The Curse of Medusa

“I’m afraid your flight is over,” he said, and dragged him from the helicopter into the warm Washington night. “Make a move for it and you die.”

Collins looked up at him from his place leaning up against the chopper’s starboard skid. “You’re English?”

“Never mind about me, mate. We’re the ones asking the questions, not you.”

Collins accepted the rebuke and realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the man currently holding a chunky black pistol twelve inches from his forehead. “What do want with me?” he said, nervously.

Kim strode forward. “So you like Cajun food, is that right?”

Collins looked up confused. “I’m sorry?”

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Don’t screw around with me, asshole. What’s your interest in Louisiana?”

Collins looked up and smirked. “I love Dixieland music.”

Hawke punched him in the face, and by the sound of it fractured his cheekbone. Collins screamed out in pain, and Kim Taylor looked on with horror. Hawke took hold of Collins’s hand and put him in a thumb lock.

Collins screamed out in pain again, blood pouring down his face.

Hawke was unmoved. “Answer our questions or I’ll break your thumb, got it?”

“Get off me!”

“After that I’ll break your wrist and then your shoulder before moving to your other side, understand? By the time I’ve finished with you you’ll look you’ve been on a hot wash cycle in a high speed washing machine.”

Kim stepped forward and lowered her voice. “Can I see you a second, Hawke?”

Hawke wiped the blood from his hand and glanced from Collins to Kim. “What, now?”

“Yes, now!”

“Sure.” He turned back to Collins. “I’m a just few yards away. If you move I’ll shoot you dead before you take three steps — got it?”

Collins nodded glumly and rubbed his thumb.

Hawke followed Kim a few yards away from the chopper.

“What the hell was that?” Kim said.

“What?”

“You broke his cheekbone and you nearly broke his thumb, damn it!”

“You mean you want me to stop going easy on him?”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Only ever so slightly.”

“Well, you’re not making me laugh, got it?”

“Come on, Kim. He’s our only chance.”

“He’s in federal custody, Hawke. You can’t beat information out of prisoners.”

Hawke shook his head in disbelief. “And this from the people who brought us water-boarding!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Forget it… listen — I hate to burst your bubble but that guy isn’t going to dump on the sort of man who kidnaps the American President without a certain amount of incentive, if you catch my drift.”

“You’re not hitting him again, Hawke — if you do I’ll have you arrested.”

Hawke was silent for a few moments. “Fine — but let me handle it, all right?”

“No more broken bones, okay?”

“Spoilsport.”

Hawke padded back over to Collins.

“We know you’re involved in the plot to kidnap the President,” he said. “Right now you’re in so much shit you’d probably be better off if I just shot you.”

Nick Collins tried to laugh, but Hawke brought a rapid end to his amusement with a hefty kick in the ribs.

Kim Taylor sighed and rubbed her forehead. “What did I just say?”

Hawke ignored her. “You’re going to tell us all we need to know about the plot — not only where the President is, but what Kiefel’s interest in ancient Greek archaeology is.” He waved his gun in Collins’s face. “I want to know what was stored at the warehouse as well, where it is now and what the hell Dixieland has got to do with anything.”

Collins was now beginning to look nervous. Hawke didn’t think he looked like the kind of guy to be involved with an operation like this and thought maybe he was beginning to have serious regrets. He was probably thinking he’d got away with it, but now this.

Collins breathed out a long sigh of relief. Maybe he was glad it was over. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I know, I swear.”

“Start talking.”

“I was approached a few weeks ago about hiring out some space in the warehouse. We’re not exactly over-run with business and maybe I didn’t ask as many questions as I should have.”

“We need more than that,” Kim said, holstering her gun and moving closer to the man.

“What’s going down is big. Bigger than anything you could imagine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hawke said. “Heard it all before, mate.”

“It’s true, I swear it!”

“Save you’re swearing for the courthouse,” Kim said.

“What was in the warehouse?”

“We stored drones at the warehouse. Helicopter drones.”

“The ones in the attack?” Kim asked.

Collins nodded.

“How many drones?” Hawke asked.

“Four.”

“But we only destroyed two over DC,” Kim said.

Hawke pushed his gun into Collins’s neck. “Where are the other two?”

“Kiefel’s heavies took them down to New Orleans ages ago. They have a location there they’re using as some kind of laboratory.”

“And where is this mysterious location?”

“All I know is the guy who delivered the flatbed to the warehouse mentioned something about driving down to an abandoned processing plant in an industrial part of the city somewhere… St. Tammany Parish, I think.”

Kim spun around and started to speak into her earpiece.

“You’ve been most helpful,” Hawke said.