The Matt Drake Series Books: 7-9 (The Matt Drake Series Boxset 2)

by David Leadbeater

  More men crested the mounds.

  Machine-gun fire stitched its way across the castle walls from one end to the other. Where bullets passed between the crenellations they flew on to impact against other buildings or the higher castle keep, or even further to the higher hills that bordered this place. Drake crouched behind the walls and peered across the line. Karin was closest to him, sitting with her back against the wall and staring over the castle roofs. The tech-girl was keeping in constant touch with the nearby base through walkie-talkie. Komodo was next over, never far from her side. Then Kinimaka, still in the dark as to Hayden’s fate, dual expressions of rage and hurricane-like ferocity carved into his face.

  “Here they come!” the Hawaiian shouted. “Keep ‘em out!”

  Drake sprayed the top of the mounds, then the courtyard below. Men screamed and fell. Others flinched, threw themselves prostrate, or dived for the walls. A bullet fizzed over his head, almost close enough for him to write down its flight path. He picked off a soldier who had been trying to get a bead on Komodo, then threw himself to the floor as one of the big black choppers suddenly thundered out of nowhere.

  “Shit!”

  The helicopter blasted up over the mounds and low over the castle walls, so low Drake could have reached up and touched the bottom of one of its skids. The noise assaulted his eardrums, but that wasn’t the worst of it.

  It was the half-dozen men leaning out of both sides, taking aim with high-powered weapons.

  Drake scrambled along the wide ledge as a fusillade of lead smashed into the walls above his head. Some of the bullets shot through the crenels, hopefully maiming their own men in the courtyard below. Drake cursed as he dashed along. The distraction would give the attackers chance to cross the courtyard and gain the main gate.

  Drake crawled fast, knowing the gate was strong but not wanting to leave anything to chance. Behind him, Komodo returned fire at the swaying chopper, sending two men bouncing brutally to the courtyard below. Kinimaka stayed on his mark, completely ignoring the threatening black bird. Drake reached the concrete steps, sensing Karin at his heels. He glanced back.

  “What do the army say?”

  “There’s still no sign of Kovalenko. They’re holding off but they aren’t going to stay there for much longer!”

  “Tell the bastards to hold their fuckin’ horses. We’re the ones with our bollocks on the chopping block. Not them!”

  Karin winced as someone spoke in her ear. “Line goes straight through to the White House, Drake. President Coburn says he’ll give us a few more minutes.”

  Despite the situation, Drake made a face. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. He shrugged.

  Fuck it.

  Swinging his legs over the top of the steps, he instinctively ducked as another stream of bullets gushed from the chopper’s open doors. He fell backwards over Karin, his body covering hers. One of the bullets actually glanced off his vest and skimmed on over the wall.

  “We’re gonna get shot to bits up here.”

  Then he raised his head, astonished. If he had been religious he might have started praying. As it was, he did stop breathing.

  Karin looked stunned. “Oh my God.”

  Creeping across the roofs on their bellies, Dahl and Alicia came below the swaying chopper. In one fluid lunge they jumped up and grasped hold of a skid on separate sides, then boosted themselves until they were sat astride them. Alicia aimed her weapon upward and smiled. Drake couldn’t tell what she said, but imagined it wouldn’t be entirely pretty. Dahl just fired.

  Bullets hammered up through the chopper’s floor, decimating the strapped-in men and blowing holes through the roof. The prop shaft and rotor took direct hits. When the chopper jerked sharply, Dahl and Alicia jumped off, hitting the castle’s red roof tiles and rolling clear. With a fractured roar the big machine tilted at an angle, leaning over like a foundering ship in rolling seas, then fell with a shriek into the courtyard below. Metal ground and screeched on impact. Glass shattered. The rotor blades tore off and whickered away at high speed like king-size knives thrown by a titan. The building beside the explosion crumbled under force of the collision; walls crumpling, roof tiles slipping and sliding down in three separate red streams. A fireball boomed skyward, black smoke billowing and obscuring the crash site, but the intensity of the flames assured Drake no one had survived.

  He cheered. Alicia saluted. Dahl dropped to a prone position and fired at something directly below Drake, most likely the castle gates. He spun toward Kinimaka.

  “How we doing?”

  “Five at the gates. Now four, thanks to Dahl. Two in the courtyard. Four on the hill . . .” He fired expectantly as he finished speaking, then looked a bit sheepish. “Shit,” he said. “Still four.”

  The next noise was almost as loud and menacing as the approaching chopper had been. Drake knew the sound, but couldn’t believe it. “Is that . . .? No way.”

  He spun to the nearest crenel, looking out. His mouth dropped open as a large truck topped one of the mounds, then came jouncing down the other side. An entire row of black-clad men stood atop the hills, staring across the gap, rifles held high.

  A battle cry went up.

  The men charged.

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  Amidst the battle cries and the bedlam, Drake heard the revving engines of arriving cars. The Blood King’s main force was already here. His heart thudded. Just one sighting, just one! That was all they needed to call in the cavalry.

  A fitting analogy, he thought. Out here, in these dry, desolate badlands—more than fitting.

  The big truck hit level ground and bounced and clattered its way across the courtyard, revving and swerving as if James Hunt was trying to shunt his way past on the inside. Komodo and Kinimaka came sliding up to Drake.

  “Sure must seem like we’re trapped here,” the Hawaiian grunted. “So where’s Kovalenko?”

  “Kovalenko has a source in the government,” Drake pointed out. “If we needed any proof, the drone confirmed it. Now that source will either throw him to the dogs—that’s us,” he clarified unnecessarily. “Or warn him off.”

  “He’s here,” Kinimaka growled. “I can smell evil a mile off.”

  Drake regarded him. “Is that a Polynesian thing?”

  “CIA training.”

  Drake laughed. “Must be the advanced part of the course, eh?” Without pause he rose and sprayed the courtyard with bullets. The huge truck barreled on through. A wave of men came behind it and a second wave behind them. A foul chorus of vile intent rose from their ranks. Drake fired, Kinimaka and Komodo standing alongside him, and several of the running men fell, but the rest charged on. The ground passed swiftly beneath their feet as they hurdled the fallen. Drake dropped more, shooting indiscriminately. The truck roared past his eyeline and smashed into the gate, making the castle walls shudder with the impact. Its front end blasted inside the castle, but its canvas-covered bed got stuck in the gap half way through and ground to a vibrating halt.

  Drake pulled out a military-issue knife. “They all die.”

  With that he jumped right off the castle walls, sailing into space and landing atop the canvas cover. He held his balance, feeling the cover belly out beneath him, then fell to his knees and slashed hard with the knife. Komodo and Kinimaka, coming five seconds after him, fell right through the gap into the bed of the truck below, and Drake followed a split second after them.

  Hard-looking men started in shock. Komodo was amongst them before they could react, slashing a throat; a cheek; a chest. Kinimaka had held on to his Glock and whipped it out now, three single shots signaling the deaths of three dull-witted men. Drake jabbed one man in the throat with his knife, then another across the forehead. The last was too far away to touch . . .

  . . . and already held a pistol leveled precisely between the Englishman’s eyes.

  “G’night fu—”

  Drake threw his knife end over end. It embedded to the hilt in the man’s throat.
The reflex shot went high, skimming up into the roof. Komodo was already jumping through the gaps in the side-canvas, hitting the ground before turning to finish the driver. Drake leapt through the other side, taking the passenger down into the dirt with a chokehold.

  “Where’s Kovalenko?” he whispered into the man’s ear. “Did he send you to die alone?”

  The man struggled but couldn’t break Drake’s hold. The Englishman tightened it a notch. “Tell me.”

  “He’s out there. With his lieutenants. Don’t worry. He’s coming for you.”

  Drake choked the man out and rose to his feet. The truck now effectively blocked the gap where the gate had been, but men were already tearing the remainder of the gate apart. They would be through in minutes. Plus Drake could now see them atop the walls, having gained access by jumping from the mounds that passed close to either side.

  “Time to fall back,” he said, but then Dahl’s voice rang out.

  “The walls!” he cried. “Go to the walls!”

  If it had been anyone else, Drake would have paused and questioned it, but knowing Torsten Dahl as he did there was no choice. He pounded hard at the steps and found Karin standing at the top, isolated, staring out over the walls as enemy commandoes came at her from both sides.

  “He’s out there,” Karin said softly, oblivious to her danger. “That bastard is right there, watching us.”

  Drake smashed into a commando running at him full pelt, slightly dipping his shoulder and letting his momentum send the guy flying off the walls. The second he met with a palm to the face, breaking his nose and letting his own tear ducts destroy his vision. He sensed Komodo at his back, meeting the attackers who charged in from the other side. The two men fought hard on the castle walls with Karin between them, hand-to-hand combat being more practical in the enclosed conditions. Komodo threw a man over the walls to the concrete below, blocked knife strikes, and used the enemies’ own force of numbers against them, employing them as shields and foils, toppling them like dominoes. The heights of the castle rang with clanging steel and dying screams. Drake did take a bullet, but it only drove into his vest and knocked him back less than a step. Without missing a stride, he broke the shooter’s wrist and twisted the weapon away from him, using its full magazine to thin the herd.

  In a moment’s respite, he turned to Karin. “Show me.”

  She held out a hand. Drake followed her pointing finger and there, atop the highest mound and flanked by Mordant and Gabriel, stood the Blood King. The Russian regarded the scene for a moment before starting forward.

  “He’s coming in,” Karin yelled, and then remembered the walkie-talkie in her hand. “I have to—”

  “No time.” Drake grabbed her and almost threw her down the steps. “Go!” Both he and Komodo followed her down to the courtyard, dodging bullets as they ran. The truck lay idling away down there, and beyond it the helicopter burned like a furious beacon. Dahl and Alicia stood close to the truck, watching the castle gates finally fall.

  “Low on ammo,” Alicia said. “We gotta conserve.”

  “Kovalenko will be inside within minutes.” Drake said. They ran as a group, heading past the chopper’s blazing wreckage. The heat was a furnace blast in Drake’s face as he skirted it, raising the temperature of Death Valley to an even more deadly notch. They used the arched doorways as cover when Kovalenko’s men broke through, hiding and firing in pairs, leap-frogging each other to reach a safer place.

  And, finally, Drake gave Karin the nod. “Make the call.”

  Karin’s eyes blazed with pure hatred as she ducked a hail of gunfire, rose amidst the smoke of pulverized stone and charred metal, and spoke into the receiver.

  “Bring the fire!” she cried, looking up to the burning skies. “Bring the fires of hell down on this motherfucker!”

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  At the same time, Smyth burst out of his hiding place, rushing forward in full assault mode. The team had all agreed that leaving a man behind was actually a good idea on this occasion. It had been Alicia’s plan. Smyth had listened to it and allowed an evil little grin to spread across his face.

  “I’ll do it,” he snarled. “I’d love to waste all these bastards. It’ll be my personal revenge for Romero.”

  The Delta man had carefully dug deep into a mound of loose shale on the far side of the courtyard so that now, as he burst into sight, he was behind them. His machine gun was turned to full auto, spitting and coughing in his hands, spraying the field, and the fact that he shot many a mercenary in the back did not faze him at all.

  They had butchered and terrorized, had this group. They had murdered without remorse. They had massacred and, not only that, they had done it all without the slightest care for civilian welfare. The innocent were no more than obstacles to be smashed aside in their eyes.

  Let them die badly then.

  A cluster of men by the gates went down, never understanding what hit them. The last of them tried to twist around but lost his head in Smyth’s next burst. As he ran, the concrete base around him kicked up dust and chips. Bullets pecked around his own feet. He chanced a look to the rear and saw Kovalenko and his two lieutenants surrounded by many men, some of whom were firing at him.

  Damn. If I had waited . . .

  But that was not the plan. The nearby American base would be sending the hand of God to fall upon this place very soon. If he wanted any hope of surviving the strike, he had to be with the team. Smyth’s feet fairly danced amid the bullets, each step taking him nearer the shattered gates. In another second he was through and let the machine gun rattle once more, taking out another three targets.

  Head down, he ran on, hoping to God one of the SPEAR team was keeping their eyes on him.

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  At around the same time, Mai Kitano met Dai Hibiki on the steps outside the Tokyo Game Show. Her old partner stopped dead when he saw her, raising both eyebrows so far they practically disappeared into his hairline.

  “Wow. Who are you?”

  “It’s Mai, you idiot,” she said, thinking he hadn’t recognized her, then understood. “Oh. What do you think?”

  She spun slowly, posing with her hands on her hips, conscious that every eye of every man and woman outside the Game Show was fixed upon her. The sensual feel of soft leather on her bare skin was more than invigorating.

  “I don’t know, but if that ass wants to lead, I’ll follow it anywhere.”

  Mai ignored his bravado. Maybe she would recount his words later to Chika and make him pay. Maybe she would just see if he realized his error and let him make it up to her. “I’m Maggie Q. Do you know her?”

  “I know of her. Nikita, yes? She’s got nothing on you, Mai.”

  “That’s better. Now, are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be. The rest of my guys—your old friends from the agency—are in place too. Are you sure about going all the way with this?”

  “I have no choice. The Clan brought this down upon themselves, not me.”

  Hibiki started up the steps. “Then let’s end them.”

  “Even better.” Mai climbed after him.

  “I have to ask, though.” Hibiki peered at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why Maggie Q?”

  Mai smiled secretly. “A surprise for a good friend,” she said. “And a reminder to my boyfriend that he’s not the only one interested in me.”

  Hibiki shook his head. “I think Drake already knows you can never be tamed, Mai.”

  “Sure he does, but a gentle reminder never hurts.”

  ****

  Inside the Game Show the exhibition space was split into several large areas. Far over to the right stood the over eighteens area, enclosed by a wall of eight-by-eight-foot panels. Closer by, and laid out in seemingly endless parallel lines, were rows and rows of game stations, each one showcasing a brand new version of a popular video game. The area was already jam-packed with onlookers, every seat taken by an enthusiastic gamer whilst, behind each one, sever
al more waited in line or watched. The in-game noise effects and the sound of excited chatter were almost overwhelming. Crowds wandered between the rows. Over to the left stood even more stations, some reserved for dancing games, others for RPGs or retro-gaming. Still more areas offered the chance for competitions. The show itself was every gamer’s wet dream, not to mention the cosplay side of it. The sides of the exhibition hall were lined with stalls, shops and eateries, each one doing a brisk business.

  “I forgot how busy this place gets.” Mai posed for a picture with two young guys, never losing a beat.

  “Stop enjoying yourself,” Hibiki said. “We’ve a job to do.”

  Mai smiled sweetly and offered Hibiki her phone. “Here, take a picture so I can send it to the boys when I leave.”

  The agent sniffed and shook his head, but did as Mai asked. They began to thread their way among the rows, moving ever closer to the over eighteens area. Once there, they went through a security checkpoint where Mai again was asked to pose for pictures.

  “Good job we aren’t in a hurry,” Hibiki muttered as they crossed into the restricted area. Here were situated the more violent games—the Call of Dutys and GTAs—and the lines to play them doubled back on themselves at least four times.

  “There’s the bar.” Hibiki nodded ahead.