Beyond the slumped form of the SolDyn man there came a rumble and then the collapse of the tunnel. Hayden knew that whoever had escaped that way was more than likely going to get away.
“Back upstairs,” she said. “Let’s see if there’s any more mischief we can get ourselves into. And bring him.”
*
Drake evaluated the self-proclaimed ruler of the world. Tyler Webb was broad-shouldered and well-muscled. He leaned against the wall with smug confidence. Drake had seen the same kind of confidence exuded by short wiry men when faced with big brawlers they knew they could take down without breaking sweat. This man’s confidence though, he imagined, was more likely due to a god complex and a carefully laid plan.
What that might be . . .
“Don’t come any closer, Matt. Or you, Mai. And Alicia . . . have you put on weight? Oh, Torsten, why so glum?”
The only reaction came from Alicia, who retorted enough for them all, uttering a string of curses and threats that would make anyone blanch. Not so Tyler Webb. He just grinned even wider.
“The game is certainly on now, huh? Are you ready for what’s next?”
“This is you done, Webb,” Collins barked. “Get down on your goddamn knees.”
“Ah, and you would like that wouldn’t you, Claire Collins of the Fucked-up Bureau of Ingrates? No pleasure without pain, eh Claire?”
Collins stopped as though she’d hit a brick wall. Drake didn’t know her past but saw that Webb had purposely dredged up some tragic memory. It then occurred to him that the leader of the Pythians had collected dirt on each and every one of them. But no matter . . . it wouldn’t save him.
“Michael Crouch,” Webb went on. “Failed leader. Aaron Trent. How’s the wife? You and your so-called Razor’s Edge took out my second greatest asset—the Moose. How could you be so cruel?”
Drake glanced sideways at Alicia. Second greatest?
“And next, Caitlyn Nash—oh, did your father love your mother, Caitlyn? Did he? And finally—Smyth. Do you even have a first name?”
“C’mere, Tyler. Let me whisper it in your ear.”
“We have two of your so-called world leaders already,” Caitlyn said, voice trembling with emotion. “Le Brun and Norris are dead!”
“Oh dear. Oh no. Well it’s a good thing I have a waiting list then.” Webb laughed. “So here we are. Let me ask you again—are you ready for the next level? Tesla of Niagara Falls? I mean, why the hell do you think we’re even here? Or the apocalypse of Saint Germain?”
“Look.” Alicia stepped forward, seeing no reason why this asshole should be allowed to ever talk again. “I think we’ve given you all the—”
“I have endless resources.” Webb held up a hand. “I have a video of you.” He nodded at Drake. “And her.” He nodded at Mai. “Which you had no idea was taken. I sent men to visit each of your homes and hotel rooms—nothing nasty—just to move things about. Why? So that the next time it happens you’ll think of me. Freaky, eh? And so when you just don’t know if you left that deodorant out on the dresser or if that toothbrush just fell on the floor by itself—you’ll think of me. I’ll be with you. Always. The stalker of your dreams. The vision in your nightmares. I have text on all of you. Volumes of information. Everything from Internet favorites to Facebook pictures to career evaluations. Did you know a clever man can piece together the entire layout of your house, garden, doors, windows and furniture from putting together the pictures you post on social media? Think about that the next time you upload a selfie. Habits. Routines. I know you. I know all of you.”
“Forgive me.” Mai’s voice was a susurration. “Are you a stalker or a tyrant bent on ruling the world? I forget amid your endless prattle.”
Webb blinked, shocked for a second, then caught himself. “Oh, very good. All right then. It’s been a blast. Until next time—” He made to move away and then stopped. “Oh, and pictures too,” he added. “I have thousands. Of every last one of the dead bastards that thwarted my very first endeavor!”
With this final, raging outburst, Webb ducked away into the hole in the wall at his back. Before Drake could move a metal door slammed down in his wake, clicking and whirring as it engaged dozens of locks.
“What’s that?” Trent wondered. “A panic room?”
Collins ran to the nearest window. “No. It’s the door to a sky-walk that leads directly into that tower. In truth it looks like the only way in.”
“Hayden remarked on the comms that there’s some kind of tunnel network,” Crouch stated.
Drake joined her, then looked back at Dahl. “You know what I’m thinking, mate?”
The Swede had carried the rocket launcher without complaint and now grinned widely. “I knew this bloody thing would come in handy.”
Drake backed away. Dahl positioned himself at the window, spread his feet apart and hefted the launcher over a brawny shoulder.
“Looks like your reign is already over, Tyler.”
The blackest of shadows fell among them. It plunged from where it had been clinging to the high roof, its limbs chopping and whirling and smashing. Dahl was hit first, two feet lancing into his shoulder. The Swede went down with a crash, winded and bruised, and the grenade launcher tumbled away. Drake was next, still trying to comprehend what had happened, struck in the kneecap and throat and left in agony. Mai reacted quicker than the rest, but still she wasn’t fast enough, midriff bruised with a flying kick and legs swept mercilessly out from under her. Still the black shadow spun among them. Trent, Crouch and Caitlyn were standing very close, and suddenly found themselves smashing into each other; heads colliding, legs tangling, all ending up in a writhing heap.
Only Smyth and Alicia remained.
Seconds had passed. Smyth loosened his gun, discharged it, only to find his target as elusive as smoke. The black-clad figure was there and then not there and then suddenly right up in Smyth’s face.
“What are you—” A fist smashed him in the mouth, silencing his sputter. A foot hooked his ankle, sending him to the floor. The same foot stomped on his chest, making him wheeze.
Beauregard turned to Alicia. “I could have used killing blows. I didn’t.”
Alicia crouched in readiness. “Only for the sake of speed.”
“Not true.”
“You’re not that good, Beau. Just tricky. And decent at hide and seek.”
The Frenchman appeared to pull a face under his mask. “I am on your side. You will see.”
Drake was back on his knees by now. “Let’s see how you fight without the shock and awe tactics shall we?”
He stood up, discarding his weapon, fists clenched. Beauregard gave him one stare and then turned back to Alicia.
“I will not go far from you.”
“You’re working for the goddamn Pythians!” she cried into the black, faceless mask.
“Am I?”
The tight-suited figure ran straight at the nearest wall, used its surface to rebound off and leap even higher, grabbed a timber spar and hauled himself up. He disappeared through an open skylight.
Moments later, Drake saw him sprinting across the rounded top of the sky-bridge, jumping through an open window into the tower.
“I don’t know what the hell to make of that guy.”
“He has helped us before,” Alicia said dubiously. “Shit.”
Mai took Drake’s proffered hand. “I didn’t see you all that eager to stop him, Myles.”
“Oh, right. And where were the legendary Ninja skills when we needed them? Out worrying about something they can’t change?”
Trent helped Collins to her feet. “Who was that guy?”
“Beauregard Alain,” Drake said. “Kind of a new nemesis of ours. Truth be told,” he grinned at Dahl, “I don’t believe any of us have landed a real blow on him yet.”
The mad Swede gave him a big goofy grin. “Time for that, matey. Oh there’s plenty of time for that.”
“We’re done in here,” Hayden said over the comms. �
�We have men trying to figure out the tunnels and a way into that tower. You might as well head out.”
Drake felt as though they’d lost. “Did we just fail?”
“Don’t be daft!” Dahl pounded him on the back. “We destroyed their hideout. Their Pandora’s Box plan. We killed or jailed three of their members. We even know two of the ones that escaped—Webb and Bell. And most importantly—the plague has been neutralized.”
“The world is safer,” Hayden said.
Drake took a long look around. “Only until we find out what’s next.”
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR
Drake walked out of the house, rubbing his aching muscles and kneading the knots out of his back. Tiredness threatened to envelop him like a voluminous shroud. But all around strode his friends, old and new, and their heroism and willingness to lay it all on the line for the people they protected gave him a fresh surge of adrenalin and pride.
Outside, the cold fresh air cooled his flesh and, for now, eased his worries.
Aaron Trent held out a hand. “Good to work with you, Drake. I look forward to the next time.”
“Any time,” Drake said. “And do let me know if you’re ever in the market for a Torsten Dahl.”
“Ah. We have a code we try to follow in the Razor’s Edge, epitomized by a single word. It’s called finesse.”
“Hmm. Never mind then.”
Drake shook hands with Silk and Radford and gave Collins a hug. As he stood there a light rain began to fall and his eyes fell upon Mai Kitano.
Staring up at the clouds, up at the rain, the Japanese woman had more water on her face than the light drizzle suggested.
Drake saw the look in her eyes. “It’s over isn’t it?”
“It has to be. At least for now.”
“For now? There’ll be no more chances, Mai. I couldn’t bloody take all this again.”
“Until I can come to terms with what I did,” Mai said. “There is nothing else for me. I hope you understand. I don’t expect you to. But I do hope. There is something I must do.”
“What?”
“I do not know. And I don’t know how long it will take. That is why . . . I have to let you go.”
Drake felt something break loose inside as tears welled in Mai’s eyes. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“And neither do I. The world shapes us and rewards us and recognizes us. It makes us believe that it knows our name. Only then, when we have accepted our place and our importance, does it destroy us. That is life.”
“I can’t believe in such hopelessness.”
“I hope that you never have to.”
Mai turned away from him, her black hair glistening with raindrops, her slim shoulders trembling with what looked like grief. He knew she would make her own way now.
Lost, alone, his first thought was of his friends. Where the hell was Alicia?
*
Alicia waited amid the rubble, a solitary figure covered in dust and fragments of debris. Her hands were bloody, her face bruised, the side of her mouth bleeding. Her long blond hair was scraped back, tied and hidden away beneath a chunky bullet-proof jacket. A half-empty, battered H&K dangled from her right arm.
Her bright blue eyes watched with extreme vigilance. Every tell-tale sound was analyzed and taken into account. Sounds drifting through the many smashed windows attested to quite a gathering on the lawn below; Drake’s voice and Mai’s, Crouch’s and Russo’s and that of Claire Collins—none of them individually discernible.
And still he surprised her.
“Alicia?”
She turned, half expecting he would sneak up. “That’s the last time you take me from behind, Beauregard. Be normal from now on.”
The mask was gone so she could see the smile. “The last time? I was hoping it might be the first.”
Alicia raised both eyebrows. “You sure got a nerve. Come here.”
Beauregard stepped up close so that only inches separated them. Alicia quickly took out her knife and held the tip at his throat.
“I want to know the name of your boss.”
“Is that really what you came here for?”
“What the hell else would I come here for? I read your message loud and clear—I will not go far from you—I understand you want to get something off your chest. For helping us out, I’ll give you the chance. But only one.”
“Ah, well then.” The French accent grew stronger, distracting her senses. “I work for King Pythian, as you know. Tyler Webb himself. The pay—it is very good.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then, mon amie, we are at an impasse.”
“Not exactly.” Alicia brought the knife down, its sharp edge cutting through the top of Beauregard’s tight black suit.
“What are you doing?”
“What most girls like me do. I’m taking a look.”
The knife travelled further down Beauregard’s chest and toward his stomach, parting the thin material as it went.
“This is all I have, if you cut it off me what shall I wear?”
“I don’t see where that’s my problem.” She paused with the knife hovering over Beauregard’s navel. “And if this thing turns out to be rolled up socks your leotard’s not the only thing that’s gonna get spliced. Ya hear me?”
“It’s not a leo— ah!”
Alicia finished her work and stood back. “Oh, my. You’re happier than you sound then, eh?”
Beauregard grabbed her shoulder and drew her close, his mouth mashing down on hers. Alicia allowed herself to be entangled, opening her mouth and using her tongue. Her hands crept around Beau’s back, grabbed his behind and forced him toward her.
“That’s better.”
Alicia’s jacket hit the floor. Then her boots flew off. More clothes. Lastly, her rifle. Naked, she finally pulled away from the Frenchman. “Not here,” she said. “It’s not right. Good men died here today.”
Beauregard nodded and led her, carefully, through a concealed entrance into a hidden room. “Webb built several of these. It has many TV screens, feeds from all over. He can interface—”
Alicia pushed him down onto his back and straddled his top half. “Yeah?” she interrupted. “Interface with this.”
Beauregard’s reply was unintelligible.
A while later Alicia moved her ass to the south. “Don’t move a muscle, Beauregard. Any muscle.”
*
Much later, after the majority of the authorities were tucked up in bed, the man called Beauregard Alain left the now defunct Pythian HQ. His body ached, and barely any of that came from fighting. Alicia Myles was as demanding a woman as he’d ever imagined. He’d been disappointed to see her go. But it wasn’t a goodbye . . .
Farewell.
Until next time.
Even now, the memory sent thrilling shivers down his spine. Damn, this is the life! Then that thought sobered him more than a little. Speaking of his life, he must move along. One of the surviving Pythians, General Stone, sat in a high security prison cell somewhere in Washington DC.
Beauregard had been told to neutralize him. Not by his true boss but by Tyler Webb. It would be hard to refuse the request but his true boss had excellent connections and might be able to fabricate something. A disappearance could be organized.
And then there was the major discussion they should have—the topic being Tyler Webb, the Pythians and what Beauregard had so far found out.
He opened his cellphone and dialed a number. The call was answered immediately.
“Line’s secure. What do you know?”
“Sit down, Michael. This may take a while.”
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
It felt good to be sat inside the spacious, bright bar in the heart of DC. Drake sat back and surveyed the scene, finally relaxing now he knew the whole company was safe. Alicia had returned sometime during the afternoon, fresh, clean and smiling. Drake concealed his relief and affection for her and gave her the dead eye.
“Why the he
ll are you walking like a cowboy?”
“Piss off, Drake.” But she smiled and he grinned back.
Now, the teams were letting their hair down, partying together inside the warm bar as the darkness of night pressed against the lighted windows. Rum and tequila flowed and Collins was up on the dance floor, grabbing every man and woman she could and drawing them into a euphoric, music-filled expression of her love for life. For being happy, because life and happiness can be short-lived.
Drake sat opposite Dahl, a pint in his hand.
“To saving the world,” Drake said. “Again.”
Dahl clinked glasses. Drake took a deep swig of the heavy nectar. Beyond the rim of the glass he watched Mai, sitting at a separate table with Grace. The young girl’s eyes darted eagerly, as if she wanted to jump up and join in the party, but Mai held her back, trying to get some point across.
Drake had been surprised to see Mai tonight. The Japanese woman had explained that she felt honored to be a part of the great team and would respect their celebration; after all this could be the only time in their lives that these people came together. A sobering thought if ever there was one.
Drake watched as Collins dragged Hayden and Kinimaka onto the dance floor, joining those already there.
“So we have to face the fact that somebody gave away our hotel’s location in Niagara Falls,” Drake said. “A mole?”
“It was a big team,” Dahl said. “With support personnel too. The nurses and doctor. Parts of the FBI and Canadian police. We’re unlikely ever to find out. And Webb—like it or not, the man has power. And deep pockets.”
“Do you believe the Pythians have suffered a setback?”
“No. Not at all. I believe they have a number of plans on-running and will end when they choose to. If ever.”
Hayden came over to them then, a phone pressed to her ear. “Just got word,” she said. “General Stone hung himself. Tonight. In his cell. Bastard won’t ever stand trial for what he did.”
Alicia sat forward. “And Dudley? He worried me the most.”
The Matt Drake Series Books: 7-9 (The Matt Drake Series Boxset 2) Page 68