Brady Hawk Box Set

by R. J. Patterson

  He grabbed the handle and prepared to tug it toward him before he stopped. If he chose to be honest with himself, he knew Alex made sense. It’d be a waste to lose Hawk, not to mention the diamonds.

  Blunt turned around and ducked into an alleyway near the restaurant. He dialed the number of General Patrick Stanley and hoped he’d pick up. General Stanley served in the same platoon as Blunt during the Vietnam War but now oversaw a special reconnaissance team in central Africa.

  “I rarely answer my phone before I’ve had my first cup of coffee,” Stanley snarled. “Are you sure you want to take that chance for whatever it is that you’re about to ask me?”

  Blunt stopped and contemplated Stanley’s comment for a brief second before moving forward. “If I could wait, I would.”

  “Bet you thought you’d never play Russian roulette with an American general.”

  Blunt forced a laugh. “This is serious.”

  “Lay it on me.”

  “I’ve got an operative in Sierra Leone who needs some help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “The kind that requires more muscle than he has.”

  “What about your survival of the fittest policy? What happened to that?” Stanley scoffed.

  “Policies are made to be broken. But this isn’t him—it’s about what he’s after. And it’s in all our best interest if this mission is a success.”

  “I warned you when this started that I wouldn’t help you and—”

  “I know—and if it wasn’t so important, I wouldn’t call you. But this is different.”

  Stanley took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Send the details to my secure email account. I’ll take it from there.”

  “Thanks. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “How can I say no to a guy who saved my life?” Stanley paused. “Let’s just not make a practice of this, agreed?”

  Blunt smiled. “I can live with that.”

  "Go finish that fancy dinner I imagine you’re having at some swanky D.C. restaurant. We’ll take care of it from here. I’ve got a team in Freetown that can handle this, I’m sure.”

  Blunt ended the call and then called Alex to have her send all the information to Stanley. While Blunt hated being indebted to others, Stanley owed a lifetime of favors. As long as he didn’t have to presume upon the general’s good graces all the time, Blunt felt more comfortable sending Hawk into dangerous situations.

  But Blunt knew the real reason he couldn’t let Hawk fail. Letting Alex think that it was her idea to enlist the help of another military black ops team was all part of Blunt’s plan. Besides, he couldn’t let his top asset fail in the field.

  Blunt needed the diamonds—even more than he needed Hawk alive.

  CHAPTER 36

  HAWK RETURNED TO WHERE HE BURIED the raw diamonds and peered into the small sack he’d retrieved from Demby’s henchmen less than twelve hours ago. If forced to make a guess, Hawk estimated the retail value of what he held in his hands was somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty to twenty-five million. It’d finance Al Hasib for several months, though not much more given the rate the organization was burning through its artillery.

  These animals will pay one day.

  Hawk clutched the sack and surveyed the area nearby, its desolation interrupted only occasionally by a vehicle creeping by and kicking up clouds of dust.

  Despite his best efforts under the circumstances, he’d been unable to locate the missiles supposedly hidden by Demby. Hawk ventured back to his vehicle when he noticed Solomon, the young boy whose father he’d rescued a few days ago. Solomon smiled as he caught Hawk staring.

  Then Hawk broke into a jog toward the boy.

  “Solomon, it’s me, Mr. Martin.”

  The boy smiled and nodded.

  Hawk grabbed the boy’s arm. “You remember me? From the mine?”

  Solomon bobbed his head before breaking into a tribal language Hawk struggled to identify, much less understand.

  “Can you show me where you live?” Hawk asked.

  Solomon nodded.

  At least he understands me.

  Hawk ran back to his car and followed Solomon along the road. A few minutes later, the boy led Hawk into a modest home in search of Amad, the boy’s father.

  “Is your father here?” Hawk asked.

  Solomon pointed down the hallway.

  Hawk smiled at the boy and headed toward his father’s room.

  “Amad, do you remember me? Mr. Martin?” Hawk said once he caught a glimpse of the man, who was sitting up in his bed.

  Amad nodded. “How could I forget? You saved my life.”

  “I was just happy to help.”

  Amad stood up and pulled on a bathrobe, tying it around his waist. “What can I help you with, Mr. Martin?”

  “I was hoping you could help me find some missiles.”

  “Missiles?”

  Hawk eyed Amad closely. “I think you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “Let’s suppose I did. Why would I tell you anything about them?”

  “Because I’m here to defuse a situation, not enflame it. I don’t think you want to carry the burden of the inevitable weight of your guilt.”

  “And you think Demby will use them?”

  Hawk shrugged. “Not sure. But this is the same man who was willing to leave all of you buried in the mines.”

  Amad shuffled across the room and pulled out a small sheet of paper from his desk. He started scribbling down something. After he finished, he turned and handed the paper to Hawk.

  “You should be able to find the missiles here. I saw them one afternoon when I was retrieving some supplies to fix a beam in the mine. They’re well hidden, but if he still has them, they’re probably still there.”

  Hawk thanked Amad. “You have no idea how many lives you might have just saved.”

  “Maybe you saving my life will prove to be worthwhile.”

  “It’s always worthwhile to save any good man,” Hawk said as he cut his eyes toward Solomon, who’d wandered into the room. “Especially a father like yourself. I can tell you love him.”

  “I try. I’m all Solomon’s got after his mother died from Ebola,” Amad said. “We try to stick together.”

  “Don’t stop.” Hawk held up the piece of paper. “And thank you again for this information.”

  ***

  HAWK SLIPPED A TRACKER into the bag of diamonds and took a deep breath before entering the outpost. With his gun drawn, he entered the facility. Slumped in the corner was Ethan Jacobs, dead with a gunshot to the head. Hawk crept down the hallway, glancing in both directions in an effort to mitigate any surprise attacks. Once he reached the room, he slowly pushed the door open to find Dr. Ackerman still gagged and tied to a chair. Demby hovered over her, jamming his gun into her head.

  “The diamonds,” Demby said, holding out his hand.

  “Let her go,” Hawk said. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

  Demby glared at Hawk. “She has everything to do with this. If she had kept her nose in her own business, this would’ve been over a long time ago.”

  “And I’d be dead,” Hawk snapped. “But things don’t always go like we plan.”

  Demby flashed a wide grin. “No, they don’t. But I always get my way.”

  “I upheld my end of the bargain. It’s time for you to uphold yours.”

  Demby gestured with his gun for Hawk to move. “Over there. I don’t want any surprises.”

  Hawk complied, maintaining eye contact with Demby while walking across the room.

  Demby watched Hawk untie Ackerman. Once Demby finished, he yanked Ackerman up and shoved her toward Hawk.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” Demby said, raising his gun toward them. “If I don’t walk out of here with these diamonds, I’ve instructed my men to lay waste to this building.”

  Hawk didn’t flinch, keeping his gun also trained on Demby.

  Demby shuffled toward the exi
t, never taking his eyes off them. Once he reached the doorway, he used the door as a shield before he opened fire, hitting the doctor in the back.

  “Sorry, Doc. Just couldn’t take any chances,” Demby said before vanishing down the hallway.

  Ackerman crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain.

  Hawk knelt down to help her, ripping sheets off the bed and creating a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “Go get that bastard.”

  Hawk refused. “Not until you’re stable.”

  “None of my vital organs were hit. It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Hawk pulled the bloodied sheet off her back to peek at the opening, where she continued to hemorrhage blood.

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Go get him.”

  “I put a tracker in the diamonds.”

  “He’ll be long gone if you wait too long. Besides, I’ll get Jacobs to help me.”

  “Jacobs is dead.”

  She shook her head. “Figures.”

  “I’m staying.”

  “No, you’re not. Get your ass out of here, and go make Demby pay. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Hawk felt uneasy about leaving her, but he knew she was right. Given too much of a head start, Demby could vanish—the diamonds and missiles along with him.

  And Hawk wasn’t about to let that happen.

  CHAPTER 37

  ALEX FORWARDED HER CALLS to her cell phone in case Hawk needed her. She figured he was competent enough to complete the mission. Besides, she needed sleep and plenty of it. Yet she wasn’t surprised when Hawk called.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is here?” she said as she answered.

  “Alex, I need your help,” Hawk said.

  She could hear Hawk’s engine roaring and surging in the background.

  “Where are you? What’s going on?”

  “I don’t have time to explain everything, but I’m pursuing Musa Demby as we speak. He’s got the diamonds.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I’ll tell you all the gory details later, but for now, I need you to follow one of my trackers I put into the sack of diamonds I gave to Demby in an exchange.”

  “Searching for it now,” she said, typing furiously on her keyboard. Only two trackers affiliated with Hawk were activated, and they were both traveling in the same direction only a few meters apart.

  “Tell me you got something.”

  “I do,” Alex said. “It’s right in front of you.”

  “If I lose it, please let me know. I can’t afford to have Demby disappear into the jungle.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Before Alex could say another word, Hawk let out a string of expletives.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Those bastards must’ve let the air out of my tires.”

  Alex was incredulous. “And you’re just now figuring this out?”

  “I think that was the plan,” he said, the background noise dropping from a roar to a low hum. “There aren’t any other vehicles around for me to take now. Just keep tracking them. I’m going to need to know how to find them again once I find an alternate mode of transportation.”

  “Uh, you may not need to,” Alex said.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Demby turned left and stopped about a quarter of a mile from your present location.”

  Hawk chuckled. “Ole Amad wasn’t lying to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I know exactly where I’m going now.”

  Alex hung up. She wished she could do more to help Hawk with the mission, but if scrambling out of bed in the middle of the night to track a sack of diamonds that could potentially be funding a dangerous terrorist cell was all she could do, she’d do it with pride. Keeping Hawk alive was her top priority.

  But finding out what was really going on with Blunt and Searchlight was a close second—and she needed Hawk to help her do it.

  CHAPTER 38

  DEMBY PARKED HIS SUV in a small clearing in the jungle and dialed a number on his cell phone. Around him, a hive of activity began with the simple wave of his hand. Armed guards scurried across the jungle floor, preparing several transport vehicles. Deeper in the jungle covered with branches was a truck. Demby scanned the area as he waited for the party on the other end of his call to pick up.

  Demby’s Al Hasib contact had left him several messages, each one demanding to know if they were still moving forward with the deal. On the final voicemail, the Al Hasib agent sounded irked and impatient.

  “Where are the diamonds?” the man said.

  Demby sighed. “They’re with me. I’ll be leaving shortly with them.”

  “And the missiles?”

  “I’m afraid you lost out to a higher bidder.”

  “We had a deal and—”

  “I’m always open to negotiations, and this particular client doubled your price.”

  “Karif Fazil won’t be happy about this.”

  Demby chuckled. “And what’s he going to do about it? I am, after all, the only way he’s able to liquidate assets without getting caught.”

  The agent wasn’t amused. “Don’t underestimate Fazil. He will take your mine if he wants to.”

  “I’d like to see him try.”

  “Will you be at the drop-off point in an hour?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Don’t be late.”

  Demby hung up and watched the men busily preparing for the trip ahead with one of the smaller trucks, while another team uncovered the missile transport truck and gassed it up. In one fell swoop, he was going to make not one but two big scores. Once he got his money, he had no intention of ever spending another day at Sefadu Holdings. He’d pay someone else to manage day-to-day operations while he lived it up on a beach somewhere. He’d heard the Caribbean was a nice place to live.

  However, he refused to let himself smile, even though the urge was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t going to relax until he had the money in his bank account and was flying over the ocean.

  Demby still had a long way to go.

  CHAPTER 39

  HAWK PULLED A LOW-HANGING BRANCH to the side and studied the camp that apparently served as the base of operations for Demby’s other enterprises. A thin veil of fog settled over the jungle canopy as midmorning rays of sunlight speckled the ground. Munitions and weapons were stacked in crates six feet high on one side of the camp; a loaded missile transport truck sat parked on the other. Visser leaned up against the missile truck along with Soto and Perryman.

  How come I’m not surprised?

  In the two minutes he’d spent observing, Hawk concocted a rough plan of attack. But he never had the chance to enact it.

  Hawk whipped his head in the direction of a covered flatbed truck that roared to life. Demby stood nearby and barked orders. Hawk couldn’t make out everything that was said, but he heard enough to know what was on board.

  Without hesitating, Hawk broke into a dead sprint, managing to stay parallel to the truck and using the thick vegetation to stay hidden from the guards patrolling the area. Upon entering the compound, Hawk discovered that Demby used a camouflaged fence for security purposes. If Hawk’s calculations were right, he’d have enough time to jump into the back of the empty flatbed truck when it slowed to get through the gate.

  Hawk panted as he crouched down, waiting for his moment to strike. The truck came to a halt before one of the guards opened the gate to allow passage. Once the vehicle reached the main road, the guard secured the gate and hustled back to the cab. That was Hawk’s cue.

  He dashed after the truck, this time clambering aboard the flatbed of the transport vehicle as it lurched forward while the driver shifted gears. Refraining from taking immediate action in order to avoid the possibility of Demby’s men happening up on them, Hawk didn’t move for a couple of minutes. In his mind, he visualized every punch he was about to thro
w, every kick he was about to deliver. He never saw himself losing.

  With a deep breath, Hawk initiated his plan. His first challenge was to scale the outside of the truck in order to gain access to the cab. He’d almost made it to the cab when he saw the door spring open and a guard turn to take aim. Anticipating the move, Hawk kicked the gun out of the man’s hands before swinging into the cab.

  Hawk kicked the man in the face before wrapping his feet around the man’s head. Hawk twisted until he heard the man’s neck snap. Flinging the guard’s body out of the truck, Hawk looked up to see the driver training a gun on him.

  The driver took aim and fired a shot, hitting Hawk in the left shoulder. When the driver went for a second shot, the gun jammed. Then the driver pulled out a large knife and waved it in Hawk’s direction.

  “Out—now, or else I stop this truck and carve you up,” the driver said, gesturing for Hawk to exit the cab. “I didn’t get the nickname ‘The Butcher’ on accident.”

  The driver was so focused on Hawk that he didn’t have time to prepare for the pothole that jarred both men when the front tires slammed it at sixty kilometers per hour.

  Seizing the opportunity created when The Butcher’s knife slipped out of his hand, Hawk lunged for the steering wheel and jerked it hard to the right. The man resisted admirably, landing a few punches on Hawk but failing to regain control of the steering wheel.

  As the truck rumbled along, Hawk edged it closer to the trees lining the left side of the road. Once they got close enough, Hawk grabbed the steering wheel and used it as leverage to jam his feet into The Butcher’s rib cage, prying lose his hands. Then Hawk used his foot to reach across The Butcher and open the driver’s side door. Hawk followed up with another kick that sent The Butcher flying out of the cab and into a tree. Even above the roar of the engine, Hawk could hear the thud and cracking of the man’s ribs.

  That ought to take care of him.

  Hawk gained control of the vehicle before stomping on the brakes. He rifled through the glove box in search of the diamonds.

  Nothing.

  He checked a toolbox underneath the passenger’s seat.

  No diamonds.