Extreme Measures (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 20) Read online

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  DEAD IN THE WATER

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  Heisman: The Man Behind the Trophy

  Other titles by R.J. Patterson

  Titus Black series

  Behind Enemy Lines

  Game of Shadows

  Rogue Commander

  Line of Fire

  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

  Two Minutes to Midnight

  Against All Odds

  Any Means Necessary

  Vengeance

  Code Red

  A Deadly Force

  Divide and Conquer

  Extreme Measures

  Final Strike

  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

  EXTREME MEASURES

  A Brady Hawk Thriller

  R.J. PATTERSON

  For Cam Middleton, for his

  friendship and ever constant

  enthusiasm for life

  CHAPTER 1

  La Paz, Bolivia

  BRADY HAWK TIGHTENED his grip on the leash of the gray pug trotting in front of him, while Alex clutched her shawl, their free hands clasped together. Despite overcast skies, they wore sunglasses and scanned the building across the street for any activity. Hawk preferred this method of surveillance over any other he’d ever conducted.

  “I could get used to this,” Alex said, casting a quick glance up at her husband and partner.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Hawk said with a wry smile.

  A gust of wind kicked up, bouncing a pair of plastic bottles along the cobblestone street outside the Russian embassy. At the park across the street, children squealed with delight, darting back and forth like water bugs skittering across a pond.

  Hawk’s pug attempted to break out of his trot when he saw the armed guard standing watch outside the gates of the Russian facility.

  “Despacio, Señor Bonaparte,” Hawk called, speaking in Spanish to avoid drawing extra attention.

  Mr. Bonaparte slowed down before refusing to move any farther. Alex knelt next to the pug and coaxed him to continue forward. Once he started moving, Hawk shot a quick glance over his shoulder. The guard was gone.

  “What time is it?” Hawk asked in a hushed tone.

  “Sixteen-thirty,” Alex replied. “Right on time.”

  He nodded. “Three days now and they’re all eight hours apart at the same time.”

  “And these guys aren’t waiting around for their replacements, are they?”

  “Nope,” Hawk said. “They’re in a rush to get somewhere, anywhere but standing outside an embassy that nobody is ever going to attack.”

  Alex pulled her glasses down and winked. “Until tonight.”

  Hawk tugged on Mr. Bonaparte’s leash, signaling for him to stop. The pug obeyed and waited for permission. Hawk checked both directions before clucking his tongue to get the dog to start walking again, a command he happily complied with.

  “Fantasy land for us ends tonight,” Hawk said. “It’s time to go to work.”

  * * *

  HAWK SUITED UP in the van as Alex prepped the tech for the operation. He glanced out the window and took in the snow-capped peaks of the Illimani towering in the distance, aglow beneath the light of a full moon. The surrounding hillsides were a sea of glittering lights, rolling like waves over the quiet city. For a moment, he stopped and stared, wishing that he wasn’t in Bolivia on assignment.

  “We’ll come back, hon,” Alex said, patting him on the knee while staring at her monitor.

  La Paz had been on Hawk and Alex’s bucket list, just not like this. Exactly one week earlier, a valuable CIA asset named Marco Lopez had been abducted, disappearing without a trace. The Bolivian authorities seemed uninterested in spending any precious resources on finding him, despite impassioned pleas from Lopez’s family to do so. And that didn’t come as a surprise to his agency handlers.

  Lopez was working as a guard at the La Paz transit hub, ushering goods and products in and out of the city, when he was approached by the CIA. After Lopez’s wife filed for divorce and then was allowed to enter the U.S. as a legal immigrant along with their daughter, Lopez had been willing to do anything to be reunited with her. The agency promised him citizenship if he agreed to help gather information against Nicolo Logistics.

  At first, Lopez was hesitant to help since Nicolo paid a handsome sum, enough to support a high-rise apartment. But the lure of being with Lopez's daughter made him cave. The money didn’t matter in the end, a value the CIA banked on when it first contacted him. However, he went missing for two weeks before the CIA requested some assistance in locating him.

  Hawk and Alex had spent the past few days staking out the Russian embassy, the likely location of his detainment, according to agency sources. Nicolo had some loose ties to Russia, though no analyst had been able to ascertain just how entangled the two unlikely partners were. Nicolo imported some items from Greece but handled mostly exports to the U.S., which was what drew concern in the first place. Apparently, Lopez had stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have, a secret that the Russians didn’t want exposed.

  And with Lopez likely detained by the Russians, the task of freeing him and securing that valuable information had fallen to Hawk and Alex.

  Based on the intel Hawk had gathered during their stakeout of the embassy, Lopez was being held in a small detached building on the back of the gated property. Shards of glass affixed to the top of the six-foot concrete wall surrounding the impound created an imposing defense. But Hawk wasn’t deterred. Once he heaved Lopez over the top, they’d be able to escape without any problems. Alex would be parked a block away on Calle Abraham Lincoln and wired into the compound’s security cameras.

  Hawk glanced at the street sign and shook his head. “I wonder how many streets in Washington are named after Bolivian presidents.”

  “Unless their name was a number or the same as a state in the U.S., I’d guess none,” Alex said.

  Hawk chuckled. “I mean, if you’re going to pick a U.S. president to name a street after, Lincoln’s a good one.”

  “Of course, and then you put the Russian embassy right next to it.”

  Hawk smiled and cinched his backpack, drawing it tight. He checked his weapon one final t
ime before reaching for the handle.

  “You ready?” Hawk asked.

  Alex nodded. “Time to get Lopez.”

  Hawk glanced at his watch, showing just one minute before twelve-thirty. Hustling down the street, he stayed low against the wall. Not that anyone would’ve seen him. The temperatures had dipped just below freezing and the only sound was the hum of the street lamps, which cast a pale yellow light on the desolate street.

  “Good luck,” Alex said over the coms.

  “Roger that,” he answered.

  Hawk waited until the guard abandoned his post before approaching the front gate. With no reinforcements in sight, Hawk charged forward, squeezing through the gate, careful not to let the squeaky hinges betray his surprise attack.

  “How’s it looking?” Alex asked over the coms.

  “So far so good,” Hawk whispered back.

  He glided across a courtyard toward the small building where he figured Lopez was being held. Before reaching the door, Hawk heard footsteps echoing across the way. He took cover behind a nearby tree and waited for the guards to pass. As their footsteps and voices grew faint, Hawk peered around the corner to size up the men. One guard ventured outside, and the guard that remained inside waved just before the first locked the gate

  Once both men were out of sight, Hawk hustled over to the small building and peeked in through the windows. Several bunks were pressed against the wall, but he couldn’t tell who or how many men were inside.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Hawk said into his coms.

  “What now?” Alex asked.

  “As far as I can tell, there appear to be several people detained here.”

  “Why’s that a problem?”

  “Well, I can’t just break them all out, can I?”

  “Why not? It’d create more confusion, maybe even a diversion.”

  Hawk sighed. “But these guys will get slaughtered. And I doubt they’ll remain quiet while we sneak out.”

  “You never know,” she said. “Let them make that choice. I bet most of them doubt they’ll ever see home again. At least you’ll give them a chance.”

  Hawk grunted. “Okay, I’ll figure something out.”

  After contemplating a new plan of attack, one that would get all the prisoners to safety, Hawk eased into the building. Four men were fast asleep, all chained to their beds. Hawk picked their locks one by one. The last man rolled over, his arms flailing as he smacked Hawk in the face.

  “Lo siento, señor,” he said.

  “How would you like to escape?” Hawk asked in Spanish.

  The man nodded, eyes widening.

  “Sígueme,” Hawk said.

  Lopez eased up to Hawk. “Are you with the agency?”

  Hawk nodded.

  “Are you going to take me to my Sofía?” Lopez asked.

  “Just as soon as we can. I’m going to lead the guards away from you. There’s a van two blocks to the left on Calle Abraham Lincoln. Go there once we escape, but go there alone. I don’t have room for all these men.”

  The chubby Lopez hiked his pants up and tried to keep pace. “They can handle themselves.”

  Hawk led the team to a garden near a side gate and gave them instructions. The hopeful escapees hid in the bushes, while Hawk hustled across the courtyard toward the front. He rapped on the metal gate, which was promptly opened by the fresh guard.

  Hawk overtook the guard in an instant, slamming his head into the wall. As the guard staggered back to his feet, Hawk sprinted around the corner and waited. He steadied his breathing and hoped the man would come along soon. A few seconds later, he tore around the side, met promptly by a clothesline that knocked him backward and onto the ground. After a sound whipping, the guard fell unconscious. Hawk snatched the keys off the man’s limp body before sprinting around the block and tossing the keys over the wall where the men huddled. Hawk led the guards around another block, giving the other prisoners time to scatter.

  Five minutes later, Hawk, having successfully shaken his Russian pursuers, raced back to the van. He hopped inside, panting from all the sprinting he’d just done.

  “Let’s go,” he said between breaths.

  “Why?” Alex asked. “Are you just going to leave Lopez like that?”

  “Dammit. Where is he? He was supposed to come back here.”

  “I’ve been watching on the surveillance cameras,” she said. “I saw a bunch of guys sprint out a side gate and fan out. But I haven’t seen them since.”

  Hawk took a deep breath before venturing out of the van. He stayed in the shadows as he searched for Lopez. Combing the area, he finally spotted Lopez entering someone’s yard through a side gate three blocks away. Hawk raced after him and found him huddled underneath a garden shed, staring at a locket with Sofía’s picture in it.

  “What are you doing?” Hawk whispered. “I told you to go to the van on Calle Abraham Lincoln.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lopez said. “I panicked and took a wrong turn and got lost.”

  “It’s all right. Just stay close to me. The Russian guards are everywhere now looking for you guys.”

  Hawk crouched low as they hustled from shadow to shadow, avoiding two men sweeping the street for the escapees. One block away from the vehicle, Hawk turned to face the prized asset and give him a pep talk.

  “You need to run as fast as you can toward that white van over there,” Hawk said. “Entiendes?”

  Lopez nodded. “Vamanos.”

  Hawk scanned the area one final time before breaking into a sprint. Once they rounded the corner and raced onto Calle Abraham Lincoln, they were only about fifty meters away.

  “Get the van ready to roll,” Hawk said. “We’re coming in hot.”

  “Roger that,” Alex said.

  As Hawk neared the van, he noticed that he didn’t hear footsteps behind him anymore. He glanced over his shoulder and then skidded to a stop. Lopez was scrambling around on all fours, groping at the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Hawk asked as he rushed up to the Bolivian asset.

  “Sofía’s locket. The latch broke when it snagged on the fence. Please, I can’t leave without it.”

  “She’ll forgive you,” Hawk said. “You’re going to get recaptured if you don’t hurry up. We don’t have much time.”

  “Okay, okay,” Lopez said, hopping to his feet. “I’ll leave it.”

  Before either of them could take another step, bullets whistled in their directions, peppering the ground. One of the shots hit Lopez in the back, dropping him face-first onto the pavement.

  Hawk hit the deck and turned toward the asset. “Lopez? Lopez? Are you all right?”

  Lopez moaned and rolled over, dirt mixing with blood to create a mess. “There’s a key hidden in the wheel well of my car. It will give you access to all the information I was gathering.”

  He stopped and gasped for air, spitting blood as his lips trembled. “Tell Sofía I love her.”

  Hawk trained his weapon in the direction of the guards and fired off a few shots.

  “Get up, Lopez,” Hawk said. “I’m not letting you die right here like this.”

  “Save yourself,” Lopez said. “And don’t let these bastards get away with anything else.”

  Lopez collapsed, his body going limp.

  Hawk cursed under his breath as he noticed the locket just a few feet in front of Lopez. Hawk pocketed the jewelry and then fired several more shots. He scrambled to his feet and raced toward the van.

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” Hawk said over his coms while dodging bullets from the Russian guards still in pursuit.

  Before the door was even shut, Alex had turned the corner. The wheels squealed as bullets pinged off the side of the van.

  “So much for our deposit,” Alex said. “What happened back there?”

  “This happened,” Hawk said, holding up the locket. “Lopez dropped it and had to go after it. And when he did, that’s when he took one in the back.”

  “Damn,” she said. “What a shame.”

  “At least he didn’t die in vain.”

  “You got something from him?”

  Hawk nodded. “He told me he left a key that would lead to all the information he’d gathered on whatever was going on at Nicolo Logistics.”

  “Then, let’s go straight there.”

  Hawk called the agent who’d been handling Lopez to deliver the news. The man gave Hawk directions to Lopez’s apartment as well as a description of his car, a Chevy Onix, and the license plate number.