by Rob Jones
“I haven’t seen her for a long time. It’s very sad.”
Maggie opened the drawer and pulled out the picture. She bumped her wrist on the wood on the way out and cursed with the pain. Her skin was like cigarette paper these days and she was lucky it hadn’t broken open again. “Here she is.”
Grace took the picture and smiled. “She sure is beautiful, Maggie. I’ll give you that.”
“Isn’t she just?” she said, beaming with pride.
“But she can’t be older than thirty.”
“I’d say about that yes, but my memory’s not what it was when I was eighty, you know.”
“Are you sure she’s not your granddaughter?” Grace asked quietly as she put the cushion back behind Maggie. “She must be sixty years younger than you.”
“Of course I’m sure!”
Grace gave another sympathetic smile and handed the picture back to Maggie, who looked at it long enough for a tear to appear in her eye, and then she put it back in the drawer.
“We’ll be having the party in the recreation room, Maggie. Is that all right?”
Maggie nodded, but said nothing. The storm was in now, and starting to whip up on the shale cliffs of the bay.
Grace moved to the door and turned down the dimmer-switch on the light. “I can’t tell you the details but some of the guests have a secret planned for you, is that all right?” A gentle pink glow fell over the room, and for a few moments the only sound was the quiet sound of ticking as the radiator pipes expanded under the floorboards.
“Oh yes,” Maggie said, a smile breaking through the wrinkles on her face. “I’ve lived with secrets all my life.”
THE END
THE SWORD OF FIRE
(Joe Hawke #9)
Rob Jones
CHAPTER ONE
Washington DC
Joe Hawke looked at the ring for the third time in an hour and snapped the tiny box shut with his fingers. If anyone had told him he would ask another woman to marry him after the devastation caused by his first wife’s brutal murder he would have told them they were insane, and yet he had an engagement ring in his hand. He just hoped Lea Donovan would say yes – if he found the courage to ask her.
He slipped the box in his pocket, gave the two secret service agents a brief nod and pushed open the heavy door. He hated hospitals and the sooner he was out of here, the better. They had some serious rebuilding work to do if they were to make their home on the island of Elysium secure again, and he couldn’t wait to start.
Inside, the room was bright and sunlight flooded in through the slats of a metal venetian blind. Sitting on the bed, Alex Reeve turned and smiled.
“You’re late.” She frowned and tapped her wrist watch.
“I had to buy something,” he said, returning the smile. Subconsciously, he put his hand in his pocket and turned the small box over.
Alex glanced down at the little bulge in his pocket. “Woah, you are pleased to see me.”
“Funny,” Hawke said, but quickly changed the subject. “Ready to go?”
“Sure.”
He helped her off the bed and into her wheelchair. She had lost the ability to walk while on a covert CIA mission many years ago, but for a brief, shining moment she had walked again after consuming the strange elixir Hawke had found in the Tomb of Eternity.
He knew how much it had transformed her life, but then her new-found freedom had been brutally snatched away again when the elixir’s power faded and her legs had collapsed from under her. She was storming Alcatraz at the time; it was during what they had come to call Operation Aztec Prophecy, and ever since that terrible day she had once again been confined to her wheelchair.
Seeing her like this ripped Hawke in two, and in many ways he felt offering her the elixir was a mistake. Not only had they been unable to work out exactly how it worked, but in drinking the strange, sparkling liquid, Alex had been given a sharp reminder of what it was like to walk again. When its mystical power drifted away and she had lost the ability to use her legs all over again, the pain she must have felt would have been unbearable, and he knew that was his fault.
And yet she had never once complained about it or blamed him. Now, she looked up at him and gave him that famous smile of hers – curious, knowing and intelligent.
She looked around the room. The smell of industrial disinfectant drifted through the dust motes. “Just checking I have everything.”
Hawke nodded. “What about your suitcase?”
“With the agents outside.”
“What were their names again?”
“Brandon and Justin.”
Hawke sighed. “Remind me again – which one’s your new shadow?”
“Brandon.”
“Which one’s he – little or large?”
“Large.”
“I thought they were supposed to blend in? He’s ten feet tall.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “He’s six foot six – one inch taller than his father.”
“He told you that?”
“No, I read it in his tea leaves.”
“I thought you said you’d convinced your dad that this wasn’t necessary?” he said, and paused to consider the casual way he referred to the President of the United States as “your dad”. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed since he had left the Special Boat Service just a couple of short years ago. Meeting Lea Donovan in the British Museum and being drawn into the hunt for Poseidon’s trident was incredible enough, but now he was on first names with President Brooke and his daughter.
“Hey – I’m lucky I got them to agree to one. The original plan was for two.”
“I still think it’s overkill. You’ve got the ECHO team.”
“Not personally assigned to me day and night, Joe. My father’s the President of the United States. It was that or they’d never let me out of the White House. Just accept it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” she said firmly. Softening her voice, she turned once again to look at the Englishman. “Any news on Rich?”
She meant Sir Richard Eden, the founder of the ECHO team. He had been blasted into a coma when the man they knew as the Oracle had attacked Elysium.
Hawke shook his head. “Sorry, no change. Lea’s with him at the hospital in London. She’s staying at my flat.”
“All right,” she said, sounding resigned. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Hawke thought this sounded like a great idea. This was the third operation on Alex’s shoulder since she was shot back on Elysium, and he guessed she had seen enough of Fort Belvoir Community Hospital to last her several lifetimes. This latest operation was some plastic surgery to conceal the wound, and it was the end of the whole business.
As he held open the door for her, the two agents exchanged a few short words and then shook hands. Brandon McGee spoke into his palm mic, collected a small Samsonite case, and began to follow them along the corridor. Hawke felt his presence a few feet behind him and knew this was going to be a problem.
He turned to Alex. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?”
He nodded over his shoulder. “Lurch.”
“No, and keep your voice down. He’s actually a pretty cool guy. Got a lot of experience.”
“Last time I checked, ECHO had almost no need at all for a basketball player.”
“He’s not in ECHO, Joe. Don’t make that mistake. He’s US Secret Service.”
They reached their car and Hawke blipped open the locks. He opened the door and took Alex’s suitcase. “In you go.”
“Wait,” Brandon said flatly.
“For what?” Hawke said.
Brandon pulled a small extendable vehicle inspection mirror from his case and began to check under the car. “Bomb checking protocol.”
Hawke sighed. “Oh, for fu-.”
“Joe,” Alex said. “Let Agent McGee do his job.”
“Of course.”
McGee snapped the mirror away and put it in t
he case. “Clear.”
They climbed into the chunky Escalade, with Hawke at the wheel and Alex beside him. After folding Alex’s wheelchair into the trunk, McGee sat in the back with his shaved head pushing up into the headlining velour on the car’s roof.
“Couldn’t move across a few inches, could you, Brandon?” Hawke said. “You’re blocking my mirror.”
“Sure thing.”
The entire SUV rocked as Brandon shifted across and then Hawke fired up the engine and started out on the twenty mile journey to the White House. Alex’s father, Jack Brooke, had been elected as America’s Commander-in-Chief the previous autumn and sworn in during his inauguration a few months ago. The press claimed he’d drawn record crowds to Washington that day but Brooke never mentioned it once.
Hawke watched the Virginian suburbs drift by as they cruised along I-395 north to the nation’s capital and tried to put the chaos of his life into some kind of perspective. Formerly Major Hawke of the Royal Marines Commandos and Sergeant Hawke of the Special Boat Service, he was now plain and simple Mr Hawke of the ECHO team. He was in love with Lea Donovan and ready to ask her to marry him, so life was good, but like the others he felt the long, cold shadow of the Oracle and his Athanatoi cult looming over his every waking moment.
He glanced at Alex and they exchanged a smile. They knew each other well enough to share a comfortable silence. He pushed the car over the Arlington Memorial Bridge, crossed the Potomac River and vowed never to stop until he had tracked down more of the elixir.
They drove around the Lincoln Memorial on their way north. It was covered in scaffolding. After Klaus Kiefel had blown half the north side of it to pieces with a Hellfire missile the city’s authorities had ordered a major rebuilding project to bring it back to life again.
“They’re nearly done with the repairs,” Alex said, pointing at the impressive memorial. “I still can’t believe what happened to it.”
“Bastards,” McGee said.
“We got the bastards, though,” Hawke said.
He thought about Kiefel and his obsession with the Curse of Medusa that had nearly destroyed America. Today seemed to be the day for old memories to claw their way to the surface of his mind. If there was one thing Joe Hawke hated it was dwelling on the past, so he shook it all from his mind, grateful that they had now arrived at the White House.
Having Brandon ‘Lurch’ McGee on board had its advantages. Among these was being waved through the northwest gate of one of America’s most secure government buildings and then directed to park right outside the West Wing. Another was being whisked through security at high-speed and finding yourself inside the Oval Office with the minimum of fuss. He had never been in the world’s most famous office before, and the first thing that struck him was how it seemed much smaller than the one he had seen in the movies.
“Darling!” President Jack Brooke rose from the Resolute Desk.
“It’s great to see you too, Mr President,” Hawke said.
Alex rolled her eyes as her father gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You doing okay, kid?”
“Sure.”
Brooke locked eyes with Hawke and the two men shared a strong handshake. “You still looking after my little girl, Joe?”
Alex sighed and pushed the chair over to the coffee table. “Dad, don’t call me that.”
“Most of the time she looks after me, Mr President,” Hawke said, trying to defuse the tension. He knew Alex had serious issues with her father and clearly his new job as president had changed none of that.
There was a tap on the door and then a friendly face stepped into the office. “We have an update on the Korean situation, sir, plus there’s the UK state visit schedule and...” Special Agent Kim Taylor stopped when she saw Hawke and Alex. “I didn’t know you were out of hospital. It’s good to see you Alex, and you too, Joe.”
“Just got out today,” Alex said.
“You’re working here now?” Hawke asked.
“That’s right. I transferred into the Secret Service.”
“And she’s great,” Brooke said. He walked over to them and sat on the couch beside Alex. “So here’s the plan. With me behind that desk and you in this damned wheelchair, I want you to stay in DC for a while. You can work from the White House – I had an office prepared in the Residence.” He looked at his daughter intently. This time there was no trace of the now world-famous crooked Brooke grin, just a serious look of concern for a beloved daughter. “What do you say, Alex?”
She hesitated and looked at Hawke.
The Englishman looked from Brooke to Alex and gave a resigned smile. “We can’t go back to Elysium, Alex. It’s not safe yet.”
“Joe’s right,” Kim said.
Alex gave a reticent shrug. “I guess...”
“Good job, darling,” Brooke said. “You and me have a lot of catching up to do. You’re coming with me to London, right?”
Alex scrunched her mouth up a little and frowned. “Do I have to?”
Brooke laughed. “Of course not, but I’d love your company. You’d be strictly behind the scenes.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Sure.”
Hawke looked her. “You get to fly on Air Force One and you have to think about it?”
“All right, all right,” she said, bowing to the pressure. “I’ll go – but no press.”
Brooke clapped his hands together. “You got it – anyone want coffee? They make great coffee here.”
Hawke declined. “No thanks, Mr President.”
Alex shook her head. “I’m good, Dad.”
Hawke started to talk when his phone rang. He excused himself and walked away for a moment. When he returned he looked anxious.
“What is it?” Brooke said.
“That was Ryan,” said Hawke. “He says we might have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?” Alex asked.
“Something about an old manuscript he’s located. It could be critical to our mission. He’s going to call me back in a minute.”
“Where is this manuscript?” Brooke asked.
“Boston.”
“Take Agent Taylor. You’re in the US now and this is her jurisdiction. No maverick bullshit, Hawke.”
“Naturally,” he said, and caught a passing looking of disappointment in Kim’s eyes. He guessed the last thing she wanted to do was leave the nerve center of power to go on a wild goose chase in Boston, but then she said, “Yes, sir, Mr President.”
He also guessed she had no business refusing an order from the Commander-in-Chief.
Mike Clark, Brooke’s Chief of Staff, tapped on the other door and stepped into the office. “We have the Vice President on Line 2, sir.”
Brooke cracked his knuckles and sat down behind his desk. He picked up the phone and waved a silent goodbye to Hawke and Kim. Alex mouthed see ya and then they turned to go.
As Hawke and Kim stepped outside the office, the Englishman just caught the start of Brooke’s conversation with his Vice President, Davis Faulkner. “Hey, Davis,” Brooke said heartily. “How’s tricks?”
And then the President’s Body Man gave them a reluctant smile and closed the Oval Office door.
CHAPTER TWO
London
Lea Donovan looked down at the man in the hospital bed and clenched her jaw with anger. She had known Richard Eden since she was a child. He had been there when her father was killed and helped her navigate through some rocky teenage years. Now, he needed her help more than ever but she could do nothing except wait and pray and then wait some more.
Beside her stood Ryan Bale, a man changed forever by the cold-blooded murder of his girlfriend, Maria Kurikova. He respected the same grim silence as his former wife as he placed an unlit cigarette in his hand and collapsed into a chair beside the bed. In Ryan she saw a different man now – harder, colder and maybe even a little reckless.
The door opened and Lexi Zhang walked in. She was holding three coffees and after handing them aroun
d she sat at the foot of the bed and shared the tense atmosphere with her three friends. After a sip of her drink, she finally broke the silence.
“Any change?”
Several seconds passed before Lea replied. “Nothing.”
The EKG machine measuring their boss’s heart rate sounded a low alarm they had all heard before. A nurse scuttled in and made a few adjustments. She checked the ventilator and the IV drip, smiled at them and left again.
Lea sighed. “How the hell did this happen?”
“The fucking Oracle is how it happened,” Ryan said.
“And don’t think for a second that he won’t pay for it with his life,” said Lexi.
The anger on her face was met with the sound of a fresh wave of rain lashing on the window and a burst of lightning. For a second or two, Lea saw the London skyline illuminated in stark black and white and then a deep roar of thunder echoed over the city and made the hospital shake.
“That’s easy to say,” she said, “but all I care about right now is getting Rich back.”
“That’s what we all want,” Lexi said. “I’d be nothing without him. He gave me hope and I owe him everything.”
“He gave us all hope,” Ryan said. “He gave me ECHO, and that’s the only family I’ve ever really known.”
Lea barely heard their words. Her eyes were following the path of the IV tube as it snaked toward the hideous cannula in Eden’s bruised hand. Looking at his face – thin now, sunken cheeks and light silver stubble – she saw his eyelids flicker and a moment of hope danced through her mind even though she had seen it so many times before. Soon, he was still once again, as quiet and motionless as the dead.
The heart rate machine beeped gently in the background.
Another bolt of lightning.
Another growl of thunder.
Everything was spinning out of contol and she felt like screaming.
The team had split in Rio with Hawke flying to America to help Alex while Reaper returned to his family in the south of France. Scarlet and Camacho had hooked up and gone to Vegas, and the rest of the team flew to London to be with Eden. Now Lea felt like everything was falling apart. Their home, the secret Caribbean island called Elysium was still nothing more than smouldering ruins since the attack which had almost claimed Eden’s life.
