Theatre of War (Matt Drake 28) Tenth Anniversary Novel

by David Leadbeater

  Shaw, their other recent addition, had been running with the Blood King in New York when they met. Luka Kovalenko had abducted Shaw’s remaining family, forcing her to work with him as a bodyguard. Later, he killed Shaw’s family, and the Native American had been with them ever since.

  Alicia looked back even further as her friends worked their contacts, all the way back to their quest for the bones of Odin where she had been working against Drake, a soldier running with the enemy. Those days, that experience, had allowed her to keep seeking that horizon whenever she wanted.

  Much later, she realized running only kept the past behind you, chasing you, always sneaking up on your shoulder. The only way past adversity was confrontation.

  Hayden spoke up then, diverting her attention. “We should split up.”

  Alicia coughed. “Again? We’ve only just got back together.”

  “I know. But it’s looking like we may have to hunt down Bodie and survey the casino at the same time. It stands to reason that Bodie and the casino won’t be in the same place for more than a few hours.”

  “I could do Vegas,” Kenzie said.

  Cam and Shaw also spoke up which, to Alicia, seemed like a good choice. Hayden thought so too. “That’s settled then. Dahl?”

  “I’m good,” he said distractedly. “I want to meet this Bodie character. And his team.”

  Alicia thought they might need all hands on deck if this relic hunter crew turned out to be as capable as they appeared to be. But Hayden had a point. Someone needed to watch the Bellagio.

  “Keep in touch,” she told Cam as he and Shaw began to make plans for their journey west. “And don’t start any bar fights.”

  Cam grinned at the reference to the start of their recent trouble with the voodoo soldiers. “Don’t worry, I won’t need to protect your honor this time.”

  “My honor?” Alicia stared.

  Mai started to laugh out loud. “Finding it would be a start,” she choked.

  Alicia flipped the Sprite off before smiling at Cam and Shaw. “And watch out for Kenzie,” she said loudly. “That bitch is no good with anything that doesn’t have a sharp edge.”

  Dahl gave her an odd look. Kenzie walked out of the room without answering.

  In the moment of silence that followed, Drake ended his call and caught their attention. “We have a lead,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Drake poured himself a coffee. “Crouch, it appears, is far better versed in the activities of the Relic Hunters than we are—”

  “Figures,” Alicia said with a smile.

  “Yeah, I guess. He’s been keeping tabs on them ever since they found the statue of Zeus.” He consulted the notes he’d taken. “Guy Bodie. Cassidy Coleman. Jemma Blunt. Lucie Boom. And—Yasmine, no second name. Crouch seems to believe they’re almost as good as us, but I doubt it. Especially if they’ve all gone rogue. I think we’re gonna have to kick their arses either way.”

  “Where are they?” Dahl asked.

  “Not a clue,” Drake said just to wind the Swede up and then smiled. “There are only so many fixers in the world good enough to fake an ID package that’d fool the CIA, Interpol and all the rest. One of them—Giselle Van Santen—lives in London—not far from the place where Bodie and co. found King Arthur’s tomb. So, it was a short hop for our runaways while Pang and Moneymaker were sleeping. They found Giselle, had the IDs made, and then scarpered all the way to sunny Mexico.”

  “Where the Illuminati cornered them,” Hayden said. “It makes sense. I guess the million-dollar question is—does Crouch know this Giselle?”

  “Crouch knows everyone,” Drake said. “He’s trying to contact her right now.”

  Hayden looked worried. “Well, I hope they’re in the country because they’re the only lead we’ve got.”

  Drake felt as miserable as she looked. Cam, Shaw and Kenzie said their goodbyes and headed off for Vegas. Drake shook his head in wonder as he noticed the time.

  “Only noon,” he said. “Feel like we’ve been here for days.”

  The team tried to relax, to use the spare time to switch off, but the situation was too dire. Outside, a faint drizzle fell, the sky lamenting so many unnecessary deaths across America.

  Kinimaka turned on the TV to get a feel for what was happening. “Unrest. Riots. Hate crimes. Some channels blame one group, another blames the next. Some are pointing fingers at the police. Queues at grocery stores, electrical outlets, DIY places. Gridlock. All this can’t be policed. Those stuck on the highways are running out of water and food. The slew of misinformation does appear to be slowing.”

  Drake jumped as his phone rang. “Crouch,” he said and put it on speaker. “We’re all here.”

  “Giselle Van Santen,” Crouch got straight to the point, “made IDs for Bodie and co. a few months ago. IDs that would hold up under any kind of scrutiny. Trouble was, the Illuminati found her and then Bodie. The rest is history but, unbeknown to anyone else, Giselle actually made two set of IDs for the Relic Hunters. I have copies of both here and I’m sending them to your email address.”

  Drake blinked in confusion. “I have an email address?”

  “Not yours. Hayden’s. I’m assuming you haven’t changed it?”

  “No, it’s all good. Listen Michael, this big job the Relic Hunters just completed. Their fight against the Illuminati. Where did it end?”

  “Good question,” Crouch said. “The trouble is—it’s all still a bit under wraps, as if the ending hasn’t been decided yet. They don’t want the CIA to find them even now. It could still be happening. It involves locating ten ancient sanctums in ten places around the world and harvesting their cores, something about fulfilling an ancient prophecy.”

  “Then you don’t know where they ended up?”

  “I didn’t say that. Just keep it under wraps. They finished in Monument Valley.”

  Drake considered that. “Which isn’t a million miles away from Las Vegas.”

  “Not even a thousand,” Crouch said. “They could drive it in a few hours.”

  “It all fits,” Dahl said. “The Relic Hunters finishing their global quest for ten ancient sites just hours from Vegas. Guy Bodie’s name at the top of the Scourge’s list. If they’re on the run from the CIA, then they’re considered bad guys.”

  Drake frowned. “You do realize that, essentially, we’re also on the run from the CIA? And every other government-run anacronym.”

  “Today we are,” Dahl said with a tolerant shrug. “Tomorrow, who knows?”

  Hayden was already forwarding the IDs that Crouch had sent her to Karin. “If we’re lucky,” she said, “Bodie and friends will have used them close by.”

  “Not lucky,” Crouch said. “We’re good.”

  Drake smiled, unable to count the number of times Michael Crouch had helped them out in the past. He thanked his old boss and warned him off travelling to America for the next few weeks.

  “We’re happy in Zurich, for now. Let’s catch up soon.”

  Drake didn’t have a moment to reflect as Hayden’s phone rang.

  “Yeah? Is that you Karin?” Hayden placed it on speakerphone.

  “It’s me. The IDs you sent across... they didn’t exist until a few months ago.”

  “We know,” Hayden said. “And you could say that tracking them down is a life or death situation.”

  “It’s all going to shit out there.” Karin sighed, her words intensely worrying when Drake considered she worked for the NSA.

  “Is there any rhyme to it?” he asked. “Any way of slowing or stopping it?”

  “It’s all happening too fast. They don’t have the manpower in place to crack down properly on the rioters and criminals. The models aren’t working. America is, essentially, eating itself. All it took was someone to light the fucking touchpaper.”

  Drake knew that most so-called civilized societies walked a tight line. He hadn’t taken the time to consider just how tight that line was until now.

&n
bsp; “You always believe that the guys in charge know what they’re doing,” he said. “Even if you don’t like them, you assume that they have good people somewhere around them, or that the last guy—the guy you did like—put something in place that would help future generations. That at least he or she was selfless. But...” he floundered, “that really doesn’t happen, does it?”

  “Rarely,” Karin said. “They’re employing the National Guard and the Army now. Safeguarding government installations. The people—they’re largely on their own.”

  “A lesson to learn,” Mai said. “Have you had any luck?”

  Karin replied a few moments later. “At least three of those IDs have been used recently in a single place,” she said. “Let me just double check...”

  Drake waited, breathing slowly to curb his impatience.

  “Yeah, they’re staying at a luxury hotel close to the Grand Canyon’s south rim. It’s called the Firebird Lodge.”

  Drake was surprised. “A hotel? That doesn’t sound right.”

  “Maybe they’re chilling after a hard mission,” Alicia suggested. “To be fair, we should all take note.”

  Drake shrugged it away, already knowing what was coming next.

  Hayden asked Karin to send over the information and then ended the call. As one, the team made ready.

  Drake wasn’t sure how he felt about preparing to take down a team that may have recently saved the world. “How about we try talking to them first?” he suggested.

  Dahl slapped a fresh mag into place, checked the sights of his machine gun, then turned his attention to his Glock. “Don’t start being a pussy, mate. We take them down like we take them all down. Hard.”

  Drake nodded, wondering why he’d bothered mentioning it. To a man and woman, the team was ready—all wanting to end this nightmare.

  The hours after their arrival in Arizona were going to be vital.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Darkness was falling by the time the SPEAR team came in sight of the Grand Canyon.

  They approached the entrance in a dark gray rental car along a wide road and queued with other traffic, paying a fee on entry. The driveway took them past several signs, parking areas and guide stations but all they were interested in was finding the Firebird Lodge.

  Drake stayed quiet, wondering what it was about these ancient places that instilled a sense of silent wonder in even the most jaded psyches. It didn’t matter who you were or what you had seen in life—the primordial, profound majesty that enwrapped sites like the Grand Canyon could never be ignored or belittled.

  Just beyond a public parking area, they saw the lodge sprawled along the south rim of the canyon, its rooms, restaurants and outside terraces overlooking the mile-deep, winding gorge that twisted its way through Arizona.

  The team exited the car and gathered around the trunk, waiting as Hayden handed out backpacks and orders. Drake tried to focus on the mission at hand. There was no time to waste.

  “Bryant’s personal chopper is waiting,” Hayden said and then cringed at her words, sending a quick glance at Alicia.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” the blond said. “What do you think, Mai? Ready to climb aboard?”

  The Japanese woman shook her head. “Grow up, child,” she said, shrugging into her pack.

  “The quicker we get it done the better,” Hayden continued. “Obviously. Look... there are no grudges between us and this team. They’ve done good in the past. If they want to come quietly, let it happen. If they don’t—” she shrugged “—try not to kill anyone.”

  Drake patted Dahl on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. We’re bound to find a rock around here you can batter instead.”

  “Or a sausage,” Dahl muttered. “For you.”

  Kinimaka slammed the trunk. The team fanned out, not wanting to appear more conspicuous than they already were. Alicia donned a baseball cap and Kinimaka pulled on a wool hat emblazoned with the Hard Rock Café logo. Hayden linked arms with the big Hawaiian and together, in twos and threes, the team made their way up a sharp, wide incline in the direction of the Firebird Lodge.

  “Room numbers?” Drake asked, trying out the comms system.

  “On your phones,” Hayden said.

  Drake checked before continuing. The lodge and the areas around it appeared not to have been affected by the wider dilemmas plaguing America. It was a busy place: figures wrapped up against the evening cold were heading out for a walk or standing on the terrace, many strolling into the several on-site restaurants. The sound of conversation was a low hum out of respect for the grandeur surrounding them.

  Drake took Alicia’s arm as they approached the wide front doors of the lodge. The sardonic grin she gave him made him wince.

  “Only time you hold my hand is when you wanna blend in with the locals.”

  “You want me to hold your hand more?” Drake hadn’t even considered Alicia might be open to it.

  “No, but I want you to try so that I can slap you away.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  The doors swung open automatically. Inside, Drake crossed a plush, carpeted lobby toward a bank of elevators, carefully avoiding the eyes of receptionists sitting behind the front desk. The others, spread out, did the same.

  “Third floor,” Mai said.

  The doors slid closed behind them. Drake swung his backpack to the ground and reached inside for the Glock nestling right at the top. The handgun worked better in close-quarters. He shoved it into his waistband and covered it with his black denim jacket.

  Alicia backed into Dahl as she reached for her own weapon. “I hope to hell that was your gun, Torsty.”

  “It may shock you, Alicia, but I’m not made of steel.”

  “I was referring more to the shape to be fair.”

  The elevator came to a halt, the doors humming open. Hayden and Kinimaka were waiting in the hallway. Hayden nodded at a brass sign. “We need rooms 314-317, to the west.”

  The corridor was empty, their boots hushed by the thick carpeting. Drake stayed at the back of the pack, ready for anything. Dahl padded to the furthest door before stopping and holding up a closed fist.

  “We ready?”

  “Go.”

  Dahl kicked out at the hotel room door, fracturing the lock and frame.

  Alicia smashed it open with her shoulder and barged in.

  Drake was a step behind as they ventured inside the room, guns aimed.

  An empty bed appeared first and then a window overlooking the canyon and a small door to a bathroom.

  Alicia checked it quickly. “Empty,” she said.

  “Clear,” the others’ voices came through the comms. “There’s nobody here.”

  Drake cursed and made a quick check of the room. “There’s luggage,” he said. “Two backpacks. Some deodorant on the nightstand. Water, that kind of thing. Someone is staying here, guys.”

  “We have the same,” Hayden said. “I guess we jumped the gun.”

  “A case of premature infiltration,” Alicia said. “It happens.”

  Drake rummaged inside the backpacks, coming up with a passport belonging to one of the aliases Karin had mentioned. “All right,” he said. “Clearly, they’re out. We messed up. Maybe we can find them outside.”

  They pocketed their guns and met up in the corridor, hastening toward the elevators. Seconds later, they were back in the lobby and split up. Drake and Alicia took one restaurant, the others a second. Again, the people and the faces they were searching for were absent.

  “Outside,” Hayden said, heading through the exit doors.

  Ribbons of scarlet still twisted through the western skies like small fire dragons battling an encroaching darkness, sending crimson tendrils across the land. The parking lot was lit up, stark floodlights bathing it with artificial light. People wandered back and forth to their cars, faces visible but not the ones they were looking for.

  Drake led the way to the terrace and walked from table to table, star
ing at every diner.

  “The canyon,” Hayden said.

  “It’s the only place left,” Mai said. “And not exactly easy to search.”

  Drake followed his team off the terrace and around the tree-lined path winding toward the edge of the south rim. The canyon was up to eighteen miles wide at some points and almost three hundred miles long. As Mai said, it might prove a tad difficult to search.

  They came out of the curving path to face the very edge of the canyon, which rose to just above their eyeline, a ragged line twenty feet or so ahead that seemed to drop off the edge of the earth. The ever-darkening northern skies stretched from horizon to horizon.

  Drake ventured further. The rim ran away to left and right, irregular and ancient, the elemental stillness rising out of the craggy gorge like an invisible mantle settling on the shoulders of those that watched.

  Drake saw vague figures both ways, many standing and looking into the canyon, some sitting together.

  “Split up?” he asked.

  “Not with these guys,” Dahl said with respect. “If they’re out here, they won’t be far. It’s not as if the canyon’s lit up.”

  It was true. Already the shadows pooling in the depths below were turning the bottom into a black soup, making rocks, bushes and outcroppings indiscernible. The Colorado River itself was no longer visible.

  Drake heard whispers and muted laughter on the air. “Walk with me.”

  They started west, slowing every time they came upon a group, even a duo of people. Their task seemed fruitless. Drake was acutely aware that every second, every minute they lost, contributed to the Scourge’s victory. But, to put a positive spin on it, they hadn’t yet heard from Kenzie in Vegas, which told Drake and the others that either the thieves hadn’t hit the Bellagio yet, or the slots were paying out really well.