Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona

by David Leadbeater

  A stream of affirmative expletives rang out.

  Her cell rang again. This time her expression changed almost immediately. When she ended the call her face was dark with anger.

  “The fucking facility just got hit by a huge force. There was no extra security. No extra guards. Not even local cops. Some pretentious bastard’s gonna hang for this one. I know this is a big ask, guys, but we’re gonna have to assault a larger force that is already attacking a fortified building. We’re gonna be in one of the hardest battles of our lives.”

  The team didn’t need to study each other, didn’t need words to know this was their first real threat since Komodo lost his life.

  Drake made a point of exchanging his knife for a much larger one. “Then it’s a good job we’re the best fucking team in the world.”

  The plane descended hard.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mai Kitano winced as a bolt of pain radiated out from the area in which she had been shot. The wound had healed but the trauma to her body would be everlasting. Still, she had survived that dreadful night in Hong Kong, that hotel battle, the long chase across the rooftops, the alley-fight afterwards.

  Some had not.

  Komodo took the blow that had been meant for her. Why would he do that? The man had a future. A girlfriend. A life. What did she have? Nothing but a twisting gut-full of guilt and angst. Nothing but a long downward spiral. Grace was her only salvation. The young woman she had saved from the dreaded hand of the Tsugarai clan was her future, her absolution and her gift all rolled into one. Grace was already far beyond the broken, quiet figure she had saved—the girl was forward, boisterous, even offensive at times. If it had not been for the inescapable sojourn to find her parents’ graves and the agony it bestowed then Mai thought she would already be as close to “normal” as she was ever going to get and fully able to make her own next decision.

  Mai shielded her eyes again, now ignoring the twist in her gut. They stood together at the edge of a vast graveyard. Built on the side of a green hill the cemetery descended in steps, each one crammed full of square or rectangular gravestones, mostly gray in color, bordered by trees and dotted by tiny individual lawns. Flowers lay everywhere, adding color to the otherwise austere scene. Narrow paths ran down the center of every step. Mai couldn’t help but lose herself inside a miasma of gloom as she appraised the cemetery.

  No gravestone should ever need to have a teddy bear clinging to it.

  Tears formed in her eyes and she led Grace downhill as fast as she could. They had already acquired a map from a groundsman and knew where Grace’s parents were buried. Mai thought about them giving up when their daughter vanished. She could never imagine what it must be like for a parent to lose a child and never know . . .

  Such morbid thoughts, she reflected, are surely a part of why this is all happening to us. Snap out of it.

  There had to be a way to live again.

  But today was always going to be drenched in sadness. The steep slope took her attention for a while, the angle making her stomach hurt yet again. Grace stepped lightly before her, concentrating on the ground. Today, the dark-haired Japanese girl was dressed in loose pants, flat shoes and a simple white blouse. Her hair was clipped back, away from her strained face. Hers was a head that had seen too much and a body that had lived too hard. The next few years should be peaceful to allow her time to catch up. Mai doubted the girl would see things the same way. Headstrong, and thinking she had already experienced the worst of the world she would crave to be out in it.

  And Mai didn’t really blame her.

  They descended together, step after step, until the green hillside rose behind them, the summit high above. Gray headstones stretched to both sides. Mai paused to consult the map, pinpointing their destination which in fact proved to be at their very feet.

  Mai stared at the gravestone. Grace looked ahead with a positive expression, determined to search on. When she started to move off Mai cleared her throat.

  “We are here,” she said, taking hold of Grace’s hand and showing her.

  Grace stared, face slipping as if she’d been struck in the face. All of a sudden the bravado vanished and what was left was a scared little girl, a child adrift, finally confronted with the reality of what had happened to her parents.

  “Sit.” Mai pulled her down before she collapsed. They had brought nothing with them. Neither Mai nor Grace held to any accepted ceremonies, not anymore. Mai felt almost as if her belief in decency and morality had been wiped clean. A ceremony couldn’t hope to change that.

  Grace knelt on the dusty path, staring at the headstones. A respectful sun beat at their backs, not too hot but simply dispensing warmth. The day was silent, inconspicuous, as the two women paid their respects to yet more who should not yet be dead.

  *

  Back at the hotel Mai gave Grace some space, giving her the use of the main apartment and shower while she retired to the bedroom. Even today, she had much to do. Sitting on the bed she stretched her back and made a call, managing a smile when Dai Hibiki answered.

  “Mai? Is that you?”

  “It is, my friend. I hope you are well.”

  Hibiki knew what was supposed to happen today and had never been one to waste time. “How is Grace?”

  “She will be all right. The fight inside that one is beyond anything I have ever seen. Her will to overcome . . .” Mai paused, surprised at herself.

  Hibiki’s smile was obvious despite the distance. “I know of one other who might come close.”

  “One day again, maybe. But life drains the fight out of you, Dai. If you’ve done something that deprives you of all the best feelings—passion, struggle, victory, humor—how do you get past that?”

  Hibiki sighed. “Are you coming to Tokyo?”

  “Yes. We leave tomorrow. I will see you then.”

  “Okay. And Mai, before you ask—no, they haven’t yet found Emiko. I know you killed her father but that girl can no longer be found. She’s not trained. Not a fighter. The wolves will swallow her whole and probably already have.”

  Mai didn’t appreciate the bluntness of his delivery but knew what Hibiki was trying to do. She ended the call before he could try anything else. Behind her, the small window looked out over a small park. Sounds of normality drifted through the barely cracked-open window—dogs barking and the groan of swing-chains. Laughter. The whooping of children. The warning shouts of adults.

  Something she had been keeping from Grace now swam back to the forefront of her brain. Two days ago Hibiki had gotten word that the Yakuza had held another meeting to decide the fate of their newest nemesis—Mai Kitano. Although the original, rigged trial hadn’t finished before Drake rescued her, the warriors dispatched to kill her hinted that Komodo’s death may be enough, but the Yakuza figureheads had now decided that satisfaction had not actually been gained. Komodo’s death was not enough.

  Instead, through Hibiki, they had offered a final resolution. An ending of sorts.

  They would send their best trained warrior for a showdown at a place of Mai’s choosing. Only a victory would save her. Mai had instantly acquiesced to their offer, seeing a way out for her sister and Hibiki and the entire SPEAR team. The Yakuza were formidable opponents and needed to be placated. The showdown would give Mai a chance to fulfil her obligations and maybe even earn a little redemption. Life might yet return to normal.

  Survival is not necessarily essential for any of that to happen.

  Her mind flicked back to the night Komodo died. Yes, she had been willing to die. Yes, she had almost accepted it. Then Komodo saved her from a death she could not have saved herself from. How did such an act change a soul? Was there more of her story yet to be written?

  The warrior was coming.

  Mai had yet to decide on a venue but she knew it would be Tokyo. If she died she wanted to be close to her sister and Hibiki, and far from Drake. The Englishman had to get on with his life. Their future had died the moment she killed a ma
n called Hayashi.

  The healed bullet wound throbbed. She realized that she didn’t want to die. She would kill the warrior if she could.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Drake jumped out of the black SUV amidst a scene from hell. Darkness had fallen and the San Jose electrical substation stood like an alien outpost—a sparse car park led to a perfunctory wall and then what appeared to be a tangled mass of short pylons and large transformers, beyond which stood a series of small buildings. Sounds of gunfire and an explosion rocked the night even as the SPEAR team began to move, adding to the feeling that they had entered some kind of hostile extra-terrestrial movie set. Drake saw where the wall had been breached. Amassed around it were a bunch of dark-clothed figures, their camouflage completed by ski-masks. They had noticed the new team’s arrival and were now training weapons upon them.

  Drake ducked behind their SUV as gunfire rang out, finding himself staring up at the stars all of a sudden.

  “Covering crew,” Smyth said next to him.

  Drake nodded. “The main gang are already inside.”

  “But what are they targeting?” Dahl put in.

  “Haven’t the foggiest,” Drake said thickly. “I’ll ask the first man who doesn’t try to kill me.”

  Smyth nodded. “We ready?”

  Drake shook his head at the man’s enthusiasm, surveying the scene from across the vehicle’s front end. Hayden and Kinimaka were out of sight and creeping around the far side of the car park. Drake waited.

  Hayden rose and opened fire with her brand new Sig Sauer MPX gas-operated sub-machine gun. Drake knew from the recent round of emails that it housed the world’s first fully closed and rotating bolt system, designed to enhance the safety of its user. The SPEAR team—among other frontline teams—were the first to use it in the US.

  Guinea pigs almost, Drake thought. Exactly what we need right now.

  Hayden used the front and rear flip-up sights to hone in on her target and then sprayed the gaggle of mercenaries. Kinimaka moved fast at her side. Drake watched men collapse, falling back against the shattered wall and disappearing through. As the survivors turned their sights towards Hayden, Drake rose and opened fire. The Sig felt good in his hands, smooth and well-engineered, imparting increasing confidence with every bullet that left the chamber. It took only a few moments for him to require a mag change and then he was halfway across the car park. Now in line with their aggressors he could see beyond and into the substation itself. The tidings weren’t good.

  Beyond the gravel path that bordered the interior he stared through the tangle of seemingly misshaped pylons. Some were listing, almost destroyed. Was this their goal then? Destroy the station’s capabilities, or at least one particular transformer or grid?

  Maybe. This wasn’t the time.

  Dahl squeezed past on the right. The Swede was totally focused, sprinting toward the next car and squeezing off bullets on semi-auto. Drake took a last look through the gap in the wall—the area was well lit. He was shocked to see the size of the mercenary contingent already converging on the main offices, a veritable swarm of unconscionable killers.

  Beauregard’s information had been correct. Which posed the nasty little question—who the hell was that guy working for?

  Drake would never trust a double-agent. If they’d turned once they could do so again. The real reason they turned the first time was all a prospective new handler needed to explore.

  The Yorkshireman played backup to Dahl for a while, running and covering and pinning the enemy down. At last they cleared the breach in the wall and met up with Hayden.

  “You see how many are inside?” she asked.

  “Dozens,” Drake said. “I lost count.”

  Dahl bashed the head in of a man who suddenly rose beside them.

  “Fucking zombie,” Smyth growled.

  Drake looked back to their transport. Inside, Karin, Lauren and Yorgi were monitoring the comms. “You guys hear anything?”

  “You have major backup on the way,” Lauren said, probably talking for Karin who would be collating the information. “But it’s still fifteen minutes out. Maybe a few cops here in five, but that’s as good as it gets. The FBI are en route too.”

  Drake shook his head. “These pricks will be vamoosed by then.”

  “Contact from inside the substation suggests they are trying to defend.”

  “No,” Hayden said. “Tell the staff and security men to stand down and hide as best they can. This ain’t worth their lives and the mercenaries are tooled up to the max. We’re gonna try to slow them down.”

  “Understood.”

  Drake climbed over what was left of the wall first, much to Dahl’s annoyance. The Swede quickly jumped across next and then the entire team were running carefully between pylons and junction boxes, exploring the starkly-lit alien world and trying to keep sight of the mercs ahead. Drake squinted, aware that such bright lights would leave an afterimage on his retina and impair his vision once they were clear. An explosion rang out. They saw an entire section of wall collapse and then the mercs were inside, scrambling over the rubble. Gunshots sounded, but Drake just hoped they were warning rounds and that the staff had heeded their warnings.

  Another contingent of men had stayed behind, either to aid escape or deter the authorities. Drake and his team did not stop. They raced ahead, taking cover behind pylons and wincing as bullets chimed and reverberated around them, sometimes passing straight through.

  To a man, they dropped to the ground.

  Drake aimed for legs, taking three men down. He crawled to the next available cover. Dahl fired at his side and Smyth beside him. The ground was hard concrete, almost blinding in the artificial light. The entire place hummed as if possessed by a swarm of bees and, above, sparks flew as if neighboring pylons might be attracted to each other.

  The SPEAR team fell among the remaining mercs, their speed stunning as they converged from three sides. Drake slammed the butt of his rifle into one man’s face, always wanting the death toll to be as low as possible, and fighting against elements of old training that urged him to never leave a live enemy behind.

  The world was different now, and it was hard not to change with it.

  Dahl rendered another merc comatose to the side, then Smyth disarmed a third. Hayden shot a fourth an instant before he fired on her, his loosed shot slamming into a nearby pylon. Kinimaka was down, struggling with another but using his considerable weight, twisting the man’s arm until he let go of his weapon.

  Dahl surveyed the facility. It seemed an RPG had been brought to bear on the main door, blasting it right off its hinges. Hayden’s phone chirped, much to her annoyance.

  “Fuck’s sake! Even in the middle of a battle they can’t leave me well alone!”

  Drake hauled up one of the survivors and pulled off his ski-mask “So tell me, matey. What’s going on?”

  The mercenary struggled. He was a battered-looking individual—face crisscrossed with old scars and an odd “broken” look to his jaw, as if had dislocated once and never properly reset. His eyes fired bullets as violently as any old Uzi.

  “Go fu—”

  Drake shook him, then realized how futile the gesture was. “Not even a cryptic clue?” he asked. “A tidbit?”

  “Like I said, asshole—”

  Smyth stepped in just as Hayden cursed. The entire team turned toward her as she stared in dumb disbelief at the facility all around them.

  “It’s a ruse,” she whispered. “This entire attack. These men . . .” She gestured at the dead and wounded. “The poor bastards who work here . . . it’s all a fucking trick.”

  “What?” Drake couldn’t stop his eyes practically bulging.

  Dahl clucked, disbelieving. “Not a chance. This is a full scale assault, Hayden.”

  “I know. And the mercs who blasted their way inside? They ran straight through, leaving by the rear even now, according to those stuck inside. While an even larger force is currently attacking the main San J
ose substation.”

  “I don’t . . . get it,” Lauren said through the comms.

  “Neither do I. Clearly . . . our informant . . . either lied or was fed false information. This attack is all subterfuge whilst the Pythians hit their main target.”

  “But we’re in San Jose,” Yorgi said. “How many substations are there?”

  “Many thousands,” Hayden said. “Karin. Where’s the principal San Jose substation?”

  “Not three miles from you,” Karin said. “And get this. That same substation was hit by a sniper attack, disabling it a few years ago, and then suffered another security breach a few years later. The Pythians appear to have targeted a facility that has a long history of breaches.”

  “Three miles?” Dahl heard only what was currently relevant to him. “Then let’s get over there.”

  Drake nodded and raised his weapon as sirens sounded close by. “What are we waiting for?”

  Hayden was already stalking away. “Get the fucking transport ready. This time we’ll be going in hot.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hayden had ensured all combatants were in the first of their two SUVs, whilst communications would be handled by the second. That way they could drive as far inside the power plant as they were able.

  Reports indicated that the second assault force was even larger. Drake began now to realize the size of the new problem they were up against.

  “Beauregard told us that they’d swamped the ranks with mercenaries,” he said. “I guess we didn’t fully understand how many until now.”

  The SUV jounced along the badly asphalted road. Hayden grunted. “He might have been right about that point,” she said. “But why send us to the wrong substation?”

  “We can’t answer that now,” Dahl said. “Let’s leave the questions for later and work on getting a step ahead of our enemy this time.”

  “Better still,” Kinimaka muttered. “Our focus should be on finding this asshole, Webb. Put an end to the threat at its source in one big swoop.”