This was not a place to let his civilian emotions thrive.
A bullet slammed into the Ferrari, flying through the door and out the other side. With a deafening crash, the front window exploded, glass raining down in a mini waterfall. Drake used the distraction to pop up and shoot another of the men who was bunched up around the office door.
Amateurs, for sure.
Then he saw two hard-looking men exit the office holding machine-pistols. Drake’s heart skipped a beat. He had a brief image of two more men behind them—almost certainly Scarberry and Petersen being protected by hired mercenaries—before he made his body as small as possible behind the massive tire.
The sound of bullets spewing forth blasted his eardrums. This would be their strategy then. Keep Alicia and him grounded whilst the two owners made their escape through the back.
But they hadn’t planned for Mai.
The Japanese agent scooped up a couple of discarded guns and came around the corner, blasting at the men with the machine-pistols. One flew backward as if he’d been hit by a car, firing his pistol crazily and making confetti of the ceiling as he fell. The other herded his bosses behind his own bulk and switched his aim toward Mai.
Alicia burst upward and fired one shot that went through the bodyguard’s cheek, felling him in an instant.
Now Scarberry and Petersen pulled out weapons of their own. Drake cursed. He needed them alive. At that moment two more men came through the back and side doors, forcing Mai to take cover behind the McLaren again.
A bullet blasted through the precious car’s shell.
Drake heard one of the owners squeal like a Hawaiian Kalua pig .The few remaining men gathered around their bosses and, firing wide of the cars and thus their assailants, ran at breakneck speed for the rear garage.
Drake was momentarily taken aback. Mai took out two of the bodyguards, but Scarberry and Petersen vanished quickly through the back door amidst a hail of covering fire.
Drake rose and fired as he walked forward. Advancing all the while, he bent over to scoop up two more weapons. One of the guards by the back door fell, holding his shoulder. The other vanished backward in a hail of blood.
Drake ran to the door, Mai and Alicia at his side. Mai fired whilst Drake took a few quick peeks, trying to assess the layout of the back rooms and garage.
“Just a big open space,” he said. “But one big problem.”
Alicia squatted at his side. “What?”
“They’ve got a Shelby Cobra back there.”
Mai rolled her eyes at him. “Why is that a problem?”
“Whatever you do, don’t shoot it.”
“Is it loaded with explosives?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t I shoot it?”
“Because it’s a Shelby Cobra!”
“We just shot up a showroom full of stupid supercars.” Alicia elbowed him aside. “If you ain’t got the stomach for it, piss off.”
“Damn.” Drake jumped in front of her. A bullet whizzed by his forehead and embedded into the plaster wall, spraying Gypsum shavings past his eyes. As he’d expected, the bad guys were firing as they ran. If they hit anything, it’d be blind luck.
Drake aimed, took a deep breath, and dropped the men on either side of the two bosses. As their last remaining bodyguards fell, both Scarberry and Petersen seemed to realize they were fighting a losing battle. They stopped, guns hanging by their sides. Drake ran at them, finger already tensioned on the trigger.
“Claude,” he said. “We want Claude, not you. Where is he?”
Up close the two bosses were oddly similar. They both had tired faces, etched all around with hard lines born of years of ruthless decision making. Their eyes were cold, the eyes of feasting piranhas. Their hands, still holding the guns, flexed cautiously.
Mai pointed at the guns. “Drop them.”
Alicia fanned out wide, making the target harder. Drake could almost see the defeat enter the bosses’ eyes. The guns clattered to the floor almost simultaneously.
“Bloody hell,” Alicia muttered. “They look the same and act the same. Does being a bad guy in paradise turn you all into clones? And whilst I’m at it—why would anyone turn into a bad guy out here? This place is better’n a vacay on cloud nine.”
“Which one of you is Scarberry?” Mai asked, leading with an easy one.
“I am,” the lighter-haired one said. “You the guys’ been looking for Claude all over town?”
“That’s us,” Drake whispered. “And this is our last stop.”
A faint click echoed through the stillness. Drake spun, knowing Alicia would stay on target as she always used to. The garage looked empty, the silence suddenly as heavy as a mountain.
Scarberry gave them a sallow smile. “We’re in a workshop. Sometimes things fall over.”
Drake didn’t look at Alicia but signaled her to keep constant lookout. Something was off. He stepped in, took hold of Scarberry. With a quick judo move, Drake lifted him and threw him over his shoulder, slamming the man hard onto the concrete. By the time the pain in Scarberry’s eyes had cleared, Drake had jammed the gun under his chin.
“Where’s Claude?”
“Never heard—”
Drake broke the man’s nose. “You get one more chance.”
Scarberry was hyperventilating. His face was set like granite, but the muscles in his neck worked hard, betraying nerves and fear.
“Let’s start shooting bits off.” Mai’s light voice drifted past them. “I’m bored.”
“Fair enough.” Drake pushed up, stepped away, and squeezed the trigger.
“NOO!”
Scarberry’s scream stopped him at the last possible instant. “Claude lives on a ranch! Inland from the north shore. I can give you coordinates.”
Drake smiled. “Then go ahead.”
Another click. Drake saw the briefest of movements and his heart sank.
Oh no.
Alicia fired. Her bullet killed the last bad guy instantly. He had been hiding inside the Shelby’s trunk.
Drake glared at her. She smiled back with a bit of the old mischief. Drake saw that she, at least, would find herself again. She was a strong character, able to deal with loss.
He wasn’t so sure about himself. He nudged Scarberry to get a move on. “Be quick. Your friend, Claude, is in for a big surprise.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Hayden and Kinimaka hadn’t even started the car engine when Drake’s call came in. She saw his number on her screen and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Drake. Where have—”
“No time. I have Claude’s location.”
“Yeah, so do we, smartass. It’s amazing what some criminals give up for a quieter life.”
“How long have you known? Where are you?” Drake fired off the questions like a drill sergeant barking orders.
“Slow down, tiger. We just got word about a minute ago. Listen, we’re gearing up for an immediate strike. And I mean right now. You game?”
“Damn right I am. We all are. That bastard is one step removed from Kovalenko.”
Hayden filled him in on the terrorist alerts, as she signaled Kinimaka to drive. When she’d finished, Drake went quiet.
After a moment he said, “We’ll meet you at the HQ.”
Hayden speed dialed Ben Blake. “Your op is a go. We’re hoping our asset in London will get you what you need in the next few hours, then he’ll send the copies straight over to you. I hope it’s what you need, Ben.”
“I hope it’s actually there.” Ben sounded as nervous as she’d ever heard him. “It’s sound guesswork, but it’s still guesswork.”
“I hope so too.”
Hayden threw her cell on the dash and stared blankly at the streets of Waikiki as Kinimaka drove the back to the HQ. “Gates thinks if we can take Claude down quickly we may be able to stop the attacks. They hope Kovalenko might even be there.”
Mano gritted his teeth. “Everyone’s on it, boss. Local
PD, special forces. Everything’s being squeezed until it pops. Problem is—the bad guys are already in place. They must be. It’s gotta be nigh impossible to stop any attack that’s imminent, let alone half a dozen on three different islands.”
The overwhelming belief among everyone in authority was that Kovalenko had indeed commissioned the multiple attacks to keep everyone busy whilst he embarked on his dream quest—the journey he’d devoted the latter part of his life too.
To follow in Captain Cook’s footsteps. To go one better. To explore beyond the Gates of Hell.
Hayden snapped back as the HQ loomed outside. Time for action.
*****
Drake led Mai and Alicia into the CIA building and were immediately escorted upstairs. They were shown to a room bristling with activity. At the far end, Hayden and Kinimaka stood amidst a gaggle of police and military officers. Drake could see SWAT and a HPD crack team. He could see uniforms undoubtedly belonging to CIA special-ops teams. Maybe even some Delta around.
The Devil was surely on the Blood King’s tail now and baying for blood.
“You remember when the Blood King sent his men to attack that Destroyer to steal the device?” he said. “And they tried to kidnap Kinimaka at the same time? I bet that was a chance snatch. They just wanted Kinimaka’s Hawaiian knowledge.”
Then Drake remembered that neither Mai nor Alicia had been present when Kovalenko’s men had attached the destroyer. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Drake spied Ben and Karin parked over by the window. They each had a drink in their hand and looked like wallflowers at a school disco.
Drake thought about losing himself in the crowd. It would be easy. Kennedy’s loss still ran hot in his blood, making it impossible for him to discuss. Ben had been there. Ben had held her as she died.
It should have been Drake. Not only that. Drake should have prevented her death. It was what he did. Time blurred and for a moment he was back home in York with Kennedy, and they were cooking something in the kitchen. Kennedy was splashing dark rum in the frying pan and raising her eyes when it sizzled. Drake was marinating a steak with garlic butter. It was mundane. It was fun. The world was normal again.
Stars flashed before his eyes like fireworks gone wrong. The world abruptly returned and the voices clamored around him. Someone pushed by his elbow. Another man spilled hot coffee on one of his superiors and took off for the toilets like a bat out of hell.
Alicia was staring at him. “What gives, Drakey?”
He pushed through the crowd until he came face to face with Ben Blake. It was the perfect moment for a quick Dinorock comment. Drake knew it. Ben probably knew it. But they both stayed quiet. Light streamed through the window behind Ben; Honolulu stood framed by sunlight and bright blue skies and a few ribbed clouds outside.
Drake found his voice at last. “Those CIA computers prove useful?”
“We hope.” Ben reeled off a quick version of the story behind Captain Cook’s journey underneath Diamond Head and finished with the revelation about the CIA using a British asset to rob the National Archives.
Alicia inched forward at the young lad’s news. “A British super thief? What’s his name?”
Ben blinked at the sudden attention. “Hayden never told me.”
Alicia cast a quick glance at the CIA operative, then broke out into a cheeky smile. “Oh, I bet she didn’t.”
“What does that mean?” Karin spoke up.
Alicia’s smile was turning a little wicked. “I’m not best known for my diplomacy. Don’t push it.”
Drake coughed. “Just another international criminal that Alicia’s shagged. The trick has always been finding one she hasn’t.”
“It’s true,” Alicia said with a grin. “I’ve always been popular.”
“Well, if it’s the asset I’m thinking of,” Mai cut into their conversation, “he’s known to Japanese intelligence. He is… a player. And a very, very good operative.”
“So the chances are he will take care of his end.” Drake studied the bliss of the Pacific city laid out before him, longing for a bit of peace himself.
“That’s never been a problem for him,” Alicia said. “And yes, he will deliver your logs.”
Ben was still staring between Alicia and Hayden, but held his tongue. Discretion was the better part of disclosure at this stage. “It’s still an educated guess,” he said. “But if we do end up at the Gates of Hell, I’m positive that these records could save our lives.”
“Hopefully”—Drake turned and scanned the mayhem—“It won’t come to that. The Blood King will still be at the ranch. But if these pricks don’t hurry it up, Kovalenko will do a runner.”
“Kovalenko.” Alicia licked her lips as she said it, savoring her vengeance. “Will die for what happened to Hudson. And Boudreau? He’s another that’s truly marked.” She too looked over the bustling throng. “Who’s in charge here, anyhow?”
As if in response a voice rose from out of the gaggle of officers surrounding Hayden Jaye. When the din subsided and the man could be seen, Drake was pleased to see Jonathan Gates. He liked the senator. And grieved with him.
“As you know, we have a location for Kovalenko’s Oahu ranch,” Gates said. “Therefore, our mission must be fourfold. First, secure all the hostages. Second, secure intel on the alleged terrorist attacks. Third, find this man Claude and Kovalenko. And fourth, find the location of the other two ranches.”
Gates paused to let that sink in and then somehow managed to make every man and woman in the room think he was looking at them with a single sweep of his eyes. “This must be done by any means necessary. Kovalenko has willingly endangered many lives in the course of his mad quest. It will end today.”
Gates turned away. All of a sudden, the chaos inside the room died away and everyone began to walk quickly to their designated areas. The details had been thrashed out.
Drake caught Hayden’s eye. She waved him over.
“Tool up and saddle up, guys. We’re hitting Claude’s ranch in thirty.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Drake sat with his friends in one of the light Hawaiian Police Department helicopters and tried to clear his mind as they flew fast toward Claude’s ranch. The skies were littered with similar choppers and heavier, military ones. Hundreds of men were in the air. More were en route across land, traveling as fast as they could. A large part of the police and military had had to remain behind in Honolulu and the Waikiki area just in case the terrorist attacks actually materialized.
The Blood King was dividing their forces.
The satellite image showed a lot of movement at the ranch, but much of it was camouflaged so it was impossible to tell what was really going on.
Drake was determined to put his feelings for Kovalenko on hold. Gates had been right. The hostages and their safety were the crucial points here. Some of the most astonishing sights he would ever see opened up below and around him as they flew toward the North Shore, but Drake was using every last bit of his will to focus. He was the soldier he had once been.
He couldn’t be anything else.
To his left, Mai was talking briefly to her sister, Chika, double-checking her safety and sharing a few quiet words whilst they could. It was no secret that they could be starting an all-out war or heading into a prepared war-zone.
To Drake’s right, Alicia spent the time checking and re-checking her weapons and equipment. She had no need of explaining herself. Drake had no doubt she would extract her vengeance.
Hayden and Kinimaka sat opposite, constantly keying their throat mics and firing off or receiving updates and orders. The good news was that nothing had happened on Oahu or any other island. The bad news was the Blood King had had years to prepare for this. They had no clue as to what they were walking into.
Ben and Karin had been left back at HQ. Their orders were to wait for the asset’s email and then prepare for the somewhat terrifying eventuality that they might have to journey beneath Diamond Head
and perhaps breach the Gates of Hell.
A tinny voice came over the choppers sound system. “Five minutes to target.”
Like it or not, Drake thought. We’re in it now.
The helicopter swept low over a deep valley, an incredible sight as it flew flanked by dozens of other choppers. This was the first wave, made up of Special-ops soldiers. Every other US military marque was ready to assist. Air force. Navy. Army.
The voice came once more. “Target.”
They rose as a unit.
*****
Drake’s boots hit the soft grass and he was instantly under fire. He had been the next to last man out the door. The unlucky marine still repelling down took a full burst in the chest and died before he hit the ground.
Drake flattened himself. Bullets whizzed over his head. Dull impacts struck logs next to him. He fired a salvo. Men to either side of him crawled through the grass, using the natural undulating terrain as cover.
Ahead he saw the house, a two-story, brick affair, nothing fancy but no doubt serviceable for Kovalenko’s local needs. To the left he spied the ranch area. What the—?
Scared, unarmed figures were running toward him. They were running to left and right, every which way. He heard a hiss over his earpiece
“Friendlies.”
He snaked forward. Mai and Alicia branched off to his right. At last the marines got their act together and began to announce a coordinated fire pattern. Drake started to advance faster. The men facing them began to retreat, moving away from their concealment and running for the house.
Easy targets
Drake now rose with the attack force and picked off men as he ran, gun up. He saw a captive leaping through the grass, heading for the house. They didn’t know the good guys had arrived.
The captive suddenly twisted and fell. The Blood King’s men were taking pot shots at them. Drake snarled, lined the shooter up in fine targets and blew the bastard’s head off. He fired intermittently, either pinning down or routing men so others could finish them off.
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