R Patterson - The Shadow Hunter

Mitchell cursed under his breath as he got up. He’d rather suffer a bullet wound than get the Kabalo virus, though he wasn’t fond of needles either. He ordered another drink on his way back to his room, draining it before reached the door. After he collapsed into the chair in the corner, he dialed the number.

IN THE WEEK following Hawk’s encounter with Reaper in Sonbong, Mia had hacked into his cell phone and combed through voice messages. She worked with Dr. Z to tweak a voice simulator for Reaper’s contact. And she also placed malware on his phone that, when activated, would direct outgoing calls to the number of her choosing.

When Mia’s phone rang, she took a deep breath and then initiated the voice simulator.

“This is control,” she said after answering. “Please identify yourself.”

Reaper recited a string of numbers.

“Thank you,” she said. “Now, what can I help you with today?”

“I received an email to contact you about what to do next following my exposure to the Kabalo virus.”

“Of course. Thank you for responding so quickly. Based on the length of your exposure, you need to receive treatment immediately.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You could suffer a severe illness or even death.”

“It’d be one helluva way for me to go,” Reaper said with a chuckle. “I get pinned down in tight spots all over the world facing enormous amounts of fire power, battling some of the most well-trained soldiers in various militaries, and it’s a stupid little bug I can’t see that gets me.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. We very much value you in our organization, so we’ve deployed a medical team to your location to administer your treatment. Do you have a pen handy?”

“Give me a second,” Reaper said, the line going silent for a brief moment. “All right lay it on me.”

Mia read off the address for the clinic before continuing. “Report to that location in one hour to receive your treatment. Use the passcode ‘freedom isn’t free’ to gain entry. Any other questions?”

Reaper sighed. “No, I think that’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“Excellent,” Mia said. “Good luck.”

She ended the call and then exhaled.

“Great work,” Alex said. “Now we just need to do one final check on our clinic, and we’ll be ready to go.”

HAWK MAINTAINED A safe distance as he followed Reaper. While everything seemed to be running smoothly, Hawk didn’t want to take any chances. They were on the cusp of apprehending Reaper and getting some much needed answers to burning questions.

Reaper hailed a cab and then climbed into the backseat.

Hawk followed suit, waiting a minute to avoid having his cover blown. With the directions mapped out on his phone, Hawk used the GPA navigational app on his phone to see what route the driver of Reaper’s cab was likely to take. If the car disappeared too quickly from view, Hawk would know something had gone awry.

The drive would take seventeen minutes, according to the app, most of it occurring on one road leading back to the heart of the city. The first ten minutes were uneventful, but when they reached the city, Reaper’s cab driver turned down a different street leading away from the clinic’s address.

Hawk covered his mouth with his hand to keep the driver from hearing anything he said.

“Alex, Mia,” he said over his coms, “we have a problem.”

Washington, D.C.

PRESIDENT NORRIS INVITED Robert Besserman into his office before offering him a drink. Besserman glanced at his watch and then declined. Norris poured himself a healthy portion before taking a seat behind his desk.

“Everything all right?” Besserman asked, nodding at Norris’s glass.

Norris shook his head. “You tell me. You’re the one hunting down the traitors. My answer to your question will depend on what you’re about to tell me.”

“In that case, you have a reason to smile.”

Norris drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Who was it? Someone on my cabinet?”

“We traced the order back to Admiral Brent Gaston,” Besserman said. “Apparently, his unilateral decision to increase our presence off the shores of North Korea only ratcheted up tensions. I suggest you demand his resignation immediately or inform him that he will be subject to a court martial.”

“Why not do both?” Norris asked. “I can send a message that if anyone attempts to usurp my authority as commander in chief, they will be dealt with swiftly and harshly.”

Besserman shrugged. “That’s totally up to you, but I feel like this might be a scandal you’d rather avoid. If we can usher Admiral Gaston out the backdoor without causing a big stir in the media, everyone wins.”

“Justice doesn’t win,” Norris said. “He’d be getting away with just a slap on the wrist.”

“You could have his public position be resignation but technically, you could give him a dishonorable discharge and revoke his pension. That’d be more than a slap on the wrist for an admiral.”

“I could go with that. So what else did you find?”

Besserman shifted in his chair. “From all that our investigation gathered, Admiral Gaston acted alone. However, we can’t confirm that at the moment. All we know is that he ordered more ships into the area, which stoked the fire. We haven’t been able to link anyone else to the action.”

“So, in your estimation, is the threat within our military to undermine me eliminated?”

“Like I said, we can’t be certain at this point, but removing a high-ranking official like Gaston who was stirring up trouble definitely goes a long way in re-establishing your authority. And while this might not get out to the press for months, this news will definitely circulate among naval officers, serving as a deterrent for anyone who has similar ideas.”

“Okay,” Norris said. “Good work. Keep me posted if you find any additional links between Gaston and other disgruntled military members.”

Besserman chuckled. “All military members are disgruntled, sir. I think it’s part of the job description to complain about everything from pay scale to bloated budgets to lack of leadership.”

“It’s always good to know that the battle isn’t winnable.”

“That’s right, sir. Just keep doing what you’re doing and don’t concern yourself with all the added noise. It usually amounts to nothing anyway.”

The men stood and shook hands before Besserman exited the office. Norris paced around the room for a few minutes before sitting down again.

Getting rid of a rogue admiral was important for his assertion of authority, but he didn’t like Besserman’s dodgy answer. Norris had to know who else was involved and how many. And until he did, he wasn’t sure he’d get much sleep at night.

Punta Cana, Dominican Republic

MITCHELL THREW TWENTY DOLLARS at the cab driver before abruptly exiting the car. The driver thanked him for the generous tip, shouting out the window as he drove off. Mitchell hustled down the street and ducked into an alley. After navigating around the back of a stretch of buildings, he entered the marketplace.

Farmers and craftsmen hawked their wares as an endless parade of tourists snaked their way in front of all the tables set up in the street. On one corner, a mariachi band serenaded ladies as a subtle request for tips. On another, a chef served up niños envueltos, a traditional Dominican dish consisting of rice and ground beef wrapped in cabbage. Everything from wooden carved toys to furniture to colorful clothing and anything else that could be sold as a souvenir was on display.