The news is welcome, though politically intriguing, after President Michaels last week accused the Saudi Arabian government of failing to become a fully engaged partner with the west in the war on terror. Michaels tried to claim credit for the raid during his weekly radio address, which was widely panned by pundits on both sides of the aisle.
Meanwhile, in other news, the latest Rasmussen Poll shows Michaels’s approval rating dipped about two points this week, landing him at a shade under eighteen percent. In a phone survey conducted with more than 1,000 respondents, Michaels’s numbers continue to plummet, leaving many strategists wondering if he’ll even be able to salvage his Presidency in time to emerge from his own party’s primaries in the coming election cycle.
Alex turned the volume down and let out a long, slow breath. “Hawk, I don’t like this.”
“What exactly is it that you don’t like about Michaels’s self-imploding and not getting a shred of credit, despite his best efforts, for the work that we did in Saudi Arabia?”
“I know that’s all well and good, but it’s certainly going to fuel his desperation. There’s no telling what he might try to do to us.”
“That’s exactly what I’m hoping for. Desperate people rarely act rationally. All we need to do is push him to a point where he ultimately chooses to go too far with us. And when he does, we’ll let the whole world know about it.”
“That is, if we survive.”
“When we get back to the apartment, let’s call Blunt and ask him what he thinks about the move.”
“Sounds good, but I want the record to show that I warned against this before anyone else did.”
Hawk laughed softly. “Your warning will be duly noted in the record.”
A half-hour later, they pulled up to the apartment, which they’d be renting for the month. It was a small studio apartment over a detached garage in the back portion of an elderly widow’s property. Her younger son greeted them and put them through the paces of signing for the property and explained all the idiosyncrasies of renting from his mother.
“No loud parties,” the son said before adding quietly, “though I doubt she’d be able to hear you.”
Hawk and Alex both laughed politely.
“And no taxidermy either. Dead animals with bulging eyes freak her out some—and you don’t want my mother freaking out.”
“And why is that?” Alex asked.
“Let’s just say when she gets angry, she kind of loses control of her sensibilities.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Something about a gold fish, a blender, a cat, and a second story window—I’ll let you use your imagination about what happened with that interesting combination.”
Alex shook her head. “Sorry I asked.”
“Don’t be. Any story relating to Mother has some strange ending like that. It’s actually better to tell tidbits as opposed to going into great deal about everything that occurred. Now, let me show you a few more things.”
The woman’s son finished the tour, presented them with the paperwork, and handed over a pair of keys once they signed.
“Good luck,” he said as he walked away.
With wide eyes, Alex looked at Hawk. “Let’s hope this doesn’t take an entire month.”
“Agreed.”
They entered the apartment and called Blunt on a secure phone, placing it in speaker mode.
“I’ve been expecting your call,” Blunt said after he answered.
“You must have had more faith in the plan than we did,” Hawk said.
“Speak for yourself,” Alex said.
Blunt chuckled. “General Fortner filled me in on what happened. He got the nice feather in his cap of getting Malik Bashir’s stockpiled ballistic missiles.”
“You two make quite the team when it comes to planning an op,” Hawk said. “Though I must confess, it was far from perfect.”
“You’re alive, right?” Blunt shot back.
“Thanks to Alex, we all emerged unscathed,” Hawk said.
“There were a few CIA agents who might disagree with you, from what I hear.”
Hawk shrugged. “Perhaps I could’ve been a little gentler with them, but I’m not a big fan of having my own government poke guns in my face and threaten me.”
“You won’t hear me complaining,” Blunt said. “You got the job done.”
Alex shook her head. “Not all of it. Fazil managed to escape.”
“Nevertheless, the most important aspect of the mission was accomplished. Those missiles aren’t getting into Fazil’s hands . . . or anyone else’s for that matter.”
“We still have a job to finish here in Washington,” Hawk said.
“If you’re thinking about making a run at President Michaels, I’m with you,” Blunt said. “However, you must be careful. He’s dangerously close to coming unhinged right now. And if he captured you, he’d spin it as a win for his administration. You have to know that.”
Hawk nodded. “I’m aware of the risks, but I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.”
“And frankly, neither do I,” Blunt said. “I’m ready to put an end to this charade. But we can’t just do what we really want to do to him.”
“Why not? We’d be doing this country a favor.”
Alex scowled. “Hawk, we can’t mete out justice that way. It’d be quite hypocritical for us to claim we fight for justice and freedom, while trampling on the rights of an American citizen.”
“You’re right, Alex,” Blunt said. “We can’t let our emotions detract us from the ultimate goal of our mission, which is to see Michaels removed from power.”
“This is all well and good, but how exactly can we go up against the most powerful man in the free world when he’s already branded me a traitor and intends to make an example out of me? Logic and reason don’t seem to be the type of bargaining chips we can use with a man who has nothing to lose.”
Alex smiled. “No, Michaels has everything to lose—and we’re going to take advantage of his desperation and catch him . . . and we’ll do it legally.”
Blunt clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
CHAPTER 26
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
KARIF FAZIL COLLAPSED ONTO THE BED
