Joe Hawke Series Boxsets 4

by Rob Jones

  With Mr Mahoe echoing in her mind, they wheeled her away from the soft jazz of Blanchard’s office. Miles of corridors trundled past her as they pushed her around left-hand corners and right-hand corners and down long straights. Minutes passed as they went deeper into the complex, all the while she grew more and more nervous.

  A lawyer… that’s a good one.

  Eventually they pulled up at the large steel door of her cell and pushed her inside. As they closed the door on her, the tall one said one last thing. “For God’s sake, tell him what he wants to know.”

  And then the door slammed shut.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Airspace

  Their prayers had been answered not by God but Orlando Sooke. After the sea battle and the destruction of the V-22 Osprey, they had returned to their SUVs and made contact with him. He had contacted MI6 Agent Chris Raynes who had in turn made contact with a former US Army Ranger named David LeMeur. Colonel LeMeur got through to an old friend named Ezra Haven. He ran a special ops team called the Raiders from his office in the mysterious Titanfort spy hub in New York City.

  The hastily built network had worked. Haven had used Titanfort’s considerable spying resources to pick Kashala up as he sailed east through the Med. After a convoluted journey, presumably designed to throw others off the scent, the Congolese general had boarded a transport helicopter at sea and flown across Turkey to Bursa. Here, they had climbed into trucks and driven north to Istanbul.

  The largest city in Europe.

  With over fifteen million people, it offered the sort of annihilation Joseph “King” Kashala had desired when he’d talked about scarring the world forever. Visions of Istanbul being vaporized haunted all their thoughts, including those of Sooke, who had managed to round up some more money to expedite their journey back to Turkey in a private, chartered jet.

  As a business associate of Eden and a distant player in his Consortium, Sooke’s loyalty should have been beyond question, but the way things were right now, Hawke and the others had nursed their doubts about him. The arrival of the chartered Hawker Beechcraft had seen to that and they had driven to the Santorini Airport as fast as possible.

  Security there was tightened after the attack on the Osprey, but their false passports got them through fast enough. The mysterious newcomer had also arranged a safe house via Ezra Haven, and that also brought a certain amount of relief. Somewhere quiet and secure to prepare for the final showdown with Kashala was more than welcome, and they had been promised access to weapons, too.

  Now, as they soared east above the Mediterranean on route to Istanbul, Scarlet stretched her legs out, gently reclined her soft leather seat and let a loud, satisfied sigh out into the sumptuous cabin. “Ah, bliss.”

  “Happy now?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said. “Now get me a beer.”

  “One step ahead of you, Sloane.” He thrust a cold bottle into her hand.

  Scarlet opened her eyes in shock as the cold glass pressed against her skin. “Bloody hell! You’re almost house trained.”

  He slumped down in the seat beside her and took a long swig of his drink. “Almost, but let’s hope I never make it all the way.”

  She raised her bottle to her lips. “I’ll drink to that, boy.”

  They chinked bottles and took another swig. For a moment, neither said anything. The only sound above the comforting hum of the jet engines was the gentle chatter of Nikolai, Camacho and Zeke as they played Razz poker at the rear of the cabin. Every now and then, one of them would cheer or groan, and then another hand was dealt out and it happened all over again.

  “Surprised you’re not playing,” Ryan said, eyes closed and head pushed back against the soft headrest.

  “Not tonight,” she said quietly. “I need to give my eyes a rest.”

  “Mine too,” Lea said.

  In fact, the Irishwoman never wanted to open her eyes again. Here, in the safety of the jet, she had started to drift away at last. Memories of her life flashed past, but she just kept on going until she reached the part where Hawke walked into it. Without knowing it, she had started to fiddle with the engagement ring on her left hand. She was glad it was there. It made her feel safer about the future.

  And think about the past. About when Ryan, her first husband, had proposed to her.

  He had told her all about the vena amoris, back in what now seemed like the Triassic period. It meant the vein of love, named by the ancient Romans who believed that a vein ran directly from the ring finger all the way to the heart. It was a beautiful thing to say, and she had accepted his proposal, but then he ruined everything by telling her that in sixteenth century England, women often wore wedding rings on their thumbs. She didn’t know why, but it took the edge off the moment.

  Like the rest of the team, she was covered in cuts and bruises and exhausted from fighting the Blood Crew. She couldn’t find one part of her body that didn’t hurt or ache, and when she leaned forward and reached into her bag, the pain got worse. Pulling out some headache tablets, she cursed as she swallowed them down with some water and leaned back in her seat.

  Outside the aircraft the seascape was unchanged – a never-ending world of water stretching to every horizon. She considered all the ships that had sunk in this ancient sea, all the naval battles that had unfolded right here on the waves right below their jet.

  Today, it was almost devoid of human life, except for a small fishing trawler sailing north to the Greek mainland. In some ways, she thought, life hadn’t changed at all since the days of ancient Greece. Men at sea, bringing the catch home to sell in the markets of their hometowns.

  Giving the sparkling sea one last look, she turned back to her friends in the cabin and pushed back in her seat. Some were sleeping, others were scrolling through smart phones; Kamala and Lexi were quietly chatting at the back. Slowly, she felt sleep covering her like a soft, warm blanket.

  Beside her, Reaper was also struggling to focus his mind. Earlier, he had caught a glimpse of the photo of his wife and kids in his wallet and now his mind drifted back to them. He and Monique had gone through more ups and downs than a roller coaster, and yet they still kept things together. He loved her, and then there were the kids to think about.

  Louis and Leo, his beloved twins.

  He thought of them now, playing in the villa back in Provence and a smile appeared on his unshaven face. They weren’t identical but they did share many similarities in appearance and style. Louis was a daredevil, taking after him, he guessed. Always laughing and joking, forever the showman. His younger brother Leo was more serious. Kind-hearted but sensitive, and when he smiled, it lit the world like a sunrise.

  Thinking of them now, with their mother safe at home, gave him the power to keep going and never give up. It gave him confidence to know that at least one part of his life was stable and solid, even if his so-called career had been a rag-tag mish-mash of military service and downright dirty mercenary work.

  What he did, he did for them, not himself, and if anything ever happened to them, he honestly didn’t know what he would do. He looked at his battered, chipped watch. Monique would be making them something to eat now.

  He decided not to call them and disturb their peace, and instead settled back in the leather seat and tried to relax. Crombez’s threat to harm them had cut him deep and if he wanted to keep his family safe, he would have to kill his old mercenary friend.

  Beside him, Nikolai couldn’t sleep. His eyes had been shut since they climbed onboard the jet, but his mind was as busy as Danilovsky Market. Usually, when he closed his eyes, he was terrorized with memories of his family’s slaying, but this had started to fade since he had become part of the ECHO team.

  Now, he had broken free of the Oracle and the other Athanatoi and his mind was focussed on the mission. Never before had he felt this great sense of purpose and he was grateful to the others for letting him into their world. The burden of proving his loyalty to them weighed heavily on his
shoulders, but so far, so good.

  And yet, his new sense of belonging had some cracks in the varnish. Deep down, he knew he didn’t belong with these people. He was too different from them. His childhood, his adolescence and his years in the cult had warped him too far away from the normal growth of humanity.

  He knew one day he would walk away from them and start another chapter in his life, but where or when, he had no idea. For now, these people were his family and he owed them everything. His profound sense of honor and loyalty meant he could never let them down, and he knew he never would. He would die before betraying them and yet, he had a niggling doubt – would they die before betraying him?

  Closing his eyes again, he thought about Istanbul becoming a burning wasteland and fought the images from his mind. He tried to center himself. Something told him the next few hours would be the most dangerous of his life. Slowly, he too, drifted away.

  Unlike the others, Hawke had, as usual, been able to get some easy shuteye, but it wasn’t good sleep. Seconds after closing his eyes, he had been snatched from the peace of the passenger jet and thrown into a nightmare landscape of suffering and death.

  A smoky battlefield lay ahead of him, and the sounds of Lea’s screams, lost somewhere in the fog of war. Ahead, stood the Oracle, beside him was Nikolai with a Russian Circassian sword in his hand. The blade glinted in the flash of a lightning strike. Behind him, King Kashala and Mukendi laughed with their antimatter cannisters. The white-robed Guardians of the Citadel, and others in red robes, emerging from the caves of hell as the fires burned around him.

  Alfredo “Spider” Lazaro was stalking him, gun in hand as he mocked him in his Cuban Spanish. Mocked his failure to find him. Laughed about killing his wife. And now she was there too, Liz, his wife, calling out for help somewhere in the darkness.

  Suddenly awake and heart pounding in his chest, he almost called out in terror. Getting a hold of himself, he released his vice-like grip on the armrests and took a few slow breaths to calm himself.

  Sooner or later, he would have to face all of these things and strike them down before they killed him. But when and where – that was the question?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Istanbul

  Ezra Haven’s safehouse turned out to be located in Dolapdere. This is one of Istanbul’s more dangerous districts to the north of the oldest part of the city, but the house turned out to be just what they were looking for – anonymous and secure. None of this had done anything to dispel the fears swirling in Lea’s mind like a maelstrom. Francken’s reliability as a paymaster and Alex’s kidnapping and imprisonment were chief among them.

  When Francken paid them for the lyre, they would have enough to repay Sooke’s loan and set up a rescue operation to save President Brooke and Alex. It seemed straight-forward enough but doubts nagged at her all the time. What if Francken reneged on his deal? There would be little they could do about it. What if he was tricking them, somehow working with Dimitrov? What if Alex and Jack Brooke were already dead? Her mind was spinning so hard, she wanted to scream.

  “Cold one?”

  She started in her chair, flicking her head up to see the lean, smiling face of Joe Hawke in the window beside her. Outside, the sound of car horns and smell of exhaust fumes drifted in past the tattered curtains.

  “You’re standing there with two beers, Josiah,” she said with a smile. “Looks like you knew my answer before you even asked.”

  He handed one over and sat beside her. “All good?”

  “I’ve been going crazy, Joe.”

  “Why?”

  “What if Francken’s just having us on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what if he’s just using us to get the lyre back and when we deliver it, he double-crosses us?”

  “You have a lurid imagination.”

  “Seriously, though.”

  He sipped his beer and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “He knows Sooke, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And Sooke knows Rich.”

  “And?”

  “I think that’s enough for us to trust him. If he rips us off, then we’ll get the money out of him, one way or another. How hard can it be to shake someone down for a million bucks?”

  “Is there anything at all you take entirely seriously?”

  “Only not taking things entirely seriously.”

  “Eejit.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but inside she felt a wave of warm reassurance that whatever the hell happened in this world, the man sitting beside her was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar.

  “Besides,” he added, “right now, have bigger fish to fry. We have to find out where Kashala plans on making Ground Zero, and when we’ve put that to bed, we need to be focussing on Alex and her father, and just how the hell we’re going to get them back.”

  Lea took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “What if they’re already dead, Joe?”

  “No way,” he said. “We can’t think like that while there’s a chance they might be alive.”

  “I know, you’re right.”

  “Besides, we don’t have to rely on wishes and hope.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Faulkner’s a strategist, a master of the long game. Look at how skilfully he manipulated his way into the White House. Just think about how much effort and time that must have taken. There’s no way he would ever squander a trump card like this by harming President Brooke or Alex. He’s holding them back just like in a poker game, waiting to use them at the critical moment.”

  “Which is?”

  “That’s what we don’t know, but I suspect a trial.”

  “That would be insane.”

  “I think we crossed the insane line when we discovered Poseidon’s trident, don’t you?”

  She smiled again and swallowed a laugh. “I guess so. You always know what to say to me… wait – Sooke’s calling me.”

  She took the call and stepped into the hall. Lexi passed her on the way from the kitchen, stepping into the room with more beers and offered them around. Nikolai held up his hand and gave a solemn shake of the head. Reaper grabbed one and practically downed it before Ryan had taken his first sip.

  “C’est bien ça!”

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” Ryan added. “I’m going to enjoy this little baby like it was the last beer on earth. Who knows when the next time will be that we’ll get any peace and quiet?”

  When Lea returned, she looked visibly shaken. “Sooke got word from Titanfort via Agent Raynes. They know where Ground Zero is.”

  “Where?” Kamala asked.

  “The Hagia Sophia.”

  The team were stunned. The former Greek Orthodox cathedral in the center of the city was one of the most sacred places in the county, not to mention one of the most famous landmarks on earth.

  “Makes perfect sense,” Ryan said nonchalantly. “Right in the heart of the old city. When that fucker goes off it’ll take out everything within a fifty mile radius.”

  “That fucker isn’t going to go off.” Lea’s voice was terse and stressed. “That’s what we’re here for, remember?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what I meant, obviously. I’ll get on and find some schematics of the place. They’re not going to be walking through the front door and setting the antimatter device down on the altar, are they now?”

  “No.” Turning to Lea, Hawke said, “Is the Blood Crew already there?”

  “Not yet. Sooke says Titanfort picked up some electronic chatter just outside the city. They’re heading there now.”

  “Then we need to get a move on.”

  Camacho peered outside the window. “Wait – looks like this might be our arms dealer.”

  They heard the door open and a muted Turkish conversation followed in the hall. Then a short, unshaven man appeared in the door. “I am Berat. Ezra told me you would be here at this time.” He looked down at his watch and then nervously over his shoulde
r. “We have weapons in the basement, but then you must go. We have other,” he paused a beat. “Guests that we need to accommodate.”

  Hawke put his beer bottle down on top of the old TV with a clunk. “Lead the way.”

  *

  The former English SBS sergeant looked around the basement and was not impressed by the range of weapons. He thought back to the days when Eden could supply whatever they needed to complete their missions, and wondered if life would ever be like that again. With the boss under house arrest in England and only the cautious Sooke bridging the gap between their new lives as fugitives and the rest of the world, he wasn’t so sure.

  Giving the old guns and tattered tactical vests one last look, he faced his team. “This is all we’ve got, so we have to make the best of it.”

  Scarlet picked up one of the rifles, a Beretta light machine gun dating from the late nineteen-seventies. Weighing it in her hand, she threw it at Ryan. “Catch, boy – and look after it. It’s older than you are.”

  Ryan caught it easily and raised an eyebrow. “We’d have to find something from World War Two to say the same about you.”

  Hawke chose his weapons – a 1971 Heckler & Koch, a SIG Sauer P220 from 1975, and an old Soviet combat knife. The others made similar choices, but Reaper loaded up with a number of East German fragmentation grenades, which he stuffed in the pockets of his tatty tactical vest.

  “Any word on the transport?” Hawke asked Lea.

  She nodded. “Sooke texted. Chevy Express arriving right now. He also says they picked up more chatter about what the terrorists are calling Eschaton.”

  “There’s that word again,” Hawke said. “You remember Zhivkov said it?”

  Lea nodded and Ryan gave them both a look. “I never heard him say that. Are you sure?”

  “Totally,” Lea said. “Why?”

  “It’s Greek. Means the final event… the end of times.”

  “Do you have to sound so casual when you talk about that?” Lexi said. “We are talking about the end of the world, after all.”