Extreme Measures (A Brady Hawk Novel Book 20)

with the foreman, peppering him with questions as they tapped on boxes and peered into barrels. For all the red flags Marco Lopez had raised about the items being imported into Bolivia from Nicolo Logistics, nothing seemed amiss on the warehouse floor. Upon the end of their inspection, they thanked the foreman and returned to their vehicle.
“What do you think?” Hawk asked Lykaios. “Do you think they’re hiding something?”
“If they were, they did a good job of it. Most of the exporters operating outside the law hire suspect employees. In fact, I had someone on my team create an analysis of the current Nicolo employees versus the typical profiles from companies that have been cited for misconduct.”
Lykaios handed Hawk a folder with several documents inside.
“Any other avenues to pursue?” Alex asked.
“Not for you. I’m afraid that’s all you’re legally permitted to do. I wish there were more ways I could help you, but that’s all I can do.”
“We understand,” Hawk said. “We appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”
Hawk was about to get into the car when he noticed a worker in a neon-green safety vest hustling in their direction.
“Sir,” the man called, his hand raised to get Hawk’s attention.
“I’m sorry,” Hawk said. “Is there a problem?”
The worker handed Hawk a folder. “I believe you dropped this.”
Hawk cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow. “I didn’t—”
“Have a nice day,” the man said before he scurried to the building.
Hawk glanced at Alex. “That was weird.”
“Don’t look at it until we get in the car,” she said. “Stuff it in your briefcase and say thank you.”
“Thank you!” Hawk called.
The man didn’t turn around as he threw his hand in the air again, this time in a gesture of acknowledgment.
Hawk and Alex climbed inside their car.
“Let’s get going,” she said.
After they cleared the parking lot, Alex flipped open the folder and read the handwritten note placed on top of a stack of spreadsheets.
“What is it?” Hawk asked, leaning over to inspect the documents closely.
“Eyes on the road,” she said. “It’s a note from our new friend.”
“What’s it say?”
“‘Text me after 18:00 to set up a meeting tonight. I will answer your questions.’”
“Good work,” Hawk said. “I’m starting to think it’s time to get you out from behind that computer for good.”
She clucked her tongue and turned her attention to the meandering coastline below. “Call me crazy, but I still prefer exercising my online ninja skills as opposed to getting shot at.”
“Just give it some time,” Hawk said with a wink.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, Hawk and Alex sat at a table in Apollo’s Tavern, a drinking establishment themed to Greek mythology. All the drinks had names like Poseidon’s Potion, Athena’s Aphrodisiac, or Hades’s Elixir. A white statue of Zeus stood floor to ceiling in the center of the room, while paintings of various tales decorated the wall.
By 6:15 p.m., Hawk was starting to wonder if the Nicolo worker had stood them up.
“Think he just wanted to mess with us?” Hawk asked, adjusting his mustache. “Play a little prank on the Americans snooping around their facility?”
Alex shook her head, her hair still auburn from her earlier disguise.
“No?” he asked. “Why’s that?”
“Because he just walked in the front door.”
Hawk turned around in time to see the man scan the room before casually walking over to their table. He smiled before taking an empty seat next to Hawk.
“Matthias,” the man said, offering his hand. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me here.”
Hawk went with one of his favorite aliases for situations like this. “Chris Helmsworth,” he replied.
“Eleanor Parker,” Alex said, offering her hand to Matthias.
He shook their hands and then hunched low over the table, speaking in a hushed tone.
“Who are you really with?” Matthias asked.
“We’re working in conjunction with the U.S. Department of Homeland Security,” Hawk said. “What did you want to speak with us about?”
Matthias glanced around the room again before continuing. “There’s something going on at Nicolo that has me afraid.”
Hawk templed his fingers and leaned forward in his chair. “Afraid in what way?”
“I don’t know what we are shipping out, but I can promise you that it isn’t good,” Matthias said. “There are mafia members milling around our warehouse, the kind of people you wouldn’t want to cross on a bad day, men who would shoot you if you looked at them wrong.”
“Even lowlife thugs have shipping needs, right?” Alex asked.
Matthias shook his head. “You don’t understand. It gets worse.”
Hawk leaned back in his seat, still unsure if the man was just a fanciful conspiracy theorist or a whistleblower sounding the alarm.
“Worse?” Alex said.
"Yes," Matthias said, his gaze darting back and forth between the two agents. "We need to inspect everything that goes in and out of our facility. It's our name on the shipping label, and we have to make sure we aren't transporting contraband."
“And are you?” Hawk asked.
Matthias shrugged. “There’s no way to know since we aren’t allowed to inspect about half of our shipments, which is very odd. I’ve worked at several warehouses here and it’s the only one where that’s the norm instead of the exception.”
“We appreciate you sharing your concerns with us, but I don’t understand why you aren’t going to the local authorities with this information,” Alex said.
Matthias blew out a short breath and rolled his eyes. “Around here, everyone just holds their hand out. If a significant amount of money gets placed in it, they look the other way. I have little doubt that the government official who walked you through our building is getting a small monthly stipend from Nicolo. It’s how they’ve been able to avoid getting caught for so long.”
“I appreciate your concern, but you’re only confirming our hunches,” Hawk said. “However, none of that intelligence is actionable.”
“How about this,” Matthias said. “I can tell you who our contact is in the United States.”
“All right,” Hawk said. “Let’s hear it.”
Matthias shook his head. “I’m taking a big risk here. This kind of information isn’t free.”
“Fine,” Hawk said as he