* * *
ALEX FABRICATED CREDENTIALS for Hawk, while Samuels helped Hawk create a disguise. They decided he’d pose as a Gulf Stream executive based out of Paris. He would claim the corporate office made a special request for him to visit the active investigation scene to look for intricacies about the engine that the French police might miss. Hawk knew that in situations like this, timing mattered because the FAA likely already had someone on a plane to Paris. And the presence of any true officials would complicate things.
“Think you can pull this off?” Alex asked as she handed Hawk his employee identification badge along with a small stack of business cards.
“I always think I can pull everything off,” he said.
“And sometimes you don’t.”
“True, but this won’t be one of those times.”
Hawk returned to the airport with Alex and Samuels in tow. The latter pair remained in their vehicle, while Hawk hustled across the tarmac toward the smoldering plane. Working with airport security, French police had already set up a bank of lights to assist with the immediate investigation. A small group of reporters crowded near the tape cordoning off the scene. One officer was stationed there, tasked with ensuring they didn’t get any closer.
Toting a briefcase, Hawk walked briskly toward the tape before lifting it up. He continued closer as if he belonged. The officer flagged him down before Hawk stopped.
“What are you doing?” the French officer asked. “This is an active investigation scene. You are not allowed in there.”
Hawk held up his credentials. “I work for the company who makes these jets, and they asked me to inspect the aircraft to see if I can detect any abnormalities ahead of the FAA’s arrival in the morning.”
The officer shined his flashlight on the identification card. “I’ll need to clear this with my commander.”
Hawk eyed him closely. “Are you sure you want to bother him with such a request? This is standard protocol. How many plane crash scenes have you worked?”
The officer shook his head and waved Hawk through. “Fine. Go ahead.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Hawk walked toward the scene where he was met by several French officials.
“Who are you, and who let you in here? This area is restricted,” one of the men said.
“I’m Gabriel Laurent with Gulfstream,” Hawk said, pulling off his best French accent. “I’m here to inspect the crash scene for liability purposes.”
“Do not touch anything.”
“I won’t.”
Hawk walked around the crash site, observing and taking notes. However, all he was really concerned with were the bodies. After walking the perimeter, he saw them lined up on a white sheet off to the side. He strolled over to the area where an officer was tagging each one.
“You recovered the ten bodies already?” Hawk asked.
“Nine,” the officer said.
“I thought the news said ten.”
“I think the manifest with the charter company listed ten, but we’ve only been able to recover nine.”
“Is it a male or female missing?” Hawk asked. “It matters for liability purposes.”
“Female,” the officer answered. “Who are you again?”
“Thank you for your time.”
Hawk had already noticed the only pair of women’s feet sticking out from beneath the sheet. Despite their mangled condition, he could still identify which toes had spent time being pedicured and which ones hadn’t. And the only pair that had been handled with care didn’t have Petrov’s distinct ankle tattoo. The officer only confirmed what he’d already suspected.
“She wasn’t on that plane,” Hawk said over his com as his gait picked up while leaving the scene.
“What?” Alex asked in bewilderment. “When did she—?”
“I don’t know how or when she exited the plane,” Hawk said. “I don’t think she saw me. I was really careful. But maybe she did. Or maybe she set us up again.”
“No,” Samuels said. “No way. Something had to have spooked her, and she decided to get off that plane before takeoff.”
“It was probably me then,” Hawk said.
He was so engrossed in the conversation that he hadn’t heard the men calling after him until now.
“What’s going on?” Samuels said. “Sounds like something’s happening.”
Hawk glanced over his shoulder. “Shit. I think I’ve been made.”
He looked back, this time to notice two officers sprinting toward him.
“Alex, have the car ready. We need to disappear—and fast.”
CHAPTER 32
Kuwait City, Kuwait
KARIF FAZIL LOOKED at his watch and waited. The intel several of his men gathered over the past week documented the exact times at which Verge’s security detail changed shifts. It was the moment when the oil refinery was most vulnerable. It was the time when Fazil would strike.
He squeezed the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He didn’t like getting so involved in operations that he put himself in harm’s way. Preferring to call the shots from afar, he concluded that with his well-trained soldiers, his presence was rarely necessitated. But the number of those loyal to him had dwindled, mostly due to the devastating drone attack a few nights prior. What was supposed to be a celebration turned into a blood bath.
The Americans.
Fazil spit out of the window in disgust. Their plans to bring Verge to its knees had been spoiled by Brady Hawk and his team. Fazil, who’d been monitoring the attack from Morocco, assembled the flight crew for his private jet once he learned his men captured Hawk. But by the time Fazil landed and reached the camp, another development had superseded the American agent’s capture. Al Hasib’s camp location on Failaka Island had been given away and quickly became the target of a strike. It decimated Al Hasib’s troops as less than a dozen of the fifty men running the operation managed to survive and escape.
This is for every one of my loyal men.
Fazil glanced at his watch and then back at the gate to Verge. The guards were changing as scheduled.
He smiled and turned the ignition, firing up the truck. Stomping on the gas, the truck lurched forward and sped toward the gate.
“What do they say
