Brady Hawk 09 - Seek and Destroy Read online

  He wagged a finger at her.

  “Flattery isn’t the way to curry my favor nor is a lack of decorum,” he said.

  She glanced at the glass of alcohol she’d ordered for him.

  “Will bourbon work?” she said with a smile.

  “It’s a start, but I must warn you that I don’t have much time.”

  “In that case, let me get straight to the point, Mr. Fournier. In my final conversation with Henri Dubois, he agreed that the European Central Bank was in dire need of a fresh start, something that only a brand new currency could give it. So, he and I discussed the details of what that would look like and how the ECB could move forward in this new economic environment.”

  “Your point, Ms. Petrov?”

  “My point is that if it made good sense for your predecessor to join this burgeoning movement, it makes good sense for you now as well.”

  “I’m not my predecessor,” Fournier said. “And since you didn’t do your due diligence before having this conversation—in which case you would’ve saved yourself plenty of time and a trip to Lyons—I disagreed with Mr. Dubois on many fronts, most notably the notion that the ECB needs to transition to a new currency.”

  “I’ll give you a moment to reconsider,” she said flatly. She fidgeted with the edge of a file folder while awaiting his response.

  He sighed as his gaze met hers.

  “Frankly, that’s never going to happen,” Fournier said. It’s why I was selected to assume Mr. Dubois’ position. The rumor had spread rampantly that he was going to lead Europe into a new economic era with that decision. It’s likely the board, at the time, would’ve ratified the proposal, but that’s not the case anymore. Apparently, several members of the board were indebted to you, but that debt has been eliminated. What you held as leverage before is dead weight now. You won’t pull the strings any longer with the ECB.”

  Fournier leaned back in his seat and grabbed his glass of bourbon off the table. Petrov thought he looked like a lawyer who’d just decided to rest after making a strong case. She waited until he was finished with his drink before sliding the folder across the table.

  Fournier snatched the folder off the table and opened it. His eyes widened and his forehead scowled as he flipped through the pictures.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he said, slamming the stack of pictures onto the table.

  “You’re a smart man, Mr. Fournier. I think you know all too well what the implications of those photos are.”

  “Enlighten me, Ms. Petrov.”

  “That is your daughter, Amelie, is it not?”

  Fournier nodded.

  “And that’s her attending her classes at Le Rosey in Rolle, correct?”

  “And?”

  “Mr. Fournier, you spend a fine fortune to send your daughter to one of the most elite prep schools in the world. I’m sure you also know how important privacy is to the families of the students who attend there. It might even be one of the main reasons why you enrolled your 15-year-old daughter there.”

  “I don’t like what you’re suggesting.”

  “The Chamber has people everywhere, even at Le Rosey. You may attempt to protect your family every way you can, but I can assure you that you’re not as safe as you think you are. And if you aren’t willing to agree to my terms, perhaps we can find a new head of the European Central Bank.”

  Fournier stared at the table, rotating his glass a quarter and pausing before repeating. He continued in this manner for half a minute.

  “In the end, Dubois didn’t actually agree with your plan, did he?”

  She shrugged. “If only you could ask him.”

  “You overplayed your hand, Ms. Petrov. You could’ve coerced Dubois to bring this issue to the board and more easily persuaded it to join in. But instead, you tried to strong arm him and look where that left you.”

  “Look where it left him,” she said. “I believe I’m in much better shape today than he is. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Let’s not belabor the point. You made a dreadful mistake, one that you will not be able to come back from.”

  Petrov smiled. “I’m afraid you’re not quite as intelligent as I once thought.”

  “Resorting to insolent comments won’t persuade me to acquiesce. I’m afraid you’ve been terribly wrong when it comes to reading me.”

  “And I’m afraid you’ve been quite mistaken when it comes to my resolve in getting what I want.”

  Petrov pointed at the photos.

  “You might want to consider very carefully what you’re about to say next because those pictures aren’t just glamour shots of your daughter enjoying her time at a ritzy private school on daddy’s money. I hope you understand what it is exactly that those pictures suggest.”

  “Are you threatening me, Ms. Petrov?”

  She smiled and subtly shook her head.

  “Oh, no. I never threaten anyone, Mr. Fournier. But I do make promises. And here’s the promise that I’ll make you: If you do not choose to join the new world currency, I’m afraid you’ll not only find Europe isolated economically, but you’ll also find your family far more fragmented than you ever imagined. That is my promise to you.”

  She raked the folder of pictures toward her across the table and stuffed them in her bag before standing up.

  “You have forty-eight hours to think about it, Mr. Fournier. I expect you’ll be able to encourage others on the ECB board to join you in helping bring the European banks into the 21st century and stabilize all those floundering economies. Forty-eight hours. Good day.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Fournier, who was still eyeing the bottom of his bourbon. He then raised his hand and ordered another shot.

  Petrov smiled. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait that long for his answer.

  CHAPTER 3

  Lisbon, Portugal

  STRETCHED PRONE ON THE MASSEUSE table, J.D. Blunt looked up at the scene in front of him. The Tagus River finishing its long journey across the Iberian Peninsula by pouring into the Port of Lisbon was long one of Blunt’s favorites. He’d worked in the country before with some high-ranking officials in the Portuguese government. Blunt found that extending several off book favors went a long way in keeping friends. He groaned as the woman worked over his shoulder muscles.

  “So this is how you spend all your free time?” Hawk asked as he sauntered onto the veranda, accompanied by Alex and Samuels.

  “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes,” Blunt said to the woman. She nodded and shuffled back toward the house.

  Blunt sat up and pulled a robe around him.

  “Are you jealous, Hawk?” he asked.

  Hawk smiled. “Of this? Who could be jealous of this incredible view of an old European port city from the terrace of a multimillion-dollar home? I mean, I’d much rather be tangling with demented psychopaths in a Middle Eastern desert somewhere with my life on the line any day of the week.”

  Blunt sauntered over to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He shot a glance at the television in the corner rolling through the most recent noteworthy news events.

  “Help yourself,” he said, turning back toward the team and raising his glass.

  “I swear, you live the life,” Alex said. “Were you getting bored with your place in Morocco?”

  Blunt laughed heartily. “I don’t own all these places, especially not this one. But I do have friends. You should try it sometime.”

  “How about you just let us try your friends’ houses. How does that sound?” Hawk asked.

  “I’m not sure you’d be willing to do what I did in order to become pals with some of these people,” Blunt said. “And you’re better off for it.”

  Samuels threw up his hands. “I don’t wanna know. Please just keep that to yourself.”

  Blunt ignored Samuels. “The last time I was here, one of my friends in the Portuguese government had a problem with a relentless mistress. She threatened to expose their affair to the world just a few mon
ths before the general elections. So, I was asked to take care of it.”

  Slack-jawed, Alex stared at Blunt. “You killed her?”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Blunt said before tossing back the rest of his glass. “I can be cold and calculated when I need to be, but that wasn’t necessary in that case.”

  “Okay,” Samuels said. “I’m officially interested now.”

  Blunt continued. “Well, this government official—who will remain nameless—set up a rendezvous with his mistress in an attempt to smooth things over. He gave the address of a quaint villa on the beach and told her to meet him there the next evening. However, he never showed. But I just so happened to be at the cottage next door out on the porch taking in the waves all by my lonesome. When the mistress came to the realization that she’d been stood up, she wandered onto her back porch and started crying. Of course, I hate to see a woman cry, so I trekked over to her to see if I could comfort her. It wasn’t long before we were doing more than that—and my friend’s secret service detail captured some of the intimate moments on film.”

  “You knowingly let them photograph you?” Alex asked.

  “Well, I was a gentleman, but I allowed them access long enough to get the suggestive shots my friend needed to make her disappear—well, that and a hefty payout.”

  “The things you did for your country,” Hawk said.

  Blunt laughed. “The things I did to earn the trust of friends who own places like this, places far off the beaten path where President Michaels would never think to look for us.”

  “Is President Michaels really the one we need to be concerned about right now?” Hawk asked. “What about Petrov? Saving Michaels’ life should at least buy us some time. But Petrov seems determined to advance her cause based off all the news I’ve read lately.”

  Blunt nodded and sighed. “Petrov is a legitimate concern at this point, and quite possibly a higher priority from a global perspective. But our first mission is to defend our country—and sadly, the biggest threat to America right now is our own president. Michaels has resisted Petrov’s plans so far, but that won’t last long. He is going to ruin our nation if he gets the idea that the U.S. should join all the other nations Petrov has coerced into signing on to her scheme of a one-world currency. It’s going to decimate our economy and weaken our security. The more control we give up, the more vulnerable we become.”

  “That much should seem obvious to anyone,” Hawk said. “But it’s as if Petrov has brainwashed all the heads of state.”

  “Or blackmailed them,” Alex quipped.

  Blunt whipped his head back toward the television as a few phrases caught his ear.

  “Turn that up,” he said to Samuels, who was standing closest to the remote on a nearby table.

  The Spanish news anchor, Maria Vasquez, recounted the breaking news that just rolled across the wire. With her normal smooth delivery disrupted by the hastily written update, she struggled to disguise her shock, though a pleasant one from her perspective. Her faint smile and subtle nod indicated that the news she was reporting was something she agreed with.

  Blunt found the report so troubling that he threw his glass.

  “What did she say?” Samuels asked. “I think I missed it.”

  “Just watch,” Blunt said, maintaining a steely gaze on the screen.

  Vasquez alerted viewers that they would be taken live to a press conference in Beijing. The next image on the screen was the Chinese prime minister explaining his country’s decision to ditch the yen and join the single-currency movement that was gaining steam. He pronounced that China would be early adopters instead of waiting for everything to come online. It would begin within the next couple of months as currency production ramped up. Vasquez interjected how long experts believed it would take for that amount of money to be printed and distributed through the world’s elaborate banking system. Some projections claimed it would take upwards of five years before all the banks would receive enough money to continue doling out cash.

  Vasquez then cut away to a quick interview with an economics professor who wrote a recent book on the demise of cash in our society and how no one would carry paper money and coins within the next decade.

  “Fascinating,” Blunt said.

  “Or terrifying,” Alex added. “If the world takes the bait with Petrov’s proposition, what’s going to back up all this cash? The world is going to be her oyster when it comes to money.”

  “Even more disconcerting is how there won’t be a need for cash ten years from now,” Samuels said. “It’ll be like Bitcoin for everyone.”

  “The biggest thing to be on guard about is Petrov’s play here,” Hawk said. “Whatever she’s doing, we know it’s not altruistic. Her end game isn’t simply to make banking easier for everyone and to help lift other nations out of abject poverty. I’d bet that what she wants to do is actually quite dire.”

  “Hawk’s right,” Blunt said. “Petrov has become a serious threat on the world stage. However, her growing popularity makes her more difficult to dismiss in the public sphere. We’re going to have to fight her from the shadows.”

  “So, we’re going after her next?” Hawk asked.

  Blunt shook his head. “Never deviate from the course. Michaels is still our top target. If we can stem the tide here, we might be able to demonstrate just how bad of a deal this is for the rest of the world, not to mention how Petrov is quietly wresting power out of the hands of free nations and placing them under her thumb. One day you could be wealthy, but the next you could be practically broke—and all due to the whims of an easily manipulated market.”

  Before anyone else could say another word, Blunt’s head snapped back toward the television where Vasquez announced another breaking news.

  “We’re going to join another press conference already in progress live from Tokyo,” Vasquez said, “where the Japanese prime minister is speaking to the media along with South Korean government officials about the two nations’ pending transition to the one-world currency as well.”

  “This is outrageous,” Blunt said.

  “Before too long, the U.S. will be the only one left,” Samuels said.

  “That’s exactly what Petrov wants to happen,” Blunt said. “She’s hell bent on forcing the hand of the U.S. government—and we’re not going to let that happen.”

  Hawk picked up a copy of the Lisbon newspaper Expresso and tapped the headline of a front-page article. Hawk translated from Spanish to English as he read: “The End of Poverty? One-world currency will reduce poverty, experts say.”

  “It’s already begun,” Blunt said. “The endless propaganda designed to render the opinions and even the studies from those who reach contrary conclusions. And in the end, it’ll make the wealthy feel better about themselves, while the poor get no relief—and Petrov and The Chamber will ascend to an untold position of power.”

  “So you still think we need to get to Michaels first?” Hawk asked.

  Blunt sighed and stared out across the water. A barge loaded with shipping containers pulled away from a dock, where another boat was waiting to take its place.

  “We’ve become so consumed with stuff that the whole world has lost its soul,” Blunt said.

  “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a philosophical discussion,” Hawk said. “I was just wanting to know if we should—”

  “Ultimately, what we do in this world today has a profound impact on future generations. It doesn’t matter what the nature of your work is, it all adds up. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to ignore the fact that the greatest nation on planet earth is getting destroyed from the inside out, its power likely to be stripped by the very man the American people voted to uphold the most ingenious document ever written solely by man, the U.S. Constitution. Michaels will spit on it and mute America’s standing and influence globally just to enjoy a more prominent status, personally. If the rest of the world goes to hell in a hand basket, so be it. But if we’re not careful, our once-proud nation wil
l be reduced to a footnote in the annals of history by an arrogant self-righteous bastard.”

  “So, Michaels it is,” Hawk said with a grin.

  “If we take him down, we might be able to stem the tide of all these nations foolishly ditching their currencies.”

  Before another word was said, a bullet tore through Blunt’s chest. He collapsed to the ground, his face pressed against it. While Blunt struggled to breathe, he watched as Hawk sprang into action. It was the last thing he remembered before everything went dark.

  CHAPTER 4

  Camp David

  Catoctin Mountain Park, Maryland

  PRESIDENT CONRAD MICHAELS STRETCHED out on a chair near the pool and read through a recent education bill the Senate had hammered out and was about to put to a vote. The Senate speaker wanted to know if they could count on the president’s support before they introduced it. But Michaels was smart enough to avoid walking into a trap, especially so close to the election cycle. Even if the bill looked great on the surface, if it proved to be a dismal failure, Michaels knew his primary opponents would seize on it and use it to challenge his competency in office. However, Michaels never liked reading legislation. He tossed it aside after several minutes of perusing it and then got up to get a refill of bourbon.

  As Michaels finished topping off his glass, one of the Secret Service agents approached him with a letter in his hand.

  “Sir,” the agent said, “this came for you.”

  Michaels scowled. “So, now you’re a mailman? You just hand me random notes without any context or clue of who it came from?”

  “One of the kitchen hands asked me to pass it along to you, sir.”

  “Well, why don’t you open it then?” Michaels asked, gesturing toward the letter. “I believe your job is to keep me safe, is it not?”

  “I just thought—”

  “Open the damn letter,” Michaels growled.

  The agent complied and handed the handwritten note to Michaels. Almost immediately, Michaels’ face fell.

  “Is everything all right, Mr. President?” the agent asked.