The mercs had seen that they were losing, dying. Death didn’t offer a pay packet, nor a second chance or day release. Not like the British penal system. Some of them were already surrendering.
“I don’t see a way out for you, Shelly.”
“Coyote,” the woman growled. “Call me Coyote.”
And she stepped back, pulling her jacket wide open, to reveal the nano-vest buckled to her chest. The light in her eyes was crazed but the look on her face was almost blissful.
“I’m so glad my torture is at an end,” she said and detonated.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Drake flew backwards, slammed off his feet by the blast. Blood and other things struck his body and face as he went airborne. Coyote’s lone hand slapped his cheek, thwarting him for the last time. Even as he bounced to the ground he knew that, in her final moments, Shelly Cohen had returned and made Coyote take that all important step back.
Any closer, and they would all have been dead.
His first job was to check on his teammates—all of whom were stunned and blooded but in good shape—and then turn to check on Alicia. The sight of her straddling Beauregard didn’t really surprise him. He did a double-take when she threw a punch at the injured man though.
“You still softening him up?”
“Quite the opposite,” Alicia said. “I think he likes it.”
Mai groaned.
Alicia climbed off the prone Frenchman. “You gotta see this thing, Mai. The tights really don’t do it justice. It’s huuuu—”
Three soldiers mercifully approached them just then, shutting Alicia up as they waved their guns. Crouch raised his hands and diverted them, no doubt establishing protocols.
Dahl surveyed their surroundings. “Well, we lost Coyote and captured Beauregard. The Frenchman is a link to the Pythians. Could be worse. I wonder what happened to the hacker.”
Drake clicked his tongue. “We learned only what they wanted us to learn,” he said. “It’s how and when we find out why that worries me.”
Crouch turned to them. “We all have a rather large amount of explaining to do, but we’re good here. Carry on.”
Drake motioned for a phone. “We’ll call Karin and Komodo and catch up with the guys in DC.” He turned to Mai. “Surprised you haven’t heard from Smyth.”
“Phone’s on silent,” she said, fishing it out and then making a face. “Oh hell. Looks like he’s filled it up.”
“Damn. Well, we’d better call them first.”
Drake made the call. As he did so he turned full circle and surveyed the fiery skies and the scorched earth; the place where his long-held nemesis, Coyote, had died; the bruised and bloody SPEAR team and Mai Kitano—his old past and future.
Full circle indeed.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
A short while later, Matt Drake found himself seated in the quiet corner of a large, old-fashioned pub in the center of York.
The place held memories for him. Nostalgia seeped through the walls. He had taken Alyson here. Even met Ben Blake here. Pain, sorrow and the memory of old mistakes hung like the shadows of ancient ghosts inside, but there was a certain happiness too. The pub held infinitely more good memories than bad.
On this day he sat with more friends. Mai, Alicia and Dahl. Michael Crouch. Karin and Komodo. Mai was upbeat but still reserved, the shadow that had followed her back from Tokyo well and truly returned. Alicia currently existed in a state of extremes—one moment buoyed by excitement and cracking one-liners and looking dangerous, the next hanging her head glumly as she thought no doubt of Lomas and the bikers, and where the path to her home might now lie.
Crouch imparted more news than he was probably allowed to. Karin and Komodo reported all they knew and told them of SaBo’s fate. The hacker had fled at the first sign of trouble and hadn’t resurfaced. Drake didn’t worry. In this game they came across the same people again and again, and when they next met SaBo—they owed him a little personal hacking time of his own.
Hayden, Kinimaka and Smyth had reported in. The Pentagon appeared to be their new home. Drake rolled his eyes. Could they be under closer scrutiny? Especially now that Kinimaka and Lauren Fox were in the early phases of launching an entirely new operation against General Stone.
He had a feeling they were standing at a crossroads. The way back was littered with mixed memories and defining moments. The roads either side led to nowhere; a stagnant invariable path to dissolution. It was the way ahead that offered a vista of possibility. Only in moving forward and facing new challenges could Matt Drake hope to survive.
And on the road ahead something big was looming. Something immeasurable, on the grandest scale yet.
He wanted to be there for that party.
“Not thinking of retiring now are you?” Crouch asked, noticing the depth of his concentration.
“Furthest thing from my mind,” Drake said. “Coyote is dead. That lifts a weight from my shoulders, yes, but I actually pitied her at the end. I wanted Shelly back. If anything, I miss that girl.”
Crouch smiled pensively. “Me too.”
“Other things are coming,” Drake said. “It will never end.” Mai had spoken a similar sentence to him a long time ago, back when Kennedy was still alive.
“I know. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about.”
Drake sensed something coming. “Of course, Michael.”
“The Ninth Division is no more. Defunct. Of course, a new department will stand in but I have no interest in that. All my life I’ve wanted to pursue a dream, an ambition. It appears that now I’m in a position to do exactly that.”
Drake smiled. “Sounds good. What kind of dream?”
Now Crouch looked slightly embarrassed, the first time that Drake had ever seen him so. “It’s okay,” the Yorkshireman said quickly. “You don’t have to—”
“No, no,” Crouch said quickly. “I want to. I have to, actually. You see all my life I’ve had this, largely secret, love for archaeological mysteries and ancient unsolved riddles. I guess you could call them cold cases, but ice-cold really. Frozen over. I’m not talking about old gods or Alexander the Great or the plagues of Egypt. I’m talking Aztecs, Incas, Mayans—the civilizations that came and went and left a million stories behind. Even the pirates, the stories they traded and told were pure gold dust.” Crouch was speaking faster and faster, warming to his subject. “Real, living treasures that you can touch and discover. I want to form a team dedicated to searching for these treasures . . . and I have a backer.”
“You do? That’s fantastic.”
“He provides the money. We get paid a wage. A good one. I have so many government contacts both here and around the world I need a book the size of the Bible just to keep track of them. Wheels can be greased, favors met.”
Drake grimaced a little.
“It’s what makes the world go around, Matt. Politics. Business. Commerce. Banking. The favors, the special invites, the small concessions. Negotiation is as much a currency as banknotes. In any case, I can get us access to a country and its more interesting parts through my contacts. Our benefactor has the money. Now all I need is a team.”
Drake blinked rapidly. “Oh. Are you trying to ask me?” he blurted. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Us Yorkshire folk need it laid out in plain English. We’re not that good on the uptake.”
“Actually no.” Crouch grinned. “I was asking her.”
He turned toward Alicia, who’d been listening in on their conversation. An expression of surprise was soon covered by a victorious leer.
“In yer face, Drakey!”
Crouch winced a little. “Her qualities are unmistakable.”
Drake nodded seriously. “Alicia is the best teammate and companion anyone could ever hope for.”
Crouch nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Alicia stared down at the table. Her lips moved but nothing came out, as if the emotion had choked her words. Seconds passed. When finally she met Drake’s gaze the s
light sheen in her eyes spoke for her.
Crouch leaned forward. “Will you join me, Alicia?”
“I will,” the Englishwoman said. “I will. But not indefinitely. My options are always open, Michael, so that if the something I’ve been looking for presents itself then I’m free to take it. I’ll also have to talk to the bikers. And SPEAR.”
Drake recognized the craving in those words, the desire that Alicia never let go. A free spirit, she would always follow the road, searching, seeking for that one thing she might never find.
A family.
“And of course you can call on her. And us. Anytime,” Crouch told Drake, and now the rest of the table who had all tuned in.
Alicia said, “You guys have been awesome. The best soldiers, the best friends. The best of everything. Even you, Mai,” she added with a laugh. “But I have to keep searching. Once a rebel always a rebel. Away with the clouds. Riding into the sunset. That’s me. Look for me at the break of dawn, the dying of the day. That will be me—saluting you.”
And she stood up, trying to hide the emotion she felt, no doubt trying to find that one last memorable quip.
“I’ll say my proper goodbyes to SPEAR. Oh, and if I could maybe interrogate Beauregard? Three or four minutes of hard work and I should get what I need.”
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Tyler Webb sat alone behind his great desk, staring out of the enormous picture window that, due to the building’s height, gave him a clear and wonderful view of the Falls. Such a grand view came at an equally grand premium, but Webb and his fellow Pythians sat on more riches than they could squander in a thousand lifetimes.
The Pythians were growing; becoming notorious, mysterious. Now they had a second layer of protection—a tier of first-degree members—each one powerful and wealthy in their own right. Not one of them knew who the puppetmasters were. Their army was growing. Security levels were extraordinary and would only increase in both physical and cyber strength. They would need the extra layers. Their recent failed operation in the heart of Washington DC was proof of that. Do-gooders were always happy to thwart them at every turn, laying their very lives in the line, for what? Glory? Duty? Certainly not power or money.
Webb didn’t understand the lower masses at all.
Webb now allowed himself the luxury of respite. Goals and ambitions flooded his mind, crowding in. It would all start with Pandora, very soon. London, Paris and Los Angeles would pay a high price. After that, more attacks would come, some covert and deep, others as obvious as the destruction of a small town. The Pythians would worm their way into the infrastructure of the world, corrupting and betraying everything until they held every string that controlled every puppet, every red button that might start a war.
And above it all one single quest. One overwhelming objective.
The greatest unsolved mystery of our time:
Le Comte De Saint Germaine.
THE END
Please read on for some exciting information on the future of the Matt Drake world.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading Matt Drake 8—Last Man Standing—as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Coyote confrontation has been a long time coming, I know, so good to get it out there. Now we can move on to bigger things!
As you can probably guess, and for those that haven’t yet checked my website, the news is that starting in December 2014 with Aztec Gold, Alicia Myles will get her own spin-off series, probably consisting of three books because, after that, a devastating event will force her to return to her SPEAR family . . .
And the biggest news yet—the next Drake, part 9, will be released in March 2015 and will be a ‘crossover’ novel, longer and bigger and more exciting than anything that has come before. The SPEAR team are joining the Disavowed and Alicia’s new crew to take on the Pythians. It may surprise you to know that I have already completed 80% of the research for this book and intend to start writing over the summer.
Chosen 2 to be released September 2014!
As ever, e-mails are always welcomed and replied to within a few days. If you have any questions just drop me a line.
Please check my website for all updates—www.davidleadbeater.com
Word of mouth is essential for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review at Amazon, even if it’s only a line or two; it makes all the difference and would be very much appreciated.
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