Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5)

by Leadbeater, David

  Smyth shook his head, offering a tight smile. “Couldn’t we just shoot one of the mothers?”

  Drake thought of the single handgun secreted in the storage bag. “That might be needed to fend off larger predators yet. That’s our last resort.”

  Smyth eyed the waters speculatively. “Larger predators? What the hell are you expecting? The Kraken?”

  “Of the non-gilled variety.” Drake smiled without humor. He took his turn at the paddles whilst Romero rested, donning the anti-glare specs and trying to ignore the smell of sweat that clung around his body. Didn’t matter how many salt-baths you took, there was no replacing good old-fashioned soap.

  The sun beat down, a harsh non-stop glare. Drake kept an eye to the skies, hoping for a brief shower, anything to top up their dwindling supplies, but there was no respite from the endless pounding of the sun’s rays. By mid-afternoon a fair bluster had whipped up, thrashing at the seas and sending several unpredictable waves their way. Drake and the two marines quit talking. There seemed no end to the monotony, no release from the torture.

  And always they tracked north, sometimes sent astray by the currents or the prevailing winds, but incessantly north. Drake realized after a while that the lack of chatter was more than worrying, it was bordering on deadly.

  “Hey!” He pushed himself to his knees and shook the other two. “Hey. Who the hell do ya think shot us down, anyway?”

  Romero snapped out of his somnolence straight away. “They told us the plane couldn’t be detected. Bullshit.”

  Drake shook Smyth again. “You alright, mate?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Smyth said irritably, coming around. “You pulled me out of a damn fine dream, man.”

  “You’re welcome,” Drake said pointedly. “Now. The North Koreans, right? Goes without saying—but what on earth do they have to hide?”

  “Are you kidding?” Smyth snorted. “They carry out nuclear tests more often than Tribune reruns Friends. Course they got something to hide.”

  Drake nodded. “Yes. But this is a secret island with links to the U.S. And they shoot us out of the sky without even gloating about it first?”

  Romero cast his gaze around. “Well once we get our asses back on land where they belong, we can all go back to being soldiers again.”

  Drake watched as the day began to diminish. A blackness began to seep down the western horizon. The north, for now, remained vivid—brilliant light shimmering around scudding clouds. The low mass out there, at first, went unnoticed, and even when Drake’s eyes focused on it, they didn’t quite comprehend what they were seeing.

  Then the message reached his brain.

  “Paddle!” he shouted, almost screamed, his throat husky and raw. “Look!”

  Romero and Smyth sprang into action, marines again, recognizing a last chance when they saw one. Drake glued his eyes firmly to the prize, spirits rising at every stroke with which they swept themselves nearer. The land mass formed into rock and a sweep of sandy beach and stands of dense trees. It felt like he held his breath the entire hour it took them to paddle there.

  By then visibility was low. But there was no mistaking the presence of hills and high rocks—the promise of safety.

  There were no expletives passionate enough for the trio as they let the boat drift finally into the shallows. Rarely had Drake felt such a sense of utter relief wash over him.

  Then he saw the black shape waiting for them, moored on the beach.

  “Oh my. . .”

  The second Zodiac. And Mai sitting cross-legged in the sand beside it, a bewildered expression on her fair face. “Drake? Where the fuck have you been?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mai helped them secure their Zodiac and then led them farther up the beach without a word. For Drake, just the simple act of stepping out of the boat onto solid ground was an indescribable heaven. He stood there a moment, watching Mai stalk away, and just reveled in the luxury.

  Romero and Smyth marched past him, shaking their heads and unable to stop smiling. Didn’t matter where they’d ended up so long as they were out of the treacherous seas.

  Drake started to walk. Something bothered him. A feeling that had leapt into his heart on seeing Mai. A feeling he shouldn’t have, something so genuine and warm it scared him.

  It took a while for Mai to reach her destination, and by then the sunlight had faded and the stars were twinkling on high. A cool breeze swept the beach and whispered through the bordering trees. Mai cut inland a little, leading them to a sheltered glade. Silvery moonlight illuminated the shelter she had crafted from tree branches, leafy plants and her Zodiac boat cover.

  “It’s not much,” Mai muttered. “But a girl can only do so much in three hours.”

  Drake walked right up to her and held her close. “Thank God,” he whispered, then, “You’ve been sitting there for three hours?”

  “Of course not. I came back down to the Zodiac for supplies, saw yours coming in and thought I’d wait and surprise you.”

  “Thank God.” Drake said again.

  “Like He had anything to do with it.”

  “God didn’t train us,” Smyth said irascibly. “The army did.”

  Mai set free a tired smile. “He’s got a point.”

  “Lighten up,” Drake said, letting the Japanese woman go. “You’ll end up with an ulcer before we’re home, mate.”

  “That’s Smyth’s one redeeming quality,” Romero said, amused. “His cheery demeanor.”

  Smyth glowered all around.

  Drake stared speculatively at the trees. “You taken much of a gander?”

  Mai shook her head. “Thought I’d get shelter and rest first. Scout around in the morning.” Her gaze swept the men. “No fires. No noise.”

  Smyth snorted. “Goes without saying.” He threw himself down on a patch of ground.

  Romero took a minute to shake hands with her. “Thanks for looking out for us.”

  Mai nodded.

  When the marine had walked away, Drake reiterated his comment. “You couldn’t have known we were out there.”

  “I didn’t. But what else was I going to do? Stay shipwrecked alone? I know you. I had hope.”

  “Shipwrecked? More like planewrecked. If the Koreans did make the decision to shoot us down like that, then they must be hiding a bloody good secret.”

  “Hibiki told us as much in his message.”

  “About a secret?” If Mai trusted Hibiki then Drake’s own faith in him was unshakeable.“That’s why we’re here officially, but I would have come just for you.”

  “I know our history, Matt.” Mai smiled, her features softening with memory. “Do you realize that we never truly split?”

  Drake led her away and sat so their backs were against a clump of thick, thorny shrub. From here they could both survey the clearing whilst their companions slept. “We didn’t?”

  “You men, you know nothing,” Mai said wistfully. “A woman. She thinks of everything. She remembers everything. Her life. . .is rounded. Full.”

  “Not everyone has that ability, Mai.” Drake brooded. “Sometimes—we’d rather forget.”

  “Perhaps. But drinking an excess of alcohol is not the way.”

  “We don’t all have your strength.”

  Now Mai regarded him curiously. “But you do. You have so much strength it sets you apart from other men.”

  Drake shook his head. “In battle. In war, maybe. My hands are drenched in so much blood it anesthetizes me against the horror of it all. But with my women”—he looked down—“I’m made weak through failure.”

  “The two you lost weren’t failures.”

  “Three,” Drake whispered, voice choked with pain. “I lost three.”

  Mai remained respectfully silent for a minute before continuing. “I’m just saying. . .it doesn’t have to be over between us.”

  “My track record. . .”

  “I’m not going to die,” Mai blurted before taking a second to evaluate their situation and the
ir livelihood. “At least, not in a way that puts the blame on you. I know the risks. I play the percentages every day. People like you and I, Drake, we’re not candles. We don’t flicker and shine and then fade away. We’re fireworks. We explode with brilliance, we blaze, we light up history and legend before quickly being snuffed out forever and probably forgotten. For pity’s sake, take a chance.”

  Drake stared at her, taken by the passion in her eyes, the commitment and depth of feeling in her expression. He glanced beyond her, at the darkness that surrounded them and what might lie beyond their insignificant refuge.

  “Let me sleep on it. Give you an answer in the morning.”

  And Mai responded instantly with a playful slap. “Fuck your damn Dinorock, you dense Yorkshire pudding. Now I know.” Her smile flickered again. “Now I know.”

  *****

  Drake drifted in and out of sleep for a few hours but was wide awake and energized when first light began to creep across the skies. The four of them checked the Zodiacs, secured them a little tighter, and then set about exploring the island. It didn’t take long. Within a couple of hours, they had traveled the entire coastline and had picked a landmark from which to venture inland. The rolling seas swept in behind them, surging across the sands and trickling in to lap at their feet as if inviting them back for another bout of Survival. They shielded their eyes and stared out to sea every chance they got, but a persistent fog bank hung in the distance, refusing to be burned off. A high mountain rose in the center of the island, its summit cracked and battered. From this angle, it looked like a crumpled paper bag.

  “Boy, do I hope we find some food in here,” Romero commented. “All I’m seeing as a source so far is fish.”

  “Oh there’ll be bugs in the trees,” Mai said, “insects in the ground. Plenty of protein to go round.”

  She set off, leaving Romero and Smyth wondering if she was serious. Drake followed her, not even sure himself. What little path there was wound about so sharply that they had to abandon it and make their own way. High trees, a leafy canopy and a wealth of intertwined branches raised the humidity and blocked their view. Twice, Mai was forced to climb trees to regain their bearings.

  On one occasion, she jumped back down and nodded at Romero. “A few birds up there too.”

  Smyth sighed at Romero. “We’ve eaten worse, sir. Remember Thailand? Jeez.”

  They skirted a lake with high banks and cool, deep water. The far side was taken up by a rushing waterfall, torrents of white water cascading down to destroy the mirror-like surface. Though the lake would provide a good place to wash and its high streams a source of drinking water, none of them paid it a second glance. They’d had their fill of water for now.

  A narrow crevice in the land caused a half-hour delay. The bottom was overgrown and treacherous, and the four soldiers were very aware that any kind of injury in this situation could be life threatening. They were careful and took their time, and came at last to the foothills of the mountain.

  The slopes were barren. The dark mouths of caves dotted the rocky walls a few hundred feet up.

  “Typhoon shelter,” Mai pointed out. She checked the position of the sun. “It’s getting toward midday. We should rest a few hours and then continue.”

  “It’s not that hot.” Smyth argued.

  “But we’re stopping anyway,” Drake said. Smyth knew dehydration and weariness were substantial dangers. The marine was just playing the bad-boy role. Mai sank to the ground with her back against a stout evergreen and cracked the top of her last bottled water. Drake dropped down beside her.

  “The concern is a lack of food,” Drake muttered. “I expected some kind of animal out here.”

  “It’s a small island,” Mai said practically. “Besides we’re only half way through the interior.”

  He fingered the small handgun, reassuring himself it was still there. “Be nice to eat real meat tonight.”

  “We could always roast Smyth.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Drake studied the tall trees, the green leaves, and the thick vegetation that covered the ground. Forest sights and sounds flittered intermittently past his consciousness; sunlight sparkled and spangled through drifting beams of light.

  “There is no immediate shelter near the beach,” Mai said. “Which means we’re going to have to move inland. Maybe even as far as the caves if nothing else arises. Nothing close to the lake offered any chance of shelter.”

  “I noticed.”

  Mai evened out the correct amount of rations. “Almost out. It’s nearly time to start thinking about snares and such.”

  Drake wasn’t so worried about the food. Between them, they were four highly proficient soldiers, trained to the highest levels. They could find food in hell if need be. What troubled him was their next move.

  “We aimed north for two days,” he said. “The current was weak. The prevailing winds were favorable. We can’t be far from the Korean shore by my estimate.”

  Mai shrugged. “Might as well be a thousand miles.”

  “Well we can’t stay here. Every day we do brings us closer to death. Survival is out of the question unless we find the mainland, Mai.”

  The Japanese agent stopped chewing and placed her hand on his arm. “Relax. You don’t have to be that Drake. The one who makes it all better. Just sit back and we’ll see where the next hour takes us. And then the next day.”

  They journeyed around the mountain and headed back into the forest.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Alicia watched the geeks at work.

  In her heart of hearts, she wished she was anywhere but here. Preferably with her own little geek. Even more preferably with some kind of meaningful life. But fate kept dealing her the Joker card and she kept playing the role. Drake valued her, she knew, and so did most of the others in their quiet way, but life for her was a rolling road to nowhere. It sure as hell wasn’t going to stop for long with this team in Washington DC.

  The security monitors showed the journalist was back. Sarah Moxley was a bloodhound. To date no one had offered up a single word, but there she was, sniffing around, testing their commitment, chasing an errant firefly that just kept flitting out of her reach. Today, Alicia felt in the mood to give her a word, probably even two.

  Still nothing from Drake. Alicia and the rest of the team had to assume their colleague had survived. The last communication said as much. The very fact it was Drake and Mai remained the biggest factor in their favor. And poor old Jonathan Gates, despite his position as the Secretary of Defense, had become embroiled in the political mess whilst constantly banging his head against a North Korean brick wall.

  Alicia sighed to herself. The deeper the secret the harder it was to take seriously. Their team still remained relatively unknown.

  She poured another coffee, her fifth of the day, and replaced the pot noisily. No one looked up. Hayden and her new poodle, Kinimaka, were poring over files sent from the local PD, folders containing information on the perp, Michael Markel, the thirty-five-year-old teacher, and the three people who had died in the botched assassination– the two bodyguards and the Senator’s aide, Audrey Smalls, and even Senator Turner himself.

  “Problem is,” Hayden was saying, “these nut jobs don’t need a reason to do what they do. We can’t simply put a pin in a reason and hope it sticks.”

  “Turner will only accept FBI protection for another twenty-four hours.” Kinimaka pointed to a nearby screen where an email had just popped up. “And that’s only out of deference to the other victims.”

  Hayden shook her head. Alicia tuned them out. Her gaze fell on Torsten Dahl, sat across the room. The Swede looked bored, anxious and pent-up all at the same time, probably reflecting her own state of mind.

  She remembered the moment of Senator Turner’s attempted assassination with vivid realism. The blank look on the killer’s face, the empty, shark-like eyes, the obvious competence with which the loner teacher, without any sign of a past record, handled
a gun.

  The answer surely lay buried in his past. Somewhere.

  Alicia drained the last of her coffee, now wired up to the max, but with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Even Komodo Trevor—as she called him—had disappeared on another errand, this time without his little girlfriend. She quickly checked her cellphone—no messages. Her biker friends from Luxembourg hadn’t been in touch for a few days now. A movement caught her eye on the security camera, and again, that bloody reporter stepped into view.

  Alicia smiled. Time to have a little fun and grab a few minutes of distraction. She slipped out of the room unnoticed and padded down the short hallway to the front door, tapped at a keypad and then let herself out into the sunshine.

  Immediately, two sets of shoulders spun toward her.

  “Miss Myles!” the female reporter was surprisingly quick. “Do you have time to comment?”

  Alicia took a moment to study her. Sarah Moxley was a tall, wiry redhead. Flowing locks fell to the small of her back. Wide eyes were hidden behind thin-framed glasses. Her every movement spoke of urgency, as if she was constantly searching for that big story that continued to elude her.

  A potentially dangerous adversary, Alicia catalogued the reporter as her training demanded. Sarah was a tiger made to look like a pussycat.

  “Why the hell are you people hanging around out here? I mean, it’s not like there’s bugger all to see.”

  The reporter advanced a step. “I’m Sarah Moxley. I work for the Post.” She proffered her ID, making Alicia smirk.

  “Miss Moxley, don’t play me for a fool. We both know who everyone is here, don’t we?” She focused on the reporter’s cameraman. “Except you, pretty boy. Anyone ever told you, you look a little like a younger Matt Damon?”

  “Alright,” Moxley said without a trace of humility. “Alicia Myles. Ex-British army. Ex rebel. New recruit. Am I right?”

  “Not even close.” Alicia stepped forward so the two of them were within touching distance. “Miss Moxley, there’s no story here. You should look elsewhere.”