The Shadow Hunter (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 1) Page 5

  “Then so be it,” Norris said, twirling the toothpick around his mouth with his tongue. “I’m not a fortune teller. But I do know that letting Kim Yong-ju go unchecked isn’t just bad for America. It’s bad for the entire world. Someone like that needs to be taught a lesson.”

  “So you want to strike?” she asked.

  He paused and took a deep breath, contemplating the situation. “Not necessarily. It all depends on the intel. For all we know at this point, Kim Yong-ju might be all hat and no cattle.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure I get that analogy.”

  Norris sighed. “You’ve probably never seen a classic western in your life.”

  “Would that be one of those movies with Marion Michael Morrison?”

  Norris grunted. “It’s John Wayne. And, yes, he’s a legend. However, I’m surprised you know his real name.”

  Emma shrugged. “My father tortured me by making me listen to Ray Stevens songs. He’s got a tribute song to Marion Michael Morrison, who my father told me was the famous western actor.”

  “All hat and no cattle is a way of saying that he’s got a big mouth but isn’t willing to back it up.”

  “So you’re going to make him back it up?”

  Norris nodded. “If it comes to that. But I’m betting that he’s just yapping his gums, desperately trying to get attention like he always does.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  “Then we’ll strike,” he said. “For me, we just need more intel. And it’s not easy for us to get anything out of Pyongyang.”

  “So, just to be clear, you’re taking a more passive approach?”

  “More like wait-and-see,” Norris corrected. “I’d be fine with obliterating Kim Yong-ju’s ass and exposing him for the charlatan that he is. But he might do that on his own. And there’s no need to get involved in a protracted conflict if we don’t have to.”

  “On that point, we agree,” Emma said. “Like I said before, the more we can maintain a posture of peace, the better off we’ll be when it comes to polling.”

  Norris sighed. “Americans care about two things—money and safety. If you can give both of those things, you’ll be a god in their eyes.”

  Emma stood and clutched her tablet close to her chest. “Sounds like you know what you want to do. And I won’t advise you otherwise.”

  “Put it this way. I’m leaving the option open to striking North Korea if they keep this up. But it’s not going to be my first move.”

  “Understood, sir. I’ll make sure to pass that along to the communications team.”

  “Thank you,” Norris said before dismissing her.

  He checked his watch. With only five minutes to prepare for his meeting with CIA director Robert Besserman, Norris needed to get moving.

  “Is that all?” Norris asked.

  “All for now. But let’s catch up later this afternoon. I want to hear what Besserman has to say.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Norris said. “I’ll call you later today, and we can discuss how to move forward.”

  Norris waited until Emma was gone before heading over to his desk and pulling out a secret stash of bourbon. The stress was starting to get to him.

  A few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. It opened and Besserman strode inside.

  “Getting an early start, sir,” he said.

  Norris shrugged and chuckled as he stared at his glass. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  “You’re finally starting to feel the pressure of the office?” Besserman asked.

  “Between North Korea’s saber rattling and the upcoming election, I’m certainly feeling something.”

  Besserman settled into a chair across from Norris’s desk. “Considering all that this country has been through in our lifetime, I’m not sure this even registers a blip on the radar of challenging situations.”

  Norris interlocked his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “You’re probably right. But that doesn’t change the situation we’re in.”

  “You know that Kim Yong-ju is just trying to get under your skin, right?”

  “He’s doing a damn good job of it.”

  Besserman chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Norris asked.

  “You remember that time at Timberlake Camp when Dick Larson threatened to tell everyone that you kissed Aubrey Chapman?”

  Norris grunted. “How could I not? That’s burned into my memory like an enduring nightmare.”

  Besserman grinned. “You haven’t even told Priscilla about that, have you?”

  “It was a long time ago, Bobby.”

  “But it still bugs you, doesn’t it?”

  “How couldn’t it? I wanted to punch Dick Larson in the face.”

  “And if you did, you both would’ve gotten sent home. But you exercised restraint, and what happened?”

  “Dick ran his mouth and got into a fight.”

  “And he was gone by Wednesday,” Besserman said.

  Both men laughed while reminiscing about the event.

  “I think your dad said I should’ve knocked his front teeth out to teach him a lesson,” Norris said.

  “My dad never saw a fight that he didn’t like.”

  Norris smiled. “The lone front tooth dangling from the top of his gums was proof of that point.”

  “He didn’t take anything from anybody,” Besserman said. “That’s pretty much how he wound up with a purple heart.”

  “He received a purple heart from his time during the war?”

  Besserman nodded. “Your father never told you that story?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Well, it was a staple for my dad, telling it at every dinner party I think he ever attended. The version I remember is that they were in France after storming the beaches of Normandy, and a man made a rude comment about your dad. My dad approached the man, who looked like a German soldier. When he pulled out a grenade and yanked out the pin, my dad grabbed the explosive device off the floor and hurled it through a window. The grenade detonated in the street, sparing everyone inside. Several soldiers proceeded to beat the German before taking him prisoner. If my dad hadn’t acted so quickly, who knows if either of us would even be alive?”

  “Wow,” Norris said, his eyes widening. “I’ve never heard that story.”

  “It’s a good one,” Besserman said. “And all true. My father was adamant about not embellishing war stories.”

  “So what you’re trying to say is that I need to pounce on the grenade and throw it outside to avoid disaster?” Norris asked with a wry grin.

  “If you can do that,” Besserman said. “Otherwise, I’d bomb the shit out of Kim Yong-ju. It’d shut him up for good.”

  Norris worked over his toothpick before responding. “I’m not sure that’s the most prudent move.”

  “Of course not, but it’s the one that’d make you a hero to the world—if it came to that, of course,” Besserman said. “I’d never recommend you doing that unless the situation called for it.”

  “I understand. I’d rather my tenure be one known for peace.”

  “But you don’t always get that choice,” Besserman said. “In the meantime, the agency is hunting down the truth. I’ll keep you posted on what’s happening and let you know if such an action is necessary.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Norris said.

  Besserman stood and offered his hand to Norris. The two men shook.

  “It’s good catching up with you, Bobby,” Norris said. “You know I trust you implicitly.”

  Besserman nodded. “It’s a trust I take seriously.”

  The CIA director exited the room, leaving Norris alone with his thoughts. His presidency had suddenly become more difficult—and Norris wasn’t about to back down from the challenge, whatever decision needed to be made.

  CHAPTER 8

  Bridger, Montana

  HAWK SPREAD THE HAY out in the trough before calling
for Tucker and Dusty. The two Appaloosas galloped toward him and went straight for their morning ration. He rubbed the manes of both animals before letting them eat in peace.

  “You two better be good for Alex,” Hawk said. “If not, I’m going to have some stern words for you when I get back.”

  Hawk felt a tug on his pants and looked down to see John Daniel clad in his pajamas and slippers and clutching a blanket.

  “Do you really have to go, Daddy?” John Daniel asked.

  Hawk knelt next to his son before tousling his blond curly locks. “I won’t be gone that long, son. And mommy will be here for you.”

  John Daniel’s lip protruded as he looked at the ground. “But I want you to tuck me in at night.”

  Hawk lifted John Daniel up and set him on top of the fence so they could see eye to eye. “I know you like having me around. And believe me, I like being around, too. Reading Curious George stories to you every night is sometimes the favorite part of my day. But there’s another little boy like you whose daddy has been missing for quite some time.”

  John Daniel furrowed his brow. “And does that boy miss his daddy?”

  “Oh, very much so. And if I don’t go help his daddy, he can’t come home. So if I promise to come back, will you let me go?”

  John Daniel scowled as he thought in silence for a moment. “Sure,” he finally said with a shrug.

  When Hawk lowered him to the ground, John Daniel took off running. Hawk watched his son scamper back inside the house before the sound of a vehicle rumbling up the driveway stole his attention. A black SUV came to a stop near the house and Morgan May climbed out.

  She put on a pair of sunglasses and surveyed the property before meeting Hawk halfway.

  “Welcome back,” Hawk said. “But I told you it wasn’t necessary to come all the way out here again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d start to think that you like it out here better than Los Angeles.”

  Morgan flashed a quick smile. “I’d join you out here in a heartbeat. We’d be neighbors if I could buy up some acres next to yours. But the action’s in the city, and we need to have a presence in a large population center not named Washington.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much difference between Washington and L.A.”

  “L.A.’s less political,” she said. “There aren’t a hundred bureaucrats running around, sticking their nose in all your business.”

  “Fair point,” Hawk said.

  She nodded. “You ready to go?”

  “Let me grab my things.”

  Morgan followed Hawk into the house, making small talk along the way. Once they got inside, they found Alex presiding over breakfast, coaxing John Daniel to eat his cereal.

  Morgan shook her head. “Unbelievable. Super Mom by day, saving the world by night.”

  Alex chuckled. “Sometimes I think it’s easier to hunt down and eliminate terrorists than it is to get your kids to eat their breakfast.”

  They all laughed before Hawk darted upstairs to grab his bag. He returned to the kitchen and gave Alex a long hug.

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” she said.

  “And I’m going to make sure of that,” Morgan said. “Expect a delivery of all the latest state-of-the-art technology. I’m having a Magnum tech deliver it in person so he can set everything up for you. It’ll be like you’re in the office with us whenever you’re online.”

  “Thank you,” Hawk said as he shook Morgan’s hand.

  “No, I’m the one who needs to be thanking you,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, we’d have no prayer at getting Eddie Tyson back.”

  Hawk gave John Daniel a hug. “You’re the man of the house now, son. And I want you to be helpful to mommy while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?”

  John Daniel’s lips quivered as tears streamed down his face. “I love you, Daddy. Come back soon.”

  “I will, son.”

  Hawk kissed John Daniel on the top of his head before grabbing his gear and heading toward the door. Morgan led him back to the SUV.

  Once they were inside, the driver wheeled around and headed off Hawk’s property. He looked through the back window and saw Alex waving goodbye with John Daniel, who was wrapped up in his favorite blanket.

  Morgan looked at Hawk. “I know this isn’t easy for you, but I appreciate your willingness to help.”

  Hawk didn’t say anything. He wasn’t overly emotional, but he didn’t want to talk about it. If he did, he was certain he’d start tearing up. He wanted to dwell on happier thoughts. Leaving his family was about the most difficult thing he’d done in a while. But there was also an anticipation for the mission, an excitement he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

  He took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward Morgan. “Tell me the truth now. How’s J.D.? Is he all right?”

  “He’s still J.D.,” Morgan said. “He’s chomping on cigars and grousing about the state of politics in America today. Though there is one notable change.”

  “What’s that?”

  “His choice of drink now is scotch.”

  Hawk’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “You finally got to him,” Morgan said. “He’s abandoned bourbon from what he told me.”

  “Did you tell him your efforts to recruit me were successful?”

  Morgan smiled. “I must say I enjoyed sharing that bit of news with him.”

  “I’m sure that rankled him.”

  “Actually, he said he was impressed. Didn’t think I could persuade you to help out.”

  “As hard as it is for me to leave Alex and John Daniel, it would’ve been even harder for me to live with myself if I could’ve done something about Tyson but chose not to.”

  For the next few minutes, they enjoyed the scenery, staring at the early morning sun spotlighting the towering peaks.

  Then Morgan shifted in her seat before speaking. “Hawk, there’s something you need to know about this mission.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We don’t have a ton of intel on Tyson. Everything we have on him indicates that he’s still in prison, but we received a message recently that he might be out.”

  “What does that mean? Out of prison and just living in Russia still?”

  She sighed. “Maybe. We’re not sure if he isn’t doing this on his own volition right now, if he really isn’t imprisoned anymore.”

  “That’s crazy,” Hawk said, waving at her dismissively. “I don’t think I ever met a bigger patriot than Tyson, not to mention he’d never walk out on his family like that.”

  She looked out the window again, shaking her head subtly. “People can fool you sometimes.”

  Hawk scowled. “Not Tyson. He’d never betray his country.”

  She turned turn Hawk again. “All I’m saying is, don’t let your friendship blind you. While it’s been a motivating factor for you to volunteer for this mission, it’s also been a reason why I was initially hesitant to ask you to go.”

  “And how could I possibly let that compromise this mission?”

  “You need to be prepared for the possibility that Tyson may not want to come home.”

  Hawk stroked his chin. “Are you suggesting that instead of an extraction, this might be more of a fact-finding mission?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe both. I don’t know. But just beware that he might not be the same person you once knew. I felt it was important for me to tell you this myself before you left.”

  “You should’ve told me that up front,” Hawk said.

  “Does that change your mind now? I can still have this SUV turn around and take you back home.”

  “No, Tyson still needs my help. And I owe it to him after what he did for me. Just next time tell me everything. No more games. Your uncle would’ve never done that.”

  “If I had told you that initially, would you be sitting in this car right now?”

  Hawk pursed his lips, pausing for a moment to consider her question. “Probably not—to b
e honest with you.”

  Morgan smiled. “Then I’m doing exactly what my uncle would've done. He always did everything he could to secure the best person for the job.”

  “Maybe, but I still don’t like it,” Hawk said. “Just promise me you won’t do that to me in the future.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “The future? Are you suggesting that there might be more missions you’d be willing to go on?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Hawk said. “I need to survive this one first.”

  CHAPTER 9

  30,000 feet over Northeast Mongolia

  HAWK CHECKED HIS COMS as he prepared to make a HALO jump. The pilot signaled that they were one minute out from the jump point. The back of the C-160 hummed as the ramp lowered, resulting in a blast of cold air. After one final equipment check, Hawk eased toward the back of the plane.

  “Good luck, Agent Hawk,” the pilot said over the coms.

  “Thanks,” Hawk said before he turned and leaped out of the plane.

  Hawk zipped toward the ground, his face turning numb. Jumping from thirty thousand feet was never a pleasant experience for him no matter where he did it. But in the winter into frozen tundra? It was nothing short of sheer torture.

  As Hawk neared the ground, he pulled his rip cord, opening his chute. In less than thirty seconds, his feet sank into the fresh coat of snow blanketing the hinterlands of Mongolia. He gathered his parachute and then dug a hole. Burying his chute was standard protocol, though he wondered if it was worth the trouble in such a remote area.

  Once he was finished, he began a twenty-kilometer hike across the border and into Russia. The sun rose over the mountains, taking away a little bit of the bite from the frigid temperature. On his journey, he didn’t see a soul. The route had been meticulously plotted, providing him with unfettered access into Russia. But Hawk realized why it felt so desolate. The ground was undoubtedly too frozen to cultivate for most of the year, not to mention that in a vast region, no sane person would settle out here.

  By 2:00 p.m., Hawk had reached his next destination—the banks of the Onon River. Despite the low temperatures, the Onon flowed as it did year round, winding a path through the snow-covered terrain. The river provided Hawk a faster and more direct route to his final stop, Yakutsk.