Page 16 of Hawk on the Hunt

“It’s the best lead we have,” Fox added. “But he won’t be easy to find.”

“We have his name and photo,” Tiger said, pointing to the screen.

Fox tapped something on his keyboard. “Do you know how many men named James Johnson live in the US?”

Tiger shrugged.

“26,850. That’s a big number.” Fox pointed to the screen. “And that photo is old. I doubt he kept that military haircut.”

“Military haircut?” Dylan said, thinking of something. “Can you check how many men named James Johnson were in the military about twelve to fifteen years ago?”

“I can certainly run a search. Michelle can help me hack into the system.”

“How about facial recognition?” Dylan asked. “Do you have a system for that? I mean, yes, his hair might be different now, and he would have aged, but certain things don’t change, you know, the distance between his eyes, the shape and length of his nose, his ears… all that could be compared to other photos like a fingerprint, right?”

“Sure it can. Michelle and I can set up some searches, and let the system do the work for us, but I’m telling you right now that it will take days to get any results,” Fox cautioned.

Ace nodded. “Let’s set it up. Run his photo and name through the military databases, and set up facial recognition for all other sources. Keep in mind that he might not have kept his real name and lives under an assumed name now. Our best shot is his photo, even though it’s twelve years old.”

“Can’t you use aging software to see what he might look like now?” Yankee interjected. “I mean, assuming he didn’t have plastic surgery like me?”

“You mean he could be as pretty as you now?” Tiger asked chuckling.

Yankee grinned. “You jealous of my good looks?”

Tiger simply rolled his eyes.

Dylan watched the exchange, smiling to himself. The camaraderie between the four men was evident in the way they ribbed each other and worked together so seamlessly. He’d missed that in his years hiding out in the Pacific Northwest. It was good to be with people who had a common goal and common skills.

When Ace had invited him to join them, Dylan had wondered how long it would take him to fully trust the other Stargate agents. He’d assumed that it would take weeks until he would relax in their presence. He hadn’t expected that fitting in with them would be so seamless, and trusting them came almost automatically. He hadn’t had this feeling since Sheppard’s death. For the first time in four years, he felt at home among strangers, as if he’d suddenly found out that he had four brothers. Because that’s what they were: brothers from different parents, connected by their gift of foresight, and united by their common goal to get justice for their slain leader, so they could all live in peace. Soon. Very soon, he hoped.

9

“Mr. Jones?”

The male voice was accompanied by a crackling in the line.

“The package is on its way to you,” he replied. “You know what to do?”

“Are you certain, sir?” The other man cleared his voice. “It can’t be undone.”

Anger churned up inside him. He hated it when people second-guessed his decisions. They didn’t know the whole story, had no idea how important every single cog in the machine was to achieve the desired outcome. Only he did. That was the reason he was the boss. He gave the orders.

“I’m aware of that,” he ground out. “If you’re getting cold feet, I’ll get somebody else to do your job. But then you can’t expect any favors from me when you need them. I don’t deal with people who can’t stick to the plan.”

“No, no, sir, of course, I’m going to take care of it. I just wanted to make sure that’s still the plan.” His words fairly tumbled from his mouth as he backpedaled to remain in his good graces. “It will be done just like you said.”

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Make sure to stick to the timing. It’s crucial. We can’t afford any delays in the delivery.”

“I promise, sir! The timing will present no problem. Everything is ready. All I need is your go-ahead.”

He rolled his eyes. He despised people who groveled so openly. He could never respect anyone who had no self-respect and caved so easily. But he needed people like that. They did his grunt work and could be disposed of when they weren’t needed anymore. He wasn’t stupid enough to leave loose ends. Everything would be tied up neatly in the end, and nobody would be the wiser.

“You have my go-ahead. When it’s done, destroy your SIM card and the phone, and dispose of them. There will be no further communication. Got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without saying goodbye, he disconnected the call. Tomorrow, the wheels he’d set in motion would be turning swiftly, catapulting him in the direction of the goal he’d been working toward for the last few years. Finally, it was time. Everything was ready. Soon, he’d have all the power he needed to crush the people who’d done him wrong. They would be like ants under his shoes: insignificant, without power, and dead.