Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5)

by Leadbeater, David

  “I’ll get us cocktails.” Kinimaka’s huge fist almost fully concealed the drinks menu. Hayden heard her boss out, at first shocked but then seeing the usefulness of an expensive asset like Lauren Fox. At least now she knew why Gates had been asking all the odd questions. Time would tell if she was up to the job.

  Hayden thanked Gates and then told Kinimaka. “Good move,” he said. “She sure can get into places we can’t.”

  “We’ll see.” Hayden was more worried about how many times they’d have to go in and save Fox’s ass. But for now, she focused on Kinimaka.

  “I kinda brought you here for a reason,” she said a little nervously. “Other than to buy you a shot glass.”

  “To get me drunk?”

  “Maybe. So Mano—” She touched the top of his hand where it rested lightly on the table. “You got something to say to me?”

  The misgivings rose like a castle wall before his mind’s eye. “You’re my boss. I respect you for being my boss. And if it doesn’t work out—how could we work together?”

  “Geez, Mano, nothing’s ever gonna be that predictable. And wouldn’t life just get damn boring if it was?”

  “We’ve known each other a long time. . .”

  “I can’t promise we’ll always be friends.” Hayden thought about real life and how it always took away those you loved. “Whether we hook up or not.”

  Big cocktail glasses full of mixed spirits, gaudy umbrellas and slices of pineapple were placed on the table. Hayden had known her oldest friend would try the Hawaiian-based drink, just to compare it to the island offerings. She also knew he’d go with the island. He always did.

  Friendship. Trust. An almost psychic intuition for what each other would do next. That’s what they had. Why risk it?

  “There’s always another level,” she told Mano, though she’d never found it with Ben or any other of her past boyfriends. “There has to be.”

  “Hayden Jaye.” Kinimaka took her hand and squeezed gently. “Will you be my date tonight?”

  The atmosphere at the table suddenly changed. The dynamics shifted sideways and a thrill shot through Hayden’s body. “Sure will,” she said with a grin. “But first things first—I have to pass on the information Gates just gave me. Actually, I’ll tell Dahl to do it. He’s reliable.”

  Kinimaka waited patiently. He’d waited for Hayden so long he couldn’t even remember when he fell for her. Another five minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  *****

  Dahl took the call without feeling an iota of surprise. He trusted Jonathan Gates now. The man had a plan, and a bloody good one at that. Dahl’s only continuing concern was the distance this job put between his family and himself. Johanna would not pack up and move to the United States, nor would he ever ask her too. And it wasn’t fair on the kids. Their early youth was an impressionable, grounding experience. He wanted familiarity and stability for them.

  But how grounded would they be with a father figure who only flitted in and out of their lives?

  Dahl checked his watch. It would be mid-afternoon in Sweden. The kids would be at school but at least he could talk to Johanna. But first, he’d make a call to his newest comrade, Komodo. The Delta boy had taken it all the way in that final battle. A quality Dahl appreciated. He trusted the man to pass along Hayden’s information.

  After that, Johanna would be eager to hear his voice. And he hers. Already, a wide grin was spreading across his entire face and making his dark eyes shine. He set up the video link on his laptop and crossed to the window. The dome of the White House glowed in the distance. Johanna would love to see it.

  *****

  Komodo seemed agitated to Karin by the time he’d finished talking to Dahl. The soldier was standing completely naked at the window, seemingly oblivious, and no doubt making some passerby’s day. The street was only three floors below. The lights were on. Karin studied the width of his shoulders and the play of the muscles down his back.

  “Is Torsten okay?”

  “Yeah. He just called to tell us the hooker has been made part of the team.”

  Karin let it run through her quick mind. “The idea is a good one, T-vor.” It was her private name for him.

  “He wants me to pass it on to the team.”

  Karin raised a wicked eyebrow. “Well, you probably needed the break anyway. Felt like you were about to peak early.”

  Komodo looked a bit self-conscious. “It’s been a long week.”

  “Just ring Drake. He’s reliable. I need to try Ben anyway. Haven’t spoken to him since he left.”

  Karin wrapped her body in the soft bed sheets right up to her neck. “You can stay naked, soldier boy. That’s your punishment.” The connection whirred and clicked and then the ringtone began. Ben’s phone was one of those annoying ones that played a preset tune in the caller’s ear.

  She heard Komodo talking to Drake.

  Ben didn’t answer.

  Without further ado she jumped up on the bed, letting the sheets fall away. Komodo fell at her feet so that she landed perfectly on top of him. His hands grabbed her hips.

  “And since you’ve done nothin’ but sit on this for the last week, let’s give it some exercise.”

  *****

  Drake listened to Komodo. The appointment of Lauren Fox would raise some issues, not to mention some eyebrows, but now was not the time to address them. Although Mai had been back for days, this was the first time they had been alone, totally alone, since they had hit the island.

  Neither of them was the kind to make small talk. Neither were they the kind to emphasize how much they’d missed or thought about each other. Drake knew all he had to do was sit next to her. “I’m supposed to contact Alicia.”

  Mai studied her hands in her lap, almost coming across as shy. Almost.

  Drake yawned, stretched and put an arm across her shoulders. It was intended as a joke, but went straight over the Japanese woman’s head. She snuggled in.

  “Glad to see you didn’t fall for Smyth, then.”

  “He takes some getting used to but he’s a good man.”

  “Romero too. He helped finish off the Spanish side of the trafficking ring. Almost single-handedly I hear.”

  “Special Forces people,” Mai said. “No matter the nationality, they share a bond. They respond to each other.”

  Drake kissed the top of her head. “A theory I’d like to test.”

  But then his phone rang. It was Alicia herself, ringing him.

  “Bollocks.”

  But he should’ve guessed she would ring. Alicia Myles was always the exception to the rule.

  “Drake? Didn’t catch you two shagging, did I?”

  “Nice to hear your voice, Alicia. What’s up?” A hesitation made Drake narrow his eyes. Almost instantly, he sensed a bombshell. “Alicia?”

  “I have something to tell you, Drake. And you’re not gonna like it.”

  “Do you know something? About Coyote? Don’t tell me you’ve been keeping something else from me. Is it Cayman? The Shadow Elite? This new Russian thing.”

  “What new Russian thing?”

  “I told you. The seven swords and the saber dance. The Pit of Babylon. The Devil’s tower that led straight to the doorway of the gods and all that.”

  “Sorry, mate. Must have been kipping.”

  Drake closed his eyes. “Yeah or texting your new boyfriend.” Another hesitation. This time Drake let her think.

  “I’m leaving, Drake. I’m quitting the team.”

  His heart fell so far he was sure it hit the floor. “But. . .what? . . .Why?”

  “I miss Lomas,” Alicia said easily. “I miss the others too. With them, it’s all about the ride. The journey. Not the destination. I kinda like that idea. Bloody hell, Drake, you know me by now.”

  “I do.”

  “No agenda. I just want to live whilst I’m alive and have fun.”

  “That’s what I love about you.”

  Alicia’s voice softened to almost nothing.
“Me too, Drake. Me too.”

  “So…” Drake blinked away more than shock. “Will we see you again?”

  “If it comes to the apocalypse. . . call me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Nikolai Razin was not a well man. At one time he’d been a bare knuckle boxer, and had broken every bone in his hands. Now, he could barely move his fingers, but the frequent doses of morphine helped. Now, he had men to fight for him. Now, he liked to watch them break other people’s fingers.

  But the longing remained. His youth had been a hard, brutal, fleeting thing and now he wanted it back. That impossibility bred anger and hate in him, the kind that festers and sours. The highlight of his days was recognizing fear in another man’s eyes, the tremble in their shoulders. He had honed a stare, the unblinking, unnerving gaze of a madman that could agitate even the bravest of men.

  And he had honed the team he surrounded himself with like a knife edge is honed on a whetstone. He had grinded them. Sharpened them. Molded them with violence and longing and more—with reward. With sadism. With a cruel love.

  Zanko was his meanest, his most potent. Maxim, his stealthiest and most intelligent. Viktoriya, his most beautiful and resourceful.

  The four of them sat around Razin’s big table with the wall-size picture window at his back, the Russian night falling and the deep-red sunset washing their faces with blood. Out there, madmen and killers might walk. In here sat the men and women who controlled them.

  Razin spoke first as was protocol. “Tell me, Zanko, what have you found in Iraq?”

  “Ancient Babylon.” Zanko spread his arms expansively, ever the showman. “The city of sin. Debauchery. Murder. Greed. All the good things in life. The place where every bad thing began and criminals were invented, no? Ha, ha! They say Saddam Hussein built a palace overlooking the ancient ruins of Babylon. But he didn’t have the cunning to search for what we have found. If he did…” Zanko shrugged his muscle-bound shoulders. “Perhaps he would still be in power.”

  Maxim spoke little, but when he did, it was usually fast and to the point, like the strike of a snake. “Did you find the swords?”

  Zanko picked up several rolls of paper from the floor. He placed them on the deeply polished surface, sorting through until he found the right one. “We think the swords are there, and next week we should know more. But. . .” He jabbed the paper and the table urgently. “We found the original pit. The one from which Babylon was forged. That is what we found, my happy friend.”

  “And inside the pit?”

  Zanko gave them a grin like a cartoon shark. “You are all invited to come and look, of course.”

  Razin tapped the table, reigning in Zanko’s zeal. “And the other site?”

  The huge Russian held out both hands, palms up. “Insanity.”

  “Zanko?” Razin’s tone held a note of warning.

  “Seriously, my old friend, I mean what I say. It is impossible to describe. Imagine the size and breadth of a foundation that once held a tower reaching all the way to the clouds. But no swords at that site. Yet.”

  “The Devil’s Tower.” Viktoriya breathed in her super-smooth, silky voice. “The tower of stone. Who’d have thought it once actually existed?”

  “They existed,” Zanko corrected her. “That’s the wonder of it. The legends state that these towers were erected by almost every ancient civilization. Could they all be wrong, moyo sladkaya? And collectively, what do they mean? What do they form? We. . .” He patted his mighty chest. “I, Zanko, will find out.”

  Viktoriya curled a lip in distaste. “Moyo sladkaya? Be careful, Zanko. The last man who called me his ‘sweetheart’ ended up wearing his guts as a noose.”

  “The doorway to the Gods?” Razin speculated. “The seven swords that were part of the saber dance on Alexander the Great’s deathbed? I remain skeptical. We will see. And the writings you have found, are they a positive match to what the westerners found in the three tombs?”

  “It’s being checked,” Zanko admitted. “With all the secrecy—it is not an easy match to make.”

  Razin accepted with a nod. “And so now. . .now on to more mundane things. The man who raided our yard. Killed our men. He must pay for the devastation he brought to us. What has been done about him and his associate?”

  “Matt Drake is part of a covert American agency with maybe a dozen operatives. Officially, they handle special response and recon around the world.” Maxim was reading from a prepared sheet. “If we strike at one we strike at them all. They are regarded as a ‘first strike’ team. Highly skilled.”

  Zanko guffawed. “I promised to smother the little man with my armpits. I promise it again. I will not wash them until the job is done.”

  Razin didn’t take his eyes off Maxim. “Do we have him yet?”

  The man’s eyes glittered with intelligence and malice. “Within seventy two hours.”

  THE END

  Keep reading for more information on the development of the Matt Drake series:

  Well, it’s that time again. Another Drake adventure draws to a close with the promise of an even more exciting one to come. The next two books, Drake 6 and 7, tentatively due October 2013 and January 2014 will form the Sinners Cycle in which we will unravel more ancient mysteries and, hopefully, explore more about the myths of the gods, but then. . .

  ….Matt Drake #8 changes everything. There’s a developing back-story. Take Coyote out of the equation and then imagine Drake’s worst nightmare come true. Big things will happen and big changes will occur.

  Next up, it’s the start of the new series – The Disavowed. Those readers who have visited my website will know a little of this series already and I will soon be posting much more information. Hope you like it!