Blunt sighed and nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t make a compelling enough case for Wickham.
Blunt tapped Wickham on the shoulder and pointed to a nearby ridge. “There’s your pronghorn.”
Wickham dropped to his knees and took his time putting the pronghorn in the middle of his crosshairs. Blunt trained his binoculars on the lone animal meandering around the edge of the cliff and cut his gaze over at Wickham.
Just as he pulled the trigger, Wickham flinched, resulting in a missed shot.
“Well, damn,” Wickham said. “I thought I had him.”
Blunt nodded knowingly. “I know. I thought so too.”
CHAPTER 7
Washington, D.C.
WHEN THE PHOENIX FOUNDATION team returned to headquarters two days later, Blunt was anxiously awaiting some good news. Blunt was also concerned that President Young would be pressuring the intelligence community for a quick win against terrorists as opposed to focusing on Obsidian’s plot. Both targets needed to be handled, but Obsidian was the far more urgent of the two.
A half-hour into Blunt’s work day, he found out just how desperate the president was. Blunt took a call and was greeted by Young’s secretary.
“Please hold for the President of the United States,” she said.
That announcement used to excite Blunt, but now he was dreading it. He never enjoyed telling the president what he didn’t want to hear.
“Good morning, J.D.,” Young said when he finally connected on the line.
“Mr. President, it’s good to hear your voice again,” Blunt said.
“You too,” Young said. “I was getting tired of talking to nurses and doctors and morticians.”
“That was a lovely service for Madeline. You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“How about tracking down Evana Bahar?”
“Evana’s organization wasn’t the one responsible for the bombing.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s highly unlikely that they would’ve been able to orchestrate such an inside attack. On the other hand, Obsidian is—”
“I don’t care about Obsidian,” Young bellowed. “They’re some shadow organization that nobody knows much about. We’re not sure they really exist. But Evana Bahar is real, and if we don’t track her down soon, she may soon lead Al Fatihin to strike again.”
“We’ll do our best,” Blunt said.
“Do better. Make her a top priority. I’ll be in touch for progress reports.”
Young hung up, leaving Blunt frustrated. His angst only continued to grow when he met with Hawk and Alex in the conference room an hour later.
Blunt found his two agents sitting around the table and sifting through intelligence reports. After lumbering to his seat at the head of the table, he dumped out a stack of folders.
“Please tell me that you got some actionable intel off that flash drive,” Blunt said.
Alex shook her head as she slid some documents toward him. “I’m not sure if Timmons had been holed up on that island for so long that he just had to get out, but there wasn’t anything of consequence on that device.”
“Nothing?”
“It looked like a few stolen weapons plans from Colton Industries, but nothing to write home about,” Alex said.
“So we’re back to square one?” he asked.
“As far as knowing what Obsidian is up to, yes,” Hawk said. “We’re still in the dark as far as how they intend to accomplish their end game.”
“At least we know what their aim is: world power,” Blunt said. “But we still need to know the how if we intend to stop them.”
“And the president? How is he?” Alex asked.
“Fully recovered and ornery as ever,” Blunt said. “Which means that he’s back to becoming a pain in our ass if we don’t track down Evana Bahar.”
Hawk shook his head. “We haven’t any reports about her in a while, so it’s safe to assume she’s gone underground. We can’t exactly manufacture something if she’s gone into hiding.”
“I think we need to stay on Obsidian,” Alex said. “Despite this latest setback with Timmons, we’re getting closer to unmasking what this organization doing. We need to keep the pressure on.”
“Easy for you to say since you don’t have to juggle the politics,” Blunt said.
A faint smile spread across Alex’s lips. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks.”
“See what else you can learn about Falcon Sinclair, and we’ll talk later today,” Blunt said before dismissing the meeting.
He returned to his office with a note that CIA Deputy Director Randy Wood had left a message. Blunt sat down and dialed Wood’s number.
“What do you need?” Blunt asked Wood when he answered.
“I got some information that might interest you and your team,” Wood said.
“Fire away,” Blunt said. “I could use some good news.”
“We just got a hit about an hour ago on a device we’ve been tracking that belongs to Madeline Young.”
“You found her?” Blunt asked. “Isn’t this going to present a problem since we just buried her?”
“Sure it will, which is why I’m turning this over to you,” Wood said.
“Where is she?”
“Cape Verde, relaxing beachside from what I understand at a private resort there. I’m sure she might be willing to talk once you ply her with booze.”
“You really do want me to get in hot water with Young, don’t you?”
“If you’re that concerned about staying in his good graces, there’s always Andrei Orlovsky you can use,” Wood said.
Blunt’s eyebrows shot upward. “You have Orlovsky?”
“Caught him last night in a sting we set up in Algeria. Nobody knows about it, so you could have him set up some kind of weapons sale with Evana Bahar. That ought to draw her out of hiding.”
“Let me mull this over and discuss it with my team,” Blunt said. “You’re giving me two can’t lose situations at once.”
“I aim to please,” Wood said. “Just don’t hurt Madeline. She might prove to be helpful in the future.”
“You have far more faith in her than I do,” Blunt said.
“I simply know her, that’s all. She’ll do anything to save her own
