But all Hawk could see was the closet in the background, looming over Young and waiting to be opened. Everything was on the verge of being swept away. If Young’s blackmailer decided to make the video public, the campaign moment everyone had just experienced would be a footnote, if not all forgotten. And Hawk sensed he needed to remind Young of that fact.
“That was a moving speech,” Hawk said, shaking Young’s hand.
“It was almost as if I was feeding off of them,” Young said.
“You were feeding them something because they were eating out of your hand.”
Young flashed a grin. “Selling hope has a way of doing that with people, though I believe every word of what I just said.”
“Well, it’s not what you said that got my attention. It’s what you didn’t say.”
Young grabbed Hawk by the arm and led him farther away from the cluster of aides that had formed nearby.
“Look, about that—”
“You better pray that man hasn’t pushed the button yet and published that video to social media,” Hawk warned. “If he did, this entire event won’t get a single minute of air time. It’ll all be an endless cycle of that footage of you and Daniels, and you know it.”
“I can’t do it—at least, not before the election. It’s only a few days away.”
Hawk eyed Young closely. “But didn’t you tell me that the man gave you a deadline that was before the election? I don’t think you want this story gaining traction a few days before the vote.”
Young clenched his teeth. “I’m the President of the United States, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let someone bully me.”
“I want to go on record as saying I think it’s a bad idea to ignore this guy.”
“I’m not ignoring him. In fact, I’m giving him more attention than he ever dreamed of getting.”
“And how are you doing that?”
“I’m sending you to pay him a little visit and take care of the problem.”
“But, sir, I—”
Young slapped Hawk on the arm. “Thanks, Hawk. I knew I could count on you.”
Hawk sighed. “Well, there’s something else I need to talk with you about.”
An aide rushed up to Young and whispered something in his ear. “It’s gonna have to wait. Duty calls. But give Big Earv a call. I had him start digging into the guy.”
Hawk watched Young stride off as he spoke with several advisors. In that moment, Young appeared presidential to Hawk. No longer was Young the man behind the scenes pulling all the strings. He’d ascended to the steps of the throne and was angling to have a seat for four—perhaps even eight—years.
But Hawk knew every aspiration Young had of moving into the Oval Office would permanently be dashed if he didn’t deal directly with the man who was blackmailing him. Hawk didn’t want to be the one to handle it either, given the other extenuating circumstances that were far more pressing.
He turned to leave but noticed Young had stopped to take a picture with a woman backstage. At first glance, Hawk didn’t recognize her. But then as he took a second look, he realized who she was—Deepika Padukone. Hawk doubted hardly anyone would recognize the Bollywood star out on the street, but he did. And he wasn’t about to let his opportunity to take a picture with her go to waste.
For a moment, he felt sheepish about fawning over a famous actress. But Hawk got over it, telling himself that he was doing it for Alex.
She’ll think this is great.
He asked Padukone if she minded posing for a picture, which she readily agreed to. Moments later, Hawk was headed for the exits while he stared at the photo of Padukone on his phone. He couldn’t wait to show Alex. Then he had another thought.
I hope Alex is still alive for me to show her this picture.
He turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket. Hawk had plenty of things to do before he could start pondering if Fazil would keep his word.
CHAPTER 14
Zagros Mountains, Iraq
KARIF FAZIL SHOOK HIS HEAD as he watched the report about Noah Young’s speech on terrorism that the newscaster described as “stirring and inspiring.” Fazil considered the rhetoric nothing more than empty talk, the kind of message that would only excite his current base of supporters. Though Young sounded benign politically, Fazil didn’t miss Young’s opening salvo. If elected, Young had promised to make terrorists’ lives difficult through an aggressive campaign.
Too bad you won’t be able to follow through on your promise.
Fazil studied several documents detailing the next steps in his plan once the U.S. election was thrown into disarray. Once there was a vacuum of leadership, Fazil recognized there would be an optimum window of opportunity to strike. And Al Hasib needed to strike fast and furiously. He understood enough about the American political culture to know that the nation’s attention would be zeroed in on avoiding a constitutional crisis, just like the one the country almost had with Daniels’s death. Only this would be much worse. All Fazil needed to do now was wait for the first domino to fall. Once Young was dead, chaos would ensue.
“Come, come, Jafar,” Fazil said, snapping his fingers to signal for the bird to join him. “We must check in with Youssef and make sure he has everything he needs to—how do they say it in America?—get the party started?”
Fazil punched in Youssef Nawabi’s phone number and pressed send, waiting patiently for the marksman to answer.
“Alo,” Nawabi answered.
“How are your preparations coming along?” Fazil asked, being discreet as possible in what he said.
“There have not been any surprises yet, so I guess you could say that they are
