“That Steve was a plant by a very powerful Navy admiral at the task force I worked in. This Hawk is probably a plant, too.”
“But why me? The Americans and I have a deal!”
“Dragan, you’re an illegal arms dealer. Never forget that you’re both using each other.”
“I don’t need your advice about how to deal with the Americans.”
“Oh, stop acting like the little nephew I haven’t seen for fifteen years. Think about it. I didn’t spend ten years in the States and not understand its system. The CIA has an agenda politically, so it uses you to further it. In the meantime, there are departments inside the CIA as well as other agencies who are being ordered to fight people like you. Do you see the contradiction?”
Hawk heard Dilaver’s snort. “I don’t care about their fucked-up system as long as I get to profit from it.”
“Then you’ll listen to me in this one thing, my dear nephew, if you want a huge sum of money. You owe me.”
“Yes,veza.You got it. You have made me very rich and powerful around here by picking me as the CIA go-to guy, or as Hawk would call me, a gofer.” Dilaver snorted again.
Hawk suddenly understood why Dilaver was always practicing his English and improving his knowledge of American colloquialism. He wanted to speak like a native with his aunt.
“There’s a reason for it. I need to talk to you later about a shipment of weapons we sent your way. I don’t want it for sale, Dragan. It’s a very special weapon I’m looking for.” There was a short pause. “I know that’s probably what your friend Hawk’s after.”
“If you know already, why don’t we just kill him?”
“Because I don’t know what the weapon looks like and exactly which shipment in which it was sent out. Rather than wait for my contact, who’s been missing now that his partner’s in prison, Hawk can provide us with that information. You can have your fun with him, but you make sure in the end he can at least draw a picture of the weapon.”
“With pleasure.”
Hawk flexed his fingers again. Well, on the bright side, he would be able to flip that middle finger before he died.
Her car hidden in an alley, Amber checked inventory in the dark. She usually was light on weapons, but this time would be different. Silencer. Semiauto. She would sneak into Dilaver’s compound, but she doubted that she would be sneaking out. Wrapped-up small Uzi. Hell, maybe another one, just in case Hawk was able to defend himself…. She threw it into her duffel bag. Smoke bomb. Goggles. High-tech infrared glasses. Rope. She checked the back of her utility belt. Knives. She prayed that Hawk was still able to run…not quite sure how she was going to get him out if he was unconscious.
The main thing was to get inside the place, locate Hawk and assess what was happening, then make some really quick decisions. If he was injured, she couldn’t mount a direct attack. If he was dead, she was going to…She mentally shook herself. Hawk wasn’t dead. Not yet. They would have killed him at the brothel if they wanted him dead.
She loaded one of the weapons, pulled the car trunk down without slamming it, and slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. She started running up the alley. Off to get her man.
A few items on Hawk’s new list of things he didn’t like being done to him. Number one, he didn’t like having his head slammed on a hard surface while his hands were tied. Number two, he definitely didn’t enjoy having his ribs kicked in when his legs were tied and he couldn’t retaliate by kicking back. Number three, spitting out blood wasn’t a good sign to state of health.
The list got too long after five minutes. And he knew that more was to come. They hadn’t even mentioned what they wanted from him yet. Dragan hadn’t even lifted a hand yet. That wasn’t a good sign, either.
Thank God she had cased the compound a few times before. First thing was to make sure she would be able to kill the lights if needed. That might help make escape a lot easier, especially if her appearance was a surprise. She prayed for enough time to get to Hawk, and that she remembered how to rig small explosives.
When she got in through Hawk’s room, there was such a loud commotion she didn’t even have to be really quiet. From her vantage point, she could see them tearing his room apart, looking for something. She caught sight of someone walking off with a laptop. That must be Hawk’s. Another man was slicing open the mattress with a knife. Another was throwing stuff out of the little wardrobe in the corner. She had to follow the first man who went out. He would be the best bet to get to Hawk’s current location in this big place. She pulled out her silencer.
“What are all the favorite American sayings in this type of situation?” Dilaver asked, a careless casualness in his voice as he approached Hawk. “You disappoint me. This is going to hurt me more than it does you. You make your bed, now lie in it. I think I like that last one the best. What do you think, Hawk?”
Hawk struggled to sit up. Either he was, or the chair was propping him up, he couldn’t really tell at this moment. He peered up, blinking at the brightness of the light overhead.
“Nothing to say, huh?” Dilaver continued. “Where are all the smart-aleck sayings, my friend? That’s what hurts most, you know. I thought we were friends. I liked you. Part of me actually admires you now because your deception was so good, and I don’t get deceived that easily, let me tell you. I repeat, where are all the smart-ass lines now?”
Conserve energy. Why waste the rest of his ability to think on that fucking scum? Hawk watched as Dilaver lay his walking stick on the table a few feet away.
“Do you know, if you get hit around the right spot on the kneecap, it would shatter in such a way that you would never walk again? I think that would be good payment for my limp, which I’m sure you’re responsible for, somehow. An eye for an eye, right? Or is it a leg for a leg this time around? Let’s start with that…. Oh wait, if you tell me what you know about a certain weapon, perhaps I won’t go for that sweet spot in the kneecap, what do you say? Maybe we could just break the shinbone.”
If he could, Hawk would laugh. Dilaver was a mercenary, a brute. He had seen the thug kill with his bare hands, strike fear in those around him by giving a lot of pain. But, to win information with refined threats, he wasn’t going to win the Negotiator of the Year Award.
There was no humor in the knowledge that his career as a SEAL would definitely be over, even if he survived this. Swimming without a kneecap would really slow him down and underwater covert operations were all about timing, especially when they had to do with underwater demolition.
Hawk laughed, or at least a sound choked out of his mouth. It must be his macabre sense of humor surfacing, if all he could think about were ways to retain swimming speed when he was about to lose the use of his legs. He laughed again and a wracking pain followed the attempt.
Two down. Luck was on her side. The man with the laptop was going downstairs alone. Amber promised that she would appreciate old European buildings even more from now on. They were badly lit, easily allowing her to tail her quarry down three flights of stairs and giving her time to plant weapons along the way.
