Hawk’s and Alex’s conversation with Cameron Daniels wasn’t full of earth-shattering information on Falcon Sinclair, but they gleaned the kind of intel needed to figure out a way to capture the Aussie businessman. Daniels mentioned Sinclair’s affinity for Formula 1 auto racing, a sport wildly popular everywhere but the United States. Upon digging further into his love of Formula 1, Alex uncovered an interview with Sinclair where he mentioned he hadn’t missed the Italian Grand Prix for the past twenty years. She also found real estate records from Italy, where he owned a home in the Alps, just a short drive north of Monza, site of the Italian Grand Prix.
Once Hawk and Alex determined the race in Monza might be their best opportunity to snag Sinclair, they continued to search for the best way to catch him separated from his security detail. After sifting through several newspaper reports, Hawk found multiple pictures of Sinclair talking with his favorite racer, Italian driver Antonio Giovani.
On the day before the race, Giovani’s publicity team was hosting a private VIP meeting with fans, invitation only.
Alex called the publicity team, posing as an administrative assistant of Sinclair. Speaking with a young woman, Alex confirmed the time and place of the meeting. The plan, while complex, was straightforward. Alex would work as one of the caterers for the event and give Sinclair a drink laced with a compound to make him weak and faint. She would volunteer to call the paramedics, which Hawk would respond to immediately with an ambulance they secured with their connections with the AISI, Italy’s internal security agency. He would drive Sinclair to a warehouse, detaining him there for questioning before determining how to proceed.
After Hawk and Alex unpacked, they checked their messages and confirmed all the details for the next day’s operation.
“I think we’re good,” Hawk said.
“Let’s get out and see some of the sites,” Alex said. “We can’t let the extent of our time in Italy be crashing a mafia castle and scuba diving in the canals of Venice.”
Hawk nodded. “I know. Our trips to Italy are always so mundane.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, they arrived at the track, prepared to capture Sinclair. While the Australian billionaire had been a thorn in the side of the U.S. government, they never had the necessary evidence to pin a crime on him. But the Phoenix Foundation operated with a lower bar, one that could be adjusted down if the threat seemed imminent. Based on how Obsidian appeared to be mobilizing more and more globally, the lesser standard was approved by Blunt. Not that it took much arm twisting to get President Young to green light the operation.
Alex glanced at her watch as she tied the black apron around her waist. She adjusted the earbud from her coms and took a deep breath.
“So, how do I look?” she asked.
Hawk’s eyebrows shot upward. “Sexier than I imagined in a catering uniform.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” she said. “Your paramedic outfit makes you look handsome too.”
“Maybe we should keep these disguises and put on a photo shoot later for a calendar.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t go that far. Now, wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” he said. “I’ll be ready when you are.”
She walked toward the hospitality suite near the main entrance before taking a quick glance over her shoulder at Hawk. He was leaning against the side of the vehicle while scanning the area.
He’s always ready.
Alex was, too. She was ready to put down Falcon Sinclair and end the threat Obsidian posed to the free world.
She slipped into the service entrance, flashing her badge to the security guard. Once inside, she met with the woman running the catering business who greeted Alex warmly with a firm handshake.
“I’m so glad you made it out today to help us,” the woman, Liliana, said. “It’s getting more and more difficult to find young people willing to work in our industry, even for such a grand event as this.”
“Happy to be here,” Alex said.
Liliana gave Alex detailed instructions as to how they were to handle the trays and the food distribution throughout the room. An hour later, everything was set and ready for the guests.
When Antonio Giovani strode into the room in his racing uniform, his presence drew audible gasps from many of the women present. He flashed a wry smile and raised his eyebrows at one young woman. Alex could tell he enjoyed the attention, especially the type that gawked over his ruggedly handsome face.
“How’s it going in there?” Hawk asked over the coms. “Any sign of Sinclair yet?”
She covered her hand with her mouth. “Negative. The VIP fans are just now arriving.”
Alex glided across the room, holding out her tray of hors d’oeuvres for the guests. Only a few of them took anything she offered, while the men carting around wine glasses were only out of the kitchen for one pass before returning to re-stock their drinks.
In another hour, this ought to be real fun.
Another twenty minutes passed, and she still hadn’t seen any sign of Sinclair. She returned to the kitchen to trade in her platter of grilled tomato crostini for potato-leek focaccia. Upon re-entering the room, she saw two muscular men she hadn’t noticed before casing the area.
“Hawk, I think he’s about to make an appearance,” Alex said softly into her coms.
“Roger that,” he said. “Go do your thing.”
Alex quick walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a tray of wine in anticipation of Sinclair joining the gala in the VIP lounge. However, one of the men strode up to the event’s host and whispered something in her ear. The woman frowned and cocked her head to one side. Alex tried to read their lips and made out something about they felt the situation wasn’t
