Drake and Alicia rose fast, prepared to attack Kobe and the other pirates. Passengers were fleeing in all directions as the sound of gunfire rang out. Kobe destroyed one of the bulkheads above the large glass windows with bullets. The other pirates were leveling their guns at the panicking passengers, ready to mow them down.
Drake broke left, Alicia ran right. Pigswill and Scarface were grabbing passengers as they ran by, jerking them back off their feet and shoving them into the middle of the floor. Olive was already aiming his weapon at them.
“First one to run gets it.” Olive grinned.
Drake saw an older woman with blond hair, graying at the side, be dragged off her feet and shoved down onto her knees. The pirate, Gogh, kneed her in the face, eliciting a scream. Drake saw blood. He was headed that way, still scrabbling low to the ground, when he saw a man darting in from the side.
It was the same old man he’d seen earlier. The one who’d been watching him. Now, he saw wide-eyed fear and anger struggling for jurisdiction on the man’s face; he saw the hard, weathered face and the bright eyes. He saw the direction in which those eyes were staring.
Straight at the blond woman.
Drake dived at him, wrestling him to the ground. They rolled across the carpet, hitting the back of a couch and came to a sudden stop.
“What— Let me go!” The old man struck at Drake.
“Calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m Special Forces.”
The man punched him hard on the shoulder as he sat up. “Don’t you think I already know that, idiot? Your sneaking around wasn’t exactly subtle.”
Drake frowned. “The pirates didn’t notice.”
“The pirates are barely a species above fungus. Now, let me go.”
“I believe I know who you are and we’re handling the situation.” Drake hoped Alicia would be okay on her own for a few moments and trusted her to use the open comms if she got into trouble. “I need to know. Are you the reason all this is happening?”
The old man paused in his struggles as Drake’s words hit home. “You trying to make me feel bad? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Listen.” Drake reached out and shook him. “There’s no time. The passengers are about to die. There are bombs aboard this ship which the pirates are gonna detonate. So, for God’s sake, if you are Volkov, tell me now.”
“Bombs?” was all the man heard. “Help me save her.”
“We’re gonna save everyone. I just need some answers first.”
Drake popped his head up, over the back of the sofa. Kobe was standing by the broken windows, glowering at everyone around him. Four pirates were stood close, rounding up passengers. The rest of the pirates appeared to be chasing men and women and clubbing them to the ground. Grins were plastered across their faces. To them, it was all great sport.
“Mary,” the man said. “How is she?”
Drake had already seen her. “She’s fine. Keeping low in the middle of the group.”
“I am the target,” came the old man’s soft voice. “I am Volkov. What do you want to know?”
“Good. Now, I understand why the old KGB crowd would want you dead. You betrayed them to the US and then you ran. I get why the CIA would want you dead. They tried and failed to have you murdered. But that was years ago. Thirty, I think . . .”
“More,” Volkov murmured.
“So . . . why would the Devil want you?”
“The Devil? I don’t know him. The old KGB generals though, they would do anything to find me. Time is no object there. It does not heal or modify. It does not matter. They are vile, bitter old men with not one ethical bone in their bodies.”
Drake nodded. “You’ve seriously never heard of the Devil? I find that hard to believe coming from a man with your connections.”
Volkov stared at him as if he’d asked a trick question. “I still have secrets. Old ones. And I still hear things coming out of Mother Russia. I have the old contacts, the good reliable ones. I have . . . I have a terrible knowledge.”
Drake had half an ear on the rest of the restaurant. The commotion appeared to be dying down slightly.
“Could this Devil person be KGB?” Volkov asked.
“No,” Drake said. “At least we don’t think so. The Devil is a master assassin. Sinking a ship and murdering all of its passengers just to get a single man, and hide that man’s abduction, is his MO. The method he employs.”
“The Devil has been hired by the KGB then,” Volkov said bluntly. “And he hired the pirates.”
“Agreed.” Drake nodded. “But the only way the Devil would take this job is if he wanted something else from you. He’s not interested in old quarrels between old men. He’s very much in the present, and he’s set up a new shop somewhere in the US. Going after you . . .” Drake shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Is he Russian?”
Drake sensed the nuance in Volkov’s question. Rather than asking about the KGB again Volkov had slightly shifted the scope of his query.
“Unlikely. But he does know Russians and one recent bad guy in particular.”
“Is it . . . is it Luka Kovalenko?”
Drake had to lean in closer as Volkov’s voice dropped to a whisper. When he heard the Blood King’s name crossing the old man’s lips he froze. His fists clenched and he found it harder to breathe. Kovalenko had recently murdered two of his best friends and then slipped away after trying to kill the US President. It was believed he still had nineteen mini-nukes at his disposal.
“The Blood King,” Drake said to gauge Volkov’s reaction.
Volkov shuddered. “That name,” he whispered, “sends shivers through me. The old Blood King, Dmitry Kovalenko, was once nothing but a terrifying fable that men told to scare their friends. Then, we found out he was real. Everyone I knew, every single man and woman, knew someone that had been killed by this man. He was . . . was . . . unadulterated evil. And now . . . this son, this one called Luka, is proving to be just as bad. He destroyed many families rebuilding his father’s empire, killed men, women and children without thought. I always, always, have my contacts keep eyes and ears open for mention of the Blood King, because, if I know he is near me, I run.”
Drake understood how much fear a field-tested, hardened man like Volkov would have to feel to act that way. “I know the new Blood King,” he said. “I’m gonna be the one to kill him.”
Volkov’s eyes grew respectful. “You think the Devil wants my knowledge?”
“I really do. The Blood King crossed the Devil a few months ago. Tried to kill him in a nuclear explosion. But even he can’t find Kovalenko now, since the bastard went to ground. The Devil will rip this knowledge out of you one way or the other and then deliver you to the KGB.”
“It’s not the best future I imagined.” Volkov blinked.
“What is it that you know?” Drake asked. “What is it that you know about the Blood King?”
Volkov shuddered as if someone had walked over his grave. “I can’t repeat it. Not here. But how could the Devil know that I have this secret?”
“Contacts,” Drake said. “His are better than yours, though not as loyal it seems. Otherwise he’d know what you know.”
“Are you saying he might have gotten to my . . . friends?”
“It’s possible. But you have to tell me. Tell me now.”
Again Volkov’s body trembled as if with an electric shock. “Get Mary and me to safety. Then, I’ll tell you.”
Drake gritted his teeth in frustration. Nothing was ever fucking easy, was it? Without further talk he looked up once more to assess the situation.
Pirates were dragging more people into the middle of the restaurant and forcing them to sit down. Kobe’s face was set like granite in an expression as severe as Drake had ever seen. Alicia had gotten herself captured and was kneeling with a crestfallen expression on her face, right beside three pirates.
Well done.
She was in position to take three of their n
umber out of the equation. There was now a total of eight pirates in the restaurant. Drake could probably take another three with his Glock. If luck goes our way. That would leave two who, hopefully, would lose valuable time tracking the new threat instead of killing passengers.
It was all supposition, but it was based on years of hard experience.
Drake addressed the comms line in his ear. “Bainbridge, you there?”
The Rear Admiral came back immediately. “What have you got?”
“Find these old KGB guys. They started this, they sent the Devil after Volkov and risked every life aboard this ship. I want to move on them as soon as possible.”
“Done,” Ryder said. “We’re already on it.”
“And send the SEALs. We’re in deep shit now.”
“Done.”
“How’s Hayden’s team doing?”
“Close to Salene. They’ll get him.”
Drake didn’t delve any further. He was watching the pirates and their itchy trigger fingers. He was watching Kobe and the unpleasant sneer of bloodlust spreading across the pirate leader’s face.
“Where are we with the bombs?”
Now Ryder sighed. “We’re only at 50 percent, I’m afraid.”
Drake flinched. “Fifty? That’s not nearly enough.”
“I know. We’re in the hands of the gods there.”
Drake hoped not. He’d never heard of any god that was particularly lenient or opposed to mass murder.
“The only faith I have is in Mai and Luther,” he said. “They’ll get the job done.”
Ryder didn’t answer directly. “We’re sending SEALs, rescue boats, armed Zodiacs, divers. The friggin’ lot. We’re sending the full house to you, Drake.”
There was no time left, no time to talk. Drake could see many scenarios playing out, the least of which was one of the pirates seeing the backup arriving through the picture windows.
“Hold the helicopters for a few minutes,” he said.
“Why?”
“I have a small window here. I can take out four principal pirates including their leader and several more. It might cripple their ability to detonate. But I need three minutes.”
“It’s a risk.”
“So is sending the whole bloody farm. I’m going in now. Good luck.”
“Good luck, Drake.”
Alicia looked over and nodded without drawing attention. It was now or never and, if they were going to survive, it would have to be perfect.
Drake nodded at Volkov and handed him a knife. “We may need you.”
“I’m ready.”
“And for fuck’s sake, don’t die.”
Drake leapt into action.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Torsten Dahl chased the African kingpin, Salene, along the docks, Kenzie at his side with Hayden, Kinimaka and Molokai a few steps behind. They pounded along the wooden planking, their boots hammering down, their Heckler and Koch rifles trained on the few pirates kneeling and taking potshots at them.
“Do it,” Hayden said.
Dahl and Kenzie opened fire. Two pirates flew backward, their bodies shredded. The third was struck in the shoulder and thrown sideways. As he came up, Molokai, not wanting to leave an enemy at their backs, shot him in the head.
To the right now, at the end of the pier, was Salene. The pirate leader was approaching a skiff manned by two men. As he ran, he shouted and waved with his arms. One of the men jumped to the boat’s outboard and made ready. The other stood at the prow and trained his gun on Dahl and the others.
Salene jumped aboard the small boat.
Dahl reached the pier and ran along the wooden planking, a pebble beach beneath and at both sides for now. The pier was about forty feet long. Already, the pirates were gunning the skiff and getting it moving. Water churned in its wake. Salene had jumped into the bottom and was now on his knees, staring back at his pursuers.
Dahl wondered where the hell he could go. It wasn’t as if there weren’t other boats tied to the same pier. The pirates hadn’t thought to untie or scuttle them. Even now, Dahl had his eye trained on a dark yellow one with high sides and a powerful outboard motor. No way was Salene going to get away.
“We can’t let him escape,” Hayden said at that moment.
“He’s a killer,” Dahl grunted. “A mass murderer. He’s not going to escape.”
As they approached the pier it exploded.
Dahl was in front. One second he was pounding for the outstretched finger of wooden planking, the next a mighty rush of air slapped him in the face and shoved him hard in the chest. It was closely followed by heat and debris, but Dahl was already folding, covering his face as he made himself into a ball.
Water, wood and beach pebbles blasted up into the sky in a spectacular detonation. Salene’s skiff was marginally too close—the men had panicked and pressed the button early—but only ended up squirming along the churning sea as the blast-wave passed it. Dahl recognized what was happening almost immediately. Behind him, Hayden, Kinimaka, Kenzie and Molokai were just as quick. They were all knocked off their feet, but quickly took cover.
The deadly fire passed them by, flicking over their Kevlar vests, trousers and leather boots. Kinimaka’s trousers caught fire. The big Hawaiian didn’t know for long seconds but then a searing pain registered in his right shin.
Fearing the worst, he uncurled and looked down, momentarily surprised and pleased to see flames rather than a jagged piece of wood piercing his flesh. Then the pain set in.
“Ahhhh!”
Kinimaka reached down and used gloved hands to beat out the fire. He got it quickly, but still the bottom part of his trousers were a melted mess and his skin looked bright red. Hayden upended a water bottle all over him.
Kinimaka’s teeth clamped together. “Shit, that hurts.”
“Mano,” Hayden shook her head, “you complain like a sissy.”
Molokai nodded. “She’s right. It’ll leave a scar. What more do you want?”
Kinimaka gaped at the robed soldier but then rose gingerly. The leg wasn’t so bad once you discounted the throbbing pain. He knew there was a special salve in his pack, specifically designed for burns, but they didn’t have time to dig it out now.
Dahl was staring at him. “You didn’t step on a detonator, did you?”
It was long-standing humor. Kinimaka was known to be the clumsiest member of the team. Dahl wouldn’t put it past him. Now though, as debris still rained down, they turned to assess the situation.
Salene’s skiff was headed across the large bay, aiming straight for the middle and the open sea. Dahl still couldn’t see how the idiot could escape. Not only were he and his three cohorts on the man’s tail, and there were still many piers with boats intact, but the not-so-small USS Bainbridge sat not too far away.
“That Salene is one crazy mother,” he said.
Hayden was hurrying toward another pier. Dahl didn’t have to tell her to be careful. Kenzie was just a few steps behind their leader.
Together, the four of them raced for a sleek and powerful white skiff. The nose was long and pointed but the seating area was short and thin. No way could four of them fit in there. They ran further along the pier, finally finding a white boat that could accommodate them. Dahl cringed as Kinimaka jumped in first, expecting a capsize at least, but the Hawaiian landed safely and turned with a smug grin.
“What you waiting for? Permission slips?”
They leapt aboard. Molokai started the outboard motor and soon the boat was powering away from the pier and heading out into the middle of the bay. The water below was agitated and discolored by sand disturbed form the sea bed. The four of them took a few moments to check their weapons and reload. Kinimaka broke out the burn salve and slathered a good layer across his leg.
Salene’s boat was 300 yards ahead.
Beyond him, two promontories of rock jutted out into the sea, one on each side, helping to form the wide bay. They were about 100 feet high, flat and bare. Salen
e was headed for the gap at the very center of them.
Hayden informed the Bainbridge, which came back to say it was sending all available men and aid to the Rabot right now. Salene could wait. With that news Hayden sat back and regarded the others.
“Shit, that’s bad.”
“They’ll get the job done,” Kinimaka said in his upbeat way. “Drake, Alicia, Mai and Luther. What can’t they do?
“I like the sentiment,” Hayden said. “But even they can’t defuse thirty bombs in thirty minutes. Especially when they don’t know where the bombs are.”
“They got 50 percent already,” Molokai pointed out. “It’ll make a difference in slowing the damage.”
Hayden nodded, accepting that. She looked to the horizon, the bright sun gleaming off the rippling waters, and shaded her eyes. “We’re on our own,” she said.
Dahl’s eyes gleamed with rage. It was anger not just because Salene was getting away—it was anger for the poor civilians left behind and the way they were being treated; it was anger for the thousands of Africans Salene had already killed, those that could not defend themselves and wanted only to live their lives in peace; it was anger toward a ruthless, power-hungry, corrupt murderer that had risen to power on the back of bribery, dishonesty and the proliferation of wealth. He saw it all the time, in all countries.
But this time, he could do something about it.
“This thing go any faster?” he asked.
“We’re flat out,” Molokai said. “It doesn’t help that there’s three big boys on board.”
Dahl saw that they were keeping pace with Salene but not gaining. “At this rate it’ll be who runs out of gas first.”
“Well, we’re full.” Kenzie shrugged. “I guess they are too.”
It made sense to assume that the pirate skiffs were kept ready to use at a moment’s notice and with a full tank.
“Here.” Molokai surprised them all by drawing a relatively small rifle from under his robes and handing it to Dahl. “Try this. It’s more precise than your HK.”
“Shit.” Hayden frowned. “How many you got under there?”
“Enough to get the job done. I never go in lightly, as you know. That’s an MK17 with sniper barrel. Weighs eight pounds. It’s forty inches long and has an effective range of 800 meters. Twenty-round mag. Think you can handle that?”
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