“Just take it easy. Everything sounds straightforward,” Hawk said as he walked forward with his hands in the air in a posture of surrender. “Just leave Blunt out of this. I know I’m who you’re really after.”
“Put your gun down on the desk,” Earhardt said.
Hawk complied and stood still while being searched by Cory.
“He’s clean,” Cory said to Earhardt.
“Good. Let’s get this over with then,” Earhardt said, handing Hawk a folder. “Just read what’s in there once the red light turns on, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”
Hawk cleared his throat and held up the sheet of paper. “I don’t know. I’m starting to have second thoughts.” He watched Blunt closely and gave him a quick wink.
“This isn’t the time for second thoughts,” Earhardt said.
The door swung open, and several Secret Service agents stormed inside.
“It’s absolutely time for second thoughts,” said the agent leading the tactical team with guns trained on Earhardt. “It might even be time for a third or fourth thought considering the situation you’re in. However, there’s only one choice that’s going to get you out of here alive. Set your gun down now. There’s not going to be any propaganda videos made tonight.”
Glaring at Hawk, Earhardt slowly put his gun on the ground.
“Kick it over to me,” the agent said.
Earhardt complied, raising his hands in the air. Once the gun was clear, two other agents rushed over and handcuffed the Special Activities Division deputy director.
“Perhaps you haven’t heard since news doesn’t travel fast on Little Island,” Hawk said as Earhardt was marched forward, “but Michaels stepped aside temporarily as president.”
Earhardt twisted and turned in a failed effort to shake free of the agents guiding him toward the exit. “We’re not done, Hawk.”
“I think we are,” Hawk said. “But if not, I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER 39
A WEEK LATER, Hawk and Alex waited with Blunt in a conference room in the west wing of the White House. Alex stared wide-eyed at all the paintings on the wall, moving around the room to study each one. Hawk looked pensively out the window, while Blunt drummed his fingers on the table.
“I can’t believe these paintings,” Alex said. “It’s like an art museum in here.”
“Don’t fall in love with the place,” Blunt said. “It’s best that we make this our only visit here.”
Hawk refrained from entering into the conversation. Over the past few years, he’d gone from dedicated Navy Seal to disenfranchised soldier to humanitarian aid worker to skilled assassin. His relationship with the U.S. government had been equally tumultuous. He’d fought for it, worked with it, and sought to defend himself from it. At least there was a man sitting in the oval office who Hawk could trust—even if only temporarily.
One of Noah Young’s aides entered the room. “Just one moment,” he said before ducking back out into the hallway.
A few seconds later, Noah Young marched into the room. Blunt stood, while Hawk and Alex turned around to give Young their attention.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Young said.
Blunt reached forward to shake Young’s hand. “It’s the least we could do after you helped rescue me.”
Young gestured for them to all sit while taking the seat at the head of the table. “Your team here did all the work,” he said. “I merely provided them with the coordinates of your location.”
“How’d you know?” Alex asked.
“That’s my little secret,” Young said. “I am entitled to have some of those, right?”
Alex smiled. “Not if you’re the president.”
“Well, I’m only the acting president, so I’ll try to hold on to that one.”
Hawk shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. “Is there any new information on Michaels’s situation?”
“Nothing that I can disclose to you in full,” Young answered. “However, I will say that since he started his political career, he seems to be made of Teflon. No scandal, no matter how big, takes much of a toll on him.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you’re not getting too comfortable in the Oval Office chair?” Hawk asked.
Young forced a smile. “That’s an understatement. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have here, so that’s why I felt it was urgent that we meet as soon as possible.”
Hawk studied Young’s face as the acting president spoke. He seemed confident and resolute, almost as if he anticipated his opportunity would come. “And you’re still serious about what we discussed last week?”
Young nodded. “I want to bring Firestorm back into the fold, so to speak. Now that Karif Fazil is gone, Al Hasib’s leadership is in chaos. You have all been instrumental in destabilizing many of the terrorist organizations operating in the Middle East. But while you’ve been busy eliminating security threats, another threat has been rising.”
Opening a file folder he’d brought with him, Young pulled out a photo and slid it across the table.
Hawk grabbed the image before anyone else could see it. “This is who you want us to go after?”
Young nodded. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Hawk handed the photo to Blunt, who shook his head. Then he passed it down to Alex.
She glared at the picture for a few seconds before responding. “No. No, I—I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
It was a photo of Katarina Petrov.
“Good,” Young said. “The Chamber has continued to expand its operations and is planning something big soon. Petrov and her ilk must be stopped.”
“We’ve run up against them before,” Hawk said. “The results haven’t always been favorable.”
“Nevertheless, we must try,” Young said. “I know it might seem counterintuitive to everything our media says regarding terrorism, but The Chamber—not Middle Eastern terrorist cells—is the greatest threat to our
