“Everything we do matters in one way or another,” Blunt said. “But I can assure you that we will be diligent to exact justice and eliminate threats to this country. Is that what you need to hear?”
“Is it the truth?” Alex asked.
Blunt nodded. “I feel the same way both of you do. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna spend my twilight years in this business settling scores between petty politicians. We will do such great work that if anyone actually knew about it, they would be proud of us.”
“So, is that what you wanted to talk with us about today?” Alex asked. “I have more questions about this new agency that we’re going to be a part of.”
“I’ll be more than happy to answer anything you want to know, but before we jump into that, I need to tell you a little piece of news related to this.”
“Go on,” Hawk said. “You know how much we hate suspense.”
“General Van Fortner has just been appointed as the new CIA director,” Blunt said.
Alex cocked her head to one side and furrowed her brow. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means we have an ally at Langley, an all-important one. And even better than that, we’re going to be working on a few cases that extend a little bit beyond the agency’s jurisdiction. And all of it will be off the books. No trace of it. No paper trail. Nothing. We’re all ghosts as far as it concerns certain missions.”
“I like the sound of that,” Hawk said.
“Me too,” Alex added. “When are we going to start working on these?”
“As soon as possible,” Blunt said. “All we have to do is wait for the call.”
The payphone just outside the restaurant began ringing.
“Do you hear that?” Blunt asked as he stood. “I need to grab that.”
Blunt hobbled outside. Hawk and Alex could see the phone from their position inside the restaurant and both wore puzzled looks when Blunt answered the call. After a few seconds, he replaced the receiver on the hook and returned.
“That was short,” Hawk said. “Who was it?”
“It was business,” Blunt said.
“Wait,” Alex said, holding up her hands. “You mean to tell me that we came to this restaurant not because of the street tacos but because of the old school telephone still attached to the wall outside?”
Blunt grinned. “I hate street tacos. Most overrated food on the planet. I only come here to give Ella big tips.”
“That was a brief conversation,” Hawk said. “I’m not sure you even said a word. Care to fill us in on what’s happening?”
“We’re going to work. That’s what’s happening,” Blunt said.
He stood near the edge of the table and slapped Hawk on the back before yanking him to his feet. Blunt then held out his hand and assisted Alex up.
“You didn’t say a word, yet you knew something was afoot,” Hawk said. “I’m not sure this is exactly what we had in mind when we were talking about openness and honesty and transparency.”
“I’m telling you now, just a few seconds after I found out anything definitively,” Blunt said. “You best roll up your sleeves because we’ve got plenty that needs to get done.”
Blunt tossed a one hundred dollar bill on the table.
“Let’s go,” he said. “There’s a terrorist running loose in our city, and it’s our job to stop him.”
CHAPTER 3
BLUNT DRAPED HIS BLAZER over the back of his chair and put his hands on his hips. With a long, deep breath, he inhaled the smell of fresh paint and new carpet. He paced around his office, admiring the sprawling city skyline just beyond the pristine landscaping on the campus of The Phoenix Foundation.
He strode closer to the window and eyed the organization’s sign. The stylish logo with subtle flames leaping out made him smile. When Firestorm was drawing to a close, he reimagined what kind of organization he would start if he could do everything all over again. Those ideas became reality when Fortner called with the news of his impending appointment to head the CIA. And the name was Blunt’s clever nod to his past.
Officially, The Phoenix Foundation was a consulting group, another Washington think tank in a city awash with overpaid idea makers. The organization could exist in plain sight, and no one would even question its purpose or existence. To make the mirage more believable, there was a staff, including several former military generals who met with government lackeys about security matters. They also worked with defense contractors to make sure that new weaponry in development was practical in the age of modern warfare.
In reality, the group was a slick way to funnel government funds to a clandestine operation without anyone suspecting a thing. Every year, The Phoenix Foundation would win a large government grant that only it and a dummy corporation was qualified to apply for. Blunt conceived of the arrangement and pitched it to Fortner, who didn’t hesitate to help make the set up a reality. As far as Blunt’s official title, he was listed as a senior analyst. He had a secretary named Linda who didn’t do much more than play solitaire and fetch him coffee in the mornings. She barely looked at his schedule, which contained little more than daily lunch appointments with various people. Also underneath Blunt’s command were junior analysts named Brady Hawk and Alex Duncan.
Blunt settled into his office chair and arranged his desk when Linda buzzed him.
“Brady and Alex are here to see you, sir,” she said.
“Send them in.”
Hawk and Alex entered the office and closed the door behind them. As he looked around, Hawk let out a long whistle.
“Nice digs,” Hawk said. “What kind of dirt did you have to unearth to get an office
