Hawk glanced down at Fowler’s desk, desperately trying to steer the conversation in a way that could entice Fowler to surrender the footage. But Hawk drew a blank.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Hawk stood slowly. “For what it’s worth, I know what it’s like to be in your situation, growing up without a father and wondering if he ever thinks about you. It’s not easy.”
“You know what else isn’t easy apparently? Telling the truth about how President Michaels died. And just like growing up without a father in your life, you still have to manage your situation, and not in a way that’s always the most convenient for you. You do the best you can and let the chips fall where they may. President Young has less than twenty-four hours now to tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may with this election. Otherwise, his cover up is all anyone will be talking about for the days leading up to the election. And I can promise you that he’s only going to lose votes.”
“Thank you for your time,” Hawk said. “I wish you’d reconsider. In the end, this is going to cost you dearly, including some prison time.”
Fowler huffed a laugh through his nose. “You think anyone is gonna care about prosecuting me for exposing the truth about this? You’re crazier than you look. Now, get out of my office before I have security come down here and throw your ass out.”
Hawk turned toward the door and continued down the hallway, seething as he went. His trump card to get Fowler to give up the footage was summarily swept off the table and dismissed. Fowler didn’t appear to even consider the offer. The fact that he was Guy Hirschbeck’s bastard son seemed more like a disgraceful detail in Fowler’s past than a source of pride.
Hawk had misjudged Fowler’s motives on every front. With time running out, Hawk needed a new approach—and he needed it quickly.
CHAPTER 25
AS HAWK PULLED OUT of the Stroman and Associates parking garage and back into Washington’s deadlocked traffic, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen where the message of unknown number flashed at him. While his curiosity raged, Hawk hesitated before answering. If his past experience was any indication, the person on the other end of the line was someone he wished he’d never spoken to.
The phone vibrated and the screen blinked at him, both begging him to answer the call.
After a few more seconds, Hawk caved.
“Yeah,” he said as he answered.
“Mr. Hawk? Is that you?” the man on the other end asked.
“Yes. Is this—”
“Kejal. Yes, it’s me.”
Hawk was taken aback by the revelation. Kejal’s family harbored so much animosity toward Hawk, he couldn’t believe they even mentioned that he’d called.
“Did your mother tell you I called?” Hawk asked.
“No one told me anything.”
“Then how did you know to—”
“Your friends are in trouble,” Kejal said, speaking rapidly. “Fazil is going to kill them no matter what happens.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kejal. Where are you?”
“I am in Iraq.”
“Where exactly?”
“In the Zagros Mountains, northeast of Duhok near the Turkish border. I will text you the coordinates.”
“And how are my friends being treated?”
“They are still alive. That is about the best I can say for them.”
“Is Fazil the one torturing them?”
“Most likely, but I have not witnessed anything. Everything I have heard was second hand.”
“And you’re confident Fazil is going to kill them?”
“I heard from one of the guards that Fazil bragged that after the president is dead, the bodies of your friends will be dumped at your feet right before Fazil puts a bullet in your head.”
“I will deal with this,” Hawk said. “You stay safe and avoid getting caught.”
“Good luck, Mr. Hawk.”
The line went dead. Seconds later, a text from Kejal popped up on Hawk’s phone with the exact location of the hideout.
“The end is near, Karif Fazil,” Hawk said aloud.
* * *
HAWK SPED TO ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE, arriving just before 10:00 a.m. While Young’s trip back to Texas had been scheduled weeks in advance, the activity level at the base seemed rather calm and usual, definitely not what Hawk expected to see so close to an Air Force One flight.
Hawk flashed his security badge to the guard and rolled through without a second glance. The lax security gave Hawk reason to be nervous, especially in the off chance that Fazil was using Hawk in more ways than one.
He parked and hustled toward the hangar that he’d suggested as the ideal location for taking a shot at the jet as it went airborne. When he arrived at the main entrance, the door was locked. Pressing his face against the window to see if anyone was inside, Hawk noticed all the lights were still out.
Hawk looked around for any other potential witnesses before jimmying open the lock and stealing inside. He scanned the area and tried to determine the best location for hiding a weapon the size of a missile launcher. Behind boxes on the ground floor wouldn’t make sense as Youssef would have enough sense to know there might be base mechanics and supervisors inside who would make grabbing his weapon next to impossible.
To Hawk, there was only one place that made sense, the same place he would’ve hidden his weapon if this were his mission: the roof.
Hawk hustled up the ladder and broke through the hatch leading to the top of the hangar. Within a few minutes, Hawk noticed a large tarp bunched up and weighted down on the other side of the HVAC unit. He knelt next to it and uncovered the object.
Money!
Hawk held the weapon in his hands and peered through the scope. He turned on the tracking system and tinkered with the controls. Opening one of the screens,
