Hawk adjusted his earpiece. “I’ve got the target scoped in.”
“And you’re sure you’ve messed with the missile guidance system on the weapon enough that it’ll totally miss?”
“Roger that. Our target couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn from a hundred meters after I messed with the launcher’s programming.”
“Good because those planes aren’t cheap. I’m sure the taxpayers will appreciate making sure that Air Force One doesn’t get blown out of the sky, even if the president isn’t on it.”
“Just doing my part,” Hawk said.
He watched as Air Force One commenced takeoff procedure. The jet sped down the runway before it took flight. Though more than a quarter of a mile of runway before the plane reached the final hangar, it didn’t take long to get there. Hawk watched as Nawabi steadied the weapon on his shoulder and took aim.
Trailed by a stream of smoke, a missile raced toward the plane before falling harmlessly to the ground. The fiery explosion caused a stir among the press corps capturing the event, a buzz so loud that Hawk could hear them from his position.
In the aftermath of the shot, Nawabi disappeared.
“Hawk, do you still have your shot?” Baker asked.
“I can’t see him.”
“What do you mean you can’t see him?”
“I mean, he’s gone.”
“He couldn’t just vanish.”
“Well, I had him scoped in just before the shot. And once he fired, he slid back behind the HVAC for cover. I could see the upper half of his body before that. Now, I’ve got zip.”
* * *
YOUSSEF NAWABI TOOK a deep breath as he watched Air Force One zoom in his direction. He steadied the missile launcher on his shoulder, checked all the settings, and stole a quick glance around. He didn’t see anyone else nearby who could see him, but he didn’t take any comfort in that. The moment he squeezed the trigger, he was likely dead. He wasn’t sure he’d even live to see everything he’d worked for come to fruition. Another long exhale and he trained his weapon on the end of the runway.
This is for you, Abdul.
Air Force One’s nose tilted skyward as it left the ground in a hurry. Nawabi took aim and squeezed the trigger, the jolt from the launcher sending him tumbling backward. The missile rushed toward the target.
Knocked on his butt, Nawabi sat and watched as his shot petered out and fell harmlessly onto the grassy area between the two landing strips.
What the—
Nawabi looked at his gun, studying all the controls. Everything appeared to be in order. There was no reason why he should’ve missed, not from this distance, not with a weapon that had a guidance system. But he had. It didn’t take long for the fact to sink in that he had failed, sacrificing his entire life for nothing.
If I am going to die, I should at least take some infidels with me.
Nawabi picked up his missile launcher. Though he would have to shoot without a guidance system, he didn’t think it would matter much since the last one offered him no assistance in nailing his target.
He turned toward the crowd of staffers and reporters still milling around near where President Young had boarded his jet. Nawabi was confident his training would help him connect.
One more shot, Abdul. And I promise to make this one count.
* * *
“WE’VE GOT A PROBLEM,” Hawk said into his com unit. “I still don’t see the shooter.”
“Where else could he be than hiding up on the roof?”
“Earlier when I was sabotaging his weapon, I eased to the ledge and was holding on by my fingertips. If he had a rope attached over there somewhere, he could’ve slinked away and repelled down.”
“What’s your gut say?”
Hawk sighed. “I think he’s still there. He knew this was a suicide mission. And unless he got cold feet for some reason, I can’t see him changing his mind.”
“Let me see if I can get someone else to verify his location. We don’t want this turning into a disaster.”
Hawk peered through his scope, searching for any type of movement.
Then he saw something. It was just a flicker of light that came from an object the roof, but he understood that Nawabi was still on top of the hangar and active.
“I know he’s still there,” Hawk said. “Just saw movement.”
“Should we send any men up?” Baker asked.
“Not yet,” Hawk said. “I’d rather take care of this as discreetly as possible. I’m sure everyone on the ground is already freaking out about a missile missing Air Force One and exploding.”
“A public execution of sorts might send a strong message,” Baker said. “If you want to wait—”
“My friends’ lives hang in the balance here,” Hawk said with a growl. “I’m not interested in humiliating the enemy just yet. It’d result in the kind of retaliation that would mean two good people would lose their lives over this.”
“They’re probably going to lose their lives no matter what, if we’re being honest about it.”
“You could be right, but it’s a foregone conclusion if we light this asshole up and every television crew in America films it and pumps it around the world. Let me handle this.”
As Hawk finished talking, he watched Nawabi stand, armed with another missile launcher. Only this time, Nawabi was taking aim at the crowd, which was near the tanker still parked on the tarmac.
“Oh, shit!” Hawk said. “Have everyone clear the area. The shooter is going after the crowd.”
Hawk zeroed in on Nawabi and squeezed the trigger.
When Hawk saw the stream of smoke trailing behind the missile, his heart sank. In the rush to get a shot off, he wasn’t sure if he’d hit his target before Nawabi fired.
As Hawk watched through the scope, he confirmed a direct hit on Nawabi. A bullet tore through his head, and he collapsed almost immediately.
Hawk heard an explosion and glanced back toward the area where Nawabi had been aiming. Instead of seeing a roaring blaze of fire and a scene of death and mayhem, Hawk watched
