Point of Impact (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 3) Page 6

  “It won’t be enough against Al Hasib.”

  Colton broke into a laugh. “Do you honestly think this is the first time they’ve targeted me? They’ve been after me for years.”

  “One hit is all it takes.”

  “Brady, since when did you become so overprotective? You know I can handle myself. Just drop it, okay?”

  “Just answer me this: If Al Hasib can get to Drs. Davis and Young, what makes you think they can’t get to you?”

  “Who says it’s Al Hasib that got to Davis and Young. For all we know, they’re marooned on an island somewhere—or navigated there intentionally.”

  “Come on now. Let’s be serious.”

  Colton dropped his voice to a whisper for dramatic effect. “Have you seen how Dr. Davis’ wife treats him? I think I might fake my death, too.”

  “You really aren’t taking this serious, are you?”

  “Call it a hunch, but I’m not concerned. That and I own the world’s foremost innovative technology.”

  “Technology can’t always save you.”

  “It’ll save me against those rag heads who think they can drive me into hiding.”

  Hawk rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have if your way.”

  He hung up and called Johnson back.

  “So—did you get him to agree to work with us?” Johnson asked as he picked up his phone.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Hawk paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “It means I think we should take another approach.”

  “And what kind of approach is that?”

  “I think we should use Colton as bait.”

  CHAPTER 15

  MAHMOD CREPT OUT OF BED once he was certain that everyone in his bunk room was asleep. Earlier in the day, he memorized the silent planks versus the creaky ones and plotted a quiet path. He’d managed to navigate it perfectly until he came to the door. His final step resulted in a crack that he swore echoed into the hall.

  He turned slowly to look back at the bunk room full of men who’d left everything they’d ever known to get a crack at taking down the infidels. They were all good men, men who claimed to be willing to die for the cause. Mahmod realized he didn’t belong and was determined to unburden them by slipping away. Returning home right away would be risky, so Mahmod formulated a different plan. His family would know he was a coward when they never received any money from Al Hasib. But Mahmod resolved to make up for it in another way.

  The door handle popped when Mahmod turned it. Another glance over his shoulder. No one even twitched, let alone woke up. Mahmod remained patient as he opened the door at a snail’s pace. He’d observed earlier that quick movements with the door resulted in a high-pitched sound. Slow movements were virtually undetectable to the human ear.

  He opened the door just wide enough to shimmy through and into the hallway. Pulling the door shut behind him, Mahmod began the next perilous journey of the night. Escaping the room was challenging, but not as challenging as getting past two armed guards.

  Laman had told everyone that the guards were positioned in the house for their own protection, not to keep them locked away. But Mahmod walked downstairs and resisted the urge to barrel past the guards, one of whom sat still, his chin touching his chest while snoring slightly. All that was left now was to exit without waking either of them. Opting for an exit route that would draw less attention, Mahmod waited until the guard who was awake looked in the opposite direction before dashing across the hallway toward the study.

  Mahmod put his hand on the window lock and nearly gasped when the grandfather clock in the entryway chimed midnight. He peered around the corner at the guards positioned near the doorway. The guard who was awake didn’t seem startled at all, while the other one shook his head and awoke wide-eyed.

  “It’s just the clock,” the man who’d been awake said. “I’ve got you covered. Go back to sleep.”

  After the clock chimed twice, Mahmod realized it was loud enough to provide him cover to open one of the windows in the study. He flipped open the lock and waited a beat for the next clang. It took three chimes to get the window open, but only two to climb through it and land outside on the porch. He didn’t bother shutting the window, hoping it would be far too late for it to matter how he escaped the house.

  Mahmod tugged his hood over his head and glanced over his shoulder once more. The house was already fifty meters behind him. Nothing was stirring on the block and the only thing he saw moving were lights on a barge cruising through the bay in the distance. He smiled as he returned his gaze forward, his head down.

  Other than the distant echo of a dog barking and faint sounds of a car horn honking, his pathway to freedom remained quiet. It allowed him time to think even more clearly for the first time aside from the sleepless nights in the bunk room Laman had provided for them. While Mahmod was on the cargo ship, he imagined America would be a dark place—armed men roaming the streets, scantily clad women everywhere he looked. But it wasn’t. To him, America seemed like a place that he’d rather live. In the short time he’d been on enemy soil, he’d never once heard an explosion or seen women crouched over a bloodied loved one. He’d observed children playing happily with one another and devoid of constantly interrupting their game to scan the horizon for the next potential threat. America seemed peaceful and busy—but never threatened.

  And as much as he wanted to threaten it, Mahmod wasn’t willing to do that at the cost of his own life. Torn between his love for his family and his devotion to his religion, his wife and kids won out. His adherence to Islam had gone far enough, too far in his estimation since he’d arrived at this point. He rued the day he ever agreed to take Al Hasib’s fight to America and wondered how he would ever manage to reconnect with his family.

  At the moment, however, that wasn’t important. What was important was that he continued to put distance between himself and Laman’s lair.

  Mahmod hustled across the street and kept moving up the hill away from the house. Despite his fast pace, he almost held his breath during his flight for fear that someone would hear him. Once he was two blocks away, however, he stopped and let out a long sigh. Looking over his shoulder, he realized he could no longer see the house. He felt a strange sensation, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt.

  Is this what freedom feels like?

  Mahmod continued on for another block and dreamt of a new life. He wondered how he might be able to sneak his family away from the ever-watchful eye of Al Hasib and onto a plane headed for America. Or maybe Mexico. He’d settle for anywhere beyond the boundaries of where he’d grown up. It was a big world, and it seemed to be full of possibilities he’d struggled to imagine in the past.

  Mahmod didn’t break his stride when a pair of headlights from a car turned the corner and flashed in his direction. He remained unaware that it wasn’t a random car headed home; those headlights belonged to a car that had been searching for him.

  It wasn’t until the car rode up onto the sidewalk and stopped with its beams catching him did Mahmod realize he was in trouble.

  Faced between running downhill back toward Laman’s house or uphill and away from it into unfamiliar territory, Mahmod decided to choose the latter. In unfamiliar territory, at least the odds would be even.

  But Mahmod didn’t make it more than twenty meters up the hill before he felt two strong hands clamp down on his shoulders and force him to the sidewalk.

  Then a familiar voice in his ear.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Laman said.

  Laman jerked Mahmod to his feet.

  “Don’t even think about screaming,” Laman said, jamming the barrel of his pistol into Mahmod’s back. “I’ll shoot you right here on the street. You’ll die for nothing, and your family won’t receive anything.”

  Laman snatched Mahmod to his feet by his collar and led him back to the car. Once Mahmod settled into the driver’s seat, Laman continued his lecture.r />
  “I thought you were a true believer,” Laman began. “I thought you understood the importance of what we’re trying to do here. But I guess I was wrong.”

  Mahmod didn’t say a word.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Laman growled. “Are you just going to sit back there and refuse to defend your actions like the coward that you are?”

  Mahmod remained silent.

  “Don’t worry. All will be forgiven once you don the vest tomorrow. If you refuse, I’ll make sure you get a box of all your family’s body parts.” Laman paused. “You didn’t think we’d let you get off so easily, did you?”

  ***

  MAHMOD SLIPPED BACK into the bunk room under the auspices of Laman.

  “Where did you go?” Habeeb whispered.

  Mahmod refused to answer his friend.

  “Mahmod, I know you’re awake. Where did you go?”

  “I went out for some air.”

  Habeeb chuckled. “Are you sure you didn’t try to go out permanently?”

  “Laman made sure that didn’t happen.”

  “You tried to run away, didn’t you?”

  “One day when you have a family, maybe you’ll understand. The suicide vest isn’t for me.”

  Habeeb climbed out of the top bunk and sat down on the edge of Mahmod’s bed.

  “The vest is a portal to glory, my friend. Your help in aiding Al Hasib strike back at the imperial fascists who think they own this world will never be forgotten.”

  Mahmod sat up. “Then you wear the vest.”

  “You’re a coward, Mahmod. I couldn’t think of a higher honor than to give my life for the sake of destroying these infidels.”

  “You talk tough. If you’re serious, wear the vest.”

  “I will, then. I’ll talk to Laman tomorrow. I want to enter Jannah with glory and be immortalized, unlike you who’ll live your life in disgrace.”

  “There is no disgrace in being there for my family.”

  “No, there’s no disgrace in giving your life for what you believe in, something you’re unwilling to do.”

  Mahmod used his feet to gently push Habeeb off his bed. “Perhaps I don’t believe in it then.”

  Habeeb glared back at Mahmod. “There is no greater disgrace than a lack of faith in Islam. And tomorrow, I will prove my faith in a way you only dream about.”

  Mahmod watched Habeeb climb onto the top bunk and was left alone to ponder his parting shot. There was no doubt his faith was being tested. But it was a test he wanted to live to see if he passed or failed.

  CHAPTER 16

  ALEX GLANCED AT HER NOTES before picking up her phone to call Hawk. She studied the schematics of The Palace Hotel to see what might be the most likely place for Al Hasib to intercept Tom Colton and take him hostage. Every piece of information was vital for Hawk. Anything she could do to reduce the time for him to respond to—or hopefully, prevent—such an abduction might mean the difference between saving Colton and having him vanish into the hands of the terrorists intent on capturing him.

  Her analysis of the situation had to end at some point as she concluded that she’d reviewed every possible opportunity for Colton to be nabbed at the hotel. She took a deep breath and called Hawk.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Hawk said. “Are you ready to stop some terrorists today?”

  “All day, every day.”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page. What have you got for me?”

  She typed furiously on her computer. “I just sent over a few schematics for you, the most important one being the layout of The Palace Hotel.”

  “You think that’s where they’re going to try and grab him?”

  “Everywhere else is a nightmare.” She paused and wondered if she’d assessed everything properly.

  “Alex?”

  “I’m still here. Just thinking.”

  “About what I said?”

  “Yeah, and I can’t see any viable way they could nab Colton before or after his speech. It’d be a logistical nightmare and darn near impossible for even the most skilled operatives.”

  “Don’t underestimate Al Hasib, Alex. They didn’t become the most dangerous terrorist organization in the world by acting carelessly. These guys are precise and well equipped to take us on, even on our own turf.”

  Alex stared at her screen and shook her head. “That’s what I’m trying prevent.”

  “I understand. Just trying to make sure we’ve covered all our bases.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve gone over all the scenarios. If Al Hasib is going to try and make a play to kidnap Colton before or after, it’s going to be suicide.”

  “And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “What? A bomber?”

  “It wouldn’t take much to convince one of those brainwashed morons to strap on a vest and blow themselves up. They all jump at the chance to do it for seventy-two virgins.”

  “But they need Colton alive, don’t they? What good is he to them if he’s dead?”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “And that’s why I think they’ll try to grab him at The Palace Hotel, which is their best opportunity to escape with him alive. That is, unless they figure you into the equation.”

  “With comments like that, I’m guessing you’ve already had at least one cup of coffee.”

  “For the record, I’ve had three.”

  Hawk laughed. “Yeah, I never get such praise if you’re cranky.”

  “Don’t misconstrue that for praise. You still have a job to do.”

  “And I’ll make them all regret they ever set foot on U.S. soil.”

  Alex smiled. “I’ll be in your ear.”

  Hawk was quiet for a moment. “Have you heard from Parker?”

  Alex hesitated before responding. “Not since I saw him on the plane.”

  “Alex Duncan, why would you lie to me like that?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Your mouth says one thing, but I know better.”

  Alex sighed. “Why must you be so suspicious of me all the time?”

  “Quit trying to change the subject. I’m in the espionage world. I’m suspicious of everyone all the time, especially you. Now, I know you saw Parker yesterday. What did he say?”

  Alex shut her laptop and paced around her room. “Okay, fine. I saw Parker yesterday. What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know if you’re leaving Firestorm because I can’t do my job without you.”

  “So you expect me to stay on this sinking ship?”

  “First of all, this isn’t a ship—it’s more like a tactical sub. Secondly, with you at the helm, we’re not sinking. In fact, we’re headed for the surface with secrets that will wreck anyone who has something to hide.”

  “I’m just not sure what I want to do any more.”

  “Alex, you want to stay with Firestorm. Besides, you don’t know enough about Searchlight to make any kind of decision. For all you know, they just might be trying to recruit you so they can get to me.”

  She stopped and stared at the bay. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you better figure it out—and fast. As long as you’re working with me, I need all of you, not just a piece of you. I need Alex Duncan on my side one hundred percent. After all, do you really think you’re going to find a bigger fan of Bollywood movies at Searchlight than me?”

  “That’s a valid point, though I’m not sure I’ll ever get to watch them if I adhere to General Johnson’s no-contact policy.”

  “We’ll do a dead drop, like real spies. Plus, it’ll be like we’re trolling Searchlight. What could be more fun than that?”

  Alex laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “Think about it? I just made the decision for you. If that’s not enough to keep you with Firestorm, I’m not sure anything will be.”

  “I just need more time.”

  “Alex, we’re the only special ops
group fighting terrorism at its core. This isn’t some fly-by-night operation. I don’t know about you, but I’m serious about stamping out these pukes and making the world safe again for everyone, no matter where they live—or what they believe.”

  “All right. I get it. You want me.”

  “No. I need you.” Hawk paused. “Contact me on my comlink if you figure out anything else. I’m only my way to The Palace Hotel.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Alex hung up and threw her phone onto her bed. She didn’t anticipate the decision being so difficult, much less anticipate that she needed to make a decision at all. But the allure of Searchlight felt stronger than she imagined. Hawk was easy to work with, but she wasn’t sure that was enough to secure her loyalty. A good work environment was important, but half a million dollars?

  The Searchlight offer hung out there like a still piñata, waiting for her to bash it with a baseball bat. All Alex had to do was recoil and swing.

  But she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE ENTOURAGE OF VEHICLES headed for The Palace Hotel just off New Montgomery Street seemed better suited for a Colton Industries demonstration video than a Sunday drive through marginal San Francisco traffic. Tom Colton relaxed in the third of seven SUVs while he reviewed his notes. His vehicle came to a stop as traffic on Highway 101 slowed to a crawl.

  “What’s going on up there?” Colton asked the driver.

  “Nothing to worry about. Looks like a wreck and a bunch of rubberneckers.”

  Colton glanced out the window and shook his head. He didn’t really care what was happening outside the four doors of the heavily armored Escalade he rode in. But if it became a factor in why he might be tardy, he cared.

  “Are we going to be late?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry, sir. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  Colton leaned back in his seat and exhaled. On the hierarchy of things he hated, being late was just below terrorists. He detested employees who slid into their seats at a conference table even moments after it began—and he usually found a way to fire them.

  “Are you sure?” Colton asked again.