Extreme Measures (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 20)

of minutes passed before he said anything.
“Where’s the bathroom again? I think I need to go check on my co-worker,” he said.
“Down the hall, last door on the left,” she said.
Hawk followed the woman’s instructions before he noticed Alex slipping out of a room on the right. She winked at him and nodded toward the exit.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d been packed onto a pallet and thrown on a ship,” Hawk said loudly.
“Nope, all good,” Alex said.
“Thank you for your time,” Hawk said.
The woman shooed them along with the back of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Have a nice day.”
Hawk and Alex didn’t say a word until they were back in their car.
“I was starting to worry,” Hawk said. “What happened back there?”
Alex grinned and held up her phone. “I got Dimitri Lagana’s home address.”
“How?”
“There was a big room in the back with personnel records. It was open, so I hustled inside to see if I could find anything. And there it was.”
“Then let’s go.”
Alex entered the information into the navigational app on her phone, and Hawk followed the directions. They drove for twenty minutes before coming to a stop outside a sprawling Greek villa atop a hill overlooking the water.
“Nice place,” Alex said as she got out.
They strode up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Moments later, a young woman clad in a dark-blue skirt and white apron answered the door.
“Geiá sou,” the woman said.
“Geiá sou,” Alex said. “Do you speak English?”
The woman nodded.
“Excellent. My name is Nancy Garland, and I’m a reporter from BBC America. I was wondering if we could speak with Mr. Lagana?”
The woman frowned. “Please wait here.”
The woman closed the door, and Hawk looked at Alex and shrugged. About a minute passed before the door swung open again. This time, an elderly woman opened the door. She pulled a bathrobe taut around her with one hand and held a mug in the other.
“I’m Mrs. Lagana, and I understand you want to speak with my husband," she said.
Alex nodded. “Yes. Is he available?”
“I’m afraid he isn’t. What’s this about?”
“I’m a reporter and we’re working on a story with several shippers in the area about the effects of climate change on their industry,” Alex said. “Do you know when we might be able to speak with him?”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he died a few years ago.”

CHAPTER 4
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT EASED INTO his chair in the back corner of The Dabney restaurant and waited for Doug Quinn, the Deputy Secretary of Defense. The high-ranking Pentagon official had been friends with Blunt for a long time, and they usually went out for dinner every six months or so to discuss burgeoning threats. However, Quinn called two weeks after their previous meeting and asked if they could meet again. Though Quinn refused to divulge the topic of their conversation, he said it was urgent.
Blunt ordered a glass of Failla wine and awaited Quinn’s arrival. At five minutes past seven, he was uncharacteristically late without even a call or text to update Blunt with an ETA. Ten minutes later, Quinn found Blunt and hustled to their table.
“Sorry I’m so late,” Quinn said, settling into his seat. “This Fourth of July event the president is having has everyone working overtime. It’s a logistics nightmare.”
“I totally understand,” Blunt said before popping cheese from the appetizer plate into his mouth.
“Are you planning on going to Young’s big bash?” Quinn asked.
Blunt shook his head. “You know I’m not a fan of big crowds, especially ones where there’s a chance everything could go wrong.”
Quinn furrowed his brow. “This event requires more planning than we have time for, but there’s nothing to worry about. It’s going to be completely safe. Anyone who thinks they’d be able to create serious havoc there will find themselves in for a big disappointment.”
The waiter sauntered up to the table, took Quinn’s drink order, and then disappeared.
“You’re that confident there aren’t any serious threats?” Blunt asked.
Quinn nodded. “I wouldn’t worry about it at all. I’ve been to several joint meetings with the FBI and Homeland Security. But they’ve got a plan that will keep any attempted attacks at bay.”
“That’s comforting to hear,” Blunt said. “I advised Young that he should skip the blast, but he insisted on charging ahead with it.”
“Of course, canceling the event would be the safest thing to do, but you’re thinking more like someone involved in security matters than a politician. It sounds like you’ve forgotten your roots.”
Blunt chuckled. “Let me tell you, that’s not a bad thing in my line of work. The president wants a political show of strength. And God bless him. I love the guy and I appreciate what he’s trying to accomplish with this, but I feel like he’s creating an opportunity for a terrorist organization to strike and really cripple the country with more fear.”
“Real or imagined, that’s their result,” Quinn said. “And here lately, they’re winning on that front.”
Blunt took a long pull on his glass of wine before continuing. “You seem rather comfortable with how things are lining up. And I trust your judgment, so if you say there’s nothing to worry about, I won’t worry.”
“Excellent,” Quinn said as he slapped the table. “Now, tell me what’s good on the menu. I’ve been dying to eat at this place for quite a while now.”
Blunt recommended the Beaver Creek Quail paired with a merlot, which Quinn took without hesitation. After they placed their meal orders, Blunt leaned on the table and eyed Quinn.
“So, if this isn’t about the Fourth of July event, what’s so urgent?”
Quinn stroked his chin. “There’s something going on that I want you to look into for me.”
“What can I do that your limitless resources can’t?”
“I’m playing a hunch here, but I seem to be the only one at the Pentagon who’s concerned about it.”
“Spit it out,” Blunt said.
“Okay, you know how one of my areas of interest is the underbelly of the dark web.”
Blunt drew