The Matt Drake Series Books: 7-9 (The Matt Drake Series Boxset 2)

by David Leadbeater

  Hayden nodded. “And, it bears the question, their last?”

  “Women.” Dahl stared at the TV screen. “Children. We will destroy them all for this. And anyone that has even a dirty fingernail in their organization.”

  Drake found his voice again. “We will.”

  Hayden turned the TV off and drank from a bottle of water. “The Pythians are a global threat,” she said. “We just don’t know their extent or true numbers. To that end, Drake, I’d like you to enlist Alicia and her new team in our efforts.”

  Drake felt a surge of pleasure, but didn’t let it show. “Alicia and Crouch and their team just found a horde of Aztec Gold after destroying half of Vegas and Africa. I’m not sure they’ll be ready for something like this.”

  “Something like this?” Hayden echoed. “Alicia is always ready for anything, and the sheer size of it means they have to be ready. Perhaps they won’t be called upon, but contact Crouch, Drake. And Alicia. Put them on standby. It has to be said—they would want you to.”

  “Damn good point,” Smyth rasped. “I sure wouldn’t wanna get on Myles’ bad side.”

  Drake and Mai shared a look. “It’s a nasty place to be,” he admitted and Mai grunted her affirmation. “I’ll make the call.”

  “One more thing before we start,” Hayden said, her blond locks bobbing vigorously as she felt a galvanizing sense of purpose swamp her system. “Not necessarily related but worth a recap. Whilst I’ve been convalescing and most everyone else was playing their little tournament with Coyote, something Jonathan said kept creeping back to me. Something I think may be important.”

  At the mention of the old Secretary of Defense—their murdered friend and benefactor’s name, the team sobered, Drake in particular. It was hard enough to find a true friend in this world, let alone a trustworthy official, but Jonathan Gates had proved to be both. No doubt Jonathan had harbored his secret demons, but who didn’t? The poor man’s wife had been killed by the Blood King, early on in Drake’s SPEAR campaign, and then the man himself had been gunned down by Kovalenko’s men as he started to accept somebody new. Some had even whispered about a possible presidential campaign.

  “What was it?” Kinimaka broke Drake’s reverie.

  “Remember General Bill Stone? The man that stood against us during the whole tomb of the gods saga? He wanted the tombs for the US alone, or perhaps for himself, and actually won the support of the White House.”

  “I remember,” Dahl said quietly.

  “Well, luckily he didn’t get to fulfil his plan, but something about him raised Jonathan’s antennae. Jonathan said ‘Bill Stone is into something, something deep’. An ulterior plan. He requested that Lauren Fox find out what it was, then changed his mind in the interests of . . . decency, I guess. Stone is the worst kind of leader.” She shook her head. “One that believes people are his playthings and are beholden to him. The world is his gaming board.”

  “He’s not the only one out there,” Mai said.

  “Agreed. But he’s the only one on our radar, for now. There’s one more thing. Jonathan told Lauren something in confidence, something she imparted to Mano only after Jonathan’s death. He found out that the government actually said no to Stone’s request.”

  Now even Smyth’s face fell, the permanent frown replaced with shock. “But that means—”

  “Yes. That Stone ignored the White House and went into those tombs without their knowledge. On his own, and with hired men. Why did he still want to go ahead at such huge risk?”

  Kinimaka spoke up. “Whilst you guys were messing about in the UK, Smyth and I undertook a mission of our own.”

  Drake gave the man a half smile. “Messing about in the UK?”

  “Wandering the Dales. Visiting the funfair. Destroying hotels. Whatever. Our old HQ was raided by a team we believe worked for the Pythians. One of their men told us they wanted to grab everything on Jonathan’s computer that related to General Stone. Everything.”

  Now Drake did a double take. “The Pythians? What could they possibly want with General Stone?”

  “That’s the question,” Hayden said. “And one of the few leads we have on the group, despite Mano’s heavy-handedness.”

  Kinimaka grunted, embarrassed. Even as an adult he retained the clumsiness of a three-year-old.

  Smyth rose to his defense. “We did what we had to do. Under fire, we extracted information, what more do you want?”

  “More information,” Hayden said. “If you get the chance again I want these people brought in to be interrogated properly. This global threat could be the worse we have ever faced and we’re humiliatingly short of information.”

  “To be fair,” Drake added gently, “that’s mainly because they haven’t engaged in any kind of real action yet. We have nothing to follow.”

  Hayden opened her mouth to reply but the door to their office opened and Lauren Fox walked in. All eyes turned to her.

  She gave them a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “For better or worse,” she said, “we have a plan.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lauren Fox stood before the SPEAR team, unwilling to call herself a fully fledged member and wondering just what the hell she was doing there. Before the man had attacked her in New York, before she became unintentionally linked to a North Korean terrorist plot, before she met Jonathan Gates, she had been a successful two-thousand-dollar-an-hour escort with no more hang-ups than your standard call girl. Back then she had lived next door to a retired hooker who took it upon herself to offer unending sage advice. She was sharp, streetwise, quick-witted and headstrong. She found it hard to apologize. Growing up in a string of grueling foster homes would do that to you.

  What the hell am I doing here? she thought again.

  But the answer had already passed through her thoughts.

  Jonathan Gates, she thought. I’m here for Jonathan. The Secretary had shown her kindness when it might have harmed his standing; had helped her and counted on her when circumstances proved that he should not. He’d even offered her a way out—of sorts. Or at least a safer way.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Hayden was the first to approach her, hands held out as if sensing the self-doubt. “Drink? We have coffee.”

  “They have caffeine in all its sinful forms,” Dahl said, holding up a bottle of water. “Here. Catch this.”

  Drake paused with an FBI emblazoned mug held to his lips. “Sinful?”

  “Yeah.” The Swede nodded. “Do they sell pure water as far north as Yorkshire yet?”

  Drake grunted. “Sure, it’s made it up to God’s country. We still manage to get by with our mugs of instant coffee though.”

  Dahl shook his head. “Heathens.”

  Drake nodded. “And happy.”

  Lauren took a long swig from the water bottle, grateful for the refreshing taste. She sat at the head of the table, conscious of all eyes upon her—not in a nervous way but in the hope she could help fulfil Jonathan’s last request of her.

  “General Stone,” she said. “I’ve seen the bastard twice now and do not believe he suspects me. But I’m always careful, confident, and professional. You may remember at one time we believed that Stone might be skeptical of me. But no. Our first meeting was tentative, cautious—” She thought back. Bill Stone had requested they meet in a room situated on the first floor of an expensive hotel, arriving alone and in an almost laughable disguise. At that moment she had known the general was oblivious of her true intentions. Quiet, courteous, almost shy, Stone had requested the Nightshade routine. She had treated him gently, carefully, and with infinite vigilance, scared for her life in the obscure room but determined to see it through.

  For an old guy, Stone didn’t look bad naked. Yes, the gut was a little saggy, the pecs undefined, yes he was one frightfully hairy specimen, but she had entertained much worse day after day in her line of work. And he didn’t want her to touch him. Not with her hands in any case. First the whip and then the restraints. This wa
s a man of the Army who wanted an opposite experience of everyday life, a role reversal. With pegs, cuffs and rope she treated him well, until he begged for release. Even then she refused, bringing out the vulgarity in him, the haughtiness. From the shy man to the arrogant boor in thirty minutes, and beyond. Stone loved it, in the end begging for more.

  But no. Their first session was over. Inevitably, such treatment led to a request for a second. This time Stone was less cautious, meeting her in a hotel less than a block from his office, and actually taking calls as their session progressed. The arrogance of the man shone through, the sheer superiority and self-knowledge that he was a being at the top of the evolutionary pile—the stalking predator.

  Lauren tied him hard, trying to make him hurt, but Stone only embraced the pain, grunting for more. Of course there was a limit as to how far she could go, and she didn’t want to destroy the inroads she’d so carefully made, so the diamond-studded choker wasn’t too tight, the Saran wrap full of tiny holes in the vicinity of his mouth, and the nut-crunchers set to ‘medium’.

  The second session ended with Stone taking his third call of the evening, worry suddenly mixing with the ecstasy on his face, and the first real development in her operation. In true egotist style he spoke whilst ignoring her presence.

  Now, glossing over the details of the evening—which she knew by the look on Smyth’s face was a major disappointment—she brought the group up to date on her discoveries.

  “Last night he recommended me to his ‘partner’, a man called Nicholas Bell, I believe, since Gates referred to him by both names in separate conversations. Now, normally I would decline but because Stone referred to this man as his ‘partner’ on more than one occasion, I feel it might be beneficial to see the man.”

  “Partner could mean so many things,” Hayden said. “Could you get the gist of his meaning?”

  “Well, he’s not bi-sexual and didn’t sound over friendly. That leaves business associate, which works for us.”

  “When does this Bell want to see you?”

  “Wednesday night.”

  “I hate to say it,” Drake spoke up, “but this sounds awful dangerous, Lauren.”

  “I’ve entertained two men before.”

  There was a short lull to enable Smyth to reel his tongue back in and for Drake to wait for the inevitable Alicia comment before remembering she wasn’t in the room. Funny how you didn’t really miss someone and their habits until they were gone from your life.

  He zoned back in. “Not what I meant, love. We’re talking at least one, possibly two, corrupt men that might be targets of the Pythians. How dangerous can you take it?”

  “I’m a born and bred New Yorker.” Lauren shrugged. “I always take it to the limit.”

  “We could follow the two of you,” Kinimaka suggested. “Stay close.”

  “It’s hardly necessary.” Lauren raised her hands. “I’m doing this as much for Jonathan as you guys. If Stone’s dirty I’m going to out the bastard in public. For all his goddamn sins. And this Bell? Stone spoke to him three times just last night, whilst we were in full-on role-play. One time, I even had to hold the phone close to Stone’s ear because the handcuffs were too tight.”

  Smyth’s chin finally hit the floor. “Oh my God. Will you be my girlfriend?”

  Drake grunted. “Please say yes. It’ll distract him from other hobbies that involve blaming auto-correct.”

  “Despite it all,” Lauren went on. “Stone still plays the army man with me. He has no shame. No scruples. If chance had taken him in a different direction a man like that could easily have become a psychopath. He has no conscience beyond that which he pretends to portray.”

  “All right.” Hayden took in the team’s reactions with a glance. “It seems Stone and Bell may have something to hide. I say we follow Lauren’s lead and remain on alert. Allow her to do her job. We’d do the same for anyone else in this team.”

  Drake nodded quickly. Hayden had hit the proverbial nail right on the head—it didn’t matter that Lauren came by her intel a little differently to the rest of them—Jonathan had made her a part of SPEAR for a reason and, so far, she was holding up her end.

  As the affirmations rolled in, Kinimaka’s phone rang. He took a quick look at the screen and frowned.

  “Damn, it’s Agent Collins from Los Angeles,” he said aloud. Claire Collins was a first-rate FBI agent that had recently helped crack a worldwide terror plot involving the Serbian mafia as well as saving Kinimaka’s sister from the hands of the Blood King’s men. “What the hell could she want now?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Claire Collins spoke in a tough, no-nonsense manner, brooking no interruptions and no speculation. Kinimaka put her on speakerphone and let the room listen to what she had to say.

  “Mano, first a heads-up. Your sister is on her way to DC, with a belly full of fire and brimstone. She no longer needs protective custody now you and your gang of lightweights finally took down Kovalenko. Best team in the world? Not in my book.”

  Hayden, their leader, took that one. “Not that we ever asked for the accolade, but do you know a better one?”

  “My team just took down a Serb madman threatening half a dozen of the world’s leading capitals with unending terrorism. In one day. The white-knuckle ride of a lifetime. Can you top that?”

  “You’re talking about the Disavowed.” Kinimaka nodded. “I heard they were good.”

  “We’re good.” Collins corrected him. “And faced with Threat Level Red, we’re tremendous.”

  “Are they there?” Kinimaka asked. “I wanted to thank them personally for saving Kono’s life.”

  “One of them is,” a deep voice spoke up. “Aaron Trent. And it’s fine. Enjoyed the opportunity to rid the world of some trash.”

  Trent spoke in a clipped manner, serious and to the point, as if time was always precious. Drake had heard the story of how his team had been set up to be disavowed by the president, and of how they had lost friends, wives and fellow brothers in arms in their struggle to right such a great wrong, and of how they had prevailed. Still, he couldn’t fully respect a man’s abilities until he’d seen him in action.

  “It seems there’s a new threat,” he said aloud. “You guys ever heard of the Pythians?”

  “Newest set of evildoers by all accounts,” Collins broke in quickly. “And who is that? Mano? Don’t tell me I’m on friggin’ speakerphone with your whole damn team.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dahl said. “Alicia Myles is missing.”

  “And this is Drake,” the Yorkshireman spoke up. “Matt Drake.”

  Collins didn’t miss a beat. “Okay then. Well, we’re the FBI, Drake. We know all about the house on the hill killings. The global recruitment of mercenaries. The massive movements of funds. We’re also privy to what the NSA are monitoring—that there has been a huge surge in the amount of mercenary and terrorist chatter in the past week over all known channels and others we aren’t supposed to monitor. We know—”

  “Something’s about to happen,” Hayden finished. “Yeah, the rumors are everywhere. Trouble is—we have nothing concrete.”

  “The chatter will narrow down. Localize. Then we’ll know.”

  Kinimaka had been trying to process the imminent arrival of his sister, Kono, and what it might mean for his health. Never easy to get along with, his sister now blamed him for their mother’s murder and her own new misfortunes. The fact that she left Hawaii years ago for the lure of a seedy world, and in doing so broke their mother’s heart, didn’t seem to matter anymore. Everything was now Mano’s fault.

  He snapped back to the present. Kono would have to wait. “Well, Trent, thanks again. And the same to Silk and Radford. I know what you guys lost to Blanka Davic. We’ve been chasing that bandit down for years.”

  Drake remembered taking Davic’s father down during the quest for the bones of Odin. It struck him then how small the world and the circles that they all ran in actually were; either that or they had all
been a part of somebody’s master plan from the very beginning.

  Come together at last.

  “Trent, this is Drake. You probably know this bloody Pythian thing is escalating. Whatever you can learn, it would be appreciated.”

  “We’re on it.”

  Collins ended the call by reminding Kinimaka of why she’d called. “Watch out for that one when she lands, my friend. I know she’s your sister, but she’s trouble.”

  Kinimaka nodded to himself. Try telling me something I don’t friggin’ know.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Drake was with Mai when Grace returned from her time with the private investigator. By not saying anything the Japanese woman had requested his presence. For that alone he was grateful. For two weeks now this private investigator had been searching into Grace’s past, trying to stitch together the tattered patchwork quilt that was her memory. Two weeks. Surely he must have dug up something, Drake thought. But seventeen years was an awfully long timespan to have to trawl through, and Grace herself said she could remember nothing beyond her time with the Tsugarai and her master, Gozu. Drake knew they were bad times. Best forgotten. Mai Kitano had saved Grace’s life the moment she untangled those bonds, in more ways than one. Then Mai had made herself personally responsible for Grace’s welfare and future, a development Grace seemed not entirely happy about. So when Hayden offered to help by introducing Grace to an off-the-books investigator, they had all leaped at the chance. Perhaps Grace could get some real closure; maybe she could start to live again. Even find her parents. A fresh start and all that. In particular, maybe he could do something the DC doctors couldn’t—help find and revive her past memories. Grace needed to be made whole again.

  In any case, he could search for her physical past.

  Drake knew that Grace regretted her refusal of Mai’s offer of companionship the moment he saw her. The normally upbeat outer veneer crumbled and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. Drake feared the worst.