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

by David Leadbeater

  A fully fuelled jet. A shower on board. A quick, energy-laced meal and they were well on their way back to Washington. Drake wished he could have joined Mai in the shower, if only to liberate a little tension, but the Japanese woman remained distant. Alicia offered to join him, but since she’d already offered to join Russo and Caitlyn too he decided to completely ignore her, not even offering a rejoinder.

  But he remembered the good times. Perhaps long ago now, but they had been great together once. Drake and Myles. Their stories, their exploits, their wild times together in and out of war would fill a book. Several books.

  Christ it was so long ago. Far away now, like most of the best memories of his life. Of course, as he’d learned over time, you only realized you were living the best times of your life when you lost them. Never go back. The idea rang true for Alicia Myles, but not necessarily for him. He had returned to Mai, returned to England and to the place where Alyson died, returned to Coyote.

  Has it helped?

  Truth be told, he didn’t know. But one absolute remained unexplored. Before all that, before everything, there was the SAS, the Ninth Division and Alicia Myles. Looking back, he thought, you usually romance your memories. You remember them better than they actually were.

  But not always. Sometimes they really were as good as you remembered them.

  He watched out the window as Washington DC unrolled below and geared himself up for what was soon to come. Now wasn’t the time to vacillate, now was the time to storm across their enemies’ field of play, decimating their forces.

  The moment the wheels bounced and squealed on American asphalt he rose to start doing exactly that.

  *

  “Do you have a location?” Hayden used a black walkie-talkie, holding the case to her lips.

  A man’s voice came back, clipped tones conveying a no-nonsense attitude. “We have eyes on. Founding Farmers. Been there forty minutes, looks set for the night.”

  Drake was listening in. “Hope he bloody well gets gut-rot from his last meal as a free man.”

  The team, with Alicia’s new crew as crucial backup, hastened through DCs clogged arteries, updated constantly by the team on site. Drake experienced a little déjà vu. The last time he’d driven along these streets, a time that now seemed a long time ago, was when he’d chased the Blood King to the Foggy Bottom metro and saved President Coburn’s life. By the time they pulled up close to the restaurant known as the Founding Farmers, only a block away from one of their previous HQs, he felt totally lost. That started up a longing for the old streets of York where he’d started anew and met Ben, and that brought him full circle to the fact that they were here now, fighting hard, whilst most people in these parts basked in a healthy spring; forced to put an end to yet one more murderous son of a bitch’s apocalyptic plans.

  Quickly they moved into position. When they were ready Hayden took a glance around the now admittedly overlarge team. “So who doesn’t he know?”

  “Don’t worry,” Dahl growled. “It’ll take me just a minute to shove a gun down his throat and march him right out the back.”

  “No. There’s innocent people in there. Kids.”

  Dahl stepped down.

  “Every second counts,” Smyth said, not only now for the good of the world, but also for a dying Lauren Fox.

  Komodo said. “I’ll go in with Yorgi, Healey and Caitlyn. Mismatched colleagues grabbing a drink after work. We’ll find a way and fast.”

  Quickly, the four were prepped and given civilian jackets. Alicia put a hand on both Healey and Caitlyn’s shoulders, leaning in to give advice.

  “Now remember, we’re in a hurry. No slinking off to the restroom for a shag.”

  Healey took a deep breath but then almost squeaked as Alicia gave them both a slap on the behind for good luck. “Now you’re both jealous of me.” She grinned and slipped back into hiding.

  Drake watched the foursome enter the Founding Farmers. “Do you ever let up, Miss Myles?”

  “Not in this life, Drakey. Just keeping my mojo train on the right track and moving forward. Life’s too short for repentance.”

  “You have none then? No regrets?”

  “Fuck, yeah. I have a ton. Just leave ‘em all behind.”

  “Can’t do that forever.”

  “Who says so? You? No way you hang on to yours, Drake, not without lugging a dump truck behind you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  They moved over to Hayden. A surveillance team had been watching their target for over an hour – after he finally reappeared on the radar – through a series of scopes they had assembled inside a neighboring office block. Drake took a peek through one of the glasses, carefully following Komodo’s progress as he meandered through several occupied tables. Yorgi, Healey and Caitlyn kept pace. Of course there were no free tables near the target, but the man, sat with his head bowed, didn’t know that. Komodo quickly took the seat next to him and leaned in, grabbing his arms and locking them to his sides. The maneuver looked like someone giving a greeting to an old friend. Drake imagined Komodo laughing out loud. The others took the remaining spare seats and also leaned in—perhaps secreting weapons that Komodo had already found, maybe imparting advice, but always covering their real intentions.

  Within minutes, Komodo was leading the tall figure out of the restaurant. Healey left money on the table and Caitlyn and Yorgi were ready to field any questions. None arose.

  Drake left his place of concealment to face the man whom the Pythians believed was probably the one most unlikely to betray them.

  “General Stone,” he said. “You’re gonna tell us everything you know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  “Starting with,” Hayden said, “where is your friend Dudley taking those samples?”

  Under strictest security they had taken the General to a safe location. Now he sat handcuffed to a spartan desk inside a spartan room, a man alone in more ways than one. With the ongoing crisis Hayden had taken it upon herself to keep Stone isolated from standard protocol. She figured they had a few hours before questions were asked.

  And anyway, time was hardly their ally today.

  Stone glared impassively. “I am a United States general. This isn’t Afghanistan, young lady. I demand access to my representatives.”

  “I have two representatives for him.” Alicia held up her fists. “Morgue,” she nodded to her left. “Hospital.” She indicated the right. “Let him choose.”

  Smyth was dangerously close to breaking the door down. Drake dragged them both away and back behind the two-way mirror. “Give Hayden a chance, guys.”

  Hayden took a moment to reveal to the general the severity of his situation, citing first Lauren and her revelations and then the Nicholas Bell sightings and several intelligence leaks including one where Washington DC came under attack by a drone, involving access codes which were stolen from Stone’s office. Even the general’s face melted a little at the charges being leveled against him.

  “You think I’m a member of the Pythians? Are you insane?”

  This time the bluster was gone, replaced by a lackluster rhetoric. Hayden slammed a clenched fist on the table, making its legs bounce. “None of that matters! Callan Dudley is in the wind with two mass-casualty aerosolized weapons. I’m not sure yet if we’re classing them as WMDs but do you really want that on your fucking résumé too?”

  “You think I’m crazy,” Stone said quietly. “A monster of circumstance. But I see what happens in our government, I see the corruption and the games that are played, and I see the need for a higher authority. That’s what the Pythians will give you. Real leadership. Not power plays and six-figure bribes and intimidation. You will know where you stand with the Pythians.”

  “Where has Callan Dudley taken the aerosols?”

  “We are the Pythians,” Stone said. “We are everywhere and we will start a very real war. Through China and Taiwan we will find the lost kingdom. Then to the pirate galleons of America. And Saint Ge
rmain—the most important, shocking and amazing discoveries of our . . .”

  “Shit, I wish we had chance to squeeze him for everything.” Drake saw how this was going. “But right now—” he looked at Smyth and paged Hayden.

  “Time to send in the dogs?”

  “Last chance, General.” Hayden said. “Speak freely whilst you still can.”

  “You think we don’t know you? Ever since London the Pythians have been working you through their intelligence network. And it’s exhaustive, believe me. Text. Pictures. Video. Hayden Jaye, once liaison to the now very dead Secretary of Defense, Gates. Father—dead. Boyfriends—who knows how many, but at least one is dead. How many, Jaye? Pretty piece of ass like you—I bet those thighs have seen plenty of two-way traffic—”

  Now it was Kinimaka who reached for the door, but he needn’t have bothered. Hayden was professional enough to keep her cool under such weak taunting, but chose this moment not to.

  “I realize from surveillance of our own that if I try to bust your balls, General, you’re actually gonna enjoy it. So I’ll stay clear of that area. Instead—”

  She delivered a fast strike to his face, breaking his nose at the bridge. When his hands came up in reaction she looped the chain of his handcuffs around his neck and pulled. Drake kept an eye on her face, impressed with the composure he saw there.

  “She’s almost there,” he said to the big Hawaiian. “Give her a sec, matey.”

  Hayden tightened the makeshift noose until the general could barely breathe. “All right, motherfucker,” she whispered into his ear. “This is now one very real world, where lonely, persecuted and misunderstood government agents use any and all means to save the men, women and children of their country and preserve their way of life. Even if some of those men, women and children protest that they don’t want or need this kind of help. Do you think they’d change their mind if a terrorist cell entered their kids’ school or the shopping mall? The airport or train station they commute from? How quickly past atrocities are forgotten.”

  Hayden squeezed as she spoke, finally relenting and allowing Stone a little room to talk. The general struggled in her grip to no avail.

  “Love . . . loving the sexual asphyxiation technique. Your hot breath. Your hands on my neck—”

  Hayden wrenched the chains once again, catching some of Stone’s hanging folds of skin between them and earning a yelp. This time the general’s face was turning purple before she let go.

  “I can keep it up all night,” she breathed close to his ear. “Can you?”

  Smyth turned to Kinimaka with characteristic belligerence. “Shit, your girlfriend’s hot.”

  Stone’s gasping filled the room. “Bitch, damn bitch. You’ll get nothing from me.”

  Alicia stepped up. “I think it’s time your, um, ‘off-the-books’ associates sorted this out. We were never here, right?”

  Drake was about to agree when Hayden thrust her gun into the general’s mouth. Unable to gulp air he began to breathe through his nose.

  Until Hayden pinched his nostrils shut.

  Stone kicked at the table and threw his head from side to side. Hayden clamped his body down. Still close to his ear she whispered once more.

  “Ready to talk, General?”

  Stone slapped his hands on the table, the freak inside possibly even excited by the pain. In the end Hayden’s determination chipped away all his resolve.

  “Callan Dudley,” he said when she removed the gun, “left Greece with two boxes. Small aerosols. Once he reaches the second facility he will be able to incorporate them into anything we want. A mid-air bomb. A direct rocket. Street-level aerosols. Shit, we can even replicate a Typhoid Mary.”

  Drake’s heart fell. Second facility. Oh no . . .

  “Where?” Hayden pressed.

  “At the Canadian north.” Stone gave her a location. “Hudson Bay.”

  Hayden stepped back. “You mean the mountain? The ski resort?”

  Stone flashed her an evil grin. “Yeah. Whatever.”

  Hayden’s lips tightened. “You lying bastard.”

  “Try Manitoba,” Stone said. “You might even be safe there.”

  “And all the innocent people you’re about to kill. What about them?”

  Stone shrugged emotionlessly. “In any war there are unintended casualties. Just ask your new Secretary of Defense.”

  Drake narrowed his eyes as Hayden ignored the odd jibe. “But this is a war of your own making.”

  “Every new world order must first make its mark,” Stone said coolly. “True respect only comes with a well-measured mix of fear and pain.”

  Hayden shook her head and turned to the window. “That’s not respect, you asshole,” she murmured. “It’s hatred.”

  Hayden used the gun and pushed harder. She pushed until tears ran down Stone’s cheeks. But in the short term, they had nothing that could break him further. The man turned into a gibbering idiot, but always there was that smug, aloof light of superiority in his eyes.

  “We’ll get no more from him.” Hayden walked back into the outer office. “Whatever else he is, he’s US military, trained to withstand pressure at the highest level. If I’m being honest I believe he thinks the Pythians will come for him. Save him. What do we have?”

  Drake nodded toward a computer screen where the inimitable Alicia Myles had already clicked onto a Superdry website to best illustrate the style of clothes she’d prefer to be wearing when they crashed the Canadian pole.

  “So we’re nowhere with Lauren’s cure?” Smyth rasped. “Dudley’s capture? Give me a crack at that piece of—”

  “Have you heard from Lauren’s doctors?” Hayden interrupted.

  Dahl nodded. “She’s deteriorating quickly.”

  “Just as important for Lauren,” Smyth said. “Is there any more news on this new version of the plague?”

  “Only that it’s derived from a concoction of old diseases. They say that the virus dies quickly when buried, right? Well, what if sometimes they’re wrong? Check out these scientific absolutes we found. I quote, ‘the degree of preservation of a cadaver cannot be predicted by the type of coffin used or the location of the internment. Completely preserved bodies have been found in both wooden and lead coffins. Some contain dry bones but others occasionally contain a viscous black liquid, known as coffin liquor. This can include soft tissues’. You following me so far? Now ‘regardless of age soft tissue is recognized as a potential hazard. If present, expert medical advice should be obtained from the CDDC before proceeding’. This is particularly important with well-preserved bodies. My guess, the Pythians found the best preserved old gravesites in the world.”

  Alicia leaned her head against the glass window. “Y’know, guys. Moving on, Stone could be right. Remember when we had Beauregard in custody and then his . . . whoops I mean the slippery snake turned up in Paris? The Pythians won’t let Stone rot.”

  Drake stared at her. “So you’re saying we should let Stone escape? And then what? Follow him? Don’t be bloody daft.”

  “Do you have a better idea? Or are you too busy falling over every time you get shot?”

  “Piss off, Myles.”

  “Seriously,” Kinimaka said. “Every second we stand here means the aerosols, Dudley and the Pythians get further away.”

  “I’ll do this.” Dahl flexed his arms and fingers. “We have to be well above an executive rationale now. Stone will break . . . one way or the other.”

  Hayden put a hand on his arm. “Let me call Secretary Price first.”

  “Call him while I’m working.” Dahl opened the door.

  “Shit.”

  Drake was about to remind the room of Stone’s reference to Secretary Price when the opening chords of Foreigner’s Hot Blooded shook the room. Smyth fished his cell out of a pocket. “What the—”

  Drake frowned at the shock on Smyth’s face. Hayden paused in mid-dial. Even Dahl halted for a second.

  Smyth answered the phone. “Lauren
?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Smyth jabbed at the handset, putting the call on speaker.

  Lauren’s voice was frail, faint. Drake felt spears of empathy and rage pierce his heart as she spoke.

  “How are you talking in your condition? Which asshole made you call me? Tell me his name. I’ll—” Smyth’s ire waned when Hayden jabbed his ribs.

  “Shut the fuck up. She’s trying to tell us something!”

  Lauren coughed and wheezed. Eventually her voice came again, weaker this time. “Remember the calls I made? Before . . .” More coughing.

  Drake thought back to the beginning of this mission. Lauren had been their way in to the Pythians and the only reason they were so close to stopping Pandora’s Box. She had paid for that bravery by getting a face-full of plague. But he couldn’t remember any calls . . .

  “I do,” Smyth said in the most subdued voice Drake had ever heard the man produce. “I was sitting beside you at the time.”

  Karin snapped her fingers. “Yes. You called the escort network on the assumption that both Stone and Bell, being what they are, would have used their services elsewhere.”

  “We are a tight-knit group. We . . . we have . . . to be.”

  “You watch each other’s backs,” Smyth said. “I get that.”

  “They came back to me. And yes . . . Stone and Bell they—” Lauren’s voice broke as a series of wracking spasms shook her body. Drake heard either an intern or a nurse begging the woman to sit down, to hang up the phone, to rest, but Lauren croaked at her to be quiet.

  Both respect and sadness swelled inside him at the same time. Lauren Fox didn’t have long to live but here she was, still fighting for the team and the world at large.