“We’ve had some good times, Mr. President,” she said. “Here to negotiate again?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. The U.S. government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, remember?”
She laughed. “Oh, I remember you negotiating with me just a few days ago.”
“You’re going to make one final video for me, letting Americans know that you fabricated the entire thing.”
Evana spit at him. “You can rot in hell, you infidel. I’ll do no such thing.”
“That’s a shame,” Young said. “There will be some benefits if you agree to set the record straight, mostly with how painless your death will be.”
“No,” she said. “We need to talk about your death. Do you want to die quickly or slowly, Mr. President?”
Young took another pull on his bourbon before responding. “I’ll give it to you, Evana, you have a helluva lot of chutzpah. To waltz in here in handcuffs, escorted by two agents, and you sit there in front of me spewing threats. And not a single moment where you consider that maybe humility will serve you well. Nope, not you. You’re just full of yourself and your damn war against the west.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question? Do you want to die quickly or slowly?”
Young ignored her question. "You've tried so hard, Evana, to wreak havoc with our country. You've made threats, and you've even tried to carry through with some of them. And for some inexplicable reason, you have ties to Falcon Sinclair and Obsidian, who'd just as soon rather squash your ragtag organization than spare your lives."
“You know nothing about Sinclair,” she said. “You don’t know what kind of man he is or what he’s capable of or what his plans are for your country’s destruction. It’s just a shame you won’t live to see it happen.”
“I hoped to give you a chance for mercy,” Young said. “But I can see that you only traffic in lies, a sad and misguided woman who once did good for people yet now will pay the ultimate price for your crimes against this country.”
“You’re not even going to give me a trial, are you?”
“There isn’t one necessary, especially after today. The evidence is overwhelming.”
“Forget about your video,” she said. “I’m ready for whatever fate you might have for me.”
Young turned toward the two Secret Service agents. “Take care of her right now.”
Hawk watched as Hickman and the other agent approached her. They helped her to her feet and guided her toward the door.
However, Hawk noticed the slightest eye contact between Hickman and Evana—and it was a look that was more than just the kind exchanged between someone sentenced to death and his executioner. No, this was something else.
Right before they stepped outside, she reached for Hickman’s gun and easily wrested it out of his holster. She wielded the weapon around on Young and fired a shot.
But Hawk acted fast. Before she could swing the gun all the way around, he hit her with two shots, one in the center mass, the other in the head. She flopped to the floor, hitting it with a thud.
Hickman reached for his gun.
“I don’t think so,” Hawk said.
Hickman froze and looked up at Hawk. “I just need to get my gun back.”
“The one that almost killed the president?” Hawk asked.
“That’s it.”
Hawk was certain allowing Hickman to do so would escalate the situation, given what transpired between Hickman and the dead terrorist. Without another word, Hawk trained his gun on Hickman and pulled the trigger twice.
Hickman collapsed in a heap.
“What the hell?” Young said.
Hawk glanced back at the president, who was applying pressure to his bicep. Blood spewed from the wound before he passed out.
“Alex,” Hawk said into his coms, “we need an ambulance at this safe house as quickly as possible.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s the president,” he said. “He’s been shot.”
CHAPTER 42
Three days later
Washington, D.C.
HAWK SETTLED INTO his chair next to Alex in the Phoenix Foundation conference room. Blunt was seated at the head of the table and chewing on a cigar, while Mia, Black, and Christina Shields were seated to his left. Hawk peeked at the mound of papers in front of him.
“Those are all the forms I need to fill out with you, Hawk,” Blunt said.
“Are you insane?” Hawk asked.
“That’s what happens when you save the president’s life by killing a Secret Service member,” Alex said.
“Who knows how many people would be dead if it weren’t for Mia,” Hawk said. “I think she should have to fill out at least half of this as punishment for her heroism.”
The moment of levity resulted in a roar of laughter.
Black shrugged. “I don’t know, Hawk. You were the one who figured out that Agent Hickman was a bad apple.”
“I dug through some of their communications after the fact and found text messages between them,” Mia said. “They were working together. It’s how Evana was able to kidnap Olivia.”
Blunt grabbed a bag off the floor and then stood. “I do have something for everyone.”
“A prize pack?” Hawk asked.
“Mementos from our vanquished enemy’s bones?” Black asked.
Blunt looked over the top of his glasses at Black. “You’re one sick puppy.”
“Tell me about it,” Shields said. “This is what I have to deal with when I work with this guy.”
“I have nothing of the sort for you,” Blunt said as he slid small jewelry boxes toward each person. “Nope, these are just your run of the mill Homeland Security Distinguished Service Medals.”
Hawk opened his up, and his eyes widened. He glanced across the table at Mia and was certain he saw tears welling up in her eyes.
Blunt continued. “The president wanted to award these to you himself, but given the fact that he’s still recovering from that bullet wound to the shoulder meant he couldn’t make it today.”
“This is nice, but I’m just glad thousands of people didn’t die because of what Evana Bahar tried to do,” Hawk said.
“And Al Fatihin is officially dead,” Black said.
