Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5) Page 7

  She twisted like a dervish, pulling away, and delivered a solid strike to his temple that made him see stars. She had been trained, this woman, no doubt in his mind. As he shook it off and went in again, she rolled away from him, three, four times, until she’d gained a little distance.

  Brought the gun up in front of her. . .

  . . . and then turned it toward her heart and pulled the trigger.

  Dahl clicked his tongue angrily. When he looked around, Alicia was emerging from the room back there, her face a cheerless mask.

  “One dead body in there,” she whispered. “Nametag says ‘Michelle Baker.’ Shot in the head at point-blank range.”

  There was the sound of someone choking, and then bursting into tears. Dahl looked up to see the man with the slicked-back hair standing a few feet away.

  “That bitch hunted her.” He sobbed. “She wasn’t interested in the bank or the money or any of us. She knew something. She came here hunting for Michelle on her first day back from vacation.”

  *****

  Hayden made her way over to where Dahl and Alicia seemed to be comforting one of the bank tellers. A bit odd, but then you never knew what those two were going to do next. She reached the conversation just as Alicia was querying as to the dead clerk’s recent holiday destination.

  What?

  But the broken down man answered immediately. “Atlantic City. That’s where she always goes. Saves her money up for a whole year and then hits the best east-coast casinos. One big blowout.”

  Hayden looked around. The bank hadn’t been damaged in any way. A bank teller? She whipped her head around as one of the lead cops said: “You won’t believe this.”

  His colleagues looked over. The cop indicated the dead body of the assailant, hand still wrapped around the barrel of the gun she’d turned on herself.

  “She still has her ID. Name’s Leanne Prowse. A registered nurse.”

  *****

  With the mystery deepening and no clues forthcoming, the team took their leave of the scene and headed back to HQ. Ben and Karin were already scrutinizing the backgrounds and lives of both Michelle Baker and Leanne Prowse. Dahl and Alicia were explaining how the woman, a local nurse, had fought, albeit briefly, like a highly capable, trained operative. Hayden was fielding calls from Sarah Moxley and, more importantly, Secretary of Defense Gates.

  The minivan behind them went unnoticed. Its blacked-out windows concealed a wealth of surveillance equipment, some of which had been put to good use at the bank, and some of it right now.

  Track carefully and don’t engage, were the instructions from on high. And locate their HQ. The plan is going well. No one knew where this new covert team sprung from, but they needed to know everything about them.

  The new team was becoming more famous by the minute.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mai kept a careful eye out as the men stowed away a good proportion of the food they’d accumulated so far. They had decided to leave a small percentage on their island in case they were forced to return at some point. A quick inventory showed they had one small pistol between them, enough food and water for a few days and their basic survival gear.

  Mai thought it ample enough equipment to make the island, discover its secrets, contact Dai Hibiki, and steal the warship. She’d done something similar before, back when Matt Drake was married.

  As she made ready, Mai thought back on her life. Before now, or before the “Odin thing,” the only good thing in her life had been her sister, Chika. From an early age, Mai had known nothing but strife, adversity and training. Learning the art of war meant throwing your entire mind, body and soul into your education. It meant maintaining ultimate focus—no distractions. For a girl as young as Mai had been, it should have harmed her, maybe broken her spirit, but with hardship also came chance and fortune—the Japanese girl had nothing else to compare her life to. Not until she left the clan anyway.

  Chika embraced life differently. Not because she chose to, but because the clan that sheltered Mai only had room for one sister. Torn apart, even at that early age, the trauma never subsided. Mai sought Chika out at her earliest opportunity, and now the sisters were each other’s best friend and soul mate, all that remained of their once joyful family.

  Mai had a faint recollection of her parents. Nothing more than shades of grey flickering in her mind, but impressions of a happy family, nights of stories and cuddling and laughter, just enough to scar her heart in the deepest way.

  Now Mai studied the rolling waters that lay between them and the Korean island. It appeared to be a fast, easy swim, but they all knew that even the calmest of waters could be treacherous. Hidden tides, swirling eddies and lurking inhabitants were just some of the dangers awaiting them. She thought about her sister and about all the miles between them. Chika was better off where she was, safe amongst the quieter streets of Tokyo, working for a promotional company.

  And that brought her full circle to Drake. Mai wasn’t a woman to fall back on old ground, but the Englishman was one of the few who’d gotten under her skin. The man was an emotional wreck, but worth trying to salvage. She secured her pack one last time and was the first to enter the sea. At first, the playful waves lapped at her feet, but as she waded deeper, the heavy tide began to pull at her invitingly. She leaned forward and struck out softly, the new island before her, charting a course around to the west of where the warship had docked and patches of dense vegetation obscured any sign of a beach. There was always a chance that every square inch of the island was under surveillance, but Mai and the others doubted it. The North Koreans, whilst very capable and seemingly well-armed, were unlikely to assume a group of soldiers might swim up to their secret island in the middle of nowhere.

  Mai swam with the current as much as she could. Sea water stung her eyes. Rogue waves doused her and pulled her under. The swells beneath her ballooned and deflated with every passing minute, hampering her progress, but she shut the negative thoughts out. All that mattered was progress, no matter how little.

  Behind her she could hear the progress of the three men. They were soldiers and marines; this shouldn’t be hard for them. It took a couple of hours to gain the island, but Mai had the ability to compartmentalize and, before long, she was pulling herself out of the water and into a dense thicket of trees. The men joined her within minutes, shivering now that they were dripping wet and standing still.

  Drake broke the silence. “If Alicia were here, she’d suggest we all strip and dry each other off.”

  Romero coughed. Smyth looked a little annoyed. Mai ignored him and studied the lay of the land. “Warship’s that way. I’m guessing the facility’s nearby.” She swigged her water. “You ready?”

  Mai headed out. The untamed and undisturbed appearance of the undergrowth told her no one had bothered venturing this far out from the base. It was hard going for a while with the forest reluctant to give up its stranglehold. Mai shimmied up a tree to make sure they didn’t stray off course.

  When she came back down, a half-smile ghosted about her lips. “Ground rises for half a mile or so,” she reported. “Should give us a bird’s-eye view of their compound and the docking area.”

  They all nodded grimly. It was about time they caught a break. Cautiously, they started forward again, pushing their way through the brush, starting to sweat a little as the ground took on a gentle rise. Mai signaled a silent halt when the sound of voices reached her ears.

  Drake was right behind her. “They’re drifting on the wind.”

  “I know. I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

  Drake gawped. “They must be more than a mile away.”

  “My Korean’s rusty to the point of being dangerous.” Mai acceded, misreading his surprise. “All I can make out are the words doctor, prisoners and the general. They’re speaking fast. Seem to be in a hurry.”

  Drake appraised a nearby tree. “Looks like we’re going up, guys.”

  Mai scampered up like a monkey. Drake
followed a little more serenely, less confident in his abilities now than he’d ever been, despite taking down the Shadow Elite and regaining the third tomb of the gods. The death of Kennedy Moore and the revelations about Wells and Alyson would bleed a deep shadow into his heart and mind until the day he died.

  Mai waited for him near the top, and then they inched their way along separate boughs until their eyes and noses cleared the leaf cover. There, spread out before them was the secret North Korean facility that Mai’s old friend, Dai Hibiki, had warned them about and a weapon heavy, surveillance-strong warship at anchor in the bay.

  The facility appeared to be a permanent site. Many trees had been razed and cleared to make way for several low-slung buildings. Some of the structures looked like makeshift houses, probably home for permanent residents like doctors and guards. The guardhouse itself was clearly noticeable, a two-story structure with high towers that spanned the entrance to the site. What gave it all an incongruous and obsolete look was that there were no walls around the site. The whole place was wide open, as if it had been dropped into a cleared space and left there. Some of the walls had trees brushing against the windows, as if the forest was trying to claim back what was rightfully its own. Most of the clearings between structures were overgrown and being reclaimed by the island.

  Mai felt a sense of relief, only tempered when she took into account the amount of men a warship held. Add to that the complement already present on the island, and they were dealing with a formidable enemy force, easy access or not.

  “So we’re well outnumbered.” Drake read her mind. “Could be worse.”

  “We need to find the communications room, liaise with Hibiki, and find out what the sneaky bastards are hiding.” Mai counted off the tasks on her slight but deadly fingers. “Failing that…” She eyed the warship. “We need to get the hell off this island.”

  Drake grinned appreciatively. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Now there were three murders, and no practical clues. The team reviewed the facts for perhaps the hundredth time, still finding no noticeable link. Michelle Baker was not an obvious target—her job as a bank teller, whilst it may attract the dumber kind of criminal hoping to be able to pressure a woman who potentially handled hundreds of thousands of dollars a day, was not a reason to hunt and kill her. Even a disgruntled customer surely wouldn’t go to those lengths, though Alicia tended to disagree. When everyone stared at her, she turned away. It was her duty to be the awkward one, wasn’t it?

  Michelle Baker’s single outstanding feature was that she had recently returned from vacation. Every year she hit the east coast casinos and stayed in the same hotel.

  Hayden brought her details up. “Alright. Atlantic City. Seems she preferred quiet nights and busy days. Her hotel is several miles away from the fun, on the outskirts of Atlantic City. A secluded and expensive little place called The Desert Palms.” Hayden paused. “Way out of her price range.”

  Dahl cracked open a bottle of water. “The fellow back at the bank did mention that she saved up for a big blowout. So she treated herself one week a year—good for her.”

  Hayden pursed her lips. “Maybe. We have three victims. Three complete strangers. Three murderers. Three complete strangers. The only link is that two of them have sealed juvey records. Karin—did you have chance to check on Leanne Prowse yet?”

  “You’re not gonna like it.” Karin chewed on a lock of hair. “Leanne Prowse was normal in every way. No records of any kind. No file. Nada.”

  Kinimaka was pacing up and down the office, part of his recovery routine. “So what does a senator, an insurance salesman and a bank clerk have in common?”

  Alicia clucked at him. “Sounds like the start to a bad joke.”

  The Hawaiian stared at her. “What are you doing anyway? You’re nose hasn’t been out of that cellphone since you got back here.”

  Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Mano. Just ’cos we shared a last night together doesn’t mean I won’t spank your arse in front of your new girlfriend.”

  Kinimaka cringed. Alicia grinned to see Hayden and Ben suddenly become mightily interested in the screens before them.

  “We spent a night drinking.” Kinimaka stressed.

  “But I’ll tell ya anyway, ’cos I’m nice like that. Been texting me some bikers.”

  Komodo looked over at her. “The ones you met in Luxembourg? I’ve heard of that biker gang, you know. Their kind of notoriety doesn’t come by attending Grand Prix’s and coffee bars. They’re hardcore.”

  “So am I,” Alicia said sweetly. “But thanks for the friggin’ concern, Trevor.”

  Ben looked up then, his eyes serious. “An email from Gates just came in. Says they still haven’t worked anything loose with the North Koreans. Any action at this point would be a sign of aggression and not viewed lightly in certain parts of the world.”

  “So we just leave ’em there?” Alicia was suddenly in the conversation. “We should send a small covert unit. Me.”

  “The Koreans have already detected one of our ‘secret missions.’” Hayden told her. “Best not to risk another. And Drake’s last communication did say they were ok.”

  Alicia jabbed at her cell with such ferocity that Hayden could easily see her breaking one of the buttons off.

  Karin sat back in her chair, narrowing her eyes as her brain worked overtime. “There is one other thing that links all the victims.” She mused. “Though it’s barely worth mentioning. Probably nothing at all.”

  “What is it?” Three mouths asked at once.

  “Travel.” Karin made a noncommittal face. “Senator Turner. The salesman and Michelle Baker. They were all planning on or had recently been travelling.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Shaun Kingston stared at the seated figure before him and wondered how the hell anyone so obtuse, so gross, and so self-serving could ever rise to the rank of general.

  But then, he thought. We are dealing with the Goddamn North Koreans here.

  “My good friend,” he said aloud, “whisky?”

  “As if you need ask, Mr. Kingston.”

  “Your English.” Kingston always buttered them up first. “Is excellent, General.”

  “Of course it is. I attended an English boarding school. And no doubt better than your Korean.”

  Kingston allowed an ingratiating nod rather than ask about North Korean boarding schools. The final payoff was worth a little self-effacement at this stage.

  Kingston poured the drink. “I assume you. . .dispersed. . .the delicacies we sent you for Christmas?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you remember the name of the village?” Kingston couldn’t resist.

  The general’s face didn’t even crack, or wobble, as the case would have been. “I forget.”

  Kingston passed over the expensive looking tumbler, noting the attentiveness of the general’s bodyguards when he leaned toward him. “Do you foresee any barriers?”

  The general sipped his drink and wobbled his jowls. “There are new developments, Mr. Kingston, as you are aware. At this stage, Korea does not believe the island has been discovered. We believe the flight was random, off course maybe, or speculative.”

  “And why do you believe that? Did China tell you?”

  “China is our ally,” the general spat. “Not our leader. Our struggle can be achieved with or without their aid.” A moment of silence followed, during which the big man clearly took hold of himself. “The Americans are making no real noise of this disappeared plane. It does not seem high on their priorities. We believe it is of no consequence to them.”

  “Good.” The last thing Kingston wanted was the Stars and Stripes putting an end to the brokering of the biggest deal of his life. His eyes flicked for a moment to his PC, open before him and displaying his company’s striking logo: Kingston Firearms International, the world-renowned and acceptable face of his business. But not enough.
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br />   Never enough.

  “I don’t mind saying—I thought it a risky deal you employed with the sleeper system,” he said. “But one that has paid off. So far.”

  The general went still. “Korea can never know,” he muttered. “The risk is beyond your reckoning. It is the brainchild of decades, the procurement chain extends across the globe, and we use it for ourselves.” The man shuddered now. “Pray we don’t get found out.”

  “The Russians are making noises,” Kingston told him. “About some enormous archaeological find. It’s big enough to divert their attentions from making money, which says a lot.”

  “The Russians are always making noise.” The general dismissed Kingston’s comment. “It’s how they sleep at night. Our inspiration in Korea comes through the confidence that our certain victory is assured. We always do what we say we will do.”

  Kingston ignored the speech. It sounded too much like Korean propaganda and he had personal issues to organize.

  “So the spring cleaning is going well?”

  “Three down, two to go,” the general said. “No issues.”

  “There is one issue,” Kingston reminded him.

  “The secret team?” The general raised eyebrows like the thin wisps of a snake’s tail. “Your men are dealing with that, yes? My own men might get too. . .enthusiastic.”

  Kingston watched grim smiles appear on the bodyguards’ hard faces.

  “We are on American soil, after all.” The general laughed, not a sight a man wants to see before lunch. Even a sumo wrestling match would be easier on the eyes.

  Kingston wondered if he should share his findings about the new team with the general. That they were indeed a crack outfit, and had been behind the recent discoveries of the existence of old gods’ bones and artifacts around the world. Kingston zoned out for a second—was the new Russian find linked with that?

  He decided not to share his knowledge. The last thing he needed was a bunch of trigger-happy Koreans running around DC.