“I don’t need an explanation,” Hawk said. “Just do it quickly. We have no idea how much time we have left.” He turned toward Samuels. “We’ve still got some work to do out here. Follow me.”
The two men went to the front of the security building and crept out into the open. As they dashed toward cover, a loud flash and explosion went off near their feet.
Hawk flew up in the air and then landed hard on his back.
He was still unconscious when the pair of Al Hasib operatives dragged him toward their truck and threw him next to Samuels.
CHAPTER 15
Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT CONRAD MICHAELS tried to remain composed as he stood at the podium. Staring out across the Washington press corps, he struggled to see as flash bulbs popped and what seemed like a thousand reporters all tried to ask him questions at once. His wife squeezed his hand. He forced a faint smile as he glanced at her putting on a brave face. It wasn’t the first time she’d been there for him. He certainly hoped it wasn’t the last.
He released her hand and took hold of the podium, just as his speech coach had directed. The coach suggested Michaels needed to exude strength and demonstrate to the American people he was still a powerful leader. It was a familiar position Michaels found himself in again after the latest leak that hit the press, this time the accusation he and his wife had committed tax fraud.
Michaels held up his hands to silence the anxious reporters all frothing at the mouth to get their questions answered. He waited until the room was quiet with the exception of clicking cameras.
“When the news broke yesterday that Bethany and I had committed tax fraud, I considered not even responding,” he began. “The unfounded allegations are so outrageous that I told my council I didn’t want to legitimize them by even talking about them. But over the past twenty-four hours, it was clear this wasn’t just a passing item in the news cycle. So, I was encouraged to address the issue directly before anything more could be made of it.”
Michaels swallowed hard and adjusted the papers in front of him before returning his hands to the side of the podium.
“The documents that have been widely circulated in the media, likely against the advice of any good lawyer, are fakes. They will be proven to be fraudulent as an independent digital forensics expert has already demonstrated. But that hasn’t stopped the detractors from attempting to take down my presidency. I have full confidence this latest pack of lies will be put to rest in the next few days along with the senate committee’s investigation into any wrongdoing in our attempts to catch one of the world’s most renowned terrorists. I look forward to getting back to serving the American people and helping us move forward as a nation united around the values that make this place the greatest country in the world. Thank you for your time today.”
Michaels stepped back from the podium as the throng of reporters shouted questions. He waved and flashed a few thumbs up signs before striding off the stage while holding his wife’s hand.
“A bunch of savages,” Michaels muttered once they stepped behind the curtains.
Michaels’s speech coach closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head slowly. Despite being reminded constantly, Michaels had forgotten that his microphone was still hot.
“Congratulations,” the coach said. “You just created another controversy with that statement.”
Slack-jawed, Michaels stared at his wife.
“It’s your bed, honey,” she said. “You made it; you lie in it.”
Michaels cracked his knuckles then clenched his fists. “I need a drink.”
CHAPTER 16
Paris, France
KATARINA PETROV STOOD at the doorway to her penthouse suite and welcomed the president of the European Central Bank, Henri Dubois. She offered him a drink, which he readily accepted. After making him a martini, she sauntered across the room to speak with Anatoly.
“I’ll take it from here,” she said.
“Are you sure? I can stay near the bar in case you need me for anything else,” he said.
“No, I’ll be fine. You just go find out why nothing has happened in Kuwait yet. Let Fazil know I’ll withhold payment until the job has been completed.”
Anatoly rocked from side to side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing that. Fazil can be a—”
“Do it,” she growled. “No more excuses. Do you understand?”
He nodded and retreated to another suite he’d reserved.
She spun back toward Dubois. “Now, where were we?”
Dubois flashed a smile. She knew he was used to getting what he wanted and expected nothing less out of their meeting. Petrov mulled how she would break the news to him: Dubois not only wasn’t getting what he wanted, but he was going to give up much more than he ever anticipated.
“I think we were at the part where you were about to invite me to lead this dream you have of transitioning the world over to a new currency,” he said, raising his eyebrows before taking a long sip of his drink.
She wagged her finger at him. “Walk with me.” Petrov meandered out onto the terrace and promptly pulled out a cigarette.
“Smoke?” she said, offering Dubois one.
He waved her off. “I stopped years ago.”
“Why?” she asked as the tobacco crackled and came to life. “If I didn’t have these, I don’t know how I’d manage all the stress in my life. I can only imagine your stress level is a thousand times greater than mine.”
“I prefer alcohol as a way to calm my nerves,” he said, raising his glass.
She laughed softly. “I don’t like to discriminate. Whatever vice works, I’m all for it.”
“I hope your lack of discrimination ends at your vices,” he said.
“Please explain yourself.”
“I just meant that I
