Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5) Page 8

  “We’re watching them.” He nodded. “We know where they live. So to speak.”

  The Korean general smiled expansively. “Good. Good. Now tell me more about these weapons.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Mai Kitano stood at the edge of their makeshift encampment, watching the sun sink over the horizon. She used the quiet moments to compose her mind. She watched the sea catch fire, and then the water boil, and then the light was gone.

  She adjusted her gaze toward the enemy base, waited a few moments more for her eyes to adjust. It was darker down there, shrouded in shadow with deeper wraiths already settling in. Her kind of darkness. The darkness of predators and hunters.

  Drake had floated the idea of one person attempting a deep reconnoiter. Mai had stepped up instantly. Not only was she the best person for the job, she had an ally on the inside. Or so they hoped. No one challenged her.

  Now Mai crept deep into the forest, making her way around to one of the camp’s blind spots she’d marked earlier. The loamy undergrowth gave to her passing without sound, the trees barely whispered as she crept by. Nothing moved. She gained the tree line in less than thirty minutes and stood silently, staring at the rough sides of the buildings, a shadow amongst shadows.

  Nothing stirred in the camp. No sounds could be heard, save those that hailed from the anchored warship. Mai stayed low and crept toward the building until she could touch its weathered side. She rose carefully beside the window as a faint noise reached her straining ears.

  The building must be soundproofed. How strange—here—in the middle of nowhere and on a secret base. Even the seamen, it seemed, were not a party to what was going on. Of course, Dai Hibiki had said as much in his message.

  Mai took a quick glance, saw an empty room, and then allowed herself a longer look. She was peering into a small, rectangular stone-walled room that gave onto a wide hallway. Through the open door she saw banks of lights hanging from low rafters that illuminated a long corridor. Closed doors ran down each side, most with letter-box like openings at their base.

  Prison cells?

  Gently, Mai pulled at the window frame. Nothing budged. No such luck. But there was another window a little farther along and more around the other side. She sank into the shadows again, low against the wall. As she did so, an almost silent footfall came from her right.

  Her eyes flicked, nothing else. A large shadow stood there, barely visible in the dark. Then his arm moved, travelling toward his pocket and Mai readied to spring, but it returned flicking absently at a lighter, the flame short and sharp, and lighting up his hard, severe features.

  Could be a doctor having a time-out, Mai thought. The man carried no weapon that she could see. After five minutes, the man sighed, spat on the ground and walked away. Mai wasted no time in sneaking to the next window along and taking another glance inside.

  Same view, from another angle. This time she could clearly see the cell doors. She watched as the man she had just seen strolled down the corridor, tapping his fingers lightly on the walls as he walked by. He disappeared out of her sight.

  She tried the window. Again, it didn’t budge.

  She pushed harder. This room, away from the corridor lights and what might be the Operations Center, was her best chance of sneaking inside unseen. With a grunt she took a hard grip and heaved. The window frame gave a little. One of the catches slipped open. Complacency had to be second-nature in a place like this.

  Mai pushed again. This time the window eased open a crack. She waited half a minute before sliding it all the way up, climbing inside and then closing it after her.

  Then she crouched in the darkness, listening.

  Now inside, she could hear all the telltale signs she had expected. Forlorn shouts echoing from behind closed doors. Intermittent screams shooting from farther away. The shouting of angry men. The cajoling of others. The whine of instruments. The constant hum of machinery.

  This was a hell-house to be sure.

  Mai inched toward the door and peered out. Stark rows of cells marched away. She counted at least ten to either side, doors standing amidst bright white walls. Beyond the last cell, she spied rows of windows and two men peering through whilst talking to each other in Korean.

  What she heard made her shiver.

  “He isn’t succumbing. The drug is rejecting him. Our efforts are useless with this one.”

  “Sometimes this happens, Kwan Lee. It has happened before.”

  “Yes. But it is a waste. And now we are one short.”

  The second man hung his head. “The general will not be happy.”

  “The general does not control this operation. If the manager knew we were being forced to replace these assets. . .”

  “But he will never know,” the second man said with vigor. “Will he, Kwan Lee?”

  “No.”

  “It is not just your life. It is all our lives.”

  “I know.”

  “And more will come.”

  “They always do.”

  At that moment, a door opened behind the man and out stepped a third. Mai blinked rapidly. It was Dai Hibiki, the man who had started Drake and her on this journey with his warning communication.

  One of the men turned to him. “Is our new patient comfortable, Leading Seaman Hibiki?”

  “She is, Seonbae. Fed, watered and strapped down.”

  Mai felt as though she’d had her heart doused with a bucket of ice. Why was Hibiki using the honorific address of Seonbae? The word meant teacher, or mentor. Which meant Hibiki was this man’s student.

  It was possible he was faking. Hibiki was deep undercover. But still. . .a little niggle of doubt ate at her. It wasn’t just the word, it was the tone, the way he spoke it, the subservience, the awe.

  “You are proving a useful beast, Seaman Hibiki. And quite suited to this work. We are always short a pair of hands here. Perhaps you could stay when the ship leaves us?”

  Hibiki dropped his gaze. “That is up to my commander, Seonbae.”

  “Of course, of course. But, they rarely perform a head count, Seaman Hibiki. And our successes all glorify the general’s victory. Our dedication will make possible Korea’s superiority over its arch enemy.”

  Hibiki remained silent, head down. The doctor dismissed him. “Go now. Think on it.”

  Mai slunk back into the shadows as Hibiki came walking toward her. Her hiding place was bare. No cupboards, not even a desk or a chair. She fancied it was an interrogation room of sorts. If she had been sure about Hibiki, she would’ve given him some kind of sign as he clumped past, but Mai stayed hidden, heart and mind heavy with worry.

  As he passed Hibiki’s eyes flicked toward her. But Mai was stood so deep in shadow, he couldn’t discern her shape.

  Mai lingered. She had what she needed. The majority of the Koreans remained on the warship with the island crew being little more than a smattering. But there would be other guards that she hadn’t seen yet.

  The temptation was to check the cells and then the rooms beyond. She wondered what lay behind those banks of windows and what made the captives scream. She wondered why they needed strapping down. The communications room, if anywhere, would be at the far end or possibly in the guards’ quarters.

  But she could best help them by staying free. She crossed over to the window and exited the lab building, dropped to the soft grass and crouched in silence. She was about to move away softly when the crunch of heavy footsteps sounded nearby.

  “A heavy bastard,” someone muttered in Korean. “This should not be our job.”

  “Stop complaining. Our leader says it is our job. Then it is our job. You never complain when it’s a woman.”

  A throaty chuckle made Mai’s blood boil. She knew immediately what was happening. Judging by the footsteps and grunting, there were at least three guards dragging a captive along between them. The captive sounded barely alive, grunting when the men kicked him. Most likely the man she had heard the two doctors discussing.r />
  Mai let the guards find a forest path that they’d obviously trodden before. On stealthy feet she followed, closing in with every step. By the time the guards reached a small clearing dominated by over a dozen irregular mounds, she was a fast leap away.

  The complainer let go of his captive’s head, letting it smash to the stony ground with a thud. He laughed, then out of the corner of his eye, must have seen a shadow move.

  Mai didn’t hesitate. The guards might well be missed, but Drake, the marines and this poor man were her priority, and what she’d already seen proved that they needed to quickly escape this island.

  She lashed out with her foot, caught the complainer right in the jugular. He gurgled, coughed, and fell to the ground hacking, but with his windpipe crushed, he wasn’t about to be more of a problem. The other guards spun toward her. Mai ran lightly, leapt off the ground and connected solidly with the first’s chest, sending him tumbling head over heels across the terrible mounds he had no doubt helped build. The third reached for a weapon, but again Mai was lightning quick. She stepped in close, caught his wrist and snapped it. To his credit, the man did little more than grunt and brought up a knee that caught her painfully in the lower stomach. Mai twisted away, making space for herself, and sent the man spinning to the ground. She stomped his groin, his solar plexus and his neck in two seconds and then returned her attentions to the second man.

  Who was just picking himself up from behind one of the small, rocky graves.

  “Where did you come from? The ship?”

  It was all he had time to say. His neck snapped seconds later. Mai respectfully skirted the dozen or so graves as she made her way quickly back to the captive. He was lying in the dirt, head to one side, breathing shallowly with a look of such hopelessness branded into his features that Mai knew it wasn’t just from being held and tortured in this place.

  This man’s life had been hell.

  Mai cradled his head. The man’s eyes gained focus for a second before he died. It was only after his last breath had expired that his eyes lost all semblance of pain and his haggard features at last smoothed out. In death, Mai saw, he had gained an inner peace.

  Her thoughts turned back to the present. Quickly she surveyed the forest, fixed Drake’s position in her mind, and took off at a fast pace. The bodies needed hiding, and fast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Drake almost jumped out of his skin when Mai descended on their camp. The Japanese woman was moving quickly, her every movement screaming urgency. It took but a few minutes to relay her information.

  Romero and Smyth were up and ready to go. Drake grabbed his pack and said, “Lead on.” They filed into the deeper forest, following Mai. The moon offered a scant glow, the sea breeze distracted them with its urgency. When Mai stepped into a clearing and stopped, Drake quickly summed up the situation.

  Of course, she was right. “Time to get off this bloody island.”

  They dragged the bodies away from the clearing and into deeper undergrowth. There was nothing they could do for the poor, dead captive, so they concealed him with the guards. It did cross Drake’s mind to make it appear as though he had recovered and killed the guards himself, but on listening to Mai’s account of his debility, he quickly dismissed the idea.

  It was time to fly.

  They crouched among the creaking trees. It had taken some time to hide the bodies and dawn was already streaking the skies. Drake was beside Mai, their bodies touching.

  “Hibiki?”

  “Too early to say. We can’t risk alerting him.”

  “Why else would he send the message?”

  Mai breathed a heavy sigh. “He’s good, okay? That’s my instinct. He’s good.”

  “Only way off this island is on that warship.”

  “But somebody has to stay behind to shut this damn base down faster ’n crap through a goose. We can’t rely solely on our escape attempt or any kind of rescue.” Romero put in from behind.

  “Unfortunately,” Drake said. “I agree. Bollocks.”

  “So.” Smyth sounded impatient. “You and Maggie Q here got any plans on how to persuade the ship to leave?”

  “There is only one way,” Mai said confidently. “The person in charge of it must believe he wants to leave.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’s that from? The Art of War?”

  Mai turned a steely eye on the marine. “I think we have our teams, Matt. Romero and you take the ship. Smyth and I will take the island and meet you on board.”

  Drake had already guessed as much. The rising dawn amplified the fire in Mai’s gaze. Smyth might well regret his choice of words.

  “Use Hibiki only if you’re convinced about him. Otherwise. . .”

  “I know.”

  “A simultaneous attack?”

  “Yes. We’ll hit the base and go for the ship’s Captain. When we do that—” Mai paused. “You need to be on board. Just in case.”

  Drake frowned. “We could help by—”

  “Best if you’re on board,” Mai said softly. “No mistakes.” She met his eyes. “Besides, it won’t be a problem. You have your work cut out finding a place to hide and then leading us to it. And we’re more than likely going to land in North Korea, if we survive the trip.”

  “Piece of piss,” Drake said quickly. “North Korea. China. Russia.” Drake counted the places off on his fingers. “Europe. Washington. Like I said—”

  “A cellphone would be good too,” Smyth said drily, but with a rare smile. Maybe he was looking forward to working with the legendary Mai Kitano. Maybe he thought she really was Maggie Q.

  Drake hunkered down and rummaged around for food and water. “Right then. Let’s thrash this out. We want to be ready for tonight.”

  *****

  As darkness invaded the land, Drake and Romero crept among the thick trunks, staying as close to the tree line as they dared. The warship was a large, ugly chunk of steel sitting at ease among the calm waters of the natural harbor a short swim away. The decks were quiet, seamen lounging around as if bored. This may well be a regular, monotonous trip for some of them.

  The two men found a flat piece of earth to dig into near the water’s edge and secured their weapons. All they were waiting for now was Mai’s signal.

  *****

  Mai crouched alongside Smyth, waiting for the shadows to creep even farther over the guards’ quarters. They had decided to strike at them where they felt most comfortable—the place they rested, the place they slept. The weapons they had lifted from the dead guards were held loosely in their hands, two Dragunov SVUs and a Bullpup sniper rifle. With a sound suppressor and special muzzle-break to help absorb a large amount of recoil, it was perfectly suited to their needs. And interestingly, it was Russian made.

  At last the darkness was enough. Mai strode toward the main door with Smyth watching her back.

  “Go, Maggie,” he said as she neared the entrance.

  She paused and looked back. “Have you got a little crush on me, Smyth?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and stepped inside, straight into a communal room complete with a widescreen TV, several loungers, a big sofa and a round table pockmarked with knife scores.

  Several men stared at her, stunned.

  Mai opened fire without mercy. There wasn’t a man on this base worth saving. She believed that as much as she believed in herself. Bodies pounded back into the walls or tumbled over the sofa. Mai allowed a man to scramble out the open window to raise the alarm and bounded across the hallway.

  Into a kitchen. A Korean guard was running at her in mid-flight, checking his weapon whilst still clutching a mug. His mistake. Mai sent him and the mug’s contents against the window, smashing the pane and staining it red.

  Smyth fired behind her.

  She stepped back into the hallway. Enemy guards were jumping into the line of fire, clearly dazed and unused to action. Maybe at one time they had been a crack force, but today, they were cats in a barrel.

  But then
, the entrance door behind them, the one Smyth had closed, suddenly crashed open. Mai heard a cry of “Get them!” before a bunch of troops swarmed toward her.

  *****

  Drake heard the gunshots and prepared to slide into the water, but at that moment, the warship erupted with activity. All hands hit the deck running and the great engines began to turn. Was it coincidence?

  Never mind. Drake dove forward, hitting the murky waters with a splash and cutting through the waves with a strong stroke. As he swam, he saw both the warship’s boats cast off from the dock and rev their engines.

  He trod water for a second. Romero rose beside him. “What gives, man?”

  “They’re heading back to the ship.”

  “Not even a Korean with his ass on fire could get to the boats that quickly.”

  “Agreed. It’s coincidence. But look—they’re not changing course.”

  “They have orders,” Romero reasoned, “from their high command. Shit, man, we’d better hurry it up.”

  “But Mai—”

  “Ain’t gonna make it! Come on!”

  *****

  Mai fired around Smyth, then turned back to the hallway. A few bodies still twitched, but otherwise, the coast was clear. She raced forward then dropped to her knees and skidded, twisting her body as she did and shouting at Smyth to move.

  The marine backed toward her, firing carefully. Bullets whizzed around him. At one point, he half-twisted and yelled, but it was only a bullet tearing through the sleeve of his jacket, nothing to really shout about.

  Koreans fell at his feet. But more came. It soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to make it.

  At least not alone.

  “Damn!” Mai waded in. Jumping among her enemies, she sent one tumbling against the other so they fell hard to the floor. She smashed heads against heads, turned rifles inside out and disengaged their firing barrels with a deft turn of the wrist. She ripped a handgun from a man’s hand, turned it on him first and then shot two of his colleagues in the blink of an eye. She caught a knife a hair’s breadth from her throat, having allowed it time to get that close to dispatch another enemy, and then wrenched it away from its owner.