Shadow Conflict

by Shadow Conflict (epub)

  Cain was trying to provoke him, trying to test his resolve, goad him into making an emotional admission. It took all of Drake’s self-control not to rise to the bait.

  ‘Anya chose this life, Keira didn’t. I can’t save them both.’ He turned away once more, thinking of the woman who had changed the course of his life so profoundly, who he’d risked everything for, and who had done the same for him. ‘Maybe one of them doesn’t want to be saved.’

  Cain weighed up Drake’s offer. There were a hundred reasons he could reject it out of hand, and even more reasons for him to be distrustful. But none of those reasons mattered, Drake sensed. If his instincts were correct, Cain would accept his offer.

  ‘All right, Ryan,’ he said. ‘Not many people get a second chance with me, but you might just have bought yourself one. If you come through.’

  Drake knew he’d been right about Cain, right about this whole situation. But never had he so wanted to be wrong.

  ‘You have 48 hours to deliver her to a location of my choosing. If you’re not there with Anya, the deal’s off. If you try to pull anything during the exchange, or if I even suspect something’s not right, the deal’s off. If you try to stall me or play for time, well, you can guess what happens. I hope for Keira’s sake you don’t disappoint me.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘We’ll find out in 48 hours. Oh, and Ryan,’ Cain added, seemingly as an afterthought. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’

  Drake ended the call. Powering down the satellite phone and stowing it in his jacket, he turned around to see Lenka still watching him, sitting cross-legged on a park bench.

  ‘What was that all about?’ the young woman asked, a cigarette dangling between her fingers.

  ‘Confirmation,’ Drake said, heading for their car nearby.

  Chapter 36

  Anya was in a pensive mood as she pulled into her driveway. There was a great deal of work to be done if she was to recover Drake and his team, and only 48 hours to do it in. She knew her mind should already have turned to the practical details: equipment, weapons, timings, logistics.

  And yet her thoughts were on her brief conversation with Cain earlier. It was the first time she’d spoken to him in nearly a year. Despite everything, all the animosity that existed between them, the sound of his voice still stirred up intense, confused feelings that she wasn’t sure how to handle.

  She felt keyed up, in need of some kind of release. Perhaps she’d make use of the heavy punchbag in her basement later, she thought as she slipped out of the rental car and approached the house. Even if she was tired and hurting after a long day, a little physical aggression often helped calm her mind.

  These thoughts vanished the instant she eased the front door open and spotted bloodstains on the carpet.

  Straightaway she went into fighting mode, her senses heightened, keenly searching her surroundings for possible threats. Drawing the M1911 semi-automatic she kept in a shoulder holster, she advanced silently into the house.

  Never let them come at you. Always try to take the initiative, make them fight your fight. That was the lesson that had been drilled into her a lifetime ago, and it had held true since then.

  She could hear voices coming from the living room. Tense and angry. It was a male voice, speaking with an English accent. Alex.

  Gripping the M1911 tight, she crept down the hallway until she was in position.

  Alex was there, seated on the couch, his left forearm wrapped in a blood-stained bandage and her bottle of vodka resting on the table beside him. He started at her sudden appearance, clearly having failed to notice her arrival. Perhaps the vodka had something to do with his lack of awareness, she thought with a flash of anger.

  Another person was in the room with him, standing in the kitchen and busy stuffing himself with a bag of potato chips. Yasin, the young boy she’d reluctantly brought with her from Pakistan after he helped her escape Cain’s men.

  Anya was hardly inclined to pick up waifs and strays during her travels, but had recognized his usefulness and, more importantly, the debt she owed him. With this in mind, she’d stationed him in the woods outside her house to keep an eye on the place, well aware of the boy’s ability to blend into his surroundings and move quickly without being seen.

  ‘Anya,’ Alex said, jumping to his feet.

  ‘What has happened here?’ she demanded, lowering the weapon.

  Clearly Alex was injured, though not severely. Was it possible he’d somehow encountered Yasin, and become the victim of friendly fire? If so, she doubted the two of them would now be sharing a house, never mind the same room.

  That left only Lauren as a possible attacker.

  Alex blushed, saying nothing. It was Yasin who offered an explanation.

  ‘Your friend got careless,’ he said between mouthfuls of potato chips. ‘Almost let the prisoner get away.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ Alex snapped, giving him a hostile look. ‘Like to see you do better.’

  ‘I fucking did,’ Yasin shot back. The taser unit Anya had given him as last resort self-defence was on the kitchen worktop, its conducting electrodes having been fired.

  Alex jabbed a finger. ‘Watch your language, you little arsehole.’

  ‘You swore before I did,’ Yasin pointed out, amused. ‘And after.’

  ‘It’s different for me!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Be quiet, both of you!’ Anya interjected, having no time for such petty bickering. ‘Tell me about Lauren. Is she secure?’

  ‘Relax,’ Alex said, though he looked anything but relaxed now. ‘She’s in the holding room. I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking,’ he added, holding up his bandaged arm.

  Anya was less concerned about his well-being than she was about the condition of their hostage. Reluctant to take his word that everything was fine, she marched down the central corridor and threw open the bedroom door.

  Sure enough, Lauren was securely tied to the chair, only this time there was a noticeable graze on one side of her head, and dirt on her T-shirt and trousers. A strip of duct tape had been placed over her mouth.

  She looked up as Anya entered, glaring at her as she mumbled something into the tape. Anya was quite certain it was nothing positive. The young woman must have gotten free somehow and tried to escape, injuring Alex in the process.

  Alex, the man she’d entrusted to guard their hostage. The very thought of it filled her with anger and disappointment.

  Anya roughly tore the tape away.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ she asked before the young woman got a chance to speak.

  ‘Screw you,’ Lauren shot back. ‘Anya.’

  The look of shock on Anya’s face must have been obvious, because she saw Lauren flash a smile at her minor victory.

  ‘Oh yeah, I know who you are,’ she went on, in full flow now. ‘My dad told me all about a woman named Anya. How he took her in, trained her, gave her a chance when nobody else would. And in return she betrayed his trust, tried to destroy his career. And now you’re back, taking another shot at him. What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you just let it go and move on?’ She shook her head, looking at Anya with something akin to pity. ‘Haven’t you got anything else in your life apart from him?’

  Anya didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak at that moment. Instead she replaced the duct tape over the young woman’s mouth, despite Lauren’s best attempts to avoid it. Lauren was mumbling more angry insults from behind the gag, but Anya ignored them as she backed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

  She found Alex where she had left him.

  ‘You told her my name,’ Anya said, burning with anger.

  Alex stared at her blankly. ‘I—’

  Anya gripped Alex by his T-shirt and shoved him backwards against the wall with enough force to elicit a grunt of pain.

  ‘You told her my name,’ Anya hissed, her face just inches away from his. She wanted to lash out, vent her months and years
of carefully repressed fury, let out everything she’d held in check since the disastrous operation in Pakistan. ‘I warned you about talking to her and you did it anyway. I told you to be careful and you ignored me! I trusted you!’

  ‘Trusted me?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘Really? That’s why you had mini-Rambo over there hanging around outside with a fucking taser?’

  ‘Yasin was there as insurance.’

  ‘Against what?’

  ‘Against you! And it was just as well, because clearly you weren’t up to it. All you had to do was watch her and keep her under control. A woman, tied to a chair, Alex! And you couldn’t even do that.’ Her emotions were already fraught after the call with Cain. ‘You did nothing but let me down again!’

  Alex did something quite unexpected then. He reached up and slapped her arm away with every ounce of force and aggression he could, taking a step forward at the same time as if he wanted to fight her. Anya backed up and raised her hands, ready to defend herself.

  ‘Fuck you!’ Alex exploded, trembling with rage. He knew she could hurt him, could beat him to the ground with ease, and he didn’t care one bit. ‘I’ve done nothing but help you since the moment you showed up, Anya! You’d never have come close to finding that girl if it wasn’t for me. I’ve been chased, pepper-sprayed, stabbed, let myself become a kidnapper – and that’s just today – and it was all to help you! Because you asked for my help! You needed my help.’

  Anya stared at him as he shouted, taken aback by the sheer vehemence of his argument.

  ‘Yes, I fucked up. Is that what you want to hear?’ he demanded. ‘Well there it is. I fucked up and I let my guard down, and you know why? Because she’s a fucking kid, Anya! She’s a kid who is frightened and alone and surrounded by people who could kill her at any moment. And believe me, I know how that feels. So I tried to help, I tried to reassure her everything’s going to be all right. Because I’m not like you, and I don’t want to be!’

  He turned away. Anya had expected him to wilt and crumble before her scathing tirade. She had seen Alex cowering, grieving and wracked with guilt. But never before had she witnessed him apoplectic with rage.

  ‘Do you want to know something funny?’ he said. ‘Lauren said you didn’t give a shit about me, that you were an evil person and that she could protect me if I helped her escape. And I defended you. I told her I’d rather stand with you and take my chances, because I knew you were right.’ Alex shook his head. ‘More fool me, eh?’

  Anya felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. His anger, though surprising when it came, was something she could understand and accept. She’d pushed him, and he’d pushed back. But the air of sad acceptance that had followed it was something altogether different.

  Her pent-up anger dissipated, like a ship with the wind taken out of its sails. She began to see her actions for what they really were: asking an untrained civilian to act as a hostage taker. The fault lay with her, not him.

  She glanced over at Yasin, who had stopped eating to watch the argument unfold. He was standing stock still, and wasn’t smiling any more.

  ‘Yasin, please go to the holding room and keep an eye on the prisoner,’ Anya said.

  The boy blinked. ‘She is tied to a chair.’

  ‘She was tied to a chair when I left, and look what happened.’ Anya pointed towards the bedroom. ‘Go now.’

  ‘Can I take a gun?’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ she replied firmly. She’d trusted him with a taser, where the worst he could do was accidentally shock himself, but a loaded gun was out of the question. ‘And don’t remove her gag.’

  Yasin took his bag of chips and slouched through to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Alone now with Alex, she approached the young man carefully, almost tentatively, as if he were a bomb that might explode. Given his violent outburst earlier, that perhaps wasn’t far from the truth.

  She sensed an apology was in order, but had no idea how to phrase it, what to say, how to begin. She never really had. She wasn’t used to dealing with people in this way, having to take others’ feelings into account, having to admit she’d been wrong.

  Reaching out, she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Alex—’

  ‘We’ve got nothing more to say,’ he said, shrugging out of it and brushing past her. ‘I’m going for some air. And I’m taking the vodka with me.’

  Anya could have stopped him, could have pointed out that he’d already helped himself to her drink without permission, could have demanded that he stay and listen to what she had to say. But she didn’t.

  She stood there and watched him go, saying nothing, until she heard the front door close, leaving her alone in the middle of the room.

  Chapter 37

  Prague, Czech Republic

  Drake stood with his hands braced against the wall, his head down as hot water sluiced down over him, tendrils of steam rising from his skin. This was his first proper shower in several days, and after everything he’d been through, this simple act of cleaning himself felt like absolute heaven.

  One thing Prague didn’t lack was places to stay. Exhausted after a long and difficult day, and with evening rapidly drawing in, Drake had booked himself and Lenka into a cheap hotel in the old town, on the east bank of the Vltava. The sort of place that accepted payment by cash and didn’t ask too many questions.

  He stepped out of the shower cubicle and stretched, his stiff joints protesting. He’d amassed quite a collection of injuries, and though the hot shower had eased some of the aches and pains, he knew he’d be feeling the effects for some time.

  Moving over to the sink, he braced himself before wiping his arm across the steamed-up mirror. His face was grazed, cut and bruised in several places, with a particularly deep wound just above his left eye. His jaw was coated with several days’ worth of growth, his cheeks gaunt and thin, his eyes hollow.

  All things considered, he looked like shit, and that wasn’t about to change any time soon.

  ‘One thing at a time, Ryan,’ he mumbled, then picked up the cheap disposable razor he’d bought on the way here, and went to work.

  He emerged from the shower room a short while later, sporting a few extra razor nicks he’d picked up along the way, and a mostly clean-shaven face.

  The room was surprisingly big for such a low-rent establishment. Then again, there was hardly anything in it – just a couple of lumpy single beds pushed together, a chair and wood veneer desk over in one corner, and a built-in wardrobe in another.

  Lenka was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the room’s old fashioned television switched on and a takeaway pizza box open in front of her. She was wearing a black vest and jeans, but her blonde hair was still damp from her own shower visit earlier. Clearly eating was a higher priority for her than personal grooming.

  Drake was inclined to agree, and immediately scooped up a slice for himself

  ‘Hard at work, I see,’ he noted sarcastically, pointing at the TV.

  The young woman gave him the finger. ‘I was watching the news channels, in case they mentioned us.’

  Smart enough, he supposed. Judging by the footage of angry-looking protesters brandishing handwritten signs, it seemed some sort of strike or industrial action was the top story.

  Lenka glanced up. ‘You shaved.’

  ‘Well spotted,’ he conceded as he sat down to lace up his boots.

  She thought about it. ‘I preferred the beard. It is better to think there is a handsome face underneath.’

  Drake snorted. ‘I’ll assume there’s a compliment in there somewhere.’

  ‘There isn’t.’

  Drake reached for the bottle of alcohol he’d picked up on the way here, along with a few other essential supplies to see them through until they departed in the morning. It was slivovitz – a clear plum brandy that was easy to come by in this neck of the woods.

  Unscrewing the cap, he poured two generous measures, held one to his lips and downed it in a single gulp. It
was hardly wise to be drinking when they were still in danger, but he knew from experience that this stuff was as effective as any painkiller. And after everything he’d been through recently, he figured he’d earned a drink.

  Refilling his glass, he held out the other to Lenka, who wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  ‘Seriously? You don’t drink, you don’t take your clothes off? What kind of stripper are you?’ he taunted. ‘Pardon me – erotic performer.’

  The young woman looked to be seriously contemplating making him wear the pizza she’d been so eagerly devouring. Then, just like that, she snatched the glass out of his hand and swallowed the contents whole.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Drake said, taking a more conservative sip this time. ‘I don’t trust women who don’t drink.’

  ‘And I don’t trust men who try to get me drunk.’

  ‘I’m not that kind of man,’ he said. ‘But I prefer not to drink alone.’

  Lenka held out her glass and he dutifully refilled it.

  ‘Is that your plan?’ she asked, looking down. ‘Sit here and get drunk?’

  Drake paused to consider the question. ‘Well, let’s see,’ he said. ‘Right now I’ve got every intelligence service from America to Pakistan out looking for me, plus enough black ops private military guys to invade a small African nation. One of my good friends is dead, and another betrayed my team to a man who wants to kill me. The only survivor is being held hostage, and the only way to get her back is to give up my last remaining ally. No matter which choice I make, my chances of living through this are slim at best. So yeah, I’m going to drink tonight.’

  The young woman shuddered.

  ‘Then maybe I should drink as well,’ she said, giving a nervous little laugh that made her seem younger than she was.

  Drake held up his glass in a mock toast, and together they took a gulp of slivovitz.

  That was when it finally happened. Her shoulders started moving up and down and tears began to fall. He heard the muffled sound of a sob as she held a hand against her mouth.