by Rob Jones
Hawke lifted the cannister out of the device. “But he hasn’t got this, so the mission was a success.”
“And he hasn’t got the Blood Crew anymore, either,” Scarlet said. “Because we killed all the bastards.”
“It won’t take him long to put another Blood Crew together,” Lea said. “And he still has Crombez and Njuzi.” As she spoke, she looked at Reaper, but then quickly moved her eyes away.
“CIA will be all over that,” said Kosinski. “Maybe. You never know. They’re just as likely to make an alliance with him.”
“Aren’t you going to arrest us?” Lea said.
What he said in response stunned them all.
“No. I’m on your side now.”
Hawke laughed. “Pull the other one.”
“No, I mean it. I’m with you guys,” he said, shocking them all further. “I’m hearing some dark stuff about President Faulkner and I want no part in it.”
Hawke regarded his nemesis with suspicion. “How do we know we can trust you?”
Kosinski gave a shrug. “No way to know, Hawke. Either you trust me and get away right now, or you’re in a CIA black site with a bag over your head before nightfall.”
Hawke and Lea exchanged a glance. “What else can we do?” she said.
He handed Kosinski the cannister. “Here it is, all one gram of it. If it’s detonated, it will take out everything within fifty square miles.”
The CIA man weighed it in his hands. “And yet the whole thing weighs less than a bag of sugar. Ain’t that cute?”
Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “If you say so, darling.”
Lea was still in shock. “So, what happens now?”
“Now, you run like the devil,” Kosinski said. “And I’ll send my men in the opposite direction.”
Hawke extended his hand. “ECHO won’t forget this, Kosinski.”
The gruff CIA man studied the hand for a second and then shook it. “Now get the fuck outta here,” he growled. “And don’t call me – I’ll call you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Alex didn’t know how long she had been crying, but it felt like forever. When the guards had collected her from her cell she knew where she was going, and it wasn’t the chilled-out cocktail lounge atmosphere of Colonel Blanchard’s carpeted corner office.
The journey seemed to take forever as they wheeled her through the maze that was Tartarus, and when they finally arrived at their destination, she was surprised to see the base commander standing in the corridor with his arms crossed. “Alex Reeve, nice to see you again.”
“Drop dead.”
“Ouch, that’s not a nice way to talk to someone. Especially someone who has power of life and death over you. You ready to talk?”
“I’ll never testify against my father because he has done nothing wrong!”
“We talked about this in my office, remember?”
She kept silent.
“My office is a much nicer environment than Mr Mahoe’s office.”
More silence.
The commander looked at the guards. “Awaken the beast.”
One of the guards stepped up to the large steel door. He tapped in a keycode and waited. A deep clunk was followed by the door swinging open.
Mr Mahoe turned out to be a Hawaiian man, approximately the same size as your average family SUV. Covered in tattoos from head to toe, she had a hard job putting his face together in her mind. Green and black ink twirled and snaked up his neck and over his solid, meaty face. She saw inked waves, palms, sharks, feathers and scowling gods.
But no human face.
The guards moved into a second adjoining room and appeared with a manacled prisoner. The chained man took one look at Mr Mahoe and started to beg for his life. “No! Please!”
“Put him on the table.” Mr Mahoe’s voice was low, rounded and almost fruity. In no particular hurry, he picked up a pair of stun gloves and slipping his massive shovel-like hands into them. “And strap him down. They start to struggle when things get real.”
The two soldiers obeyed the giant and carried the man over to the table. They strapped his ankles and arms down on the gurney and stepped away from him.
Blanchard said, “DOD says he has to stay alive.”
“Relax.” Mr Mahoe gave them a wide, beaming smile full of teeth. “I know what I’m doing. I can make someone wish they were dead without actually delivering the result.”
Blanchard looked at Mr Mahoe with a mix of fear and respect. “Just make sure you do.”
Mr Mahoe gave a nod, his tattooed double-chin creasing up as he did so, and Blanchard turned to Alex. “This man gave state secrets away to the Russians. Fancy that.”
Alex Reeve looked at the base commander with disgust. “I know why you’re doing this.”
“You do, huh?”
“You show me this nightmare, then I start talking, or I’m next.”
He nodded, but no smile. “This is an ugly business, Miss Reeve. You start giving me information about your father’s involvement with the foreign terrorist group known as ECHO, or I’ll start giving you some real problems.”
“They are not a terror group.”
“The President of the United States says otherwise, and so does the entire machinery of the US military-industrial complex. You’re on the outside now, and it’s cold out there, right? If you give me what I want, then you can come back inside.”
“Go to hell.”
He turned to her, a dead, fiendish smirk playing on his lips. “Go to hell? Didn’t you know we’re already there? This is Tartarus, Alex. This is the end of the world. No one here gets out alive and no one hears your screams.” He leaned in closer and she smelt the coffee and stale tobacco on his breath. “There is no hope here, Alex. You give me what I want, or I will deliver you to the heart of hell itself.”
“You seem at home here.”
“Yes. Personally, it’s rather grown on me.”
“I’m glad you like the place so much. When my father is exonerated, you’re going to be spending the rest of your life here – but as a prisoner, not the base commander.”
He laughed. “Your father’s never getting out of here. He’s even more screwed than you are. Your life has completely changed. Yours and his. You both need to get used to it. The only way you can avoid total hell is by giving me what I want, and that means information my superiors can use to convict your father of treason.”
As if on cue, Mr Mahoe used the stun gloves and made the terrified, sweating man scream until his voice broke. Alex looked away in revulsion, wrapping her arms around her body and resting her chin on her shoulder. “This is an abomination.”
The commander nodded at the two guards. They stepped forward, one grabbing her and the other wrenching her head back around, forcing her to watch the torture.
“No skipping the nasty bits, Alex,” the commander said. “Mr Mahoe doesn’t like to be ignored when he’s performing his art.”
“You’re a psycho, Blanchard.”
“I’m a loyal patriot and you are a traitor who consorts with foreign terror organizations.”
Mr Mahoe turned now and studied the tray of torture instruments. Raising his right hand to his mouth, he gently tapped his lips with his thumb as he carefully mulled the decision over in his mind. Eventually, he opted for a pair of nylon jaw pliers.
Blanchard winced. “As much as I respect him, he’s no dentist.” Turning casually to Alex, he gave a look of mock-sympathy for the tortured man. “He has no finesse. Just brute force and a terrible bedside manner.”
“Stop this, Blanchard!”
His voice grew cold and serious. “You know how to stop it.”
Mr Mahoe leaned in over the man, obscuring him from view as he brought his arms up and plunged the pliers into his mouth.
Alex tried to look away, but the soldiers gripped her head. When she closed her eyes, one of them pulled them roughly open and screamed at her to look.
“Blanchard!” she yelled. “Stop th
is!”
The man’s bloodcurdling screams were muffled and choked by the presence of Mr Mahoe’s chubby hands deep inside his mouth. A wet, crunching sound was followed by a hoarse scream of pain and fear as Mr Mahoe turned and waved the pliers, and the bloody tooth they gripped, at Blanchard.
“This is insane.”
“You can stop the insanity anytime you like.”
“I’ll never betray my father.”
He nodded and watched as Mr Mahoe sloppily wiped the blood from the man’s chin and dumped the rag down beside the torture tools. “In that case, when was the last time you had a dental check-up? I think you’re overdue.”
*
Jessica Clark looked down at her sick son and began praying. The holy words fell from her trembling lips like leaves in the fall, carried on the wind and with no control over where they would land. She might be a fearless, lethal assassin, but she was also a mother. Seeing her son like this was her kryptonite.
“I can’t breathe, mom.”
His voice was weaker now, and she knew he was starting to give up.
“Just hang in there, Matty. We almost have what we need to get you your operation and buy a new life. It’s just days now, baby. Hang on for me.”
No words, but that smile.
She choked back the tears and squeezed his hand.
But it was just days, she told herself.
She had already delivered a good chunk of the contract by eliminating three of the ECHO team, and the remaining members had zero chance of survival. She was just too deadly. The next one on her list would already be dead if Mrs Kowalczyk hadn’t called her with an urgent message about her son’s failing health.
She had raced home on a private jet and spent the last few days at his bedside, increasing the dose of his prescription medicine and praying. It had worked and he was hanging in there, but despite her belief in god, she was starting to believe his quality of life was a cruel testament to a godless universe.
She turned to her neighbour and gave her a desperate smile. “He’s all right for now, Mrs Kowalczyk. I’ll be back in a few days. I have a job to finish. If you could just…”
“I will.”
“I owe you so much. I should be coming into some money soon. I mean real money. I’m going to give you some and I don’t want you to refuse.”
“Don’t talk crazy. Your son needs help and I’m a friend who’s right next door.”
The young woman smiled, but she could feel herself changing. Jessica Clarke was fading away again, and she was starting to think like Agent Cougar. Chief among those thoughts was finding the ECHO team.
But they had disappeared again.
Must have a contact on the inside.
Someone’s helping them.
No one on her side.
Maybe Ezra Haven at Titanfort?
She passed a loving hand over her son’s forehead, beading with sweat. “I love you, Matty.”
“I love you too, mom.”
“But I have to go now. Last time, I promise, baby.”
“I know.”
“Mrs Kowalczyk will look after you day and night.”
“I know.”
She got to her feet and zipped up her leather jacket. Picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
Last seen in Santorini where an Osprey just got winged, no survivors, and there was chatter pointing to a major exchange of fire between terrorists and local special ops in Istanbul.
She took one last look at her son, smiled, and stepped outside her apartment.
Agent Cougar had a job to do, and this time she would finish it.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Mediterranean Sea
Less than a day later, the ECHO team were on board the Málaga Maersk.
The two hundred-thousand-ton container ship cut through the Mediterranean night like a monster creeping away from the sunrise. The plan was to stay on board until Spain and then regroup in a safehouse.
Below decks at the base of the bridge house, some of the team were seated around a table. Others were lounging on a tattered vinyl sofa. Kamala and Ryan were operating a coffee machine beside the heavy steel door. Reaper leaned against the bulkhead and rolled a cigarette. Scarlet cuddled a bottle of spiced rum like a hot water bottle.
Hawke looked through a small porthole smeared with grease and studied the long, black line, where the sky met the sea and the stars finally ran out. “Okay, I know Kashala got away, but the mission was a success.”
Turning, he saw the team looked less than convinced.
“Problems?” he asked.
“For one thing,” Lexi said. “We don’t know if King Kashala got away with any more antimatter devices. Just because we deactivated the one in the Hagia Sophia, does not mean he’s not got a few more hidden away somewhere. Maybe Zhivkov filled more than one cannister.”
“Now that’s a sobering thought,” Zeke said. “Anyone checked the news lately? Maybe Paris just went up in smoke.”
Hawke calmed the chatter. “Joseph Kashala was last seen sprinting from the Hagia Sophia with his tail well and truly between his legs. He wasn’t even carrying a bag over his shoulder, and the devices are too big for him to have concealed one in his pockets. Not only that, but the most of the Blood Crew were killed. My money is on that being the end of the antimatter threat.”
“The Blood Crew is whoever he says it is,” Reaper said. “And they weren’t all killed. We know Crombez and Njuzi got away. Don’t forget, I know Crombez, and he will not accept defeat as easily as that. He will want revenge. He threatened my family. Whether or not he teams back up with Kashala to get it, I cannot say.”
“If he does, fifty bucks on me taking him out first,” Ryan said.
Scarlet spit the rum out in a fine spray. “You’ve got to be having a laugh?”
Ryan shrugged. “Why not put your money where your mouth is?”
She leaned into his ear, close enough to kiss, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because, boy, I haven’t got any fucking money.”
“Point taken.”
“And we’re still on the Most Wanted,” Camacho threw in casually.
Reaper gave a grim laugh. “And the sniper’s still out there, mes amis.”
“In other words,” Scarlet purred. “Things are turning to shit again!”
“Just like always,” said Lea. “Rich should get that engraved over the entrance at Elysium.”
“I’d forgotten about that place,” Ryan returned. “Think it’s still there?”
Lea shrugged. “I hope so. Think it’s going to need a fair amount of TLC though.”
“If we ever get back there,” Ryan said.
Hawke paused a beat, thinking about the right thing to say. Mindless optimism wouldn’t fool anyone on this team, but a note of confidence from a leader could go a long way. “We’ll get back there,” he said at last. “It’s our home.”
“I wish I had your optimism.” Lea rested her head on her hand and stared into the middle distance. “It just feels like we’re going round in circles.”
“Look,” Ryan’s voice became quiet and sincere. “It’s times like these, you learn to live again.”
“Thanks, Ry,” she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I knew I could rely… wait a minute, isn’t that lyrics from the Foo Fighters?”
“The point,” Ryan said, moving quickly along, “is that we have what it takes to get our lives back.”
Lea’s phone rang. Startled, she took it her from her pocket. It was Sooke. Taking the call, she flicked it onto speaker and his smooth voice rang out tinny and shrill as it bounced off the steel bulkheads.
“You’ll be pleased to hear that Dr Jazmin Benedek has safely delivered Orpheus’s Lyre to Guy Francken, and the one million dollars has been deposited in one of my accounts.”
The team exploded in a rousing chorus of whoops and high-fives, until he spoke again.
“Unfortunately, I’m taking the money and you’ll never hear from me again
.”
Time seemed to stop. Hawke stared at Lea. Knowing that her worst fear was Francken not paying, this seemed a hundred times worse. Then, in the shocked silence, Sooke spoke again.
“Just kidding.”
Lea breathed out hard. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Orlando!”
“My little idea of a gag. Would have loved to see your faces.”
“And you don’t want to know what I want to do yours, darling.” Scarlet said coldly.
“And there’s more good news,” he continued. “I have the name and details of a man in possession of the location of Tartarus, courtesy of our friend Ezra Haven, once again.”
“I think we owe him a pint,” Ryan said.
Hawke stepped nearer the phone, his voice hardening. “Who is this man?”
“Jackson Moran. He’s a senior CIA officer and he’s going to be in the Amazon basin for the next week or so.”
“He likes fishing for piranhas?” Lexi asked.
“Maybe. We don’t know why. It’s not relevant, anyway. If you want to get the location of Tartarus, this is your best chance. I’ll set up new accounts under the same names in your passports and send you the money. That way, you can access the cash and get to Brazil.”
“Thanks Orlando.” Lea felt her heart rising with hope. “Any word about Rich?”
“Not a dickie bird.”
“We’re going to need weapons,” Hawke said.
“That’s your problem.”
“I can help with that.” Reaper slipped his own phone from his pocket and got up to make a call. Pacing along the bulkhead, he spoke in rapid French with lots of sighs and heaves and hand movements.
“Anyway, good luck,” Sooke said.
He cut the call and the team shared some cautious words of confidence as they started to plan their next move. With Moran’s name in his pocket, Hawke was confident. It wasn’t much, but if anyone could track the senior CIA agent and extract the location of Tartarus from him, then ECHO could. He was certain that was enough to motivate the team at such a low time for them.
As for him, he needed nothing more than he already had for him to rescue their friends and put Jack Brooke back in power. Looking silently around the room, he saw Lea and Kamala laughing at a joke Zeke had just made. Nikolai was playing solitaire now, and smoking like a cement factory.