Brady Hawk Box Set

by R. J. Patterson

  She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.

  Just as the door started to close, a gangly bellhop shoved a luggage cart into the elevator. The doors clanked against the young man’s elbow, forcing them open again. He glanced at Alex as he maneuvered the cart into place.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I didn’t see you here. I was just trying to make sure I didn’t get stuck here waiting for elevator.”

  Alex forced a smile and nodded, remaining silent.

  She shuffled to the right of the cart as it bumped up against her shoulder, slinking away into the corner.

  “I’m sorry again,” the bellhop said. “I didn’t mean to hit you with my cart. I-I’m just having a lousy day, and I can’t seem to get my act together.”

  For the first time in the past minute, she could relate with the bellhop. Bad days were as universal as sun that determined every 24-hour period since the dawn of time.

  “I know what you mean,” Alex said. She looked down and let a genuine laugh escape before she felt a sharp prick in her neck.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed. She tried to turn quickly toward the bellhop, but any empathetic emotion he had demonstrated just seconds before had vanished. Instead, it was replaced with a maniacal grin.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked dryly.

  She tried to answer, driven more by a desire to deliver a cutting one-liner. But words escaped her.

  The last thing she remembered was collapsing onto the cart before everything went black.

  CHAPTER 22

  LAMAN WATCHED TALIB AL-ASADI stride toward him, almost in awe of Al Hasib’s top assassin. Everything about Talib exuded confidence and demanded respect. His mere presence in a room changed the environment. Laman undoubtedly had the respect of his men, just not to the level that Talib received it everywhere he went, no matter who comprised the audience. Even if Laman was six-foot-two and two hundred twenty-five pounds with bulging biceps and a calm demeanor, he still wasn’t sure he could be like Talib. There was just something else about him—something that scared the hell out of Laman.

  At least he’s on my side.

  “Your men seem prepared,” Talib said as he neared Laman.

  “Prepared is one thing. Ready?”

  “Ready is a state of mind, and it’s far easier to get your men ready than prepare them. Preparation takes time, and from the looks of it, you’ve taken the time necessary to get these men ready for the sacrifice they’re all going to need to make for this mission to be successful.”

  Laman walked toward a corner of the room, far from the straining ears of the other guards as well as Colton, who remained fastened to a chair. Motioning for Talib to follow, Laman finally stopped, turning his back toward everyone else.

  “I don’t like lying to my men,” Laman said.

  Talib nodded. “I understand the tension you feel. It’s not surprising that a man such as yourself would experience conflicting emotions.”

  “Conflicting? I wouldn’t exactly call what I’m feeling conflicting.”

  “Perhaps, sorrow? Remorse?”

  “These men have families, just like me—and I don’t think it’s fair to keep the truth from them about what they will need to do.”

  “If you do, this mission will fail. What happened the last time you asked one of your men to give their lives for the cause?”

  Talib waited for an answer that never came.

  “If you think that was difficult, wait until you tell a whole room of men that they’re going to die. They won’t like it, even though they should rejoice and give praise to Allah that they’ve been selected for such a high honor.”

  “Not all of them will see it that way.”

  Talib rubbed the back of his neck and looked down before locking eyes with Laman. “In Jihad, some soldiers go willingly; others struggle with their fate. But in the end, the only thing that matters is that we advance our cause and strike back at the heart of these infidels. Americans are all so weak and only seem to respond to pain. Despite what they may boast, pain and suffering will bring them to their knees where they belong. And we shall wipe them from the face of the earth.”

  An involuntary smile spread across Laman’s face. Talib spoke truth, and it was truth that Laman could rally behind. The collateral damage caused by their mission—both to the infidels and his own men—was inconsequential to achieving the overall objective. The will of Allah must be advanced, even if it conflicted with Laman’s own will. The religion of peace would vanquish the infidels and help the world see the truth.

  Talib put his hand on Laman’s shoulder. “Are you good now?”

  Laman nodded. “I’m better.”

  “Good. If we’re going to succeed, I need you focused on the task at hand. You can’t let emotions cloud your judgment.”

  Laman forced a smile. “We will bring Allah’s judgment on these people.”

  Talib laughed. “That is what I like to hear. We will make them beg for mercy.” He then placed both hands on Laman’s shoulders. “You will make your children proud. They will forever speak well of you. Honor shall be upon their lips whenever they mention your name.”

  Laman nodded and closed his eyes. He could see his sons’ smiling faces, their youthful exuberance. He could see their gentle demeanor as they listened to him relate a bedtime story. Then he saw his wife cooking in the kitchen where she paused to steal a glance at her sons. A wide smile spread across her face before she returned to her work.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Talib asked. “I know you do.”

  “How did you know?” Laman asked.

  “A man’s greatest desire is to be honored by his family and respected by his wife. I know that’s what you saw when you closed your eyes.” Talib paused. “But these dogs seek to steal every last moment of joy from our lives by imposing their imperialistic and zionist ways on us. They seek to pervert the minds of our children for their own gain. But we will not allow that to happen, will we?”

  Laman shook his head.

  “We have been issued a high calling, one that might result in our own ultimate sacrifice. Americans have no idea what it is like to experience such joys. Now, we will make them feel the pain they have wrought upon us tenfold.”

  Laman narrowed his eyes and nodded. Talib was right. They weren’t just fighting for revenge; they were fighting for their way of life.

  And Laman couldn’t dwell on who might lose their lives in the battle because it’d all be worth it—even if it meant every last one of his men died, even if he had to die himself.

  CHAPTER 23

  HAWK AWOKE ON MONDAY MORNING to the dramatic voice of a radio announcer pleading for listeners to visit Peterson’s Auto Superstore that was “just a short drive inland across the Bay.” Code speak for an hour from town and thirty minutes from nowhere. He turned onto his back, tucked his fingers behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. Motivation wasn’t hindering Hawk from getting up, but a body weary from searching for Colton was.

  Hawk was just about to roll over and slap the snooze button on the radio when a news report began.

  While law enforcement officials continue to look for Thomas Colton, CEO of a weapons manufacturing corporation, he’s not the only one from Colton Industries missing. Two scientists who disappeared while on a fishing expedition have yet to be found. And nobody has been able to determine what happened to the two men. Drs. James Davis and Brian Young, both employees at Colton Industries on the research and development team, embarked on a trip Saturday morning in Young’s boat but never returned. Local police are still using all their resources to locate the two men and have asked that if anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of the two men to contact local law enforcement.

  Hawk rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor with a thud. Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed and walking out of his hotel room door.

  Amidst all the commotion from the previous day, Hawk had almost forgotten about his vow to go mee
t with Dr. Young’s family and find out if there was more to the story than was being reported by the media. Hawk grabbed a banana and a bagel from the hotel’s complimentary breakfast bar and headed for Dr. Young’s house.

  Hawk had been there several times in the past—once to tag along with Colton on a business-related visit, once on his own to pick up Young’s daughter, Olivia, for an impromptu blind date. That was several years ago after she’d just graduated from college and accepted a position at an accounting firm in San Francisco. It was before Emily, too.

  Hawk realized Olivia was an amazing woman, but they had vastly different career trajectories at the time. He knew a relationship with her would never work, so he didn’t string her along despite their obvious mutual attraction.

  And while he wasn’t sure if she’d be at her parents’ house, Olivia answered the door after he rang the doorbell.

  “Brady?” she said, her brow furrowed.

  Hawk nodded and forced a smile. “It’s me again—and I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”

  She waved him inside. “Come on in.” She took a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m out here on business and heard about your father. I wanted to stop by and check on you.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “And all this while your own father has been captured by terrorists as well?”

  Hawk sighed. “Well, there are a few things I should probably tell you about that first.”

  She gestured for him to have a seat on the couch in the parlor room.

  “Please,” she said as she twisted the band on her ring finger. “What’s going on?”

  Hawk stopped. “Wait. Are you engaged?”

  “I am,” she said, holding out her hand to display the ring.

  “When is the wedding?”

  “The end of the summer. And don’t worry—you’ll be invited along with the rest of your family.”

  “Yeah, about that. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s a long story, but the short version is that Tom Colton isn’t really my father,” Hawk said, glancing down at his feet and avoiding eye contact.

  “What? How? I mean—”

  “Look, I still don’t know all the details, but the bottom line is we aren’t related. However, I still care about him.” He shrugged and took a deep breath. “Maybe not as much as I did before, but I can’t just turn that switch off completely.”

  “Well, sure. Who could?”

  “But as crazy as it might sound, I didn’t come out here today to talk with you about my father—Colton. I came out here to talk about yours.”

  Olivia shifted in her chair opposite of Hawk. She clasped her hands together, resting them in her lap and swallowing hard before she spoke. “Brady, I don’t know what to do about this. You know how close I am with my father.”

  “You adored him, and he adored you. That much was obvious.”

  She forced a smile and stared out the window to her left.

  “It’s the little things that I’m holding on to right now,” she said. “Like how he used to take me out for ice cream after every report card, even if I didn’t make all A’s. Or how he played along on the piano when I practiced my violin. No matter what, he was always there for me. But now—”

  Her words trailed off as she closed her eyes and then buried her head in her hands.

  Hawk got up and knelt next to her, putting his arm around her and rubbing her back.

  “It’s okay, Olivia. We’re going to find him.”

  She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face.

  “What makes you so sure he’s still alive? For all we know, he could be dead now, lost at sea.”

  “That’s why I stopped by. I don’t think he went missing. Your father and Dr. Davis were too careful to get lost at sea. They were meticulous in how they went about their work, and you and I both know that’s how they handled every asset of their lives.”

  She nodded and wiped away a streaking tear with the back of her hand.

  “I know, I know. But it’s been several days. Who could have taken them?”

  “The same people who took my—the same people who took Tom Colton.”

  “Terrorists?” she said as she stood up. “You think they’re behind this?”

  Hawk nodded. “I think your father was working on something, and they need him to create it for them.”

  “He’d never do that,” she said, pacing rapidly around the room and talking faster with each step. “My father would never sell out his company, much less his country. He’d die before he’d give any information to those terrorists. I know him. He wouldn’t make anything for them, no matter what it cost him.”

  Hawk nodded knowingly, though he couldn’t agree. He’d seen the ugly realities of war and the desperate attempts people made to survive in similar circumstances. Most people readily tossed principles and ideals out the window when forced to choose between their lives and something else. Hardly anything trumped another breath. And as principled as Dr. Young was, Hawk knew in the end he’d do anything to live another day.

  “Do you know what he was working on?” Hawk asked after a few moments of silence.

  “He never told us anything.”

  “What about your mother?”

  Olivia shook her head. “Especially not her. He was afraid that if anything like this ever happened and they took her and tried to force her to talk, she’d know nothing and would be able to demonstrate that she was devoid of any meaningful information. It was his way of keeping us safe.”

  “That might be successful in the short run, but terrorists never take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  She leaned against the wall.

  “Stay right there,” she said. “I think I might have something that will help you.”

  Olivia left the room and then returned about a minute later holding a laptop.

  “My father always brought his work home with him,” she said. “I found this in his study.”

  “You didn’t tell the cops about this?” Hawk asked.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t trust them. But I trust you.”

  She handed him the computer.

  Hawk took it and smiled at her. “I’ll dig into this and see what I can find.” He paused. “You don’t happen to know the password, do you?”

  “Sorry. I can’t be of any help there.”

  “I’ll figure out something,” he said.

  “Find my father, Brady. That’s all I want. I need him to walk me down the aisle.”

  ***

  HAWK ROARED BACK TOWARD the city in desperate need of Alex’s skills. He hoped that she could hack into Dr. Young’s computer and figure out what Al Hasib was after. Even then, it might already be too late.

  Hawk tried to raise Alex on the coms but didn’t get anything. He dialed her cell number, but it went straight to voicemail.

  Come on, Alex. Where are you?

  He proceeded to call the hotel and requested that they make a special delivery to her room.

  “A bottle of chardonnay? It’s not even noon,” the concierge protested.

  “I’ve got a hundred-dollar tip for you if you deliver it and call me back to confirm that she received it,” Hawk countered.

  After the concierge agreed, Hawk hung up and waited for the call back. He wove in and out of traffic, enjoying the lighter morning traffic.

  When the concierge called back, his tone sounded dire.

  “Sir, I’m afraid she didn’t come to the door.”

  “Did you knock several times?” Hawk asked.

  “Yes, sir—just like you requested. But she never answered. I’m sorry to disappoint you and must tell you that I already charged your credit card.”

  Hawk sighed. “Keep it, man. I appreciate you calling me back.”

  Where could she be?

  Hawk drove in silence for a few minutes and pondered where she might have gone or what she might be doing. His greatest fear was that she’d decided to join forces with Se
archlight right in the most critical moment of the mission. With Colton captured and Al Hasib’s motives still unclear, Hawk was flying blind until he knew more. Undoubtedly thousands upon thousands of lives were likely at stake—or worse. Only one life could be on the line: The President. There wasn’t a scenario Hawk could conceive of that made him worry less.

  His phone started to buzz on the passenger seat. The call was from General Johnson.

  “Where are you?” Johnson asked.

  “Heading back to the city. Why?” Hawk answered.

  “We’ve got some serious problems that require your immediate attention.”

  “I’m afraid it’ll have to take a number.”

  “Hawk, there’s nothing that—”

  “Someone’s taken Alex,” Hawk said.

  “But—”

  “No. Are you listening to me? She’s gone. We need her. I need her.”

  Johnson didn’t seem interested in getting any more facts. “Listen to me, Hawk,” he said. “Alex can wait.”

  “Who on earth could Al Hasib possibly take that would mean more to this mission than Alex?”

  “They have Colton’s mother.”

  “Meemaw? They took Meemaw?”

  “Yeah, and you know Al Hasib is using her as leverage against Colton. He’ll do anything for her.”

  “And I’ll do anything to them if they harm a single blue hair on her head,” Hawk growled. “Where are they holding her?”

  “At her house from the intel reports I’m getting.”

  “Well, get ready, General. You’re going to help me out on this one. And I’m going to kill every one of those bastards.”

  Hawk hung up, and his phone buzzed with a text message moments later. He picked it up and glanced at the screen.

  It was a picture—a picture of Alex along with a message: “Call me.”

  CHAPTER 24

  COLTON TRIED TO STRETCH out as his muscles started locking up from spending the night tied to a chair. He needed to relieve himself, too. A quick trip to the head would eliminate his immediate pain on two fronts. It might also give him a chance to make contact with the outside world if he was sly enough.