again. Several more shots whizzed past before Hawk whipped his bike hard right and into the alley Alex picked out for him. He zoomed down the narrow passageway, which wound around to a large plaza. However, in order to get back onto the main road, Hawk had to navigate a series of steps, which sent people scattering as he bounced past.
When he came back to the main road, he checked and discovered the SUV was nowhere to be found.
“Think you can get me back to the warehouse now?” Hawk asked.
“Piece of cake,” Alex said before passing along the instructions.
Once Hawk returned, he hustled through the door, pushing his bike inside as well.
“What? No welcoming committee?” Hawk asked with a wink.
“We only throw parties when you actually capture the target, not for just escaping one of her minions,” Samuels said.
“Is that part of the manual, too?” Hawk asked.
Samuels took a deep breath and crossed his arms before speaking without a hint of expression. “You’re a funny guy, Brady Hawk.”
“So I’ve been told. But this is way more exciting work than standup comedy, though I’m certain it’s probably just about as terrifying.”
“What? You get scared standing up in front of audiences?” Samuels asked. “Someone who totes his confidence around like it’s a trophy wife?”
“I prefer action to speaking,” Hawk said. “You can communicate much more clearly and precisely that way.”
Sitting at a computer terminal in one corner of the room, Alex cleared her throat in an attempt to put a stop to the banter. “I also prefer action as well,” she said, “which is why we need to start looking at this flash drive that cost Ahmet Polat his life.”
Hawk and Samuels joined her as she began typing away on the keyboard.
“What are we looking at here?” Hawk asked.
“We’re looking at our best shot at taking down Katarina Petrov and The Chamber.”
CHAPTER 2
Stuttgart, Germany
KATARINA PETROV LOOSELY HELD a cigarette in her hand and stared out across the city from the rooftop of her temporary penthouse suite. Taking a long drag, she blew a lungful of smoke into the air and turned toward Heinrich Doblestort, the German chancellor who was reluctant to go along with Petrov’s latest scheme. He swirled the liquid around in his glass, staring pensively at it.
“Well, aren’t you going to say something?” Petrov asked. “No problem was ever solved by staring at a glass of scotch.”
Doblestort looked up at Petrov and sighed. He then turned and stared out across the city skyline. “Perhaps, but it does help me forget a few unsavory decisions I’ve had to make.”
“What kind of leadership is that? I thought you had a backbone,” Petrov said, needling Doblestort. “Maybe I should seek help elsewhere.”
“No, no,” Doblestort said. “Don’t do that. I think I can help you. It’s just that—”
“Just that what? You don’t like being wealthy? You don’t like owing someone something? You don’t like being on the right side of history because God knows as a German you could use some help in that category.”
Doblestort responded with a steely gaze. “I never make decisions hastily. That’s how this good leader handles problems.”
Petrov returned the cigarette to her lips and sucked in another drag. She exhaled a small plume of smoke before saying a word. “Sometimes leaders don’t have time to contemplate every angle of their decisions. Sometimes you have to act on instinct. What are your instincts telling you, Heinrich?”
“They’re telling me to run,” he said flatly. “They’re telling me to distance myself from you as much as possible and never look back.”
Petrov clucked her tongue. “Heinrich, Heinrich, Heinrich. That would be most unfortunate. I need you to comply or else you’ll force me to do unsavory things to you and your loved ones. And honestly, I’d prefer to avoid such unpleasantries. We’ve been friends for a long time now, and you know I don’t issue threats, especially empty ones. I only make promises, the kind of promises I swear to keep. And I can assure you the only promises you want me to keep are the ones that result in you getting rich.”
Doblestort glanced back down at his glass. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll help you set up the meeting. But that’s as far as it goes with me.”
“That’s as far as I’ll need you to take it,” she said. “The rest will be up to me—and I have full confidence in my ability to help everyone see it’s in their best interest to cooperate.”
“No dirty tactics,” Heinrich said.
“Of course not, Heinrich. Don’t be silly. I always play by the rules in these types of situations. If I coerce someone against their will, I run the risk of being accused later on. And scurrilous accusations are not something The Chamber looks upon fondly.”
Doblestort tilted his head back and downed the remaining scotch in his glass. Looking at Petrov, he said, “Let’s go discuss the details then.”
On their way across the balcony back inside Petrov’s suite, a news report played on the television. The handsome man seated behind the BBC news desk was giving the latest details about an incident in the Middle East.
“In one of the higher profile journalist abductions in recent years, New York Times war correspondent Lee Powell was abducted today during a live video report from Afghanistan. He was covering a skirmish outside of Kabul that broke out late yesterday evening. However, when he went to file a live report with the action in the background, a group of terrorists snatched him and drove off, leaving his camera still running. Officials have yet to determine who is responsible for the kidnapping, though more than a half-dozen known terrorist organizations have claimed responsibility. However, one U.S. official from the Pentagon said all indications point toward Al Hasib as the responsible party.”
“A bunch of fools still trying to be relevant,” Doblestort said, scoffing at the report. “They are so desperate to gain the sort of attention that made ISIS and other groups famous that they