She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawk. Your effort is to be commended, but I’m not going to reveal his name.”
* * *
EVANA SWALLOWED HARD as she glanced down at the pictures in front of her. Her mouth was dry and she wanted some water, though there wasn’t any in the room. She felt the sweat beading up on her forehead as the American agent refused to yield in his quest to discover whom the man was depicted next to her. She was shocked to see images of herself seated at a table with him, laughing and smiling.
Could he really be working with Obsidian?
The prying eyes hadn't captured her most recent conversation with him, which took place only four months ago. However, she remembered the meeting, though she was unaware that there was a security camera in the room. Her advance team claimed to have cleared the French bakery as a safe place to meet, devoid of any prying eyes. Apparently, that wasn't the case. She made a note to find out who was serving on her detail that morning.
While she acted as if Obsidian was an urban myth, she knew it was real. But the extent to which she viewed it as a threat? She had dismissed it years ago. And she still hadn’t considered the organization as being capable of doing anything to disrupt the world on any significant level. But there was no way her friend would work with them. He was too dedicated to real causes, not the kind that would simply seek power for power’s sake. She hadn’t thought about that meeting until confronted by the pictures in front of her.
“He’s been in the wind for about six months now,” the American said. “We need to find him before it’s too late.”
“What exactly did he do?”
He shrugged. “We're not sure. We just know he was working with some high-level operatives with Obsidian and may be part of a far more sinister plan, one greater than you or I could dream up, much less execute.”
She winced in pain as she studied the images again, not from the discomfort of being pressed for answers but from her churning stomach. Clutching her midsection, she doubled over and took a deep breath.
“Are you all right, Evana?” the American asked.
“I’m fine,” she said as she eased herself upright again. “Everything is perfectly fine.”
“How long have you been pregnant?” he asked.
Her face flushed red and she looked away, turning her gaze toward the floor.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he said.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling well lately. It’s just a stomach cramp.”
“If Obsidian unleashes that plague, you might survive, but your baby won’t. Infants, small children, and elderly adults are the most likely to die. Protecting your son or daughter requires that you do what you can to stop Obsidian. Otherwise, we’ll all be dead, and what will it matter then?”
The American’s argument made sound, logical sense, but it didn’t persuade her. How could it? What gave her the right to disclose the photographed man’s location after all he had done for her? She concluded nothing did and dug her heels in against the begging.
“I’m not pregnant—though I’m not one to live my life in fear of all the hypothetical scenarios. And as proof, I’m right here in front of a man who tried to throw me out of a helicopter.”
“It wasn’t personal,” he said.
“Pardon me for taking it as such. Since it seems we’ve reached an impasse, I’ll be on my way now. See you soon, Mr. Hawk.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said.
She exited the room and was scuttled away by her guard, who kept his gun drawn and trained behind him until they rounded the corner. When they reached a place of safety, she turned toward Ramin and gave him a hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Ramin,” she said.
“Thank you for saving me,” he said. “But please don’t take me to my father. I will serve Al Fatihin as long as I never have to spend another minute in his presence.”
She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Oh, Ramin. You’ve been held captive for far too long by those animals. You might be interested to know that your father has changed—and all for the better.”
CHAPTER 6
Washington, D.C.
HAWK AND BLACK GATHERED quietly around the conference table and waited for Blunt to saunter into the room. Two days had passed since the failed attempt to extract the identity of the man in the photograph from Evana Bahar, even though it was always a long shot. Hawk bit his lip and shook his head as he pondered how to handle another operational failure. Losing was getting old fast.
Blunt hobbled into the room with a stack of folders tucked beneath his arms. He was working over another cigar in his mouth when he dropped everything down on the spot in front of his chair and fell into it with a sigh.
“I think I need to hire some more analysts,” he said. “Or at least find some agents who aren’t so reckless.”
Black looked down at the floor before making eye contact with Blunt. “I’m sorry, sir. I know that I’ve caused you quite a bit of grief over the affair in Sudan. I thought I had an opening, so I went for it. Unfortunately, things didn’t pan out.”
“You just spent nearly two weeks as a prisoner of Al Fatihin after getting set up—and you just shrug it off and say things didn’t pan out? It was an unmitigated disaster, that’s what it was. And we had to give up a terrorist just to keep your head attached to your shoulders.”
“And I’m most grateful for that, sir,” Black said. “In hindsight, I can see
