Brady Hawk 09 - Seek and Destroy Read online

  SIGNUP for R.J. Patterson's newsletter to be the first to know about sales, free books, new releases, and other behind-the-scenes information on forthcoming book projects:

  Click here to sign up

  What Others Are Saying

  About R.J. Patterson

  “Jack’s storytelling feels as natural as James Patterson’s, and the short-chapter setup is the literary answer to Lay’s potato chips: you just want one more and before you know it, you’ve gone through the whole thing.

  - David Bashore,The Times-News, Twin Falls, ID

  “R.J. Patterson does a fantastic job at keeping you engaged and interested. I look forward to more from this talented author.”

  - Aaron Patterson, bestselling author of SWEET DREAMS

  “Patterson has a mean streak about a mile wide and puts his two main characters through quite a horrible ride, which makes for good reading.”

  - Richard D., reader

  “Like a John Grisham novel, from the very start I was pulled right into the story and couldn’t put the book down. It was as if I personally knew and cared about what happened to each of the main characters. Every chapter ended with so much excitement and suspense I had to continue to read until I learned how it ended, even though it kept me up until 3:00 A.M.

  - Ray F., reader

  DEAD SHOT

  “Small town life in southern Idaho might seem quaint and idyllic to some. But when local newspaper reporter Cal Murphy begins to uncover a series of strange deaths that are linked to a sticky spider web of deception, the lid on the peaceful town is blown wide open. Told with all the energy and bravado of an old pro, first-timer R.J. Patterson hits one out of the park his first time at bat with Dead Shot. It’s that good.”

  -Vincent Zandri, bestselling author of THE REMAINS

  “You can tell R.J. knows what it’s like to live in the newspaper world, but with Dead Shot, he’s proven that he also can write one heck of a murder mystery. With a clever plot and characters you badly want to succeed, he is on his way to becoming a new era James Patterson.”

  - Josh Katzowitz,

  NFL writer for CBSSports.com

  & author of Sid Gillman: Father of the Passing Game

  DEAD LINE

  “This book kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. I didn’t really want to put it down. R.J. Patterson has hooked me. I’ll be back for more.”

  - Bob Behler

  3-time Idaho broadcaster of the year

  and play-by-play voice for Boise State football

  DEAD IN THE WATER

  “In Dead in the Water, R.J. Patterson accurately captures the action-packed saga of a what could be a real-life college football scandal. The sordid details will leave readers flipping through the pages as fast as a hurry-up offense.”

  - Mark Schlabach,

  ESPN college sports columnist and

  co-author of Called to Coach

  Heisman: The Man Behind the Trophy

  Other titles by R.J. Patterson

  Brady Hawk series

  First Strike

  Deep Cover

  Point of Impact

  Full Blast

  Target Zero

  Fury

  State of Play

  Seige

  Seek and Destroy

  Into the Shadows

  Hard Target

  No Way Out

  Cal Murphy Thriller series

  Dead Shot

  Dead Line

  Better off Dead

  Dead in the Water

  Dead Man's Curve

  Dead and Gone

  Dead Wrong

  Dead Man's Land

  Dead Drop

  Dead to Rights

  Dead End

  James Flynn Thriller series

  The Warren Omissions

  Imminent Threat

  The Cooper Affair

  Seeds of War

  SEEK AND DESTROY

  A Brady Hawk Thriller

  R.J. PATTERSON

  For Don, an incredible mentor

  and an even greater friend

  CHAPTER 1

  Istanbul, Turkey

  BRADY HAWK CREPT DOWN THE SIDEWALK with Shane Samuels a few feet behind him. Using the natural cover of the tree limbs growing overhead, Hawk and Samuels remained in the shadows and out of view from the sparse streetlights. The precautionary exercise seemed unnecessary given that the time was just past 2:00 a.m. But considering the target of the operation, Hawk insisted they couldn’t be careful enough.

  The aim of their mission was to break into the home of Bartu Kemal, whose house was situated along a hill near Emigran Park and provided a breathtaking vista of the Bosphorus Strait. Officially, Kemal was a security guard at a small research facility located in downtown Istanbul. But after admiring the posh neighborhood and all it provided, Hawk wondered just how many people were falling for Kemal’s lie. The truth about Kemal’s occupation explained how he could afford such a place. But keeping his identity a secret was paramount to his success in his daily task of keeping Katarina Petrov and The Chamber offices safe.

  Hawk and Samuels reached the edge of the property and leapt over the fence. They stole across the yard and headed to the back where Hawk determined they would lie in wait.

  “Are you sure about this plan?” Samuels whispered.

  “Every night at 2:15 a.m., without fail,” Alex Duncan chimed in over the coms.

  “It’s those details that make your sister the best operational commander in the world,” Hawk said as he eyed Samuels.

  “Let’s watch that hyperbole there, Hawk,” Alex said, pausing before she continued. “Best operational commander in the universe.”

  Hawk looked at his partner, whose eyes were still trained on the house.

  “After all these years, you suddenly find out you have a sister and then you quickly learn she’s insufferable,” Hawk said.

  Samuels nodded toward the back door. “I think I see some movement.”

  The back door creaked open and out bounded a Maltese. Hawk watched as the fluffy white dog bounced around the yard before venturing into the shadows to take care of business.

  “Now,” Hawk whispered.

  Samuels then tossed a dog treat near Kemal’s pet and waited.

  “Come on, girl,” Hawk said underneath his breath.

  The dog scratched around in the dirt and circled around several times.

  “What’s the backup plan?” Samuels asked.

  “That is Berk’s favorite treat,” Alex said over the coms. “Just be patient. She’ll go for it.”

  “The dog’s name is Berk?” Samuels asked incredulously.

  “It’s a Turkish dog, bro. Not all of them are given American names like Oscar or Timmy.”

  “Who names a dog Timmy?” Samuels asked.

  “Me. That was my last dog’s name,” she said.

  “Timmy? Really?”

  “Dang right. Best Yorkie on the planet.”

  Hawk watched as the dog noticed the treat and bounded toward it. He tapped Samuels on the shoulder. Yanking the string tied to the treat, Samuels lured the dog right next to them. Berk let out a yelp.

  Kemal pulled his robe tight and peered out into the yard.

  “Berk! Berk!”

  Nothing.

  Kemal ventured down the steps off the deck and headed toward the last location where Berk was—in the scope of the outdoor floodlight on the corner of the house. The moment he stepped into the darkness, Hawk and Samuels grabbed him. Samuels clamped his hand across Kemal’s mouth.

  Hawk jammed his gun into Kemal’s back. “Not another word. Understand?”

  Kemal nodded.

  “Don’t kill m
y dog,” Kemal whispered.

  Samuels patted Kemal on the shoulder and exhaled.

  “What do we look like to you? Terrorists? We wouldn’t hurt your dog, man.”

  Kemal wasn’t interested in hearing a response. He twisted free and attempted to escape back to the house. Hawk lunged for the security head and swatted at his feet. With his feet tangled, he tumbled to the ground. Hawk and Samuels pounced on Kemal, securing him with a piece of para cord, which Samuels wrapped around his wrists within seconds. Samuels took hold with a firm grip.

  “Where’d you learn to do that?” Hawk asked, his mouth agape.

  “Cattle ranching one summer in Colorado,” Samuels said. “You should tap into your western American roots sometime. Want me to do his ankles?”

  Hawk chuckled. “I think this will do.”

  Kemal wriggled on the ground. “What do you two cowboys want?”

  “We need some information and a little help,” Hawk said, pulling Kemal to his feet. “Let’s step inside your garage and talk for a moment.”

  “What about Berk?” Kemal asked.

  “Berk isn’t going anywhere,” Hawk said, nudging Kemal toward the house with his gun. “Let’s make this quick.”

  Once they were inside the garage, Hawk initiated the interrogation.

  “We’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

  Kemal placed his hands in the air. “Let me turn on the light.”

  He reached behind him and pressed a button on a panel that Hawk presumed was the garage door opener. However, after a few seconds a red light started blinking.

  “What did you do?” Samuels asked.

  “You have five minutes to leave before the police arrive and arrest you for trespassing,” Kemal said. “Plus, I doubt that you have passports that match your fingerprints in Interpol. God knows how much trouble you’ll be in and how long you’ll be apprehended here. So, I suggest you leave right now.”

  Hawk put his hand on Kemal’s chest. “I think you might want to reconsider that play.”

  Hawk nodded to Samuels, who pulled out a laptop from his backpack.

  “Alex? Are you getting all this?” Hawk asked.

  “Almost done with the transaction,” she said.

  Samuels showed the screen to Kemal.

  “That’s your bank account,” Hawk said. “From the looks of it before, you liked money. Now you have none—and it will stay that way until you notify the police that there’s been a mistake.”

  Kemal depressed a few buttons on the panel next to the door. The red light stopped blinking.

  “Is that all you need to do to make sure the police don’t come?” Hawk asked.

  Kemal nodded. “They will think it was a false alarm.”

  “No phone call.”

  “This isn’t America,” Kemal growled.

  “No, it sure isn’t,” Hawk said. “Because you’d never be able to get away with there what you’re getting away with here.”

  “What do you want, Mr. Hawk?” Kemal asked.

  “Every day your employer disappears between 3:00 and 4:00 p.m.,” Hawk said. “We need to know where she goes and how to find her.”

  “Where she goes is a simple answer,” Kemal said. “How to find her there? That’s not something I’ll be able to help you with.”

  Hawk glared at Kemal. “Let’s start with the simple answer first.”

  “Ms. Petrov is very concerned about her security, as well she should be. You being here is proof that her fears aren’t unfounded.”

  “Skip the commentary, Mr. Kemal,” Hawk said. “My time is very valuable.”

  “She has a bunker where she conducts more sensitive matters. Meetings with heads of state all take place on secure channels in that building where attempts to intercept signals or tap into the video and audio feeds are impossible.”

  “How do we get in?”

  Kemal shook his head. “You can forget about it. Most people that work for The Chamber do not know where she goes, much less have access to the bunker.”

  Samuels smiled and slapped Kemal on the back.

  “But we’re bettin’ you do, partner,” Samuels said.

  “I suggest you return to the range where you can roam free before this mission gets you killed,” Kemal said.

  “This guy here sure does have a sense of humor,” Samuels said.

  Hawk held up his index finger. “The way I see it, Mr. Kemal, is you have limited options. One is to help us; the other is to become a well-known philanthropist throughout Europe where we give away all your money to various causes if you don’t comply. And based on your past record for abusing women, I think we’ll start with a nice donation toward an organization that helps battered women. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to give your money away to such great causes, but I’d rather pay Ms. Petrov a little visit. What sounds more appealing to you?”

  Kemal sighed. “What is it you want me to help you do?”

  “I think it should be pretty clear by this point,” Hawk said. “You’re going to escort us into Ms. Petrov’s bunker when we ask you to. In the meantime, you better not breathe a word of this to anyone—or try to move your money. We’ve got the best computer wiz on our team when it comes to tracking funds in overseas bank accounts. Any tinkering with your accounts will lead to an immediate release of all your funds to various NGOs of our choosing. Do I make myself clear?”

  Before Kemal could answer, Hawk heard the sound of tires skidding to a halt on the pavement just outside the garage.

  “You sonofabitch,” Hawk said.

  “Good luck, Mr. Hawk, Mr. Samuels,” Kemal said. “I believe you might want to leave now.”

  Hawk and Samuels eased out the side door leading to the back yard. Their movement in the field of a motion detector activated the floodlight, signaling their presence to the police. Hawk heard heavy footfalls racing in his direction.

  He wasted no time in leaping over the fence and heading toward the street. Samuels followed closely behind him with both men using the cars parked along the curb as cover as they tried to distance themselves from the pursuing officers.

  They reached a small wooded lot nestled between two houses and ducked behind a felled tree. Hawk could feel his heart beating so strongly that he would’ve sworn it was audible to Samuels.

  “Now what?” Samuels asked.

  “We sit here and wait,” Hawk said. “The van is almost a mile away. We’ll never be able to reach it now without igniting a chase through the streets of Istanbul. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m not very comfortable with that.”

  “That makes two of us,” Samuels said. “I’m never comfortable when you’re driving anywhere.”

  Hawk put his finger to his lips, signifying for Samuels to be quiet.

  Along the sidewalk in front of their brief sanctuary, a policeman shined his flashlight everywhere in search of the escapees. Then he stopped and pointed his light at Hawk and Samuels. Neither of the men moved, both easing their heads down and hoping the officer didn’t see them.

  “Is he gone?” Samuels asked after a few minutes.

  Hawk peeked his head up. “It appears so. But let me go clear the area first. If they’re still milling around, at least one of us will have a chance to escape.”

  Hawk ventured out to the sidewalk and noticed that the police car was no longer parked outside Kemal’s house. Signaling for Samuels, Hawk stealthily darted from one cluster of shadows to the next.

  “You still there, Alex?” Hawk asked.

  “I haven’t gone anywhere,” she said. “I’ve just been pondering where to dump all of Kemal’s money.”

  “Give it back to him,” Hawk said. “We need him to at least be amenable to our demands the next time we approach him.”

  “He almost screwed you over,” she said.

  “And that surprised you?”

  “Never mind that,” she said. “Just get back to the van as quickly as possible.”

  Hawk glanced over his shoulder to see Sa
muels creeping along the sidewalk.

  “You ready?” Hawk asked.

  Samuels nodded.

  “This isn’t going to be nearly as easy as I thought it would be,” Hawk said.

  Samuels leaked a guarded smile, barely visible in the darkness.

  “It never is, is it?”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lyons, France

  KATARINA PETROV LICKED HER FINGER and turned the page of her book while she waited for her appointment. While she spoke a handful of different languages, she found that reading in English at least a half-hour each day kept her communication skills sharp. She needed them now more than ever after the setback she’d experienced in recent weeks.

  Narrowly escaping right from underneath the noses of the President’s personal detail was an accomplishment to revel in. However, if anyone knew about what she’d done, she’d be dismissed from serious consideration regarding the one world currency she’d been so desperate to create. While she projected all the bravado of a heavyweight boxer when she discussed her economic plan, she knew the truth deep down. She needed the United States’ involvement if the idea was to ever gain momentum and take flight. But before she reached that point, she needed someone else on board. She needed new European Central Bank head Gaspard Fournier.

  Fournier hobbled through the door ten minutes past their scheduled time. He said something to the host at the front, who then directed Fournier to Petrov’s table.

  “I apologize for being late, I—”

  “Save it,” Petrov said. “I don’t have time for excuses. And if you’re going to be that way, perhaps it’s best that we part ways right now.”

  Fournier leaked a smile. “It’d be a shame that we never got to have this conversation because a terrorist attack in downtown earlier has traffic at a standstill. It’s awful outside.”

  “I do enjoy a brisk walk twice a day,” Petrov said. “However, I didn’t ask to meet with you to discuss traffic patterns or terrorism—both of which are problems to the average person. But let’s face it, Mr. Fournier, I’m not average and neither are you.”