Page 42 of Hawk on the Hunt

“You’re confusing me with somebody. My name is Bancroft,” the weasel claimed, his body trembling visibly.

“I would never forget the face of the asshole who tried to kill Lilly,” Yankee swore.

Resignation flickered in Bancroft’s eyes now. He knew he’d lost.

His gun still in his right hand, Yankee grabbed Bancroft’s collar with his left and pulled him up. When he tried to shake off his grip, Yankee put his gun underneath Bancroft’s chin and growled.

“It’ll be messy, but I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s not like I have to clean up here after you.”

The warning was clear even to the loser in his grip. Bancroft swallowed hard, and Yankee pressed the gun deeper into the soft flesh underneath his jaw and pulled him out of the small room, while he turned to Fox. “Frisk him!”

Fox patted him down, then shook his head. “No weapons.”

“Let’s have a look at what you’ve got, shall we?” Yankee asked, while he dragged him to the living room.

Fox snatched Bancroft’s cell phone from the coffee table. He tapped on it. “It’s locked.”

“Right thumb,” Yankee demanded as Fox stopped next to him and grabbed Bancroft’s hand. Bancroft had no choice but to press his thumb on the cell phone to unlock it.

From the corner of his eye, Yankee watched as Fox connected a cable to the cell phone, and tapped on his own phone. It took only a few moments, before Fox shook his head and tossed Bancroft’s cell phone back on the table.

“Nothing.”

“Well, then we have to do it the old-fashioned way, won’t we?” Yankee said, looking straight at Bancroft, who’s eyes widened in fear.

Before he could start with his interrogation, Fox pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “It’s Tiger.” Fox tapped on it and pressed it to his ear. “Yeah?”

Fox listened intently, his eyes widening, surprise registering on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Yankee asked, instantly alarmed.

Fox lifted his hand. “No, we’ve already got Smith. We’re about to interrogate him.” A short pause, then Fox added, “Yeah, we’ll sweep the house, just in case it’s here.” He disconnected the call.

“What happened?” Yankee asked, tossing Bancroft onto the sectional, while keeping a close eye on him, the gun still pointed at him.

“The Speaker isn’t Jones.”

“Fuck!” They’d gotten it wrong. They’d messed up, and now their chance of taking down Jones was practically nil. Because once Jones found out that he and his friends had gotten to Smith, he’d be in the wind.

“But they figured out who Jones really is. He’s the next in line for the presidency after the Speaker: Senator James Johnson from Idaho. He’s Polo. They found a bomb in the Speaker’s office. Polo must have placed it there to get rid of the Speaker, so he’d become president.”

The news was a revelation. “So we’ve got him?”

“Almost. The Capitol is being evacuated right now, but Tiger said they believe they know where he’s hiding.”

Yankee nodded. “Good. Then we just need to get on with our part of the job.” He smiled at Bancroft. “Which brings me back to you.”

Bancroft sank deeper into the sofa cushions, while Yankee leaned in. “I know nothing,” Bancroft spat defiantly. “I didn’t even know who Jones is. Had I had any idea, I would have—”

“You would have what?” Yankee challenged.

When Bancroft didn’t say anything, Yankee added, “So, let’s get down to business. Who’s got the trigger for the bomb in the coffin?”

Bancroft’s forehead furrowed. “What coffin?”

“The coffin that’s carrying the VP’s dead son,” Yankee snapped.

Bancroft suddenly looked at the TV screen where the reporter was hypothesizing about what had brought down Marine One, when his facial expression changed as if the penny finally dropped. Had he really been so stupid as not to know what his boss had planned?