to do this. There’s hardly a hacker alive who could execute this for you, especially since it’s a special government request.” He finally took a breath. “So, it’s going to cost you.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Kuhlman opened his laptop and typed furiously on the keyboard, ignoring her question.

  Alex wasn’t amused.

  “I see you’ve been working on your interpersonal skills, like looking people in the eye and paying attention to what they’re saying.” She slammed his laptop down.

  He clasped his hands together and slowly looked up at her. “I find such exercises a waste of time, especially when I can get what I want through other means.”

  Alex narrowed her eyes. “And what is it exactly that you want, this thing that’s going to cost me?”

  “I want a date with you.”

  Alex emphatically shook her head. “Absolutely not. I couldn’t imagine sitting in your apartment and playing video games all night with all your online friends. Not gonna do it.”

  “Hey now,” Kuhlman said. “Give me a little credit here. Not all my dates end up like that. We can do lots of fun things that don’t involve any computers or smart phones. Maybe go watch the Nationals play or catch a show downtown. Or maybe we can hang out at the National Archives, your favorite place to meet up with prospective suitors.”

  “Hey—what are you talking about? How do you know—?”

  “K-Squared knows all, sees all. When are you going to learn that?”

  Alex sighed. “Fine. I’ll go on one date with you.” She pointed at the instructions he’d set on the table. “Now, find out who’s behind this for me. I’ll give you two hours.”

  “Two hours? You’re loco, girl. I can’t crack this in two hours.”

  “What’s the matter, K-Squared?” she chided. “Have you lost your magic touch?”

  He glared at her. “Two hours. I’ll have everything you want and more.”

  Alex got up and exited the coffee shop. As she was turning onto the sidewalk, she bumped into a woman.

  “Sorry,” Alex mumbled, but the woman didn’t stop, pushing her way past Alex and scurrying down the sidewalk.

  Sometimes, I just love this town.

  When Alex arrived at the Metro station, she reached into her jacket pocket for her pass.

  Huh? What’s this?

  She pulled out her pass along with an envelope addressed to her: Agent Duncan.

  Alex waited to open it until she returned her office. Inside the envelope, she found a small photograph depicting Senator Blunt along with a handful of men and women, none of whom Alex recognized immediately. She flipped the picture over. Scrawled on the back was a short message, a pair of questions: “Who are these people, and what is Blunt doing with them?”

  They could’ve been any number of groups the Texas senator met with on a regular basis: lobbyists or donors from the banking industry, oil industry, cattle industry, National Rifle Association, or a farmers’ special interest group. But Alex figured whoever was asking her that question also knew she had access to facial recognition software and the most robust database in the world. So, she played along.

  Alex uploaded the photo to her computer and started the program. Of the eight figures in the photo, Blunt was identified first, almost immediately. Returning to her work, Alex decided to rely upon the software’s alert system to let her know when a match was found. More than an hour later, still no more matches.

  While she waited, she searched for footage of her outside the coffee shop. She needed to know whom the woman was who’d slipped this into her pocket when they collided. But that search, too, was to no avail. A large brimmed hat and oversized sunglasses ensured that the woman’s identity remained hidden.

  She checked the program again. Still nothing. After a couple of hours, the program’s search finally ended, unable to even get a partial match.

  No longer was the two-part question just written on the back of a photo.

  Now, both the question and the image were seared into her brain.

  CHAPTER 22

  HAWK CHECKED HIS KNIFE and tightened the ankle-mounted sheath on his right leg. As a Navy Seal, he’d learned that preparation was the key to su
rvival in any situation. Although he wasn’t anticipating any conflict yet, he wasn’t naive. Spreading the word around that he could handle such transactions meant that piece of information would reach the right people, the same people who were also quite dangerous.

  After breakfast, he met up again outside with his guide, Ethan Jacobs. Visser leaned against Jacobs’s vehicle without his previous two companions.

  “Where’s Soto and Perryman?” Hawk asked, rubbing his back, which was still sore from excavating all the miners the night before. Despite his initial disappointment, he’d eventually reunited Solomon with his father and satisfied his urge to help others in tangible ways.

  Visser rubbed his eyes as if he were trying to wake up.

  “Rough night, Visser?” Hawked asked.

  A faint smile spread across Visser’s lips. “You could say that. It’s the same reason why Soto and Perryman aren’t here.”

  “And it’s a good thing, too,” Jacobs said. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have room for another last-minute addition to our hunting party today.”

  “And who might that be?” Hawk inquired.

  “Musa Demby, who runs the Sefadu Holdings mine, and his friend, Ibrahim,” Jacobs replied.

  “I think I met him last night.”

  Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Where at?”

  “At his mine after it collapsed. We rescued over a dozen men.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about then.”

  The roar of a Range Rover engine climbing up the hill toward them could be heard as Jacobs finished talking.

  “Seems like our last two guests have arrived,” Jacobs said.

  Visser remained propped against Jacobs’ vehicle, silent through the conversation about their two new hunting partners. “I call shotgun.”

  Jacobs turned toward Visser. “I’m afraid Mr. Demby will be sitting in the front seat.”

  Hawk winked at Visser. “It’s okay. I’ll let you sit in the middle.”

  Demby’s vehicle skidded to a stop, kicking up a cloud of dust. He and Ibrahim climbed out.

  “Looks like it’s my lucky day,” Demby said with a wide grin as he walked toward Jacobs.

  “What do you mean?” Jacobs asked as he shook Demby’s hand and then gave him a hug.

  “I get to go hunting with a hero,” Demby said, gesturing toward Hawk. “Mr. Martin saved many lives last night at my mine. The least I can do is cover his costs for today.”

  Hawk shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Demby, but I appreciate the gesture. I’m just doing what any man would’ve done.”

  “I guess I’m not any man,” Demby deadpanned. He then broke into a smile. “But I don’t believe that for a second. You, on the other hand, are a very special man. What you did at my mine was amazing.”

  Hawk furrowed his brow. “I was just trying to help. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be there today? That was quite a traumatic event.”

  Demby laughed. “I gave the workers who’d been trapped a few days off. The rest of the employees had better double their production. A great reward will be given to them if they reach the goals I set for them.”

  “Such a generous man.”

  Demby eyed Hawk. “That’s not something people say about me very often, though I’m quite certain that your words belie the meaning behind your comment.”

  Hawk held out both hands and shrugged. “I’m a straight shooter, Mr. Demby. Take my comments at face value. I never meant anything underhanded by that.”

  “Very well then,” Demby said before he turned toward Hawk. “Shall we go shoot an elephant today?”

  ***

  DESPITE JACOBS’S DEFT SKILLS as a guide, he couldn’t make Africa’s most sought after trophy animals appear out of thin air. He went to all of his go-to locations and waited—but nothing. They even ventured into several areas that were ill advised due to the recent Ebola outbreak and still came up empty.

  “What are we paying you for again?” Demby asked with a smirk as they traipsed through the thicket.

  “For what all big game outfitter guides are paid for: entertaining stories,” Jacobs replied.

  “I haven’t heard one all day,” Hawk said.

  “Well, why don’t you tell us one?” Demby said as he looked at Hawk.

  Hawk found a log and sat down, gesturing for his hunting companions to do likewise.

  “I was in Namibia hunting leopards once when we came upon one guarding its kill in the brush about eighty meters away,” Hawk began. “The tracker motioned for me to take a shot. But just as I lined everything up, the leopard darted farther into the brush. Apparently something was more interesting to him than his kill. So, I found a tree nearby and climbed up to get a better look. But I couldn’t quite determine what was happening. That’s when I realized one of our trackers, Dikimbe, was missing. Dikimbe had ventured into the brush to try and draw out the leopard—and Dikimbe succeeded, but at his own demise. The leopard charged the tracker and bit him on the neck, leaving Dikimbe for dead. However, in order to get a clearer shot, I needed to climb down from the tree. The second my boots hit the ground, the cat charged me. I dodged behind a tree and just missed his leap toward me. I then emptied several shots into him and dropped him right there.”

  Demby chuckled. “You survived a leopard charge?”

  Hawk nodded.

  “Well, that’s a tall tale. Perhaps you should be a guide, Mr. Martin.”

  Hawk held up his hand. “I swear it’s the truth.”

  Everyone erupted into laugher, dishing out comments that suggested they didn’t believe him.

  “What?” Hawk said. “You think I made that up?”

  “I knew Kiwis were good at lying,” Demby said. “I just never knew how good.”

  “I swear on my mother’s grave that it’s true.”

  Demby studied Hawk. “Maybe so, but I’ve got a few other questions I want to ask you about. Come with me.”

  ***

  FOR THE NEXT FIFTEEN MINUTES, Demby took Hawk away from the rest of the group and grilled him about his work experience.

  “I hear you are an exporter,” Demby said.

  “Who told you that?” Hawk asked.

  “That’s not important. I’m more interested in your ability to export difficult items out of certain countries.”

  Hawk smiled. “I haven’t been stumped yet.”

  “How good are you?”

  “Good enough to have never been caught.”

  Demby laughed and slapped Hawk on the back. “You sound like my kind of man. Say, would you be interested in joining us tonight for a game of cards at The Errant Apostrophe’s?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Hawk said.

  His plan was already starting to take shape.

  CHAPTER 23

  THE SUN HAD ALMOST DISAPPEARED on the horizon when Demby returned to his office at Sefadu Holdings. He’d endured an unproductive day of hunting, though it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Despite not killing anything, he did manage to establish a rapport with Oliver Martin, the man he believed might be able to help expand his market distribution. But it was too early to tell anything.

  His more immediate concern was making sure that he could get all of his illegal diamonds out of the country using SLAM as a cover. If Dr. Ackerman remained uninformed about the true contents of her latest shipment to South Sudan, everything would run smoothly. He could afford nothing less. Al Hasib took its institution of deadlines seriously—or more poignantly, they took deadlines literally.

  After sorting through a few email messages from diamond consortiums in Antwerp, Demby decided to lock up for the evening and spend the rest of his night playing cards at The Errant Apostrophe’s. However, his plans were delayed when he turned the key in the deadbolt and skipped down the steps—where he was met by one of his foremen and Dr. Alissa Ackerman.

  “I tried to stop her, boss,” the foreman said. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”

  A wry s
mile spread across Demby’s face as he addressed his foreman. “Don’t feel bad. She doesn’t listen to anybody.” Then he looked at Ackerman. “So, what’s this all about?”

  “I think I should be the one asking you that question,” she said and proceeded to hold up a small plastic bag that held about a dozen small diamonds. “I found this in the latest shipment I was preparing for South Sudan. Care to explain what’s going on here?”

  “It’s not what it seems,” Demby said. “I’m sure someone dropped it in your supplies by accident.”

  “People don’t accidentally drop diamonds worth millions of dollars in my outbound medical supply shipment. And your workers especially don’t do it.”

  “Believe it or not, accidents do happen here,” he said as he took the bag from her. “I’ll look into it.”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Yesterday you were willing to let all those men die because it might affect your deadline. And now today you pull this stunt. This isn’t a couple of anomalies; this is a trend. And it disgusts me.”

  Demby shooed the foreman away with the back of his hand. When Demby felt confident the man was out of earshot, he leaned in close to Ackerman.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll look the other way and go about your business of saving people’s lives.”

  “Saving people’s lives? Saving people’s lives? You think that’s enough to make me turn a blind eye to what you’re doing? By smuggling these to God knows who, I doubt you’re helping the situation. In fact, I’d be willing to bet everything that you’re making it worse.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, but without them, you couldn’t do the good you do.”

  “Without them, I might not have to.” She puffed her chest out and put her hands on her hips, doing her best to look tough. “This ends today.”

  Demby chuckled and looked her up and down. “Is that supposed to scare me?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out his pistol and pointed it at her head. “This ends when I say it does. Is that clear?”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. However, she couldn’t hold her tongue. “But just to be clear, just because you ask me if that’s clear doesn’t mean I’m going to go along with it.”