Brady Hawk Box Set

by R. J. Patterson

  Hawk hailed Alex on his comlink.

  “What are we looking for, Alex?”

  “It’d be nice if they flew a flag on their boat, right?”

  Hawk nodded. “Isn’t that the truth? So, you think they’re on the water?”

  “That’s what I would do if I was them. Less opportunities to get noticed or caught. Plus, it’s the best place to target from. You’d get a clear shot at the bridge.”

  “Where exactly would you think they would be?”

  “The PUB-47 has a range of about half a mile with full power. It can shoot from farther and destroy a smaller target. But it’s going to need to get as close as possible to take down the bridge—and they only need to take out one side. Since it’s a suspension bridge, the whole thing will crumble once one side goes down.”

  “So, what you’re saying is pick a side?”

  “Flip a coin, pick a side. Do whatever you can. But take a wag at it—unless you can get another boat.”

  “That’s not an option at this point, nor do I trust anyone to do the job either.”

  “Remember that it doesn’t have to be a terribly big boat—I’m guessing maybe a thirty to forty-foot boat. And once they shoot, they are going to want to get as far away as possible for fear of getting caught in the crashing debris.”

  Hawk scanned the waters with his binoculars. “So, maybe the smaller the boat, the better?”

  “I’d say the bigger the motor, the better when it comes to small boats. It likely won’t be a yacht, but something with a decent cabin and a powerful engine.”

  He exhaled. “I wished we would’ve caught these bastards on the land.”

  “As long as we catch them before they shower terror on the Golden Gate Bridge, it won’t much matter.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Good luck, Hawk. I’ll be watching.”

  Hawk continued to scan the bay for several more minutes without seeing any boats that seemed likely to be used by terrorists for the purposes Alex described.

  He was about to circle around when he spotted the ideal type of boat.

  “Right there,” Hawk said as he pointed. “I think I see them.”

  “Are you sure?” the driver asked.

  “Not a hundred percent. We need to get closer to get a better view. But make it quick. We’re running out of time.”

  Just then a shot ripped through the air.

  CHAPTER 41

  TALIB AL-ASADI looked over the PUB-47 once more as he sat in the cabin below deck of the 39-foot motor yacht he’d rented for the week. He ran his fingers over the contours and then shut one eye while he looked down the barrel with the other.

  “This weapon better work,” Talib said as he eyed Dr. Davis and Dr. Young.

  Talib slid his handgun out of his ankle holster and put it on the galley table, refusing to take his eyes off of them.

  Ropes and zip ties along with gags kept the two scientists still, secured, and quiet several meters away from Talib at the back of the cabin.

  “I’d love for you both to witness this weapon’s incredible power in person, but I’ll just capture the footage with my phone and show it to you later. Since we’re becoming business partners, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t share in the fruit of your labor with me.”

  A gunshot ripped through the air, and Talib jumped. He rushed upstairs to the main deck and saw that it was just the start of the race on the bridge overhead.

  “Get closer,” Talib directed the Al Hasib agent captaining the boat. “I want maximum casualties.”

  Laman, who was seated on the deck and watched the waters for any potential trouble, put his binoculars down for a moment.

  “I think we’re close enough,” Laman said.

  Talib glared at Laman.

  “Are you unwilling to die for our cause as well?” Talib said. “This is the highest honor we could ever be given.”

  “If my life is required to advance our cause, absolutely. But if it is to thrust myself into martyrdom, I will decline.”

  Talib moved within half a meter of Laman’s face. “Do you fear martyrdom?”

  “No, but I do fear reckless behavior. There are only so many warriors capable of fighting and defeating the evil these infidels harbor. To thoughtlessly throw my life away would be a travesty, a waste of a man. My purpose is not to die for Islam as much as it is to live for it. If I happen to die, so be it. But it will be in the line of duty and not in a moment of delusion.”

  Talib nodded, satisfied with Laman’s response. Talib had descended down the first few steps when he heard Laman call him back.

  “I think we might have company. Better get ready," Laman said.

  Talib hustled down the steps only to find the handgun he’d left on the table gone. He spun and glared at the two scientists. With hands shaking, Dr. Davis trained the gun on Talib.

  Talib chuckled and sat down at the table while raising his hands in the air.

  “I surrender,” he said. “Looks like I’m at your mercy. But please don’t hesitate. I look forward to martyrdom.”

  Davis pulled the trigger.

  Click.

  Talib lunged toward Davis and wrestled the gun out of his hand before pistol-whipping him and knocking him unconscious.

  “Just for good measure,” Talib said before he clocked Dr. Young in the head as well, rendering him unconscious also.

  Toting the PUB-47, Talib turned and rushed up the steps.

  “What is it?”

  Laman kept his binoculars glued to his face as he pointed. “Right there. Do you see that boat headed straight for us?”

  “I see it.”

  “Take it out now.”

  Talib powered up the weapon and waited for it reach full strength.

  “What are you waiting for?” Laman asked.

  “Almost there.”

  The boat was closing in, and Laman called out the distances.

  “One hundred meters . . . Eighty meters . . . Fifty meters . . .”

  Talib took aim.

  “Thirty meters . . .”

  The ultrasonic boom echoed across the bay, the boat obliterated.

  CHAPTER 42

  WHEN HAWK NOTICED A WEAPON directed at his boat, he dove off the back into the murky waters. For most people, trying to survive the bay’s strong currents would’ve spelled a certain death sentence. But Hawk’s Navy Seal training had taught him to not only handle difficult seas but how to thrive in them.

  Down he descended, deep enough to avoid any injury from the boat’s splintering hull. At ten meters, he felt the aftershock of the PUB-47 ripping across the water, enough power to push him backward at least twenty meters.

  Hawk held his breath for another thirty seconds before coming up for air. He bobbed in the water briefly and checked his watch. Based on what he’d learned about the PUB-47, it took about five minutes for a full recharge, which Al Hasib would definitely need if it intended to take down the bridge. Hawk guessed he had four minutes to swim approximately fifty meters, subdue the men, neutralize the weapon, and commandeer their ship.

  I’ve survived worse odds.

  He took a deep breath and began swimming in the direction of the boat. After two minutes, he reached it and slowly came out of the water. Keeping his body flush with the hull, Hawk waited as he heard footsteps overhead. He looked up to see a pair of boots hanging slightly over the edge.

  Pulling his knife out, Hawk reached up and slashed the guard’s leg. When he cried out in pain and reached down, Hawk pulled himself up again on the side of the boat with one hand and slashed a second time with his knife. Hawk proceeded to grab the man’s gun and pulled him into the water. As the man flailed, Hawk shot him once in the head and settled back into the water, holding onto the ladder attached to the side.

  The commotion attracted another guard, who posed far less danger. The moment he stuck his head over the edge of the boat, Hawk shot him and watched the guard tumble head first into the bay.

  Hawk heard some
yelling coming from the boat as he ascended the ladder and reached the deck safely.

  However, when he did, he was rudely greeted by another Al Hasib operative. Hawk recognized him as Laman Kattan, the Al Hasib operative who he’d been surveilling earlier.

  Laman kicked the gun out of Hawk’s hand and knocked him backward. Regaining his balance and composure, Hawk engaged Laman in hand-to-hand combat. The two sparred, each getting in several vicious kicks and punches.

  When the two withdrew for a moment, Laman tried to appeal to Hawk so they might both survive.

  “Any minute now, there is going to be an explosion on the bridge and we’re going to be dealing with the debris from it. We might survive, but we might not. I don’t think you want to take that chance.”

  Hawk glared at the man, unsure of whether to believe him or if it even mattered. What Hawk really wanted to do was bull rush him and drown him in the water.

  “Don’t worry. It won’t be all bad. Thomas Colton is going to die. The man pushing him is the one who has the bomb.”

  Hawk took a deep breath. He’d always been told not to get emotional during battle, but it was extremely difficult given the circumstances.

  Hawk maintained his composure for three seconds—right before he took off running toward the man in a moment of full-throated fury.

  CHAPTER 43

  WHEN THE STARTING GUN SOUNDED, Olivia went from excited to irate. She’d circled this date on the calendar and wanted to see if she could top her best race time. And even though she knew her time wouldn’t start until she crossed the actual starting line, she struggled to hold her temper. Turning back toward the row of port-a-potties, she squinted to see if the man who’d just asked her to take care of his uncle was anywhere to be seen.

  He wasn’t.

  Damn it. Where are you, Mr. Mystery Man?

  After another minute, she decided to go through the man’s personal belongings and see what she could find. She felt the rush of other runners blow past her down the bridge while she remained anchored in the same spot.

  Where did you go?

  Right as she prepared to unzip the bag, the man in the wheel chair began moaning. She rushed around and crouched low, trying to look into his eyes and speak with him.

  “Sir, are you okay?”

  The man mumbled.

  “Sir?”

  She stared at him beneath his baseball cap and realized he looked strikingly familiar.

  “Mr. Thomas Colton?”

  The man nodded and tried to say something. All that came out was a garbled mess.

  “Are you okay? This man who was pushing you said you were his uncle? Is that true?”

  Colton shook his head and tried again to say something.

  “Buuuhh,” he groaned.

  “What are you saying?” she said, placing her ear closer to his mouth.

  “Bahm.”

  “Did you say bomb?”

  He nodded.

  She raced around behind the wheelchair and unzipped the bag. Inside, she saw the numbers ticking away.

  12 . . . 11 . . . 10 . . .

  She ripped the backpack off of the chair and ran toward the edge of the bridge and hurled the bag as far as she could over the side.

  It exploded out over the water before it made it halfway down.

  CHAPTER 44

  THE FIERY BALL OVERHEAD drew Hawk’s attention for a fleeting second as well as Laman’s while they were locked in a fight. In a quick glance, it was evident the bomb did not succeed in detonating on the bridge.

  Hawk delivered a few more body blows to Laman before striking him in the throat. The hit caught Laman off guard as he staggered backward.

  When he regained his balance, Laman reached down and pulled a knife out of his ankle holster. Wiping away the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, Laman took a deep breath and made another run at Hawk.

  Hawk was ready. He stepped to the side and hit Laman’s arm hard, knocking the gun free. They both scrambled for the gun, but Hawk gained possession of it, sending Laman retreating.

  “If you’re going to kill me, do it already,” Laman said. “I am ready to enter Jannah as a martyr.”

  Hawk glared at him. “You think you will be celebrated for your failed attempt at jihad?”

  Laman put his hands up in surrender. “Please, let my son know that I loved him.”

  “You should’ve told him yourself,” Hawk said before letting the knife fly.

  Laman tried to duck, but Hawk was too fast. The blade hit Laman square in the neck, sending him crashing to the floor. In a matter of seconds, the deck was awash with blood.

  Hawk shook his head as he looked at Laman gasping for air. Mercifully, Hawk pulled the knife out of Laman’s throat and slit it again, this time horizontally.

  “It’ll be quicker this way,” Hawk whispered as he stood up.

  He used his pants to wipe the blood off the knife before a man’s voice behind him startled him.

  “You didn’t think it would be the easy, did you?”

  Hawk turned to see Talib Al-Asadi, one of Al Hasib’s top operatives.

  “Mr. Brady Hawk,” Talib began, “your reputation precedes you.”

  Hawk looked at the gun in Talib’s hand. “Talib Al-Asadi, as does yours.”

  “Oh,” Talib said, cocking his head to one side, “you know who I am.”

  “Our government has been trying to capture you for quite a while.”

  “And obviously failing.”

  “I don’t think they specified if they wanted you dead or alive.”

  Talib motioned with his gun for Hawk to move. “As if you’re going to do something about it. I suggest you keep your mouth shut so I can keep this as painless as possible for you.”

  Hawk nodded as he eyed the handgun lying on the deck.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Talib said.

  Instead of diving toward the gun, Hawk dove to the other side of the deck, confusing Talib.

  Before Talib could do anything else, he collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud. The gun fell out of his hand onto the deck.

  When Hawk looked up, he saw Dr. Young clutching a frying pan and standing over Talib’s body.

  “Nice timing, Doc. What took you so long?” Hawk said.

  Young walked over to Hawk and put out his hand. “I’d like the honors.”

  Hawk eyed him closely. “You want to shoot him?”

  “It’d save the government a lot of time and money.”

  Hawk shook his head. “It’d also mean we might lose the opportunity to extract information out of him or trade him for our people. I can’t let you do that.”

  Young scowled and knelt down on the deck. He raised the frying pan over his head and delivered another blow to Talib’s head.

  “I hope he feels that for the next year.”

  Hawk chuckled. “I think he just might. Now let’s get you home. Olivia’s been worried sick about you.”

  CHAPTER 45

  MAHMOD WATCHED THE CHAOS unfolding as his flight soared over the Golden Gate Bridge. Fire trucks and ambulances along with dozens of police cars lined the bridge. The crowd had mostly dispersed, but there were plenty of emergency response vehicles zipping around to make sure no one needed medical attention.

  The reality was the mission had failed. Mahmod knew he could’ve ensured that it wouldn’t have been a total failure, but he kept thinking about his wife and his family. Those were the same reasons that gave him pause to strap on the suicide vest in front of Thomas Colton’s entourage earlier in the week. Once again, reality trumped his ideology. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d disappear once he reconnected with his family. They’d disappear somewhere, somewhere that Al Hasib would never find him.

  While waiting in the San Francisco airport, Mahmod watched the reports on the television about the Al Hasib agents killed or captured, including Talib Al-Asadi. Somehow, Talib had managed to survive and would know that he’d failed in his mission. Not that Mahmod
cared; not that Talib would ever get out of a U.S. prison to even confront Mahmod about it. But as he looked out his window and watched the winnowing scene, he exhaled with peace for the first time in a week.

  When the plane reached ten-thousand feet, he turned on his phone and swiped through the images. If Al Hasib ever came for him, he had an insurance policy.

  He was confident they’d want the schematics to build the PUB-47.

  CHAPTER 46

  HAWK SETTLED INTO HIS CHAIR at the Moreau Vineyard in Napa Valley and swirled the wine around the glass awaiting him. He looked at his watch and waited for Alex. It wasn’t like to her to be late, but he wasn’t worried—not yet, anyway.

  He scrolled through the news on his phone, the majority of it coverage of the incident on the Golden Gate Bridge, even two days after it happened. He flipped over to the national side and read Denmark’s Prime Minister, Liam Jepsen, was welcoming in another thirty-thousand refugees from Syria and Iraq.

  Fools.

  After fifteen minutes, Alex finally showed up. The sunhat covered most of her hair, while her large sunglasses protected everything but her button nose and full lips. She wore a white sundress, and Hawk wondered if it was slightly less than ideal given the cool late spring temperatures.

  “Thanks for all your help,” Hawk said as she sat down. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  She laughed and picked up her wine glass, refusing to waste time by taking in a big waft of the burgundy liquid. She gulped it down.

  “I doubt there are many things you could do without me.”

  He winked at her. “It might be a short list, but there’s a list.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I assume you didn’t just ask me out here to drink wine and flatter me.”