“Do it,” Drake said. “I love the idea.”
“There are a few issues to iron out,” Hayden admitted. “We don’t need a base, but we do need access to safe houses, armories, bank accounts and much more all over the world. And we need a signal.”
Kinimaka cleared his throat eagerly. “Something they could shine in the sky?”
The whole table burst into laughter. It was a good moment, Drake thought. A place in the road where they branched off and headed toward better things. A turning point.
He thought about his life and all that he’d accomplished. Where it was impressive, it would be nothing without this team. As a man, he’d always wanted to help others but knew now that sometimes it couldn’t be done. It could never be promised. He fought every day to better the lives of others, but there came a time when you had to take care of yourself and those you loved.
It would be an emotional future.
Alicia could finally stop running. She could put down some roots. Start fresh from a stable base. It was everything she needed, and Drake would be at her side every step of the way. For Dahl it was a new—and probably final—chance with Johanna. And the children needed their father at home.
Hayden and Kinimaka might finally admit their love, he thought, and start working on a way to prove it to each other. Too long, they’d skirted the issue and even purposely driven it away.
But now they could face it head on.
As for the others, he saw Kenzie running some kind of side business with Dallas. Hopefully, if she agreed to this new proposal which gave her the time she’d been wanting, she would stick with the team and the side business would be legal. Molokai and Luther were unknowns, but Drake knew the team wouldn’t let them drift away or live alone. They’d be regular house guests for sure.
Luther was looking wistful even now. “I’ve always fancied an acting career,” he said. “Maybe it’s something I could pursue now. On the side.” He grinned, a big man with a big presence and all the charisma in the world.
Karin and Dino would be around, Drake was sure. Maybe together. But they’d need some guidance. The commitment he’d felt toward Ben Blake continued in his love for Karin. He’d always be there for her.
Which left Mai Kitano. One of the loves of his life. A moral and worthy friend. The greatest, most dependable warrior he’d ever known. Mai had several choices and her future might be the most traveled of all of them. She might choose to take Luther with her. They seemed good together. It was certain she’d return to see Grace, whom she saw as a daughter, and Chika, her sister. The road had a long way to go for Mai Kitano—and held many more adventures.
So, Drake, there in the restaurant in the heart of America, surrounded by family, joined together by deep camaraderie, sat beside a woman he could see himself growing old with, looked forward to a brighter future and a new beginning. He saw days of rest and relaxation, of chilling out, of togetherness, forged and framed by new missions that would enable them all to keep doing that which they loved.
Maintaining the freedoms of the civilians of the world.
“You all want me to take this to the President?” Hayden asked.
Drake watched as everyone nodded. Even Kenzie was smiling, and Dahl looked about as relieved as a man given a second chance at life.
“Here’s to the future,” Hayden said, raising a mug of coffee.
“Here’s to us,” Drake said.
The new team started a new day.
CHAPTER FORTY
The Devil gripped a sidearm in his right hand and a radio in the other. He was hiding in a veritable rat’s nest, surrounded by garbage and old boxes, rusted car parts and half-empty oil drums. This small garage had lain deserted for years, home to the odd derelict and layabout, overlooked by anybody that gave a damn, a festering eyesore that had never made anyone money and was therefore ignored.
The Devil’s men had pinpointed it as a great location from which to strike. His faith in them was well placed. It sat toward the end of the parade route, where celebrations would be at their highest and most distracting, and where the furore would start.
He sat alone. He was the best the world had ever seen at this kind of thing. His only distraction, and the vicious topic that consumed his mind, was the betrayal of Luka Kovalenko. It made him want to quit the job, but pride told him otherwise. Nevertheless, he’d paid off the two men who’d helped facilitate this kill and sent them away. He’d be using them again soon. When he arrived in America his first directive was to ensure everything important went to the new home he was calling Devil’s Junction. This included men, captives, arms and belongings. His second directive was to drive straight to Washington DC.
Interestingly, Torsten Dahl was here. In this city right now. He hadn’t come home to visit his family yet. He was too intent on attending funerals and having late breakfasts. The Devil imagined he’d regret that.
Parade time.
Two miles east, it had already started. A peaceful group made up of families, supporters, friends, relatives and reporters was headed this way, ambling along in aid of the police retirement fund. It would take about thirty minutes for them to reach him. The Devil held two old, battered Glocks last used in DC three years ago as some part of convenience store raid. He carried a scarred knife that, according to police data, had been used only three months before to cut an officer before being confiscated. He carried spare bullets, old and untraceable. In addition, he also carried high-powered weapons in case he was forced to flee. It hadn’t happened in two decades, but the Devil always came prepared.
Already, he could hear the music. Not long now. In the lull, Kovalenko again harried at his mind. He’ll regret leaving me to die in nuclear fire. My revenge will be more than fitting.
He looked forward to beginning the planning of it tomorrow.
The street right across the road led to a needy neighborhood. The young men of that neighborhood had been stoked and riled during the previous few nights. One of their number had been beaten up by a man in a police uniform. Shots had been fired. The real police assured them it wasn’t one of their own. Unforgiving fires had been lit. Perhaps they weren’t on the verge of murder and mayhem yet, but the Devil knew a bunch of them would come protesting; they’d come angry, and if one more of their number was hurt unjustly they would start a riot.
He pulled at the shirt of the cop’s uniform he wore. It was a little tight.
Confident in his own abilities, he would then melt away and merge with the crowd where, minutes later, shots would ring out. Who would be killed?
Just three.
Job done.
The Devil saw the first faces come into view. The parade was approaching. He’d already had confirmation that Johanna Dahl and her girls were present. It was time to move.
Rising, he skulked back through the garage, avoiding pools of oil and debris until he reached a dilapidated doorway. Morning sunshine slanted in, bathing his face. He loitered for just a few minutes as the parade leaders drew level. That was the time to move.
Lowering his cap, he walked out into the open—the Devil abroad and making mayhem in DC—and headed for the right flank of the parade. It was loud. Many were singing along to a tune being pumped through two loudspeakers bluetoothed to a slow-moving car’s playlist. Real police officers were in evidence, scattered along the route, and the Devil pinpointed all their positions now.
Nothing to worry about. The parade was passing the street he’d marked earlier, and there came the protesters. Right on time. A larger group than he’d imagined, than he’d been warned about. A feeling of euphoria filled him. This was living, this was the dream he’d always pursued. He was the man, the myth, the legend. Those in the world who knew he existed feared ever hearing his name.
He crossed the sidewalk, walked into the road and pushed through the men and women forming the parade. They were happy to let him by. They wore generic bright yellow T-shirts with similar slogans and hooded jackets and jeans and shorts. They were n
ormal people; the type he detested. They grinned and clapped him on the back, tried to shake his hand. The Devil drew away from it all. Human contact wasn’t his forte. He didn’t want to be infected with their desperation, their morbid fantasies and moody tastes. He found space and exited the far side, now facing the oncoming protestors.
He made a show of holding up a hand, moving his lips as if speaking. There was no sound coming out. They passed him, some giving him an odd look. It didn’t matter. Minutes passed. The protestors stopped short of the parade, shouting loudly, adding their voices to the din. The Devil glanced back, catching sight of Johanna almost exactly where he’d been told she would be.
Engage final attack.
It would have to be fast and precise. And it was. The Devil slipped a Glock from underneath his left armpit, holding it inside his jacket for just a moment before yelling: “Police, stop!”
Protestors looked around, most in surprise. The Devil held up the handgun and fired one shot in the air and then one shot into the stomach of a young man. The man folded, hands going to his chest where a spot of blood bloomed. The Devil threw the gun to the floor then smashed two more people across the face before running into the heart of the parade goers and shrugging his police jacket to the floor.
He threw his cap away. Now he wore the same T-shirt as three hundred parade goers. He slipped through them, heading for the center. A terrible commotion had begun to the right as people tried to find him, chase him down, as they screamed in protest, as they looked for someone to take their anger out on. All they had seen was a cop shooting one of their own. Now they saw the parade goers possibly protecting that cop. The shouts grew angry, full of hatred. Real cops were darting into action.
The Devil was still acting fast. Less than a minute had passed since he fired. Already, he had Johanna and her two kids in sight. He came up swiftly behind them.
Slipped the other Glock out.
Torsten Dahl would kill himself when he found out what had happened here, and how close he had been to it all.
The Devil kept his gun under his jacket. Necks were craning to the right. Police were threading through the crowd, looking for the source of the upheaval. Other men and women were looking for the shooter. He didn’t reveal his gun again, just came right up to Johanna’s back.
She turned as he pulled the trigger, her face open and questioning. Her two girls were close, so close he could have touched them on the tops of their heads, so close just the slightest turn of the barrel would line them up in his sights.
“Are you okay?” Johanna started to ask.
It was right then that the face of Luka Kovalenko once more smashed to the forefront of his mind. The Blood King’s face replaced Johanna’s, and, for a few moments, it was all he could see. Pure hatred flooded his veins, making his blood run cold. The Devil was all but consumed with the need for vengeance.
“Hey, sir, are you okay?” Johanna asked again.
The Devil realized only now that he hadn’t finished pulling the trigger. It was still at three-quarter draw. With just a flick he could end this woman’s life.
But the Blood King still hovered before his mind’s eye. This was the job Kovalenko wanted him to do.
To hell with pride. To hell with an unblemished kill record. To hell with everything that Kovalenko wanted. This woman and her children will live, and that reflects on his arrogance, not mine.
Smiling into her blue eyes, he leaned forward.
“Tell your husband that you came face to face with the Devil,” he said. “And that you’re the first person in history whom I let live.”
Ignoring her fear, her shock, he stole away through the back of the parade, pleased with himself and with the plans he had for the future.
THE END
For more information on the future of the Matt Drake world and other David Leadbeater novels please read on:
Another exciting book comes to an end and, I hope, leaves an interesting premise on which to start the next chapter of the constantly evolving Matt Drake series. The new phase will begin with Book 21. I’m looking at releasing Relic Hunters 3, already written, in May 2019 and, just a few months later, the next Drake, which I’m currently planning and eager to get stuck into.
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Other Books by David Leadbeater:
The Matt Drake Series
A constantly evolving, action-packed romp based in the escapist action-adventure genre:
The Bones of Odin (Matt Drake #1)
The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake #2)
The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3)
The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake #4)
Brothers in Arms (Matt Drake #5)
The Swords of Babylon (Matt Drake #6)
Blood Vengeance (Matt Drake #7)
Last Man Standing (Matt Drake #8)
The Plagues of Pandora (Matt Drake #9)
The Lost Kingdom (Matt Drake #10)
The Ghost Ships of Arizona (Matt Drake #11)
The Last Bazaar (Matt Drake #12)
The Edge of Armageddon (Matt Drake #13)
The Treasures of Saint Germain (Matt Drake #14)
Inca Kings (Matt Drake #15)
The Four Corners of the Earth (Matt Drake #16)
The Seven Seals of Egypt (Matt Drake #17)
Weapons of the Gods (Matt Drake #18)
The Blood King Legacy (Matt Drake #19)
The Alicia Myles Series
Aztec Gold (Alicia Myles #1)
Crusader’s Gold (Alicia Myles #2)
Caribbean Gold (Alicia Myles #3)
The Torsten Dahl Thriller Series
Stand Your Ground (Dahl Thriller #1)
The Relic Hunters Series
The Relic Hunters (Relic Hunters #1)
The Atlantis Cipher (Relic Hunters #2)
The Disavowed Series:
The Razor’s Edge (Disavowed #1)
In Harm’s Way (Disavowed #2)
Threat Level: Red (Disavowed #3)
The Chosen Few Series
Chosen (The Chosen Trilogy #1)
Guardians (The Chosen Tribology #2)
Short Stories
Walking with Ghosts (A short story)
A Whispering of Ghosts (A short story)
All genuine comments are very welcome at:
[email protected]
Twitter: @dleadbeater2011
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davidleadbeater.com
Copyright 2018 by David Leadbeater
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All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
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Thriller, adventure, action, mystery, suspense, archaeological, military, historical
Table of Contents
Other Books by David Leadbeater:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
Other Books by David Leadbeater:
The Matt Drake Series
The Alicia Myles Series
The Torsten Dahl Thriller Series
The Relic Hunters Series
The Disavowed Series:
The Chosen Few Series
Short Stories
Devil's Island Page 20