Hawk, p.1
Hawk, page 1
part #6 of Will Slater Series
Hawk
The Will Slater Series Book Six
Matt Rogers
Copyright © 2019 by Matt Rogers
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Onur Aksoy.
www.liongraphica.com
Contents
Reader’s Group
Books by Matt Rogers
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Part II
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Announcement
Reader’s Group
Books by Matt Rogers
About the Author
Join the Reader’s Group and get a free 200-page book by Matt Rogers!
Sign up for a free copy of ‘HARD IMPACT’.
Meet Jason King — another member of Black Force.
Experience King’s most dangerous mission — action-packed insanity in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest.
No spam guaranteed.
Just click here.
Books by Matt Rogers
THE JASON KING SERIES
Isolated (Book 1)
Imprisoned (Book 2)
Reloaded (Book 3)
Betrayed (Book 4)
Corrupted (Book 5)
Hunted (Book 6)
THE JASON KING FILES
Cartel (Book 1)
Warrior (Book 2)
Savages (Book 3)
THE WILL SLATER SERIES
Wolf (Book 1)
Lion (Book 2)
Bear (Book 3)
Lynx (Book 4)
Bull (Book 5)
Hawk (Book 6)
BLACK FORCE SHORTS
The Victor (Book 1)
The Chimera (Book 2)
The Tribe (Book 3)
The Hidden (Book 4)
The Coast (Book 5)
The Storm (Book 6)
The Wicked (Book 7)
The King (Book 8)
The Joker (Book 9)
Prologue
Koh Tao
Thailand
Two months ago…
It was hot, but it didn’t faze them.
They were professionals.
The two men had arrived on the ferry three days ago, barely resembling how they looked now. Just in case there were security measures in place. Systems set up to search for new arrivals with sinister intentions.
As far as they were concerned, the changes in appearance were unnecessary. No-one would be looking for them. And if anyone happened to be, there was nothing to see. But they’d received explicit instructions, so they went through with it all anyway.
For reassurance.
They’d looked like any pair of pasty white men, maybe fresh out of college, here to drink and party and fornicate for a few days or weeks until the money ran out and they crawled back to their tiny apartments in the First World with a headache and an absence of hope for their future. They’d half-heartedly smuggled a couple of oversized glass beer bottles in brown paper bags onto the ferry for the journey across, and made sure to get caught sipping from their stash on a number of occasions by crew and passengers alike, complete with wide eyes and mumbled apologies and sly smirks in equal measure.
By all accounts, they were a couple of harmless fun-loving miscreants.
But then the pair touched down on land, and as soon as they stepped out onto the pier and shuffled through the hordes of tourists and locals, they sauntered into town and found a quiet alleyway tucked between a motorised scooter rental agency and a dive bar. The skin pigmentation cream rubbed off and the faux beer bellies they’d added around their waistlines peeled away and their contacts came out and their wigs slipped off, and suddenly they were lean and chiselled and tanned with eyes that were dull and soulless and short military-style buzzcuts. They looked absolutely nothing like the bumbling idiots they’d portrayed on the journey over. They left the accessories at the bottom of a fetid trash can halfway down the alley, covered in flies and muck and shit, and stepped back out with brand new demeanours.
Looking different, but still putting on a pair of impeccable performances.
Because they’d been told not to reveal their hard, cruel natures at any point in the public realm.
They didn’t know who was watching.
Now, three days later, they sat at a carefully selected position in one of the Italian joints catering exclusively to the island’s tourists. The owner had made a half-hearted attempt to pass the venue off as legitimate, but it was mostly an exaggerated caricature of an expensive restaurant with cheap beer flowing like water and half-decent pizzas and pastas to boot.
The two men weren’t there for the food.
Outside, it was devilishly hot. They each had a thin sheen of sweat coating their foreheads and damp patches under their armpits, but that wasn’t anything to be suspicious about in a climate like this. The sun was well on its way to disappearing below the horizon, and a blood-orange glow hung over the dirt road. The entire community near the pier was positioned on steep terrain, and the restaurant jutted out at an odd angle to counteract the way the dusty track sloped down toward the boats on the water.
Past the terracotta patio, a woman in her late twenties with blond hair and an eye-catching physique strolled past. She wore a simple floral dress, and she stared straight ahead. She was Scandinavian.
The two men looked at each other.
Mutual interest.
But not of the lustful kind.
‘Should we do it tonight?’ the first man said.
The second man glanced at his watch, sat back in his chair, and fingered the five-day-old stubble coating his jawline. It was the colour of salt and pepper. He had many, many years experience in this field. Relatively young on a standard timeline, but practically a wizened veteran in a business like this. He thought it over, and said, ‘Why not?’
‘There’s the unpredictability factor, though.’
‘We can deal with that.’
‘Did you read the briefing? I don’t know if we can.’
‘We won’t run into him.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Out. Not here.’
‘We can’t do it here,’ the first man said, his gaze drifting to follow the woman. ‘Too many variables.’
‘No shit. We do it when she gets back home.’
‘What if he’s there?’
‘He won’t be.’
‘We know he’s out. But we’re not tracking him. That leaves room for all sorts of problems. I don’t like it.’
‘You’re a young man in this game. You haven’t run into problems yet. You fear them like they’re insurmountable. They’re a part of the world we operate in, and we deal with them as they come. We’ll be fine.’
‘If there’s a problem?’
‘I’ll handle it.’
‘I hope you can.’
The second man sipped at his water and then nodded. ‘Okay. Noted. Let’s go.’
They slipped out of their seats like panthers in the jungle, with the efficiency of movement of men who had spent their entire lives training for moments like this. There was none of the lackadaisical sauntering they’d been utilising for most of their time on the island. There was no longer a need for the facade.
The “unpredictable threat” had been spotted leaving the house an hour earlier, as he did the same time every evening. They’d trailed him up to the Muay Thai gym at the peak of one of Koh Tao’s hills, and then retreated to the pier to lay in wait for their unsuspecting victim.
On cue, she’d showed u p.
So now they paid their bill and left the restaurant as quickly as they’d arrived, disappearing into the vibrant bustle of a tropical island gripped by the tendrils of a gorgeous sunset.
Following a woman who had no idea she was in danger.
The pair made it to the edge of the target’s property just as the sun disappeared from view.
It melted below the horizon and a dull blue hue settled over the trail. The air hung thick and hot and heavy, but it had been the same for all three days they’d spent here. Hot perspiration pooled around their underarms and in the smalls of their backs.
They’d planned this to perfection. All the hypotheticals. Every possibility. They kept their gazes trained on the narrow opening in the trail a few dozen feet ahead.
They were well concealed on the other side of the dirt track. They’d employed all their old military training to reach the bungalow undetected. Not that the Scandinavian knew she was being followed. But it was the same philosophy they’d held on the ferry.
No harm in being cautious.
Both of them had expected more of a fortress when they’d first laid eyes on the property. They’d heard it was a bungalow — that was the intel provided — but neither of them had expected it to match that description in the slightest.
What they found was true to their superior’s word. It was a fenceless unguarded trail spiralling into the outskirts of the jungle, opening into a small clearing with a low wooden hut. They could just make out the silhouette of the building inside the tree line. No guards manning the entrance. No cameras fixed to nearby tree trunks. No tripwires installed to alert the occupants of approaching combatants. Just a normal dwelling in a quiet stretch of a tropical island.
But it made sense, when they put themselves in the heads of their target and her partner. The pair had been through a whirlwind of chaos for a substantial stretch of their lives. It would be instinctive to avoid anything resembling formality. They both wanted a normal existence. And they thought no-one could find them here.
But they were gravely wrong.
The pair let the trail turn murky. The shadows deepened and elongated, and the buzz of insects seemed to amplify in the quiet. An overhead light inside the hut went out, just leaving the weak glow of a bedside lamp. The pair used night optics coupled with a magnification lens to observe the slim figure curled up on the bed. They had a direct line of sight through the open hut window. It was a close call — there was only a narrow sliver of view through the trees, but they were both confident they could make the shot.
That wasn’t what their employer wanted, though.
He wanted it up close and personal.
So they rose out of the darkness and drew compact 9mm pistols from appendix holsters and ghosted across the trail. One man watched her through the lens, and the other watched their surroundings. Nothing passed them by. If the threat was en route, they’d know. But the woman’s partner was nowhere to be found. They were alone on the trail.
They headed toward the hut.
The first man — the more experienced of the two — tried the door, not making a sound.
Locked.
No matter.
He took a deep breath, signalled to his partner, and then vaulted in over the open windowsill. He clattered to the floor inside the hut in an explosion of noise, landing on both feet. His partner followed him inside.
The woman’s eyes came open in an instant and she moved like lightning for a small object underneath her pillow. Just as she’d drilled over and over again, no doubt. Preparing for any encounter. Staying ready.
What a waste of time, the first man thought.
He was by the bed in a heartbeat, and he slammed an open palm down on the pillow and pinned her small hand under it with vicious grip strength. She struggled and squirmed and writhed, but she couldn’t get the gun free. He kept his hand over the pillow, pinning her in place, and used his other hand to wrench hers out by the wrist. It almost came out with the gun, but he was prepared for that. He planted his palm down harder, trapping the weapon against the mattress, and she rolled off the bed, unarmed and vulnerable.
The second man seized her around the waist and held her in place.
She slashed an elbow behind her, and connected with his jaw, nearly dislocating it. He reeled away, but the size difference was enough to maintain control of the situation. He threw her into the wall and she crumpled to the floor in a heap, her breath rattling in her throat.
You have been trained well, the first man thought.
He approached with the 9mm pistol in his grip and crouched down by her. He kept a keen eye on the door, but it remained locked. He made sure to lower his frame below the window’s line of sight, preventing him from succumbing to a last-ditch effort to seize back control of the situation. There was always room for that. He pictured her partner storming in at the last second, rescuing her from her attackers.
How valiant that would be, he thought.
It’s a shame that’s not how the world works.
He took her chin in his palm and lifted it so their eyes met. The impact with the wall had busted her nose, and the pain had caused her eyes to well with tears. She was beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous. She could have graced the cover of an international magazine. She could have been a star.
Instead, she’d decided to pledge allegiance to a bad, bad man.
The first man, in a voice barely above a whisper, said, ‘Are you Klara?’
She nodded. ‘My husband will be back any minute. You don’t want to be here for that.’
‘We won’t be.’
Her face turned white.
Fear.
Raw fear.
There wasn’t a sight in the world quite like it.
The first man said, ‘He’s at the gym. That’s a shame. He could have been here. He could have helped you.’
The second guy made some kind of guttural noise, and the first man turned to see him clutching his jaw, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief.
‘You need an ice-pack?’ the first guy said.
The second guy shot him a glare.
‘She’s had some training,’ he muttered, the lower half of his face already starting to swell.
The first guy shrugged. ‘Didn’t seem to help her.’
He turned back, and saw something close to hope in her eyes.
It almost made him laugh.
‘Are you counting your blessings?’ he said. ‘You think you’re managing to stall us?’
She didn’t say anything.
He leant in close and whispered, ‘I was letting you think that. Just to give you hope. But life doesn’t work that way. There’s no last minute rescue.’
She turned pale again.
He said, ‘This isn’t a fairytale, Klara. There’s no happy ending.’
He raised the 9mm pistol and shot her in the head.
The body was heavier than they expected.
