Perspiration streamed down Young’s face, his eyes full of fear. A few feet to Sinclair’s right stood the Russian president, whose hands were raised in a gesture of surrender.
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Sinclair said. “But I will if you don’t back away.”
“You’re not the one calling the shots here, mate,” Hawk said with a sneer. “You back away from the president and drop your weapon before I put a hole in your head.”
Sinclair tightened his grip on Young, eliciting a moan from the president. “I don’t think you’re fast enough, so here’s how this is going to go down. I’m backing out this door with President Karelin, and when I’m gone, you can have your gutless president. But don’t try to come after me. You’ll regret it.”
Alarms sounded in the building, whooping a warning. A robotic woman’s voice made an announcement. “Everyone, please exit the building immediately. You have one minute to evacuate the premises.”
Sinclair edged toward the door, still holding Young. Hawk wanted to take a shot, but he realized the risk was too great. The Australian billionaire wasn’t to be reasoned with and appeared mentally unstable given the stakes of the situation.
Sinclair edged backward, taking baby steps as he went. When he reached the door on the far side of the room, he forced it open with his back, urging Karelin to go first. Once they were both almost inside, Sinclair shoved Young forward. He stumbled and then slid headfirst along the floor. The door clicked behind Sinclair as he peered through the small glass slit before darting off.
Hawk and Alex hustled over to help Young to his feet.
“Are you all right, Mr. President?” Hawk asked.
“I’m better now,” Young said.
Hawk ushered Young toward the door. “Well, we need to get out of here right now.”
“Hawk! Alex!” Mia’s voice crackled on the coms. “You don’t have a second to lose.”
Hawk hustled toward the door, talking as he went. “What do you mean?”
“Sinclair just initiated a self-destruct sequence,” Mia said. “You have ninety seconds to get out of that building before it implodes. It’s going to hit before the missiles get there.”
“We’ve gotta go now,” Hawk said, gesturing for the president to move.
They hustled down the hallway and then came to a stop when they heard gunfire from around the corner.
“What are you doing, Hawk?” Alex asked. “We can’t contemplate this. We need to run now or we’re not going to make it.”
Hawk wasn’t afraid of the shooting. His eyes were locked in on an abandoned cart in the hallway.
“Get on, Mr. President,” Hawk said, nodding toward the makeshift vehicle. “If we’re going to make it out alive, I’m gonna have to help you.”
Young hoisted one of his legs on the top shelf of the cart, while Hawk and Alex steadied the wheels. When the president was stabilized, Hawk started pushing. As he rounded the corner, he saw two guards firing at Secret Service members. He nodded at Alex and mouthed for her to take the guy on the right.
They fired two shots each, felling the Obsidian agents. “Don’t shoot,” Hawk cried. “They’re both dead.”
As they rounded the corner, the Secret Service agents holstered their weapons and rushed over to President Young.
Hawk waved them away. “We don’t have time for this. The building is about to explode. Run for the exits, and don’t look back.”
All the men complied but one, who joined Hawk in pushing Young down the hallway. When they reached the doors, Hawk helped Young, carrying him with the assistance of the other agent. They hustled down the steps and rushed outside.
Hawk had a clock ticking in his head.
Five . . . four . . . three . . .
His feet were moving as fast as he could as he scanned the area for some sort of cover from the explosion. He eyed the guardhouse near the edge of the fence as a place to protect them from the blast. Steering Young toward the structure, they all fell in line. Hawk shielded Alex, while the other agents gathered around Young.
Two . . . one . . .
CHAPTER 32
Washington, D.C.
THE WIND WHISTLED PAST Titus Black as he descended toward the ground in a free fall. A HALO jump was deemed the best way to approach the outpost where J.D. Black’s niece, Morgan, was being held by Sinclair’s henchmen. While Blunt was away in Europe, tending to Hawk’s and Alex’s issues, Blunt received a report from one of his contacts at the NSA detailing the exact location of Blunt’s niece.
When Black’s feet hit the ground, he rolled, spreading out the impact from his fall. He gathered up his parachute and hid it beneath a rock. It was only 4:00 a.m. in New Mexico, a half-hour drive from the entrance to Carlsbad Cavern National Park—and 6:00 a.m. in Washington, where J.D. Blunt was wide awake and watching the whole operation from the Phoenix Foundation headquarters via Black’s body camera.
Black made his way along a dirt road, one utilized only by ranchers and recreational thrill seekers who liked to roar across vast stretches of unpopulated land on their motorcycles. But at this time of morning, the only things roaming around were rats and rattlesnakes.
On a distant hill, Black saw the silhouette of the small clapboard house. Not a single light shone, which wasn’t shocking. He was certain electricity wasn’t available in such a remote place.
As he approached the house, he didn’t notice any guards outside. He circled the structure twice before deciding to go inside. The wooden steps creaked as he approached as stealthily as possible. However, the sounds must’ve been loud enough to wake Morgan’s hostage taker.
The thump, thump, thump from inside the house vibrated the porch where Black was standing. He trained his gun in front of him and prepared for it to swing open. Seconds later when it did, Black smashed the man’s hand, sending his gun flying.
Black put two
