The Shadow Hunter (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 1)

by R. J. Patterson

  The wind whipped across the valley, pelting Hawk with icy granules. The snow that had fallen at the beginning of the season had long since frozen, Mother Nature converting each flake into a hard object. Together they felt like a thousand tiny knives on Hawk’s face.

  Ducking back below the snowbank for a respite, Hawk considered where Orlovsky’s men could be. And the locations were limited—in the car, behind the car, hiding behind the other snowbank, or face down in the snow bleeding out.

  The last option was little more than wishful thinking for Hawk. He didn’t have any sense that he’d struck either of the men. And though it wasn’t entirely out of the possibility, he usually knew when he’d killed or wounded an attacker.

  However, Hawk wasn’t interested in letting the fight come to him. He heard a car humming along the highway in his direction and decided to use the car as a cover to move over to the other snowbank. The possibility existed that they could box in Orlovsky’s men with Tyson on one side and Hawk on the other. As long as Tyson stayed put, it was an option. But Hawk had to find the men and get them out onto the roadway first. And at the moment, that was proving to be a challenging task.

  Hawk crouched low before falling onto his arms and knees, crawling along the ground. After just a few seconds, the coldness from the snow numbed Hawk’s forearms and elbows. That’s when he noticed some movement in front of him.

  One of the other men growled something in Russian and then darted around the back of a rotten tree that had tipped over, its fallen branches serving as a blind for the two men. Hawk froze and moved backward, fully aware that if he continued moving, he would be dead in a matter of seconds once they spotted him. He would’ve been helpless, completely exposed.

  Hawk took shelter behind some brush and tried to get a better look. One of the men was on his cell phone, shouting at the person on the line.

  If you hold still for a minute …

  Hawk steadied his weapon and took aim. He squeezed off two quick shots, cutting the phone conversation short. The man disappeared from Hawk’s view. The yelling stopped too, replaced instead by groans of anguish.

  As the minutes ticked by, Hawk grew more restless. He hadn’t heard Tyson shoot but neither had Hawk seen another one of Orlovsky’s men. The wind continued to beat Hawk, making him desperate to get out of the cold and find shelter. No matter how much danger lurked down the snowbank, he’d still freeze to death without a place to shield him from the cold and wind. His toes had become numb, his arms never warming after crawling through the snow.

  With one man undoubtedly hit, Hawk realized his best odds of survival were reuniting with Tyson. Moments later, another gust of wind slapped Hawk in the face. And he took that as his cue to bolt. He darted across the road and hurdled the snowbank on the other side. Without wasting any time, he rushed toward the spot where he’d parted with Tyson.

  “T-Bone,” Hawk called, “what’s your twenty?”

  Nothing.

  The wind howled, mitigating any attempts he made to connect with Tyson.

  Hawk was resigned to the reality of his situation. He needed to make visual contact with Tyson, which was also growing more difficult by the second. The wind was carrying along loose snow, adding to the drift on each side of the road. To make matters worse, the dark skies overhead opened up and were dumping more powder, swirling as it made its way to earth. Visibility shrank to no more than thirty yards.

  Amidst all of the changing conditions and the unknown variables, Hawk was puzzled by the fact that Orlovsky’s men hadn’t driven away. Hawk and Tyson were as good as dead without a working vehicle in the middle of a Siberian winter storm. But the car just sat there, emergency lights blinking.

  He stumbled toward where he’d left Tyson, continuing to call for him.

  A minute or so passed before he found him, lips blue and eyes glazed over.

  “T-Bone,” Hawk said, shaking his friend, “can you hear me?”

  Tyson nodded almost imperceptibly. “I got him.”

  “You killed one of the men?”

  “I think so,” Tyson muttered. “I shot him in the chest and watched him stagger across the road.”

  “Okay, I think I had a direct hit on the other guy,” Hawk said, taking Tyson by his shoulders. “We need to get out of here now.”

  Tyson agreed and gestured for Hawk to lead the way. He kept his weapon trained in front of him as they moved across the roadway toward the car.

  However, both men dropped to the ground as a gunshot pierced the air during a lull in the storm. Hawk scanned the highway shoulder and noticed a dark figure running toward them. Without any time to alert Tyson to what was happening, Hawk rolled over and fired three shots. Two of them found their mark, hitting the man in the chest. He crumpled to the ground.

  Hawk rushed over to him and kicked his weapon away. The man gasped for air for a few seconds before he fell limp. Tyson came over to help Hawk drag the body behind the snowbank. There was no time or any need to bury the body. It’d be covered in ice and snow for another six to eight weeks before anyone would find him.

  Hawk snagged the keys to the SUV from the man’s coat pocket before turning toward the vehicle.

  “It’s time to get outta here,” Hawk said.

  “Roger that,” Tyson mumbled.

  Upon reaching the SUV, they found a man lying in the back trying to apply pressure to a wound to his midsection. Hawk trained his weapon on the man, who begged Hawk to shoot him.

  “Please, have mercy,” the man said. “I don’t want to die like this in agony. Put me out of my misery.”

  “I’ll oblige your last request,” Hawk said, helping the man out of the car. “You were going to get it whether you asked for it or not.”

  “But before you do,” the man said, holding up one hand, “I need to tell you something.”

  Hawk eyed the man closely. “Make it quick.”

  “Mr. Orlovsky just wanted me to deliver a message,” he said, his lips quivering.

  “And what was that?”

  “He knows where you live. And he said you have a very cute son and that it’s a shame what’s going to happen to him.”

  The man grinned, his blood-stained teeth exposed.

  Hawk hesitated. “You look like you took too much pleasure in telling me that. Maybe I shouldn’t even waste a bullet on you.”

  “No, please—”

  Hawk fired a shot, hitting the man between the eyes. He fell face forward into the snow. “I wasn’t even about to go back on my word.”

  Hawk and Tyson hustled over to the car. Tyson pushed the ignition button, and the engine easily came to life despite the temperature that had dipped well below freezing since the storm started.

  “You got everything?” Hawk asked.

  Tyson tapped his chest, the package crinkling as he did. “All right here.”

  As Tyson eased onto the road in the direction of the coordinates, Hawk reached for his friend’s phone.

  “What are you doing?” Tyson asked.

  “I need to warn Alex. You heard what that man said.”

  “No, no, no. You can’t use that phone. The Russians are listening. If they hear you talking to your wife on my phone, they’ll know we’re together—and there’s no reason for me to believe that they’d just trust you.”

  “Come on, T-Bone. Alex doesn’t stand a chance if she doesn’t know they’re coming.”

  Tyson shook his head and sighed, waiting a beat before responding. “I warned you about getting involved. And we passed the point of no return about five hundred kilometers ago.”

  “Go back. Maybe we can get one of the phones off Orlovsky’s men.”

  “We don’t have time,” Tyson said “We’ve had enough delays already. If I’m a no-show, they’re going to suspect that something happened. And when I finally show up, they won’t trust me.”

  “Who? The Russians or the North Koreans?”

  Tyson shrugged, straining to see the road in front of him. “Does it even
matter?”

  Hawk bit his lip and said a little prayer under his breath. Alex needed divine intervention if she and John Daniel were going to survive an attack by one of Orlovsky’s hired goons.

  CHAPTER 27

  Washington, D.C.

  PRESIDENT NORRIS POPPED an antacid pill into his mouth and then took a large gulp of water. The cabinet has assembled in the situation room to deal with a growing concern coming out of North Korea. And he knew it was bound to be a contentious discussion where the hawks and doves would be drawing lines and digging in. Ultimately, he’d have to make the final decision, one with great implications for both the future of the country and his own political aspirations.

  Norris scanned a document one of his aides had slid to him regarding the current conflict. It replaced the one he’d been reading from his campaign manager that showed Norris headed for an easy re-election. His popularity had risen to Ronald Reagan levels, almost assuring him a similar reverential position in American history. But the preliminary polling showed that entering into a conflict with North Korea would put that smooth route to re-election in jeopardy.

  Once the meeting began, the defense secretary explained that the Navy jets scrambled to show North Korea the U.S. military was taking their threats seriously had served their purpose. For the twenty-four hours following the initial altercation, Kim Yong-ju had gone silent. He hadn’t pumped out any propaganda videos or thumped his chest on social media. But in the past two hours, things had changed quickly.

  Several North Korean nuclear subs were being moved around to the port in Sonbong, which worried the Pentagon—and Norris, too.

  “Why are we even here, sir?” General Miller asked. “I think it’s evident to all of us at the table that we need to send another message, this time making it even clearer that we will not tolerate this foolishness from Kim Yong-ju.”

  Secretary Wheeler cocked her head to one side and scowled. “Not evident to everyone at the table.”

  Norris closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but the situation room, mediating a disagreement between his chief diplomat and the war-thirsty vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  “Can we please not do this today?” Norris said, smacking his hands on the table. “I think we should all act like the adults that we are. If we can’t have an intelligent discussion about the pros and cons of launching an attack on North Korea to stop this nonsense, I wonder what we’re doing here too.”

  “Sir, did you read my proposal?” Wheeler asked. “I think it outlines some important ideas that we can act upon to squelch this threat.”

  “I read it,” Miller began, “and I don’t think—”

  Norris held up his hand. “That’s enough, General. We all know how you feel. And we all know how Secretary Wheeler feels. What I want to know is how the rest of you feel—and if you think those feelings match up with the gravity of the situation we’re facing. We’re talking about the possibility of a conflict that will require great sacrifice from the American people, including the loss of life. Is this something people are willing to get behind to snuff out Kim Yong-ju and his regime? Will it be worth it to assist getting someone in power who can actually do something to lift that nation out of abject poverty and totalitarian rule?”

  “That’s not our job, sir,” Admiral Brent Gaston said. “We spread democracy by modeling it, not by forcing it upon other nations.”

  “Agreed,” Norris said. “But that ultimately doesn’t change the situation we’re facing here. We don’t engage North Korea to help install a democratic government, but we certainly shouldn’t ignore an opportunity to do so through a conflict.”

  “Is this what you want your legacy to be, sir?” Miller asked. “Because I think that’d be a great one.”

  “An even better one would be to bring peace through negotiations,” Wheeler chimed in.

  “Okay, enough,” Norris said. “I can see this isn’t headed anywhere. Let me mull this over before announcing my decision to this cabinet. And if you have any Hail Marys, say them now because we need all the help we can get.”

  Norris didn’t move as the room emptied out. He spread out the documents in front of them, his eyes bouncing from one to the other as he considered his next move. A peaceful resolution was ideal, but it was also unlikely given Kim Yong-ju’s penchant for abruptly leaving summits after everyone believed significant progress was being made.

  The more Norris looked at the poll numbers, the more he was inclined not to engage the North Koreans. But would that decision be based off his desire to achieve peace by other means or his White House ambitions? He couldn’t be sure—and his inability to discern the difference ate at him.

  * * *

  TWO HOURS AFTER the meeting, no one on the Joint Chiefs of Staff had heard from the president. And waiting longer put the U.S. in a defensive position instead an offensive one.

  And Admiral Brent Gaston wasn’t interested in waiting.

  He picked up a phone and called the captain in charge of the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan patrolling in the Pacific along with the U.S.S. Roosevelt.

  “It’s time,” Gaston said. “Move to Phase One.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Khasan, Russia

  HAWK EYED TYSON AS he pulled off the road less than two kilometers from the border of North Korea. Just ahead of them, a sign notified them that they were approaching the Most Druzhby, or the Friendship Bridge, which spanned the Tumen River separating North Korea and Russia.

  “I need to make sure I have all my papers in order,” Tyson said.

  “Are you sure you have to do this?” Hawk asked.

  “If I don’t, they’ll just send someone else who will.”

  “But think about it, T-Bone. You don’t really know what’s inside there, but I can tell you that the drumbeats of war are creating quite the rhythm these days. And if the Russians are trying to start a war by proxy, giving the North Koreans nuclear weapons, you can’t guarantee that you’re keeping your family safe by doing what you’re doing.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I’m out of options.”

  “Work with me here. Maybe we can get in there and sabotage this mission for both the North Koreans and the Russians.”

  “That’s a suicide mission, and you know it. And I have a feeling that those urges you had to rush into danger have subsided since you got married and had a kid, right?”

  Hawk sighed. “I have more people to think about these days than just myself. But my ultimate goal in doing this job is to help others, not assuage my insatiable desire to get another adrenaline fix. As long as I keep things in perspective, I’ll always do the right thing.”

  “Then maybe you can help me out here,” Tyson said, “because I don’t know what to do. If I go home, they’ll find me and either kill me or harm my family. If I don’t do this, the Russians will kill me and still help the North Koreans launch a nuclear war.”

  “We still have a chance to do something if you’re willing,” Hawk said. “You just need to understand that the odds would be very low.”

  Tyson chuckled. “You’ve never been one to care about the odds.”

  “And look where it’s gotten me? I’m sitting on the border of Russia and North Korea with no plan to get out and no way to warn my family that there’s danger crouching at the door.”

  “If you’re trying to convince me to join you on one of your damned fool missions, you’re failing miserably.”

  “I had to try,” Hawk said.

  “Look, I don’t know how this is going to go,” Tyson said. “According to my assignment, I have to take this package to the North Korean military harbor in Sonbong, which is another half-hour from here.”

  “You honestly think they’re going to let you in with me riding shotgun?”

  Tyson shook his head. “Not a chance in hell. But they know I’m coming, so why don’t you hide in the back and we’ll hope everything works out. Once we get to Sonbong, you do what you feel needs to be done, if the opportunity
arises.”

  “I can live with that,” Hawk said.

  “And if you can’t find a way out of here, you’ll be accompanying me back to Yakutsk.”

  “That’s definitely not going to happen, no matter what.”

  Tyson shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Your face looks like it’s been rearranged several times since you’ve been here. And I’m pretty sure your nose is still broken.”

  Hawk reached for Tyson’s nose and barely made contact with it before he winced.

  “Okay, okay,” Tyson said, swatting at Hawk’s hand. “You’ve made your point. There are a million other places I’d rather live than the middle of Siberia, okay? You happy?”

  “T-Bone, I’ll only be happy when you’re back with Sheila and your kids.”

  “Then you may never be happy. But just take care of them for me, will you?”

  Hawk scowled. “You’re starting to sound like you don’t think you’ll survive.”

  “We’re deep in enemy territory, and these people are ruthless. If you think you’re going to make it out of here, I suggest you lower your expectations.”

  “I’ve faced worse odds. And I always think the glass is half full.”

  “If you want to believe there’s even a drop left in the glass, I suggest you climb in the back and pull that blanket over you.”

  “Roger that,” Hawk said and then followed Tyson’s suggestion.

  * * *

  HAWK REMAINED STILL as Tyson came to a stop at the North Korean checkpoint. While Hawk was concerned there would be a thorough search of the vehicle, his fears were allayed by the brief conversation between Tyson and the guard. No more than thirty seconds passed—though it felt longer to Hawk—before Tyson was permitted to enter the country.

  After a couple of minutes, Hawk, still tucked away in his hiding spot, spoke. “Your Russian accent is very convincing, especially when you use it to speak Korean.”

  “I’ve been on several missions here,” Tyson said. “It’s a necessary skill if you want to live here.”

  “Well, I’m impressed.”