Target Zero (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 5) Read online

  “You must be Brady Hawk,” the man said, offering his hand. “John McGinn.”

  Hawk nodded. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “And you must be Alex.”

  Alex smiled and nodded before shaking McGinn’s hand.

  From his shirt pocket, McGinn pulled out a new pack of cigarettes and tapped it hard against the palm of his hand. He proceeded to rip the package open, tossing the cellophane wrapping onto the ground. He fished out a cigarette and placed it loosely on his lips.

  Before he lit up, McGinn offered Hawk and Alex a smoke.

  Alex waved him off; Hawk scowled.

  “I’ll pass,” Hawk said. “Those things will kill you.”

  McGinn flicked his lighter and took a long drag. He gestured with his hand around him then exhaled a lung full of smoke.

  “This is Somalia, Mr. Hawk. Lung cancer won’t kill you here. You’ll never live long enough for it to catch up with you.”

  “We don’t intend on staying long,” Alex said.

  “Get ready because we're going till the world stops turning while we burn it to the ground tonight,” McGinn said as he took another long drag. “Follow me. You’re going to need to get situated in our state-of-the-art secure facility.”

  Alex leaned close to Hawk and whispered, “Did he just quote Nickelback?”

  “God help us,” Hawk said under his breath.

  They followed McGinn as he navigated through the men engaged in combat training.

  “Don’t pay them any attention,” McGinn said. “They couldn’t hurt a flea.”

  “Aren’t you the one supposed to be training them?” Alex asked.

  “Lady, you sure do ask a lot of questions. I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut. A woman talking too much is far more detrimental to her own health than smoking ever will be. You can take that to the bank.”

  “Any other nuggets of wisdom for me?” she said, chiding him.

  McGinn ignored her dig. “No matter what you do, don’t ever anger the camels.”

  Hawk glanced at Alex, who rolled her eyes.

  “This guy’s a piece of work,” she said quietly.

  “That’s one way of putting it. It’s far nicer than I would have,” Hawk whispered. “I might just have to punch his lights out before we’re through here.”

  McGinn entered a set of barracks and marched through the hallway until he came to an open door.

  “This will be your room for the next several days. Feel free to smoke in here if you like.”

  Hawk furrowed his brow. “What? No private room for the lady?”

  McGinn shrugged. “It’s the 21st Century. Get over it.”

  Hawk, who’d grown more annoyed by McGinn’s antics by the second, rammed his forearm into McGinn’s chest and pinned him against the wall.

  “I think she’d like some privacy,” Hawk said. “You think you can make that happen?”

  McGinn exhaled and cut his eyes skyward. “You Millennials are so damn high maintenance, I swear.”

  Hawk released him. “We aren’t anything other than highly-trained operatives who are here to bail your ass out. I suggest you quit acting put out or we’ll go get on a plane and leave you to stealing one of the most lethal gases in the world on your own.”

  McGinn put up both hands in an act of surrender. “Now, now. No need to be so offended. I was just making an observation.”

  “Observations are usually intelligent,” Alex quipped.

  McGinn shook his head. “Follow me, Alex. I’m sure I can find you a room down this hall somewhere.”

  Hawk stopped at the room next to his. He pushed the door open, revealing an unoccupied space. “This one will do.”

  McGinn forced a smile and cocked his head to one side. “This one it is. Room No. 12 for the lady.”

  Alex pushed her way past McGinn and threw her bag on the bed.

  McGinn tugged on his ratty New England Patriots hat. “So, you and Hawk aren’t a thing?”

  Hawk chuckled as he took in the scene. Alex slammed the door in McGinn’s face.

  “Are you always this hospitable?” Hawk asked.

  McGinn blew a lung full of smoke upward. “Hospitality isn’t really my thing. Busting people’s balls is.”

  Hawk shook his head and looked at the grimy floor. “So, when are we going to put together a plan?”

  “You just leave that to me.”

  Alex opened the door, rejoining the conversation. “We didn’t come here to be your puppets.”

  “You settled in awfully quick,” McGinn said. “Don’t you want to put your bag up? Just leave the men alone, and we’ll take care of all the logistics. You just do as you’re told. Understand?”

  Alex sneered at him. But before she could say a word, the building was sprayed with bullets. Glass shattered in the rooms and spilled into the hallway. Instinctively, the trio dropped low to the ground and moved away from the doorway.

  “You got any idea who this is?” Hawk asked as he checked the magazine in his gun.

  McGinn shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of enemies.”

  “The kind of enemies who can infiltrate your state-of-the-art secure facility?” Alex chided.

  “Just keep your head down if you want to get out of here alive,” McGinn said. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been attacked here.”

  “Not much loyalty among your men, is there?” Hawk said.

  “This isn’t the time for your critique,” McGinn said as he stood up. “Now, get ready to follow me.”

  McGinn didn’t get a chance to take a step before another round of bullets rained down on the building. He dropped back to the floor.

  “Got any other ways out of here?” Hawk asked.

  CHAPTER 6

  Washington, D.C.

  EMILY THORNTON SETTLED into a chair in the stark conference room. Silhouetted figures carrying boxes and other large objects passed along the opaque windows surrounding her. The floor was cold and bare. Nothing about the room was inviting, though she was certain that was the point. The business of Searchlight wasn’t about creating a warm environment; it was about snuffing out any and all threats. And Emily wasn’t sure if Searchlight had finally concluded that Brady Hawk was the kind of threat that needed to be dealt with using extreme measures. She only hoped it hadn’t arrived at that decision.

  The door swung open, and Kade Parker strode in. He sat down directly across the table from Emily.

  “What do you think of the new place?” Parker asked, gesturing around the room.

  “You need an interior decorator,” she said.

  “That’s not exactly where we like to spend our resources, though we wouldn’t have had to get a new facility if the old one hadn’t been compromised under your watch.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that this room is still ugly.”

  “I’ll mention that to HR,” he said.

  “Searchlight has an HR department? Who knew?”

  Parker leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long breath. “Look, the reason we’re here is to discuss where we’re at with Hawk and Alex. I trust you have some more information about them.”

  “If you’re expecting any bombshells, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” Emily said. “They spoiled the bomb threat at Nationals Park, and Hawk, at least, has become a cult hero on the Internet. A few security cameras captured him, although the images are grainy. His identity is likely secure, but he’s being called The Real Chuck Norris. There was even a hashtag with that same name trending nationally on Twitter last week.”

  “I don’t care what the public thinks about Hawk; I want to know what you think about him in terms of his threat to this organization.”

  “Searchlight isn’t exactly his primary concern right now. However, kidnapping his little girlfriend probably put you on his radar.”

  “I guess the only real question I want answered today is this: Do you think we’ll still be able to use them?”

  Emily took a deep breath, her gaze
cutting back and forth around the room as she thought. She needed to give the right answer to Parker, one that wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

  “It’s possible,” she finally said.

  “If you’re not one hundred percent sure, we need to eliminate them,” Parker snapped.

  “Trying to gauge that right now is a big challenge. I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with—”

  “You’ve got a week to make your definitive conclusion,” Parker said before he stood up. “One week, and then I want your final answer.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you know where they are?” he asked.

  “They’re in Somalia now.”

  “Good. I’ll put Thor on alert and have him ready on standby.”

  “How am I supposed to make that determination from here?” she asked.

  “Better book a flight for Somalia.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Berbera, Somalia

  RASHID QURESHI RELOADED and peered through his binoculars across the compound for any more traitors. The Al Hasib operative engaged in a quid pro quo with Al-Shabaab. When Al Hasib entered into negotiations to secure a chemical weapon from Al-Shabaab’s top chemical engineer, the proposed exchange involved more than just money. Al-Shabaab was losing the battle when it came to recruits due to the CIA’s covert training facility in Berbera. The CIA had built a compound to help Somali military develop a special ops program to combat the guerilla tactics of Al-Shabaab. And after watching dozens of potential recruits flock to the CIA-sponsored program, Al-Shabaab leadership decided to eliminate it.

  Qureshi had worked for weeks to prepare Al-Shabaab forces for a surprise attack on the compound. And so far, everything had gone as planned with one small exception: Inexplicably, only a little over two dozen of the more than two hundred recruits were present when Qureshi began the attack. While dead bodies littered the training grounds, Qureshi hoped for a much better result.

  We must have a spy.

  Qureshi scanned the area once more through his binoculars and noted at least one figure standing in the doorway of the barracks. He gave the order to fire again, unleashing another round of munitions at the building. Then everything fell silent.

  Qureshi reloaded again when the voice of Pendar, Qureshi’s tech expert, pleaded with Qureshi to look at his phone.

  “I sent you some screenshots off the security feed,” Pendar said. “It appears as though there are some important guests visiting the compound this week.”

  Qureshi unlocked his phone and called up the pictures Pendar had sent. Qureshi squinted at the image before enlarging it.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Qureshi asked.

  “If you think it’s Brady Hawk, then yes.”

  Qureshi broke into a wide grin.

  Allah must love me. I will avenge my brother’s murder.

  Qureshi needed to tell Al Hasib chief Karif Fazil about the new developments taking place in their raid on the secret CIA training camp. Qureshi dialed Fazil’s number.

  “Is everything all right?” Fazil asked.

  “It’s better than all right,” Qureshi said. “This might be a far more productive trip than you ever imagined.”

  “How so?”

  “We have all but secured the compound as we speak. However, there are some surprising guests paying a visit to the facility this week who might be of interest to you.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “Brady Hawk and Alex Duncan.”

  Fazil laughed. “Never question that Allah is on our side.”

  “I thought the same thing.”

  “I don’t care about the girl, but make sure you capture Hawk alive and bring him back to me.”

  Qureshi hung up.

  I’ll try, but I’m not going to make any promises.

  CHAPTER 8

  HAWK CRAWLED ON HIS STOMACH back to his room and grabbed another gun and a couple clips out of his pack, which he threw over hs shoulder. He made his way back into the hallway and glanced at McGinn and Alex. The shooting had stopped, and they hadn’t heard much noise other than a few commands shouted intermittently.

  “I need to see what’s going on out there,” Hawk said.

  McGinn grabbed Hawk’s arm and pulled it down. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Hawk shook his arm free of McGinn’s grip. “I’m not asking for your permission.”

  “Don’t move,” McGinn said. “We need each other to stay alive. We don’t need your cowboy bullshit right now.”

  “If you knew how to actually secure a compound, maybe I wouldn’t have to take a chance,” Hawk said as he started to stand up.

  McGinn yanked Hawk’s arm down again. “What’s your problem? You’re going to get us all killed.”

  Hawk slunk to the ground and clicked his safety on.

  “Thank you,” McGinn said. “Now, we’re safe for the moment, but don’t think I haven’t planned for this moment.”

  “What kind of moment are you talking about? The kind where one of your trusted men betrays you?” Alex asked.

  “That’s exactly the moment,” McGinn said. “Rule number one of working in East Africa is simple: trust no one. It’s also rules two through ten. So, yeah, I don’t even trust you two yet, but I’ll take my chances since you’ve only hit me while those guys out there are shooting bullets at me.”

  “You have a way to get us to safety?” Hawk asked.

  McGinn nodded. “Follow me.”

  He got up, remaining hunched over and low to the ground. Alex and Hawk followed the man’s lead. They all hustled down the hallway and took a sharp left into a cozy office about ten meters before they reached the far end of the building. McGinn locked the door behind them and went to work.

  He slid a shelving unit to the side, revealing a small panel in the wall. Opening the panel, McGinn revealed a passageway out of the barracks. He gingerly placed his foot into the hole.

  “Gotta test the ladder first,” McGinn said, answering a question that neither Hawk nor Alex had yet vocalized. “I think it’s good.”

  “Hawk, you want to have the honors?” McGinn asked. “You secure the area down there. Then Alex, then me. I’ll cover our tracks in case they search the room.”

  Within ten minutes, they were all safely in the underground passage. McGinn removed the ladder and led them to a secure room beneath the home of an elderly woman a quarter mile away from the compound.

  “We can get in and out of this room through a small opening in a cellar we dug for her,” McGinn said.

  “How did you arrange all this?” Hawk asked.

  “We pay her a monthly stipend. Not enough to change her standard of living to the outside world, but let’s just say she eats very well.”

  “So, now what?” Alex asked.

  “We still need to secure the passageway in case any of those Al-Shabaab thugs figure out where we went and try to come after us,” McGinn said. “Hawk, I’ll need your help.”

  “What about me?” Alex asked.

  “Just stay here. We won’t be long.”

  Hawk glanced at Alex, who cast a leery eye toward McGinn.

  “Here, take a gun,” McGinn said, handing it to Alex. “You’ll be safe here, and if you need to get out, the opening to the cellar is in the bathroom.”

  Hawk watched Alex, who appeared to be fine with McGinn’s solution.

  “Let’s go,” McGinn said.

  Hawk followed McGinn into the tunnel.

  ***

  ALEX CHECKED THE CLIP and counted the bullets. She felt foolish for not doing this in McGinn’s presence as he could’ve easily handed her an empty gun or a clip with only a couple bullets. Not that she would need more than one shot to shoot him. No matter how cool and in charge McGinn tried to be, she didn’t trust him.

  With nothing else to do, Alex decided to snoop around. If she had time, she would open up her computer and start snooping around on the Internet, breaking into classified servers and digging up information on McGinn. Inst
ead, she decided to pry the old-fashioned way.

  She went straight to McGinn’s desk in the corner of the room. Taking a moment to remember where everything was positioned, she then began to dig through the papers in the drawers. At first, it all seemed like boring administrative paperwork. But then she came across one file that arrested her attention. She started reading, and her mouth went slack-jawed.

  Unlocking her phone, she took several pictures of the papers before returning everything to how it was when she first entered the room. She then read more of the documents by looking at the images on her phone.

  Hawk is never going to believe this.

  CHAPTER 9

  Wednesday

  HASSAN GARAAR STRUGGLED TO SHAKE the scene from his mind—the mother gasping for air as she watched her children die. It was not the side of the cause he wanted to witness again. Garaar desired to put his talents to use for jihad as best as possible. He was certain when he started that it never would’ve consisted of betraying the trust of a sick family and locking them in a room with vaporized sarin.

  Anything for the cause, right?

  The end justified the means, but it didn’t make Garaar feel like he could stake a claim on the high road of this conflict now. The American military may have killed his family and other friends, but he knew he could no longer look at himself in the mirror and claim to be better. No amount of nuance or mental gymnastics could help Garaar talk himself out of his new reality: He was a murderer.

  If that realization wasn’t enough to sober up Garaar, paranoia set in on the chemist. Ever since he returned to his warehouse to prepare the sarin and vaporizer for sale, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Garaar wasn’t one to dismiss the feeling without a thorough investigation. It’s why the night before he had covered the windows with sheets and reviewed every square meter of his office in order to make sure he could speak freely. While he found nothing, it didn’t stop him from installing a sound machine in his office to protect against any audio snooping. It also didn’t stop him from moving the sarin to his home and in a protected wall safe located in his bedroom closet.