“There is no more Shadow Elite.” Drake heard Alicia sigh. “Get it through your thick Viking skull.”
Holgate must have heard it too, for tears formed in his eyes. “My fault.” He whispered. “All my fault. I led the terrorists here. They were supposed to help me steal the pieces of Odin and transport them to the Czech Republic but, instead, they double-crossed me.”
“Shocker,” Drake murmured. “Tell me more.”
“I was bankrupted, my assets dissolved. But the group would never accept that. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t even considered possible. Our families have succeeded through even the darkest days of the last thousand years.”
“And you bolloxed it all up,” Drake said. “I get that. But I don’t give a shit, see? What I want to know is where they’re staging this bazaar, how many terrorists are involved, and when is it happening? Quickly now, Holgate, before I let my team take turns shooting bits off you.”
“An old, deserted town in the Czech Republic. A ghost town. Tomorrow—three p.m. their time.
“And how many?”
Holgate shuddered as, for the first time, he stared Drake right in the eyes.
“Yes?”
“All of them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
With the fight of their lives beckoning the very next day, it seemed only fitting they should spend this night, perhaps their last as a full team, relaxing together. Going up against so many at the same time made the possibility of them all surviving the battle slimmer than a razor’s edge.
Belmonte chose a Vienna hotel he was accustomed to and rented out a dozen rooms all on the same floor. The thief was spending money like it didn’t matter anymore, and maybe it was partly his way of atoning for Emma’s death. Giving up that which he loved the most.
Or—almost loved the most.
One thing was clear. Belmonte had suffered a life-changing event and would never be the same. All his priorities had changed forever.
The Hotel Imperial stood in five-star luxury, lit up against the night like a golden treasure at the end of a dark, perilous path. The lobby was an opulent, inviting mix of the deepest colors, rich reds and gilded edges, dark oak frames and a bright, shining chandelier above it all. To the right of the domed revolving door stood a tall, sparkling Christmas tree, adorned with splendid trimmings and sparkling lights. Large, beautifully wrapped presents sat all around its base.
“Oh, how the other half live,” Alicia said, stopping and looking around. Even the snappy Englishwoman pulled her coat tighter to hide her shabby clothes. Whilst Belmonte paid, the rest of the team hung around the lobby, staring at the hotel’s well-to-do occupants wheeling hand luggage around and chatting amongst themselves. After a while the master thief signaled them and they climbed a great red-carpeted stairway lined by heavy oak paneling, overseen by another outsized chandelier. At the top they were faced with marble pillars and a warmly backlit statue, above which hung an old, expensive-looking painting.
“This way.” Belmonte took off, picking his way down another plushly-appointed corridor before stopping and waving his arm. “Down there. Three-oh-five to three-sixteen. Take your pick.”
“Just one thing.” Alicia wasn’t ever one to express her thanks the right way. “My room had better have a pair of those fancy friggin’ slippers and a bathrobe.”
Belmonte slid his entry card into the lock. “I thought you’d be more interested in the complimentary massage service.”
Alicia’s eyes widened. “Damn right.”
The group began to drift off, looking to chill out for the first time in what seemed, to Drake at least, months. He chose a room, shouted, “Lobby in thirty for anyone who cares,” and entered his room alone.
Put his back to the door and closed his eyes.
It was said that when loved ones died, they went up to heaven as angels, there to watch over you. He sent up a silent prayer.
Only trouble was—he didn’t know whether he wanted to live or die.
*****
Karin practically dragged Komodo into her room, saving the prim and pedantic image for someone who actually gave a shit. Within seconds, the two were naked and stepping into the hot, powerful shower. Within fifteen minutes, they were still naked, but now under the thick, luxuriant bed covers half-way through round two. Before they finished Karin turned the tables on the big American, straddling him, and shouted, “Jesus Christ you had better find a way not to leave me this time!” before he flipped her over again and put his mouth close to her ear.
“Whatever it takes.”
*****
Hayden beckoned Ben into her room as the young man paused awkwardly in the corridor, an unsure expression plastered on his face. When he got her approval, his face lit up. He pushed past her, confidence restored.
“Bloody hell! I know it’s only been a few days but it feels like months since we were alone together.”
Hayden walked over to the window that was literally surrounded by thick drapes. She pushed aside the net curtain. Outside, she saw a busy pavement and a street choked with traffic. Nothing changed, she thought. It might as well be L.A. or Washington D.C. Didn’t matter where you were. The architecture might be smarter, the trees older, but the song always remained the same.
“I can’t believe we missed the Wall of Sleep’s first gig,” Ben was saying disconsolately. “Remember? The Festival of Storms in Leeds. Pretty Reckless and Evanescence. And, of course, the Wall—”
“Stop,” Hayden said quietly.
Ben didn’t hear. “But I guess I really rocked it by finding that tomb underneath Singen, eh?”
Hayden turned her thoughts back through the last few months to the time she had first met Ben and Drake in Washington DC, and had been drawn to the young man’s enthusiasm, his intelligence and wit. She had seen the man who was inside. She had felt some kind of urge to bring him out. She had taken on the challenge. . .and felt that she owed him now.
Her mind’s eye flicked over Mano Kinimaka, sitting alone in a room down the hall, the ever-present guard at her side, and how he somehow seemed to be on her mind more and more of late. But that was his job—to protect her. It was the care and worry in his eyes that confused her.
She turned back to the room, back to Ben. In his boyish way, he was still appealing. She took a moment to dry swallow twice the amount of painkillers she had been prescribed. The wound in her side throbbed almost as hard as the wound in her heart. The knives that stabbed her seemed like a physical extension of her state of mind.
She was wounded, both physically and mentally.
She sat down on the bed next to Ben, careful not to touch him, but remaining close. Now was not the time for drama.
Tomorrow it might not even matter.
*****
Alicia spent a few minutes in the shower. The water hit her hard and fast, almost like a soothing massage in itself, but she was not one to dwell on luxuries. She quickly stepped out, toweled off, dried and redressed, took a few solitary minutes to stare at her hotel room and then headed down to the bar. Life was too short to spend it alone, staring at four walls and an empty bed.
The first drink she ordered was a Jack and coke. By the time she was staring at her fourth, a large figure had thudded down into the seat next to her.
“Mano Kinimaka.” She eyed him speculatively. “You really are one big bastard, you know that?”
“You heard of the big Kahuna? My mom used to call me the fucking huge Kahuna.”
Alicia laughed. “Looking to get shitfaced?”
“Looking for. . .distraction.”
“Oh yeah? What you got in mind?”
“Let’s get one thing straight from the outset, Myles, you stand no chance with me.”
Alicia threw him a little pout. “Her wounds go deeper than the length of a knife blade, mate. She’s damaged, that one.”
“We’re all damaged. You should know. And I really don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t.�
� Alicia slammed the remainder of her glass back in one go. “Maybe we should ask Belmonte. He knows her quite well, or so I’m told.”
“Fuck off.” Kinimaka half-rose from his chair.
Alicia put a hand on his arm. “Stay. Please.” When Kinimaka reluctantly reclaimed his seat, she went on. “I’m an abhorrent bitch. I get that. I don’t hold back.”
“I can’t see why Drake keeps you around to be honest.”
“Drake? Well, because he knows exactly what he’s getting, see? These other people—Mai, Gates, even Dahl—they all have their own self-righteous agendas. I mean, look at Mai exchanging that device for her sister. But with me—” She ran the back of her hand from her head down her body to her toes. “What you see is what you get. And what I think is exactly what I will tell you. No secrets, no schemes.”
Kinimaka asked the bartender to leave the bottle. He placed it carefully between them. “Hayden’s my boss. There can be nothing between us.”
“Bollocks. Things change all the time. I’ve shagged most of my bosses.”
Kinimaka shook his head, but couldn’t stop the laughter. After a moment he was shaking and snorting. He held up a neat shot, clinked Alicia’s glass and downed it in one.
The bartender thoughtfully brought over another bottle.
*****
Torsten Dahl prowled the room that seemed to have become a temporary command center. The SAS boys were talking quietly among themselves at the same time as guarding the Norseman, and Jonathan Gates picked his way delicately through the less trustworthy until he finally reached men he could put faith in on the phone.
Commanders. Generals. Old-school leaders. The stalwart captains of unknown crews, men who did not seek glory but earned it every day. The law of misfortune would not put many of their available men within a day’s journey of the Czech Republic, but he was betting anyone lunch at the White House that he’d bag more than a few.
It was too early to start examining who was and who wasn’t part of the Shadow Elite’s conspiracy ring. Their limited resources were best employed now in regaining the eight pieces of Odin.
Sam, the leader of the SAS team, had contacted two more teams in Europe, both of whom were willing to make the trip.
Now Dahl paced back and forth, calling in every favor that he’d ever earned in his considerable career. His Statsminister was doing the same. Sweden was relatively close to the Czech Republic by plane.
At last, Dahl closed his phone. “Tomorrow,” he announced to the room, “we will have a small army.”
“The Czechs might not be too happy at the sight of all these foreign soldiers invading their soil,” the Norseman barked at him from his small corner of the room.
“Then they shouldn’t allow terrorists to host arms bazaars in their country, should they?”
Dahl paused for a moment. His eyes took on a faraway glaze and the makings of a brief smile formed on his lips. He calculated the time back in his homeland. He inspected the room and its security one more time.
A moment, he thought. Just a moment. On this night of all nights, he deserved it.
He stepped out into the corridor, found the stairwell and sat down on the top step. Quickly he dialed a number. To his right a big rectangular window looked out over a benighted street where fairy lights glittered like wishes.
The phone was answered immediately. A woman’s voice. “Hallå?”
“It’s me.”
“Torsten. Oh, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you coming home?”
She sounded so hopeful, so sure. Dahl kept his voice neutral. “Not yet.”
But she was his wife, his life-companion, and he could never keep anything from her. “You come home,” she said. “You don’t do this. Do you hear?”
Dahl was silent for a moment. His wife knew him better than that. “Are they still awake? Are they there?” He kept his voice soft to keep it from breaking.
The other phone clunked down. After another second he heard a dual squeal, the slapping of bare feet at full pace, and then his two young kids were on the line, tripping over their own words in their eagerness to speak.
He let them talk, drinking in the wonder of them, basking in the delight they took from life and wishing it could always be that way. Childhood flew past in a moment, and each moment he spent sharing it with them left him wanting more. But at the same time, he wanted to protect them with an unquenchable fierceness, in a way they would never hear about. A child sees through the eyes of his parents, so let those eyes be full of pride and happiness, not sorrow or regret or anger.
He sat there, a great soldier with eyes full of tears, and listened to the sound of his children being happy.
*****
Karin climbed out of bed, slipping into a luxurious bathrobe as she padded over to the window. “I’ve never felt particularly special,” she said, not looking at Komodo. “But even when I remember the darkness of my past, I feel beautiful with you.”
Komodo knew her now, knew about the shattering event in her childhood that had shaped her as an adult. “You lost your faith,” he said. “You nurtured the loss. You’ll never have to do that again.”
Karin turned quickly, arching an eyebrow. “What are you, Trevor? A shrink or a guru?”
He jumped off the bed and hugged her. “A little of both.”
Karin held him tight, staring sightlessly over his shoulder. “And what about tomorrow?”
She felt him shrug. “To part-quote an episode of Buffy, ‘Tomorrow, we save the world. Again.’”
“And then?”
“We’ll save each other. I’ll prove to you that people beyond family can be trusted. You’ll think of a way to keep me in bed. ”
“To keep you with me. Somehow.”
“Yes. But for now—” He gently disengaged from her and began searching for his cell phone. “I have an army to help build.”
One by one he began to search out contact details for his closest comrades.
*****
Alicia didn’t hesitate when Belmonte showed his face in the bar. She invited him to join them, and together Kinimaka, the thief and she drank too much, talked too much and stared down the hooded stares of would-be elitists. Alicia coaxed them both out of their shells—Kinimaka over Hayden and Belmonte over Emma. The Hawaiian was dithering, waiting for the right time with his boss—a time that would never come. Belmonte had indeed nurtured and trained Emma to be his shadow and his replacement, but somewhere along the wild path of her tutoring had fallen completely for her sharp wit, her beauty and her fearlessness. He was lost without her.
“An angel with skills, balls and a bloody face.” He described her, and Alicia found herself wishing she’d seen more of the thief’s assistant. Maybe they could’ve been friends.
Alicia confessed her need for companionship. She couldn’t stand to be alone with her own thoughts. The night terrors overwhelmed her.
Into a dark corner they finally retired, still drinking and talking nonsense, becoming more than colleagues, chatting away the night and any fears it might hold, chasing the dawn towards the new day, comrades in arms and minds.
As one, they were fearless.
*****
Matt Drake watched as the Vienna skyline started to lighten. Dawn was approaching fast—the start of a brand new day that might very well end with the world being a terrifyingly different place.
“Every civilized government in the world should be involved in this,” he said, unable to hide his frustration. “But because this bloody Shadow Elite’s got their claws into everyone, we can’t call on anyone. When I was in the regiment, Mai, it seemed a whole lot easier.”
“You were a pawn, a robot programmed to follow orders. Now you’re a man fighting against the raging machine. It’s a harder fight.”
“I need sleep.” He moved away from the window.
Mai watched him from where she had spent the night, curled across a plush armchair. “Like me, Matt, you’ll sleep when you’re dead.”
&n
bsp; That raised a tired smile. “Bon Jovi? I forget sometimes that it was you and I who invented Dinorock.”
“And like you and I and the dinosaurs, it appears to be dying out. Everything these days is Gangnam Style.”
Another smile. “We won’t die today. None of us will. We’ll take their armies out and tear the eight pieces from their broken fingers. And we’ll do it Yorkshire style.”
“Or in Alicia’s case— doggy—”
“Woah. This feud between you two? It has to stop. After a while it tends to grate. We three actually work well together.”
Mai shrugged. “Maybe. But however you look at today, it’s almost over anyway. We’ve already neutralised the Shadow Elite. Once the eight pieces are safe, all this ends and those of us who survive. . .will have some tranquility.”
Drake looked at her for a long time, realizing the truth of her words. Ever since he had started the search for the bones of Odin, his life had been like traveling on a hellish rollercoaster, designed by the devil and crewed by his demons. To think, in another day or two it would be all over.
The eight pieces secure. The Shadow Elite gone. Wells out of the picture. The Blood King behind bars that would never officially exist.
That would leave one thing—an assassin called Coyote.
But first things first.
“About time we started our charge,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The quad-engine Boeing C17 Globemaster cargo plane touched down hard and taxied roughly along a patched and potholed runway in a remote corner of the Western Czech Republic. The transport had landed as close to the bazaar’s staging area as possible to avoid arousing suspicion, but the soldiers still faced an hour’s march at a brisk pace to reach the target area in time.
Dahl and Gates between them had managed to secure the big plane—currently tied to a commercial and civilian release at Vienna International Airport. The money they and their governments offered ensured a swift and quality response from its operators.
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