“Olivia, it’s so good to hear from you,” Young said as his daughter answered her phone.
“Dad, I know you’re always busy, but I wanted to see how you were doing now that the primaries are over and things have calmed down a little bit.”
“I’m doing great, sweetie. How’s the job going?”
“I love it, Dad. There’s something new every day. New people, new adventures, new problems to solve at sea.”
“Sounds perfect for you.”
“It is, but I wanted to make sure you were doing okay, you know, after Madeline’s death.”
“Believe it or not, I’m doing great. I’ve got some good friends here who are keeping my mind on other things and not letting me get too depressed about it.”
It was a little white lie. He hadn’t felt the need to tell her the truth about Madeline. At least, not yet. Olivia never warmed up to Madeline, something Young should’ve paid more attention to while dating her.
“That’s good to hear. Look, I gotta run because our next group is about to arrive. But I wanted to tell you that I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Any chance I’m going to get to see you soon?”
She sighed. “I was hoping to get some time off, but we’re just absolutely packed around the upcoming holiday. Maybe in August before school starts I can sneak back for a few days.”
“I’d love that. Just keep me posted so I can arrange my schedule accordingly.”
“Of course,” Olivia said. “Love you.”
“You too, honey,” Young said before he hung up.
He missed his daughter but had been so busy he’d hardly had time to think about her. An alert chimed on his phone. Young sprang to his feet. He had another meeting with his campaign advisor to discuss the big Fourth of July extravaganza and didn’t want to be late.
CHAPTER 3
Piraeus, Greece
HAWK COLLECTED THE documents and stuffed them in a file folder as the pilot made his second announcement that they were on final approach. Alex jammed the papers into his briefcase and tightened her seat belt. Neither Hawk nor Alex had a chance to relax on the long flight. Based on the information they’d uncovered from Lopez’s locker, they felt this situation was as urgent as ever.
If Lopez’s journal served as a timeline of the activity he observed while working at the Nicolo facility in Bolivia, it’s clear that he didn’t fully realize what was going on at first. He first noted some odd paperwork, none of which complied with Bolivia’s transportation regulations. While strange, he didn’t find that entirely troubling since he worked with careless people as well as connected ones, both groups unconcerned with the rules. One thought guidelines didn’t matter; the other regularly flouted them.
However, there was a point six months ago where that all changed as he logged an entry about moving items that appeared to be weapons. Admittedly against his better judgment, he snooped around one of the warehouses after his shift ended and discovered a large cache of weapons. After getting a peek at what was inside one of the crates, his best friend was a guard who was patrolling the area. He caught Lopez in the act and threatened to turn him in. Lopez pleaded that he was merely curious and wouldn’t say a word to anyone.
The fact that Lopez wound up in prison proved that he only told his friend that to avoid getting fired. Lopez’s brazen search endeared the late Bolivian to Hawk even more.
Hawk and Alex searched through the pages, fascinated by Lopez’s meticulous notes as well as his pictures that documented nearly everything he claimed to see.
While Lopez’s company handled imports from all over the world, Nicolo was their main supplier as well as an exporter out of Bolivia. And an investigation into Nicolo, a small Greek shipping company, had sent Hawk and Alex halfway around the world in search of the truth. Was Nicolo knowingly sending weapons to Bolivia? And if so, what for? And who were they for? These questions demanded answers, if not to satisfy Hawk’s own curiosity, to save stave the avalanche of inquiries from Blunt and all the other men who would be grilling him on the situation. Answers were only going to come when asked in person. Hawk needed to see the person’s eyes to see if he was getting the truth—or if he needed to apply a little extra persuasion.
Hawk would’ve preferred to raid the company’s warehouse located in Argentina, but that would require extensive planning as well as a full special ops team. In the meantime, Hawk didn’t complain about a trip to Greece with Alex, even if it was a working one . . . again.
The plane’s tires barked as they touched the tarmac. Alex grabbed Hawk’s hand and gave it a squeeze as the pilot navigated toward their private hangar, far away from commercial activity. A few minutes later, they came to a stop as the engine wound down. The pilot notified them that it was safe to depart as he opened the door. Steps slid out and unfurled mechanically, creating a short stairway to the ground.
Hawk and Alex were met by a local CIA agent named Mitch Chubb, an ironically slender man with a full beard. After a short introduction, he led them to a small office in the corner of the building.
“I would conduct this conversation at the embassy, but I wouldn’t want you to draw any suspicion before you even leave the airport,” Chubb said.
“We understand,” Alex said. “Let’s get down to business. What’s the story on Nicolo?”
Chubb shook
