Matt Drake Book 9 - The Plagues of Pandora

by David Leadbeater

  Spinning fast she jabbed an elbow into the small of his back. Again Beauregard stood motionless, studying her. Alicia changed tack. “Why are you fighting for these people? And aren’t you supposed to be locked up, for God’s sake?”

  Beauregard couldn’t resist a little sneer. “Aha, your silly team allowed the authorities to handle my interrogation.” He stressed the word in a disdainful way. “They were not a match for me.”

  Alicia felt a sudden urge to take this man down, teach him his place in the world. “If you challenge me that way,” she said, “you’ll end up crawling at my feet.”

  Beauregard arched an eyebrow. “I believe I might enjoy that.”

  “So why are you here?”

  The Frenchman struck fast, clearly trying to make an impression; if not in her mind at least on her body. “Money,” he said. “Always the money.”

  “You’re on the wrong bloody team.” Alicia fended him off and took a second to review the rest of the team. Three mercs still fought Russo and Healey, whilst Crouch had his hands full with another. Through the earpieces Caitlyn shouted excitedly about a merc with a backpack standing quietly behind Beauregard. Alicia noticed him for the first time.

  “Who’s your boyfriend?”

  “We have what we came for,” Beauregard said. “Stop me if you can, Alicia Myles. We’re so far ahead of schedule we may even be stopping over for the night.”

  Alicia paused even as she fell into a well-practiced move. Was that . . . ? Did he just . . . ?

  Russo’s clamorous voice brayed through the morning like a claxon. “Myles, stop chatting the bloody man up and take him down!”

  Alicia eyed the assassin. “You planning to switch sides?”

  “Le Grand Hyatt,” he said without moving a muscle. “But be careful of monsters there.”

  “I’d better encounter at least one.” Alicia didn’t know how to explain it but, flirting aside, she trusted Beauregard. Their world of shadows and death, one-night encounters and paid wet work was far from reality. Alicia had been there—done it. She knew the ropes and how to test the character of the people that stood among them. Perhaps it was familiar souls, comrades in arms; perhaps it was that he’d gone easy on them and surrendered back in England in a knocked-unconscious kind of way; perhaps it was some kind of new desperation. Always look forward, she thought. Never back.

  Russo brayed again. Alicia sensed him pounding up behind her. She nodded quickly at Beauregard and performed a weak attack. The Frenchman skipped away, bruised her ribs and sent her sprawling. Then he twisted Russo despite the big man’s strength and threw him onto Alicia.

  “Fuck!” she yelled as the tremendous weight sprawled atop her.

  Beauregard grabbed the man with the backpack, relieved him of the burden, and ran straight into the brightening dawn. The remaining man drew a pistol but was taken down almost immediately by a sniper’s shot from Crouch.

  “Get the hell off me, you daft lummox!” Alicia shouted.

  “I’m bloody trying.” Russo struggled to roll his body off her. “Last place I wanna be, believe me.”

  “Ow!”

  “And if you hadn’t spent so much time trying to get shagged maybe we would have taken him down.”

  “Hey, Russo, your miniature backup piece is digging into my ass.”

  “Eh? I don’t have a . . .” Russo finally managed to roll clear, groaning. “Oh, I get it.”

  “Good.” Alicia sat up. “Keep it in your pants.” She noticed Crouch drawing a bead on the fleeing Beauregard and shouted at him to stop.

  Crouch lowered the weapon, calm, regarding her curiously. “What did you do?”

  “I talked us into a chance,” she said, giving Russo the eye. “Using my distinctive charm, of course. We’re sitting ducks out here but the mercs don’t know we know where they’re staying. The Le Grand.”

  “You mean to steal the sample back from under their noses?” Crouch caught on quickly. “What makes you trust Beauregard?”

  Russo snorted. “I can think of one thing—”

  “I bet you can, Robster, but Michael knows what I mean, don’t you? You were there at Sunnyvale. You know Beauregard could have seriously hurt us. And now . . . chances are he could have escaped with the samples anyway.”

  Crouch chewed his lower lip. “Tricky operation, Alicia. Even with a fully trustworthy soldier on the inside. And a hotel is not exactly perfect for a team raid.”

  Alicia nodded. “Agreed, sir. But if I can get hold of Drake straight away, I believe we have just the man.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  At 7 a.m. on a cold and windy London morning, Matt Drake and his team regrouped in a local hotel. This was no longer a single entity discussion—by necessity it had to include all the cooperating teams and more. Karin handled the heady logistics, helped by Caitlyn Nash on the Paris side and Dan Radford in LA. Armand Argento also tuned in from Interpol.

  Drake reclined in an easy chair, facing a work desk where Karin had placed two laptops. Arranged around him were his teammates. The atmosphere was a little despondent, but despite their loss they still showed good spirits. With all the governments around the world searching for the samples it was only a matter of time before they showed up. In addition, with most of the Pythians’ mercenaries identified and being tracked it would be relatively easy to anticipate their next move.

  Drake put an arm around Mai, receiving a slight smile in response. Grace, perched on the soft arm beside her, kicked her legs to and fro and stared into space. Most everyone else studied the laptop screens as they began to fill with images.

  Alicia’s face popped up suddenly. “Hey!”

  Drake laughed. “Damn, I’ve seen some things in my time but that’s scary.”

  Alicia pouted. “An insult means you’re missing me. I get it.”

  Hayden stepped in front of the screens. “Everyone is online? That’s good. We can start. I’d like to get a feel for what has happened so far. Mr. Crouch, if you can start.”

  Drake listened without giving his full attention. In the end, all their stories were pretty much the same. They had lost the samples. The bubonic plague, or a form of it, was on its way to be weaponized at some secret factory.

  Then Alicia’s voice cut through his deliberations. “I have a plan to steal our sample back.”

  Dahl was first to jump in. “You know where they’re taking it?”

  “Not quite like you mean,” Alicia said. “I simply know where it will be today. Perhaps even tonight.” She went on to describe her meeting with Beauregard and its favorable outcome.

  Drake thought about the master assassin’s conduct during Coyote’s recent tournament. The reward was worth the risk. He nodded as Hayden turned toward him with questioning eyes.

  “Yorgi,” he said. “Time to be useful.”

  The Russian thief smiled widely. “For too long,” he said. “I have sat on your sidelines. Now, I prove my worth.”

  Kinimaka checked his watch. “You’d better leave immediately, bud. It’s an hour’s flight and then some to Paris.”

  Yorgi rose. Hayden took him into a corner, explaining the details and handing him cash and a phone. Alicia asked about any special equipment he might need and then the thief was ready.

  Agent Claire Collins spoke up from Los Angeles. “We’re on full standby out here, but now we also have an agenda of our own—”

  Trent cut in. “A man called the Moose. Contract killer. Threatened or killed some of our friends a few months ago during the Blanka Davic takedown. Now he appears to be working with the Pythians—”

  “We want this man,” Silk broke in. “Badly.”

  “Understood,” Drake said. “If it comes to it, and you haven’t caught him by the time all this is over, we’ll fly over there and help you take the bastard out.”

  Collins smiled. “All right. So what’s next?”

  “Following our loss,” Crouch began. “It may be time to start pursuing a different angle. I mean, what of th
e Pandora myth? How does it connect with all this? Are we missing something?”

  Dahl and Kinimaka both nodded at the same time. The Swede spoke up. “I’ve been wondering that myself.” In answer to Drake’s smile he said, “Yes, Swedish men can multitask, unlike the English. My feeling is that they named this dreadful creation the Pandora Plague for a reason.”

  Drake’s smile grew wider. “I just love how you change nationalities when it suits. Anyway . . . Michael? What do you know about Pandora?”

  “First woman on earth,” Crouch recapped. The ex-leader of the Ninth Division had always been a lover of archaeological mystery, of fabled history and dusty old legends that just might turn out to be true. It was why he had created the new Gold Team and how they had recently discovered two caves full of Aztec treasure.

  “Created at the command of Zeus. Given a box and told not to open it. What would anyone do? She set loose all the sins of the world. Now the gods, feeling a little sorry for her, had also placed inside the box a good creature whose task it was to heal the body and soul. And so was born hope. Hope managed to escape the box at the last minute, just before Pandora closed it, and flew around the world, healing the wounds that the sins and plagues had already made. But, as she escaped last, she is always the last to arrive. That’s why, when people are beset with worry, it is hope that always helps see them through.”

  “Wait a goddamn minute,” Smyth barked from his protective place alongside Lauren. “If I’m hearing this correctly, the gods wanted to punish mankind? So they sent woman. Am I right?”

  Lauren swatted his arm, not kindly. Smyth grumped and checked the perimeter of the room. He was nothing if not always prepared. Immediately after his impromptu outburst he whipped his cellphone out of a back pocket.

  “What about the box?” Karin asked. “It’s always Pandora’s Box. Maybe it’s an important artefact or something.”

  “A box that once held all known sins would be considered the greatest find in history. The stories say it could actually have been a pithos, a jar, made of clay or bronze metal. The actual story of Pandora is a theodicy—an attempt to address the question of why there is evil in the world. From the paintings of Lefebvre to the Soprano Nilsson she is always depicted holding the box, about to unleash the plagues.”

  “So the naming by the Pythians could be nothing more than another message saying they’re evil?” Dahl stated. “And about to unleash a pandemic.”

  “Possibly.” Crouch shrugged on screen. “Does anyone have a take on the story?”

  Alicia, always one to have an opinion, spoke first. “Personally, I enjoy most of the sins of the world,” she said. “But not these. Plague. Famine. The sins released by Pandora relate to what the Pythians are creating—a new plague.”

  Drake coughed. “Wow, what have you been feeding her, Crouch? Brain food?”

  “Piss off, Drakey.”

  Crouch was thinking hard, missing the exchange. “The Pandora story is so very ancient. Her daughter, Pyrrah, was said to have survived the great deluge along with Noah. Yet when she first appeared on the slopes of Mount Olympus, in the same vein as Eve, she signaled a change in the world from happiness and contentment to suffering and death. This can also be put down to a sign of technological advancement, for her coming was punishment for Prometheus giving mankind the stolen gift of fire.”

  “Technological advancement,” Trent said from another screen. “Just one more angle.”

  Hayden returned from briefing Yorgi. “And another thing, guys, probably as important. The Pythians are not ghosts operating on an astral plane. We have to find their HQ. Judging by what we know this Pandora plague is merely a beginning. More lives will be lost unless we locate them.”

  “Footprints, digital or otherwise,” Caitlyn said. “Some must exist.”

  “What news of Stone and Bell?” Dahl asked.

  As Hayden reported their total lack of developments, Drake watched Yorgi prepare to leave the room. His mind recalled when he’d first met the young Russian thief, back in that hellhole of a prison where Zanko played god of war. They had helped each other back then, and Drake had seen the man’s potential and realized his skillset might come in handy someday.

  Today.

  Quickly, he scooted off the sofa and intercepted Yorgi by the door. “Leaving without a word?”

  “I speak English not too well.” Yorgi shrugged with a slight smile. “I not want to embarrass.”

  “Ah, bloody hell, you speak English just fine.” Drake pulled the Russian into a bear hug. “Stay safe out there, my friend, and think fast. Just do your job, nothing else.”

  Yorgi nodded. “It has been a while but I am happy to be helping.”

  Drake opened the door and watched Yorgi head out. It didn’t seem right letting him walk off alone but he knew that members of Crouch’s team would meet him straight off the jet. Yorgi would be stalking the street of Paris by lunchtime.

  “It’s a three-way hunt then,” Crouch was saying. “The Pythians. The Pandora angle. And the secret facility. Let’s get to it.”

  As Drake wandered further into the main room he passed Mai on the way out. The look on her face set his angst into overdrive. Without asking he made a decision to follow her out of the room and into the empty corridor. Mai met his eyes.

  “Hibiki,” she said, gesturing with her cell. “He has news on the family of the man I killed over in Tokyo.”

  Drake winced, but stopped himself from talking. Mai appeared to be more hooked up on this than she had been on the search for her parents. The only help for her was to let her see it through.

  Dai Hibiki, Mai’s Japanese police contact and old friend, spoke fast. “After you killed the husband the Yakuza killed the rest of the family, just to be sure. The daughter escaped. We don’t know where she is now.”

  Mai crumbled so fast Drake thought that her very soul must have collapsed. Her face went slack, her legs shook. Drake moved in to support her. For a moment there was utter silence.

  “We will keep trying to find Emiko, the daughter, Mai. We’ll never stop. All reports says she’s a good girl. She’ll turn up soon, I guarantee it.”

  Mai opened her mouth but nothing came out except a grating far back in her throat. Drake gently took the phone from her hands.

  “Cheers, Hibiki. Mai needs to digest all that and you need to monitor international chatter for any sign of the Pythians or their bases. They’re a world threat now.”

  “Understood. There has been intelligence lately to suggest several groups of men employed by these Pythians have moved across borders in southeast Asia, along with whisperings of a lost kingdom on an Atlantis level. We are investigating.”

  “Good. Keep us informed.” Drake ended the call and then held Mai. When her head fell across his shoulder and her body began to shake he knew they were in desperate trouble. Knowing better than to speak he thought of all that they had been through since that wonderful, fateful day back in ’98 when Mai and he had teamed up to take down a Chechen warlord. The years had been more than rough—they had ravaged the life out of both of them. But here they were—together, fragile but happy in their relationship, destined for a better life. Drake’s personal battles and losses had pushed him closer to Mai, but now hers were pulling her away. He had made his peace and moved on, finding contentment even after Ben’s death and the murder of others, in this unlikely family he had discovered, this improbable team that loved and lived and fought for each other every hour of every day of the week.

  He urged Mai back into the hotel room, seeking that companionship. In an uncanny moment the only person that noticed them was Alicia, eyes flicking his way from the TV screen and registering a glint of concern. Drake dropped Mai into a chair and stood beside her, hoping the turmoil would break her emotional miasma.

  Strangely, he noticed that Lauren Fox had risen to her feet, about to address the room. Maybe it had something to do with General Stone.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “Totally off
the wall. I mean so far off the wall,” she pointed to the small partition beside her, “it’s on the other side of the room . . .”

  All eyes turned to her. From Los Angeles, Agent Collins said, “Oh, thinking with diversity. I like this girl already.”

  Lauren gathered her thoughts. “It occurred to me at the beginning of all this when Stone first invited Bell to participate in our trysts. I could check with my friends in the trade. We’re a very close-knit group. We have to be to warn each other about bad punters, dangerous johns, as we call them in the States. Our warning network is first class. Has to be. Now, if Stone and Bell frequent escort girls in DC, do they also frequent them somewhere else?”

  A moment passed, then Crouch said, “That’s a bloody good idea. A habit is a habit and you’re right. Both men will have used escort girls elsewhere. You just need recent or coincident occurrences.”

  Lauren flushed at the compliment, clearly not the jaded individual she appeared to be. Being useful, being a part of the team, evidently placed high on her needs list.

  Grace, so far very quiet, came over to stand by Mai as she realized the Japanese woman wasn’t herself. To her credit she remained silent, offering only companionship. The young woman had enough problems of her own as memory loss gradually gave way to an emerging past of slavery and abuse. The complications of letting such a past go were huge as that past now felt like her present. Drake wondered if their world was about to unravel.

  And then the call came in. Hayden snatched up her cell first, listening and turning parchment white as someone shouted in her ear.

  Fifteen seconds later she was pocketing her phone and running for her jacket. “Meeting over!” she cried. “Just heard James Ronson has been attacked by mercenaries. We have to go!”

  “Ronson?” Crouch repeated. “You mean Prime Minister Ronson? Oh, my God. My God. What the hell is happening?”

  “We’ll be secondary, but we have to be there.” Hayden checked her weapons, already heading for the door.