Hayden made a diplomatic grunt. “Yeah. Tragic.”
“Well, maybe it will make us more notorious.”
There was another quiet knock and Karin and Kinimaka came into the room. The Hawaiian looked despondent.
“That bastard ain’t gonna squeal. No matter what we do, he won’t even whistle for us.”
Ben rested his chin on his knees and pulled a gloomy face. “Damn, I wish Matt was here.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The man from Hereford watched carefully. From his vantage point atop a grassy knoll to the right of a dense thicket of trees, he could use the telescopic scope mounted on his rifle to accurately pinpoint the members of Ben Blake’s family. The military-grade scope included reticle illumination—an option that allowed for extensive use under adverse light conditions and included BDC—Bullet Drop Compensation.
Truth be told, the rifle was equipped to the hilt with every high-tech sniper aid imaginable, but the man behind the sights certainly didn’t need them. He was trained to the highest level. He watched now as Ben Blake’s father stepped up to the television and turned it on. With the slightest adjustment he saw Ben Blake’s mother gesticulate at the father with a small remote. The crosshairs of his sights wavered not a millimeter.
With a practiced motion, he swept the scope across the grounds surrounding the house. It was set back from the road, hidden by trees and a high wall, and the man from Hereford proceeded to silently count the guards hiding amongst the shrubbery.
One-two-three. All accounted for. He knew there were another four inside the house and two more completely hidden. For all their sins, the CIA were doing a bang up job of protecting the Blakes.
The man’s brow furrowed. He detected movement. A darkness blacker than night was creeping along the base of the high wall. Too big to be an animal. Too stealthy to be an innocent.
Had the Blood King’s men found the Blakes? And, if so, how good were they?
A slight breeze blew in from the left, straight off the English Channel, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The man from Hereford compensated mentally for the revised bullet trajectory and zoomed in a bit closer.
The man wore all black, but the gear was clearly homemade. This guy was no professional, just a mercenary.
Bullet fodder.
The man’s finger tightened briefly and then released. Of course, the real question was—how many had he brought with him?
Without releasing the target from his crosshairs, he quickly appraised the house and its environs. A second later he was sure. The vicinity was clear. This black-clad man was acting alone, the man from Hereford was confident.
A mercenary for hire, killing for pay.
Hardly worth a bullet.
He squeezed the trigger gently and absorbed the kick-back. The sound of the bullet leaving the barrel barely registered. He saw the mercenary go down without any fuss, collapsing among the overgrown bushes.
The Blake family guards never noticed. In a few minutes, he would make a surreptitious call to the CIA, informing them their new safe house had been compromised.
The man from Hereford, Matt Drake’s old SAS pal, continued to guard the guards.
CHAPTER FIVE
Matt Drake twisted off the top of a fresh bottle of Morgan’s Spiced and tapped a speed-dial number on his cell-phone.
Mai sounded flustered when she answered. “Drake? What do you want?”
Drake swigged from the bottle as he frowned. For Mai, betraying emotions was about as uncharacteristic as a politician honoring his election vows. “You okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? What is it?”
He took another heavy swig and ploughed on. “The device I gave you. Is it safe?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t have it. But it is safe, my friend.” Mai’s soothing tones were back. “It’s as safe as it could possibly be.” Drake took another mouthful. Mai said, “Is that it?”
“No. I believe I’ve almost exhausted my leads at this end. But I have another idea. One closer to. . . home.”
The silence clicked and crackled as she waited. This was not the normal Mai. Maybe she was with someone.
“I need you to use your Japanese contacts. And the Chinese. And especially the Russians. I want to know if Kovalenko has any family.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I’m fucking serious.” He said it more harshly than he had intended, but offered no apology. “And I want to know about Boudreau too. And his family.”
Mai took an entire minute to answer. “Alright, Drake. I’ll do what I can.”
Drake breathed deeply, as the connection went dead. After a minute, he stared at the bottle of spiced rum. Somehow it was half empty. He glanced up to the window and tried to see the city of Miami, but the glass was so dirty he could barely see the pane.
His heart ached.
He upended the bottle again. Without further thought he took action and hit another speed dial number. In action, he had found a way of putting the grief aside. In action, he had found a way of moving forward.
The cell phone rang and rang. Eventually a voice answered. “Fucksake, Drake! What?”
“Smooth talking, bitch,” he drawled, then paused. “How... how’s the team?”
“Team? Christ. Okay, you want the bloody football analogy? The only person you can reasonably use as your striker at this point is Kinimaka. Hayden, Blake and his sister wouldn’t even make the sub’s bench.” She paused. “No focus. Your fault.”
He paused. “Me? You’re saying if an attempt was made on them it would succeed?” His head, slightly fogged, began to pound. “Because an attempt will be made.”
“The hospital is well secured. The guards are reasonably competent. But it’s good you asked me to stay. And good I said yes.”
“And Boudreau? What about that bastard?”
“About as chirpy as a fried egg. He won’t break. But remember, Drake, the whole U.S. government’s working on this now. Not just us.”
“Don’t remind me.” Drake shuddered. “A government that’s badly compromised. Information travels up and down lines of contact within the government, Alicia. It only takes one bad blockage to cram it all up.”
Alicia remained silent.
Drake sat and thought about it. Until the Blood King was physically located, any intel they had should be considered undependable. That included the Gates of Hell information, the Hawaii connection and any titbits he had gleaned from the four dead henchmen.
Maybe one more would do the trick.
“I have one more lead. And Mai’s looking into Kovalenko’s and Boudreau’s family connections. Maybe you could ask Hayden to do the same?”
“I’m here as a favor, Drake. I’m not your bloody sheepdog.”
This time Drake remained silent.
Alicia sighed. “Look, I’ll mention it. And as for Mai, don’t trust that crazy sprite as far as you can throw her.”
Drake smiled at the video game reference. “I’ll agree to that when you tell me which one of you crazy bitches killed Wells. And why.”
He expected a long silence and got it. He took the opportunity to swig down a few more gulps of the amber medicine.
“I’ll talk to Hayden,” Alicia finally whispered. “If Boudreau or Kovalenko have family, we’ll find them.”
The connection went dead. Drake’s head throbbed like a jackhammer in the sudden silence. One day, they would tell him the truth. But for now, it was enough he had lost Kennedy.
It was enough he had once believed in something that was now as distant as the moon, a bright future turned to ashes. The hopelessness inside him twisted his heart. The bottle fell from nerveless fingers, not smashing, but spilling its fiery contents across the dirty floor.
For a moment Drake contemplated scooping it up into a glass. The spilled liquid reminded him of the promises he had made, vows and assurances that had evaporated in a split-
second, leaving lives wasted and ruined like so much water scattered on the floor.
How could he ever do that again? Promise to keep his friends safe. All he could do now was kill as many enemies as he could.
Vanquish the world of evil, and let the good live on.
He sat on the edge of the bed. Broken. There was nothing left. Everything except death had died inside him, and the broken shell that remained wanted nothing more from this world.
CHAPTER SIX
Hayden waited until Ben and Karin had retreated to one of the facilities IT rooms. The brother and sister team were researching Hawaii, Diamond Head, the Gates of Hell, and other legends involving the Blood King, hoping to string together some kind of theory.
When the coast was clear, Hayden slipped on some fresh clothes and walked to a small office where Mano Kinimaka had set up a small workstation. The big Hawaiian was tapping away at the keys, looking a bit frustrated.
“Still catching two keys at once with those sausage fingers?” Hayden asked lightly and Kinimaka turned with a smile.
“Aloha nani wahine,” he said and then almost blushed when she showed knowledge of the words’ meaning.
“You think I’m beautiful? Is that because I got stabbed by a madman?”
“Because I’m glad. So very glad, that you’re still with us.”
Hayden laid a hand on Kinimaka’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mano.” She allowed a few moments to pass, then said, “But now with Boudreau, we have both an opportunity and a dilemma. We have to know what he knows. But how do we break him?”
“You think that crazy bastard knows where the Blood King is hiding? Would a man as careful as Kovalenko really tell him?”
“Boudreau’s the worse kind of crazy. A clever one. My guess is he knows something.”
A sardonic voice came from behind Hayden. “Drakey thinks we should torture his family.” Hayden spun. Alicia gave her a cynical smile. “That okay with you, CIA?”
“You spoke to Matt again?” Hayden said. “How is he?”
“Like his old self,” Alicia said with an irony she clearly didn’t mean. “The way I used to like him.”
“Hopeless? Drunk? Alone?” Hayden couldn’t keep the contempt from her voice.
Alicia shrugged. “Edgy. Hard. Deadly.” She locked eyes with the CIA agent. “Believe me, sweetie, this is how he has to be. It’s the only way he’ll come out of this thing alive. And…” She paused as if considering whether to go on. “And. . . it might just be the only way you all come out of it alive and with your families intact.”
“I’ll see if Boudreau has any family.” Hayden turned back to Kinimaka. “But the CIA sure as hell won’t be torturing anyone.”
“Is your facility pass current?” Kinimaka was eyeing the ex-British army soldier.
“Give or take, big boy.” Alicia flashed a mischievous smile and squeezed deliberately past Hayden into the small room, taken up mostly by Kinimaka’s bulk. “Watcha doin’?”
“Work.” Kinimaka flicked the screen off and crushed himself into a corner, as far from Alicia as he could.
Hayden came to his rescue. “You used to be a soldier back when you were human, Alicia. Do you have any suggestions that might help us break Boudreau?”
Alicia turned to Hayden with a challenge in her eyes. “Why don’t we go talk to him?”
Hayden smiled. “I was just about to.”
*****
Hayden led the way down to the holding area. The five minute walk and elevator journey didn’t cause her any pain, though she took it steady, and her spirits rose. She had come to realize being stabbed was relatively like any other illness that made you take time off work. Sooner or later, you just got friggin’ bored and wanted to get the hell back into the fray.
The holding area consisted of two rows of cells. They walked on a highly polished floor until they reached the only one with an occupant, the last cell on the left. The front of the cell was wide open, its occupant contained by rows of bars reaching from floor to ceiling.
The smell of chlorine stung the air. Hayden nodded at the armed guards stationed outside Boudreau’s cell as she came to meet the man who had tried several times to kill her three weeks earlier.
Ed Boudreau was lounging on his bunk. He smirked when he saw her. “How’s the thigh, blondie?”
“What?” Hayden knew she shouldn’t bait him, but couldn’t help it. “Your voice sounds a bit husky. Been strangled lately?” Three weeks with a limp and the trauma of a knife wound made her reckless.
Kinimaka came up behind her, grinning. Boudreau met his eyes with a furious hunger. “Sometimes,” he whispered. “Table’s get turned.”
Kinimaka flexed his big shoulders, making no reply. Alicia then came around the big man’s bulk and stepped right up to the bars. “This scrawny fuck’s got your tiny panties in a twist?” She aimed the jibe at Hayden but didn’t take her eyes off Boudreau. “Wouldn’t take more’n a minute.”
Boudreau unfolded himself from the bunk and approached the bars. “Pretty eyes,” he said. “Dirty mouth. Ain’t you the one who was banging that fat guy with the beard? The one my men killed?”
“That’s me.”
Boudreau gripped the bars. “How you feel ‘bout that?”
Hayden sensed the guards starting to get antsy. This kind of confrontational weighing up was getting them nowhere.
Kinimaka had already tried to make the mercenary talk a dozen different ways, so Hayden asked something simple. “What do you want, Boudreau? What will persuade you to tell us what you know about Kovalenko?”
“Who?” Boudreau didn’t take his eyes away from Alicia. They were separated by the width of the bars between them.
“You know who I mean. The Blood King.”
“Oh, him. He’s just a myth. Thought the CIA would know that.”
“Name your price.”
Boudreau finally broke eye contact with Alicia. “‘Desperation is the English way.’ In the words of Pink Floyd.”
“We’re getting nowhere—” Hayden was disturbingly reminded of Drake’s and Ben’s Dinorock ribbing contests and hoped Boudreau was just firing off aimless remarks. “We’re—”
“I’ll take her,” Boudreau suddenly hissed. Hayden turned to see him facing Alicia again. “One on one. If she beats me, I talk.”
“Done.” Alicia was practically squeezing through the bars. The guards rushed forward. Hayden felt her blood rise.
“Stop!” She reached out and pulled Alicia back. “Are you crazy? This asshole’s never going to talk. It’s not worth the risk.”
“No risk,” Alicia whispered. “No risk at all.”
“We’re going,” Hayden said. “But—” She thought about what Drake had asked. “We’ll be back soon.”
*****
Ben Blake leaned back and watched his sister work the modified CIA computer with ease. It hadn’t taken her long to get used to the special operating system required by the government agency, but then she was the brains of the family.
Karin was a sassy, black-belt-owning, strip-bar-working layabout, who’d been knocked for six by life in her late teens and had taken her brains and degrees and set about to do absolutely nothing. It was her aim to hurt and hate life for what it had done to her. Squandering her gifts was one way of showing she no longer cared.
She turned to look at him now. “Behold and worship the power of the female Blake. Everything you ever wanted to know about Diamond Head in one quick read.”
Ben flipped through the information. They had been doing this for a few days now—researching Hawaii and Diamond Head—Oahu’s famous volcano—and reading up on the journeys of Captain Cook—the legendary discoverer of the Hawaiian Islands back in 1778. It was important they both scanned and retained as much information as they could because when the breakthrough came the authorities expected events to move very fast indeed.
The Blood King’s reference to the Gates of Hell remained an enigma though, especially when applied to Hawaii. It
seemed that most Hawaiians don’t even believe in the traditional version of hell.
Diamond Head itself was part of a complex series of cones and vents known as the Honolulu Volcanic Series, a chain of events that formed most of the infamous Oahu landmarks. Diamond Head itself, probably the most famous landmark, erupted only once about 150,000 years ago, but with such a one-time explosive force that it managed to retain its incredibly symmetrical cone.
Ben smirked a little at the next comment. It is thought Diamond Head will never erupt again. Hmm...
“Did you clock the bit about Diamond Head being a series of cones and vents?” Karin’s accent was broad Yorkshire to the point of obscurity. She’d already had a lot of fun with the CIA Miami locals with it, and had no doubt upset more than a few.
Not that Karin cared. “You deaf, mate?”
“Don’t call me mate,” he whined. “It’s what men call other men. Girls shouldn’t say it. Especially my sister.”
“OK, broth. Truce, for now. But you know what vents means? In your world, at least?”
Ben felt as though he was at school again. “Lava tubes?”
“Got it. Hey, you’re not dumb as a doorknob, like Dad used to say.”
“Dad never said—”
“Chill, bitch. To put it simply, lava tubes mean tunnels. All over Oahu.”
Ben shook his head at her. “I know that. Are you saying the Blood King’s hiding down one of them?”
“Who knows? But we’re here to do research, right?” She tapped the keys of Ben’s own CIA computer. “Get to it.”
Ben took a breath and turned away from her. Like the rest of his family, he missed them whilst they were apart, but after an hour of catching up, the old niggles came rushing back. Still, she had come a long way to help.
He opened a search for ‘Captain Cook legends’ and sat back to see what came up, his thoughts very much with Matt Drake and his best friend’s state of mind.
The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3) Page 2