Hawk chuckled. “We may never get to watch a Bollywood movie together again?”
She exhaled slowly. “That would be disappointing. But, no, the worst part is that we might die only trying to delay the inevitable. Once we’re gone, there might not be anyone standing in opposition to someone like Falcon Sinclair. He’ll just pick up where he left off moments after his guards feed our bodies to the sharks.”
“But we have to try,” Hawk said. “If we don’t fight, we might as well roll out the red carpet for the sonofabitch. Edmund Burke once said, ‘When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.’ I know what I signed up for when I started this job, and I’ll be damned if my death is going to be an unpitied sacrifice.”
“You really think there’s enough good men in this world to prevail over evil like Sinclair?”
“I have hope that there is, but if we don’t fight, we’ll never know. But now’s not the time for philosophical reflection. We’re not dead yet.”
“Guys,” Mia said over the coms.
“What is it, Mia?” Hawk asked.
Alex unmuted her mic. “What’s going on?”
“This software has some incredible AI defense mechanisms that I’ve never encountered before. It’s like the computer has a mind of its own and is fighting me to retake control.”
“What are you saying?” Hawk asked.
“I’m saying I don’t know how much longer I can maintain control.”
“Can you lock in those coordinates so it can’t be overridden?” Alex asked.
“I can try.”
Before the conversation could continue, the door flew open and several guards poured inside. They descended upon Hawk and Alex with weapons trained. Hawk gave Alex a knowing look, and she lowered her gun. They placed their pistols on the floor and raised their hands.
“Where is it?” the head guard asked as he strode up to his captives.
“Where’s what?” Hawk asked.
The man clasped his hands behind his back and glared at Hawk. “You know what I’m talking about. The wireless transmitter that’s enabling you to control our rockets.”
“Why don’t you search the room yourself?” Hawk suggested. “Or I’ll tell you myself if you allow us to walk out of here.”
The man nodded at one of the guards, who rushed over to Alex and jammed the nozzle of his gun into her head.
“That’s not necessary,” Hawk said.
“I’m afraid it is, Mr. Hawk, given your penchant for uncooperative behavior. You’re going to tell me where the transmitter is. And you’re going to tell me right now.”
CHAPTER 26
YOUNG EYED THE RUSSIAN president, who didn’t seem fazed by the auction. While Young couldn’t allow one of his own cities to be decimated, he wondered how much longer Sinclair would continue pitting the two leaders against each other. Sinclair was already a billionaire, and one of the richest in the world at that. Young wondered if the end game was to be the world’s first trillionaire and use his money to indulge himself. But despite Sinclair’s giant ego, Young figured there had to be some other motivation than greed.
“Do I hear two point one trillion?” Sinclair asked as he turned his gaze toward Young.
Young sighed and shook his head. “I think I’ve reached my limit. I can’t participate in this farce any longer.”
“Oh, Mr. President, I can assure you that I’m very serious about carrying through with my promise,” Sinclair said. “If I never followed through with my threats, I would’ve never reached the heights that I have with my business. Now, perhaps you want reconsider withdrawing from the bidding, no?”
“There comes a point when a man must stand up to extortion,” Young said.
“And apparently, that point for you is at two trillion dollars.”
“I don’t believe you’ll do it.”
“So, you’re testing me?”
Young nodded. “I’m calling your bluff. If you dared to launch an attack on Washington, you’d be signing your death warrant.”
“That’s hardly the case,” Sinclair said. “You’d have to invade a sovereign nation to get me. And I’m counting on President Karelin being satisfied with our product. So much so that he’d protect me.”
“Your suppositions may be the death of you.”
“Or it may be what I need to rise to power.”
“I’m walking out of here,” Young said, “and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“I beg to differ,” Sinclair said as he nodded at one of his guards standing near the door. The man slid in front of Young, impeding his exit.
“If that door isn’t open where I can walk through it in five seconds, I’m going to call for my Secret Service detail. And I promise you’ll regret it.”
“I doubt that,” Sinclair said. He turned toward the screen as it switched from the simulated missile trajectory to the cameras outside the control center. The security details for both the American and Russian presidents were lying on their backs, apparently out from some type of gas.
“What’s this?” Karelin asked.
“I needed assurance that neither of you would walk out and risk this event that my team has been planning for months,” Sinclair said. “I really hate delays.”
“I demand that you stop this at once,” Karelin said.
“Oh, so you don’t want the winning bid? I can direct both missiles toward your countries and keep you sequestered here while your subordinates get access to nuclear codes and launch warheads back and forth at one another. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” Karelin said.
Sinclair turned toward Young. “And you, Mr. President?”
“I’ll stay.”
“Excellent,” Sinclair said. “Now that we have that all cleared up, shall we continue?”
He marched over to the control panel on the wall and returned to the screen containing the simulated images of the two missiles streaking across the planet.
“Now, I’m not a fool,” Sinclair said. “And it might be unwise for me to simply demand money, especially an amount as enormous as two trillion dollars. I’m quite certain neither one of you would like to see that amount vanish
