Brady Hawk Series, Books 4-6 by R.J. Patterson

Author:R.J. Patterson [Patterson, R.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller
Publisher: Green E-Books
Published: 2018-02-24T07:00:00+00:00

Can’t wait. Will I get to take a ride on your yacht?

Garaar glanced over at the room where the Sarin was locked away. He smiled and nodded while he typed.

Absolutely!

While Garaar was convinced Cindy was the hottest woman he’d ever had a chance of being with, he wasn’t too concerned about the optimistic comments he was making, which could turn from tenuous to outright lies. If anything went wrong, Garaar would be punished severely for it at the hands of Cindy, who he assumed wouldn’t be forgiving. Garaar chuckled at the thought of telling her the truth: Sorry, Cindy, I don’t have a yacht. I was going to purchase one before my pending sale of chemical weapons soured. Sorry.

It wasn’t an explanation women likely heard every day, but at least it was the truth. Yet, he was convinced that wasn’t going to be the case. When Garaar closed his eyes, he saw himself on the deck of his new yacht, his arm around Cindy, the gentle Atlantic waves lapping at the hull, and twinkling stars dancing above the South Florida skies. It was going to be perfect.

His phone ringing snapped him out of his fantasy.

“Is everything on track for the exchange on Saturday?” a man asked. It was Karif Fazil.

“Yes, it’s just as you requested.”

“Good. I hate surprises, unless I’m the one doing the surprising.”

Garaar uncorked a bottle of Scotch and poured a drink. “You’ll be happy to know that I spoke with the American. They won’t be posing any problems.”

“They? I thought there was only one CIA operative in Berbera.”

“Usually, that’s the case. However, there are two more agents supposed to assist him on this one.”

“Is one of them named Hawk?”

“How did you—?”

“Never mind that. Just make sure you capture him. If you deliver him to me alive, I will increase your take home pay by twenty-five percent.”

Garaar remained in stunned silence for a few seconds.

“Garaar? Are you there?”

He nodded vigorously, almost forgetting that he was on the phone.

“Garaar?” Fazil asked again.

“Oh, yes, sir. I’m still here. That’s a very generous offer. I will do what I can to make sure that happens.”

Garaar hung up and clicked on a Pharrell Williams album from his desktop computer. Despite an unbridled love for American music, Garaar had to be careful since returning to Africa. Not all of his friends were as open minded about certain elements of Western culture. However, Williams was one of the world’s more popular artists abroad, which somehow made him more acceptable, even among the jihadists. Less than two weeks before he agreed to take the lead on making Sarin for Al-Shabaab, Garaar watched one of the executioners behead a man and then play Williams’ iconic Happy on his phone while dancing around the camp.

Garaar stood up and paced around the room. Uncontrollable giddiness overtook him, suppressing the angst he’d felt earlier. Maybe it was the song, or the alcohol, or the anticipation of seeing Cindy. Whatever the reason, he decided not to analyze it and enjoy the moment.

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