“He’s always been there,” Kinimaka said. “Well, for the last few decades. I don’t mean ‘forever.’” He made a speech sign with the fingers of both hands. “Like he’s the real king of the underworld or something.”
His words lightened their mood. “The Blood King was initially on the island too,” Mai said, looking around at them as if unsure what they knew. “I heard one of our captors mention him.”
“Captors?” Alicia asked.
“It was a long voyage and then a very special guided tour through the caves,” Luther told them. “There were quite a few underworld figures on this island when we arrived. Partying. Making deals. I guess they all left early.”
“You recognize any of them?” Drake asked. It would be good to know who the Devil did his business with. It might help track him down, or at least they could put the sword to some of his contacts.
“No.” Luther shook his head with regret. “But I would remember one of the yachts I saw out in the harbor that first morning. It was beautiful, dark chrome and as sleek as a woman’s . . .” He paused, glancing at Mai uncertainly. “. . . well, it was pretty sleek. I’d know that boat anywhere.”
“It’s a good starting point,” Hayden said. “But I do hate having to wait for Kovalenko to raise his ugly head again.”
“Yeah, especially if he’s got nukes,” Dahl said.
They sobered. The seas rolled them to and fro. A calm and soothing wind swept past their faces, fresh and cool and laced with a little bit of sea spray. Drake studied the patches of silver cast by the moon.
“I guess that’s the end then,” he said, reflecting over all they had been through since London. “I mean, normally we raise a glass. Talk it through. Look forward. But this time it isn’t so easy.”
He saw sorrow in the future. Lauren and Smyth’s funerals. The hunt for Yorgi’s family. The funerals of the SAS soldiers who died for him. It was going to be a tough few days.
“But we do have each other,” Alicia said as if reading his mind. “All of us, I mean. No member of the SPEAR team is ever alone.”
“I think you’ve found our new motto.” Drake shook the sadness away for a minute and put his arms around her. “Far better than Who Dares Wins.”
“Not quite as catchy.” Kenzie sat close behind them on a bulkhead. “It needs work.”
“Things have changed,” Hayden said in a low voice. “It will never be the same. Not only because of Lauren and Smyth—and Yorgi—but with the DC operation. The headquarters. Our role. The government hunted us. Sent a kill team after us—”
Luther coughed. “Sorry about that, folks.”
Hayden went on. “They turned on us in a moment, after everything we’ve done. I know there was a rogue organization involved, but somebody should have fought for us, trusted us, had our backs.”
“It’s politics,” Luther said.
“I know that. It’s always politics. Power and influence, wealth and greed. Throw a team to the wolves to improve your standing, to cover something up, to make friends in low places. Whatever. I can’t continue to work with that and I wonder if you can too?”
Her words stopped. A deep silence followed. Drake knew that she was about to offer up her proposition. It had been a long time coming.
“You have a game-changing idea,” he said. “I know that. But can it wait one more day?”
Hayden inclined her head. “I guess. Why?”
“We have one more job to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
The next day, rested but still immensely tired, they landed in Russia. A transporter had lifted them from Guam and taken them to Europe where they debriefed before commandeering the first ride to Moscow. Drake couldn’t work out how long it had been since he’d seen Yorgi, but it had been far too many months. Plus there’d been several recent hours when he’d thought Yorgi was gone forever.
The Russian air was biting cold and shot through with snow. They hadn’t come prepared, and bore the brunt of it as they crossed airport tarmac to climb into waiting cars. At least it was warm inside.
As was normal in their lives these days, the hours passed with frightening similarity. A different town or city, a different country, it made no difference. It was all the same. Their lives passing them by.
But Drake’s spirits were high during this journey. It took just an hour to drive from the airport to the hospital. Men were waiting for them near the doors; men with guns. They passed two more checkpoints on the way up to the third floor. One man then indicated a white door and said, “Take as long as you need.”
They intended to. This was a poignant reunion.
Drake entered first. Yorgi was sitting up in bed, wearing a sky-blue T-shirt and flicking through a car magazine. His face creased into joy when he saw them, and he tried to climb out of the covers.
Drake hurried forward. “Stay right there, pal,” he ordered. “Don’t wanna tear those stitches.”
“Not only that,” Alicia said, at his back. “We don’t want any surprise glimpses of Little Yorgi, if you know what I mean.”
“Hey,” the Russian’s face creased even deeper, “you called me by my real name.”
“There’s a first for everything. It won’t happen again.”
Drake shook hands with his old friend then leaned in for a hug. Alicia was next. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and happiness, undercut by more than a little sadness. Drake understood he had to stay right there in the moment, chatting and involved, to prevent the tears from blurring his eyes.
“Well done for surviving,” Kinimaka told Yorgi. “We thought we’d lost you, bud.”
“It wasn’t just me,” Yorgi said. “Actually, it wasn’t really me at all. It was those outstanding soldiers Cambridge sent to watch over me at your request.” He nodded at Drake.
“What were their names?” Alicia asked.
“Sean Webster and John Archer. Both bloody heroes.” Yorgi’s eyes misted over.
“Two more good men gone,” Drake said, bowing his head.
“You found your family?” Hayden asked.
Yorgi looked up, sniffing. “I did. I marked them right before the attack. I guess I’m just waiting to heal before I head back out there.”
“If you would allow us,” Hayden said. “We can finish that for you.”
She’d made a few phone calls on the flight over, organizing the tools and equipment and men they would need to finish the job as quickly as possible. Sonar would pinpoint the bodies and then ice-breaking equipment would get them close. Men would do the rest.
Yorgi looked hopeful. “You would help me put them to rest?”
“Of course.” Drake punched him on the arm. “You’re family, mate.”
“Ow! But, don’t you have another mission to start?”
Drake pulled up a chair. “This is our only mission now. This, and then some funerals back in DC. Are you up for it?”
“Oh God, of course. I want to be there.”
“Then tell us about these trackers.”
“They’re just basic GPRS markers that send data back to a laptop.” Yorgi pointed to a side table, where a black Sony lay with its top closed. “It’s so simple even Alicia could follow it.”
“Oy!”
Time passed. Hayden took the laptop, found the data, and sent it to the team waiting at the very hotel where Yorgi had been watched by Webster and Archer just a few days ago, before the new Blood King tried to wreak his vengeance on the President and London. Drake dwelled on it all and tried to ignore his throbbing bruises, his raw scrapes and cuts. He caught Yorgi’s attention.
“What’s the food like here?”
“I’ve eaten worse,” Yorgi said. “But then I did spend years in prison.”
“Let’s order out,” Kinimaka said, looking around the room anxiously. “I’m starving.”
“There’s no way we’re going to the Hard Rock, Mano,” Alicia said. “That’s where we were when this thing started.”
“I don’t m
ind where we go,” Kinimaka said. “As long as they do meat.”
The team started to rise. Drake pointed at the bed covers. “You coming, mate? You decent under there or want us to turn around?”
“I’ll throw some jeans on. No point turning around. Alicia’s gonna look anyway.”
“You know me so well.” The blonde stared as Yorgi swung his legs out of bed. “Have to say, Yogi, I’ve seen smaller.”
“I’m wearing pants, woman.”
“Yeah, but a girl gets an eye for measurements once she’s been around a few times. Isn’t that right, Kenzie?”
The Israeli gave her the finger, but couldn’t help smiling. Drake tried to tune it all out and brace himself for what was to come next. It would be one of the hardest days of his life. He spent a few moments taking stock of his team. They all looked bedraggled. Worn. That was it; the last few years had been an incredibly long ride. This particular chapter would end with the funeral of their friends.
It would be a heart-breaking but significant end.
And a sign that they all had to move on.
* * *
Washington DC’s weather was little better than Moscow’s. There was no snow, but the rain beat down at an unrelenting tempo. The streets were wet, slick, and looked fresh, almost new. The skies were gray, hanging low. It all suited the SPEAR team’s mood as they walked under black umbrellas to the side of a double grave in a churchyard near Arlington National Cemetery. The only thing Drake heard was the steady drumming of rain on his umbrella. All he could see was water.
Not just rain.
Because they had no family, Lauren and Smyth could be buried side by side, as they’d died. They’d never be parted again. There were thirteen members of the SPEAR team present—its full remaining membership—and one thing was clear to them all.
As Team SPEAR, this was the last time they’d ever be together.
The rain fell, and with it the tears, and nothing would ever be the same again. Two lives were over, but thirteen more were changed irrevocably and forever. Drake remembered where he’d met Smyth—aboard the plane with Mai and Romero—and how Lauren had first come into their lives under the guidance of Jonathan Gates. The ceremony was short, and then they all came forward one by one, throwing a handful of soil down into the final resting place of their great friends.
“Never forget,” Drake said. “And always move on.”
“One life,” Alicia said. “Live it with people you love.”
It was a poignant take on her old motto. It was the change in Alicia, a change she was still coming to terms with.
Together, they stood as a team, one final time with Lauren and Smyth, bonded by hardship and trust, experience and friendship. SPEAR was a family that would live on long after it became a memory.
Once it was over, Drake moved to Yorgi’s side. The two of them led the way to a different part of the cemetery, where the young Russian’s brothers and sister were being buried. This time the ceremony was longer, as Yorgi spoke all the words he’d struggled to say for so long. Finally, though, he had closure. Finally, he’d laid them to rest properly, as they deserved. No longer would the memory of what his parents had done to his siblings weigh so heavy. He could do no more for them now.
There was one more deed to do on that chill, rainswept day. Sean Webster and John Archer had been flown back to the UK for burial, but Drake and the rest of the team joined Yorgi in several moments of silence to respect the deeds and deaths of two soldiers they’d have been proud to have on the team.
After that, as Drake said, it was off to the pub.
A shot of whiskey for each of the fallen, raised and downed at the bar. A wake that centered on them but involved everyone. A time to recall the best of memories and to laugh, a time to hope that one day they might all be reunited.
Religion didn’t matter. What you believed didn’t matter. An afterlife together was a soldier’s, a friend’s and a family’s dearest hope.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
In sharp contrast, the next day dawned sunny and warm. The team ignored all calls except their own and agreed to meet for a late breakfast in a large restaurant close to Capitol Hill. They could see the Mall from their window, the wide stretch of grass that led from the Capitol building to the Washington Monument. The sunshine struck it dead center, making it feel like a breath of fresh air.
A tense expectancy hung over the entire team. It was time for Hayden’s proposal. There was no downplaying this monumental moment in their lives. Drake knew and hoped it would shape their next steps and entire future. He’d been optimistic about it for what felt like a very long time.
As pancakes and maple syrup filled the table with a heady smell, as bacon, hash browns and an assortment of fruit and bread, jams and butter, arrived. As the coffee started to flow. As their lives turned and their futures hung in the balance, Hayden began to speak:
“To reiterate,” she said, buttering toast. “No team can go on doing what we’ve done forever. No team should have to. I feel dejected when I see and hear about teams like ours ordered time and again into battle. Without thought. Without conscience. Without care for what they see and what they are forced to do. It hit me hard when the government turned on us. Until then, I didn’t stop to think. It all seemed normal and I thought those in charge had our backs. But support, it seems, is conditional.
“When we met with undesirable events there was no assistance, no help. Nobody risked their lives for us in our moment of need. Our wellbeing was of no consequence to them because they were off being self-serving, gratifying their own needs. They didn’t recognize the goodness in our team, the service we’ve provided without question, even though we have fought and lost and died for them for years. I thought about all that and I thought something had to change. How can we continue doing what we love but under our terms? How can we decompress and re-energize between missions? How can we live personal lives and still save the world? Because, my friends, and you all know this, personal life should be warmer and more involving than the professional one. If we don’t change, we will lose our chance of living.”
Drake listened and ate at the same time. Hayden made a lot of sense. The food was good. The restaurant was warm and quiet. The breakfast crowd had come and gone, and it would be a while before the lunchtime gang arrived.
Hayden held up her knife to reinforce her next point. “I thought about this long and hard,” she said. “This proposal will go straight to the President. We’ve earned that. I . . . well I’m a bit nervous about it now.” She laughed.
“It’s okay,” Drake said. “We agree with you so far.”
He saw it on all their faces; knew people like Luther and Molokai, seasoned soldiers, felt the same. Most military men danced to a politician’s tune. It was disliked, but a man had to believe he was doing some good.
“It would go something like this,” Hayden said with more authority. “We become the first of a brand-new kind of team. An innovative strike-force, whose remit is to come together only when the world is faced with the direst threat. Whatever that may be. Archaeological missions. Crazy world-killers like Kovalenko. Whatever.”
“That’s a little like what we do already,” Dahl said.
“Not quite,” Hayden said. “Because, at the moment, we chase whatever new threat we’re told to chase. But in the future, we pick our mission, our way, our decision, our strategy. If it’s not for us, and we all agree . . . we pass. Which brings me on to the second and best part of the proposal.”
Drake watched as freshly cooked bacon was placed before him, zoning out for a moment. “Just how I like it.”
Hayden snapped her fingers. “Stay with me. By sticking to this principle, by making this principle the core element of our team and impressing it on the hierarchy, we can all live normal lives for extended periods of time in between missions. We’re not military and we’re not private. We’re a new unit. It wouldn’t matter where we lived or who we lived with, so long as we all came together
in the right place when we’re called on. There are other teams capable of handling the admittedly important but not world-shattering stuff. We have earned the right to live, and choose our battles.”
“Most of the pricks in Washington wouldn’t go for it,” Luther said, his voice filled with the weight of experience. “They’d say they’re getting very little return for their money and there’s no real accountability. Anything to further their own aims.”
“Agreed,” Hayden said. “But this is the President we’re asking for help. Not Capitol Hill. And we’re not lobbying. It’s take it or leave it.”
“Risky,” Luther said.
“We risk it all every day. As a team, we’re worth it. If we believe in ourselves we can pull it off.”
“It’s not like we’re asking for more money or partying on the nation’s expense sheet,” Drake thought out loud. “And, don’t forget the main focal point—we’re still the tip of the sword, the first responders if there’s a dire threat. And that very fact alone puts us in worse danger. And obviously we’ll be first in when the Devil or the Blood King raise their heads again.”
Hayden nodded, eating a mouthful of toast before continuing. “Everything you said there helps cement our argument.”
“And a fresh new team is a strong team,” Alicia put in. “It’d be nice to get shagged somewhere other than in a hotel room.”
Dahl leaned over to Drake. “Careful, mate, that sounds like she’s planning on buying a house.”
Drake choked on a mouthful of coffee. “One step at a time, love. One step at a time.”
“Can you stand a few months without me?” Alicia asked the room in general. “It’ll be harder than you can imagine.”
There were smiles, but Drake knew it would be tough at first. It was rare that he hadn’t seen at least one of these faces every single day over the last five years. But time would give them all a chance to mend; it would give people like Dahl the chance to save their relationships. In short, it would provide them with a new, real life.
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