“Honey, I see ex-army, ex-CIA, and a current Secretary of Defense coming and going all the time.” Moxley jerked her head quickly at the team’s new HQ. “I somehow think I’m in the right place.”
Alicia considered her reply for a moment but then decided to go true to form. “I’d tell you to kiss my arse, but I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy it, and then I’ll never get rid of you. So, for now”—she gave a little flourish—“farewell.”
Alicia pushed past the reporters and jumped into one of the pool cars. A voice command turned the engine on, and by the time she merged with the steady flow of traffic, her mind was already far away from Sarah Moxley and Washington DC, centered firmly on the whereabouts of Matt Drake and Mai Kitano and what, if anything, she could do to help them.
CHAPTER TEN
They spotted the deer midway through the afternoon. By that time, they had established there were no other people on the island, but judging by tracks, old campfires and a broken-down structure, at some point in the not too distant past, someone had visited and stayed there.
Promising, but not positively uplifting news. They had no idea who the visitors might’ve been, and no way of contacting them. The foursome had decided to head back to the beach for the night and console themselves with a small portion of their frugal rations, resolving to start setting traps and hunting the next day, when Mai had held up a hand. Shocked, because of the ease of their passage so far that day, Drake had blinked and almost tripped, but soon caught himself when he spied the deer.
It stood alert, ears pricked, nostrils sniffing the breeze. A lovely creature, it appeared far too exquisite too harm, but red meat and protein would soon become the essence of survival for them, so Drake wasted no time in ambushing and shooting the beast. They carried it back, mouths watering, and then laid its body in a patch of barren ground a good walk from their shelter.
“The blood will soak into the ground,” Smyth had said, unsheathing his knife. “No point doing it too close to home when we don’t know what it might attract.”
As darkness fell, they lit a campfire, erected a spit, and roasted the best parts of the deer. Even before it had cooled, they were feasting, fingers burned and dripping, mouths savoring the taste. Drake couldn’t remember the last time food ever tasted so good. When they had finished, they all sat around the dying campfire in a comfortable silence.
It wasn’t long before they were asleep, Drake lying close to Mai, wondering what tomorrow might bring.
*****
And as the night waxed and waned, Drake found himself half-waking and half-dreaming, all subconscious thoughts centered round Mai Kitano. It all went back to the beginning, back to when they first met.
It had been his second mission as part of the British SAS, in mid-1998. Drake had been twenty-three then, a competent, fresh, deadly special-forces soldier. Their target had been a Chechen warlord, the country’s most ruthless. Back in ’98 kidnapping was Chechnya’s major source of income, and the easy “go to” money-spinner for almost every aspiring warlord. And there were many. But Akhmad Doku ran them all—they could aspire no higher than to grace his boot with their shattered teeth. The new President Maskhadov was making things very hard for the warlords, resulting in some horrendous car bombings against official figures. Normally, the Chechen’s would solve matters from within, but Doku didn’t run his kidnapping business from inside the country; he ran it from nearby Turkey where the amenities and the lifestyle were a little more suited to his tastes.
Thus President Maskhadov had tugged at an old thread. His education had been through Oxford, his friends graduating into all kinds of business. One of them, a Commander Wells of the British SAS, had been all too happy to send an undercover team over to Istanbul to help eradicate the “Doku germ.”
So, a young Matt Drake found himself in the middle of the most chaotic city he’d ever known. And the crowds thronging the streets were nothing compared to the badly repaired houses that massed within and around the city. Space was at a premium, and when Drake saw the palatial dwelling with which the vile Chechen warlord rewarded himself, his blood ran a little hotter, his disgust a little greater. After a few days of investigating, they discovered Doku hosted a weekly party. Drake and another of the team were chosen to pose as guests.
The “prettiest” of the SAS team found themselves gliding along with other partygoers, genuine invite in hand—ripped from the dying hands of Doku’s dumbest goon—through a high, arched doorway and into the entrance hall of an ostentatious mansion. Drake didn’t like to dwell on the obvious trappings of madmen and murderers—the mock dungeon room; the sealed-off wings; the presence of armed guards; blank, staring eyes of most of the warlord’s “escorts;” or the barely concealed track marks on their forearms. Instead, he ventured as far as each sentry’s irritation would allow, creating a detailed map in his mind of every entry and egress point, every CCTV camera, every guard station, and the types and quantities of weapons they carried.
Around midnight, he found himself skirting the pool area and, though the evening had cooled a little, the clear waters were crowded with half-naked bodies. At the halfway point, he broke a promise to himself by gawking and almost fell into the pool. But it didn’t matter. Almost everyone else did the same.
The woman he later knew as Mai Kitano—she didn’t earn her nickname Shiranu until the legendary incidents of Y2K at Tokyo Coscon—emerged from the waters by way of the pool ladder. She shook her head as she climbed, sending sprays of water flying from the ends of her long black hair as it whipped around her body. The white two-piece swimsuit she wore drew attention to her perfect body, tanned, curved and flawless in every way. And whilst most people looked away quickly to preserve their decency, one man in particular stood up to get a better view.
Drake now recognized Akhmad Doku, a little, thin-faced weasel of a man who no doubt would serve mankind better as crocodile bait. He bellowed at Mai with that arrogant assurance that tyrannical leaders are known for and beckoned for his bodyguards to help her to his side—just in case she hadn’t heard. Drake watched the Japanese woman walk and was instantly sure that she knew how to handle herself. More than that, he was in no doubt that she was military trained. A plant?
He filed the incident away to report later.
The night wore on. Eventually the guests either began to drift away or fall into alcoholic comas. Doku was a benevolent host, allowing them the luxury of staying the night on his expansive deck and terrace. Drake was heading out, feigning drunkenness as the reason for his distance when the Japanese woman again stepped into his sights.
Still wearing the spectacular bikini. Her dark eyes rooted him to the spot. “I recognized you the moment I saw you.” Her voice was as soft as drifting snow.
“You know my name?” The young Drake was unnerved, still shaken by this vision.
“No, sir. I meant your type. You are army, I think. And judging by your accent, you’re a Yorkshire man. The Chechen president has a tie with your special forces, so I’m guessing SAS. Am I right?”
“I can’t—”
“Ah, but you have to. You see, tonight is the night. I’ve worked on this operation for weeks. I have planned it to the last disgusting detail. I’ll get him alone—and end his depravities permanently.”
“You’re pretty forthcoming to a man you just met.”
“No. I’m confident in my abilities, that’s all. I know you’re British army, ergo you’re with me.”
Drake cast around desperately for his colleague, but they were alone. “Look. This is a recon. I have no orders to act. I can’t be with you.”
“My philosophy has always been to take it as it comes or, in Doku’s case, more like ‘roll with the punches.’ I don’t need your help, but I could use it. And remember, after tonight, if I fail, you’ll never get near him again.”
She was right. Drake looked at her and saw the expression of a woman—and an agent—who never failed. He made a quick decision. “What do you need?”
*****
Drake awoke the next morning a little disorientated. The island breeze had chilled his exposed skin; the dreams of Mai had confounded his judgment. It took a little while to remember that he was marooned on an uninhabited island somewhere off the coast of Korea, rather than inside a warlord’s house in Istanbul.
When Romero and Smyth marched into his field of vision, kicking at the embers of the dead fire and staring out to sea, he climbed to his feet and stretched out his aching joints.
“Old man,” Mai said as she jumped up, “old bones popping like cheap bubble wrap.”
Drake gave her the dead eye and then laughed. “Don’t you start. Alicia’s usually the one with the piss take.”
Mai stared out at the rolling grey ocean. The perpetual mist still hung at the horizon, dimming the light of the rising sun. “We need a team to set traps and a team to explore those caves for shelter and surprises. Once that’s done, we need to get our heads together and figure out what we’re going to use to signal passersby.”
They all eyed the mist and the empty sea dubiously. Mai shrugged. “We have to try.”
Smyth growled at nothing. “The caliber of passersby around these parts might not be to our liking.”
Romero nodded. “Sure thing. Now let’s get these traps up and running. You two okay exploring?”
Drake nodded and shook the lethargy away. Safe they might be, but they could not live for long on a desert island. “Keep an eye to that horizon,” he said in parting. “It’s still our best way of getting home.”
Mai stepped lightly ahead as if embarking on a long-anticipated day trip. She used the path they had followed the day before—not so much a real path as a makeshift route that twisted and turned and occasionally doubled back. She moved quietly, aware of the surrounding wildlife and their potential next meal. Drake rubbed his eyes and stared up through the green canopy. The skies were blue up there, studded with drifting clouds. Birds flitted across the roof of the world, chasing dreams that danced among gusts of air. They were a long way from Washington DC, and a lifetime away from Hawaii and the other tombs of the gods. How life could change in a matter of weeks. His body seemed fine, but he was beginning to wonder if his mind needed to catch up. The strain had been terrible since Kennedy died. What they all needed was some down time—some good old-fashioned R and R.
He sighed aloud. Maybe next year.
Mai glanced back. “You bored?”
“A little.” Drake shook off the gloom and tried to be positive. “Maybe we’ll find an old fighter plane that we can fix and fly to Australia?”
Mai ignored him. It didn’t take long to travel into the interior and find the foothills of the mountain. They stared for a few minutes at the small, dark holes that dotted the rising cliff face.
Then Mai was beside him, about a head shorter, pinning him with an intense gaze. “You think this is fate, Matt?”
“It could be just bad luck.”
“There’s an old Japanese proverb—to wait for luck is the same as waiting for one’s death. We make our own luck, my old friend.”
“I got one too. Make the best of a bad job. Not sure if it comes from the motherland, but it hits the nail on the head, I think.”
“So you still have nothing to offer? I didn’t stay in Washington for you. I stayed for the team and for a better life. For a chance of slipping away from my agency. They’d use me until they got me killed. You know that.”
Drake gripped the bridge of his nose. “I know. You did the right thing, no question.” He hesitated to touch her, though every fiber of his being wanted the contact. “I’m not one to fritter my chances away, Mai. . .”
She turned on a heel and started to make her way toward the caves.
Drake took a deep breath and followed more slowly, his mind whirling with memory.
*****
“What do I need?” The bikini-clad Mai had laughed at him. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Being undercover this long. . . it makes a girl want to address her values. Or at least take a week long shower. So, soldier boy, what’s your name?”
“Drake,” he said without thinking. “Matt Drake.”
“Ah, as in Bond. James Bond. I like it.”
“Well, it has been mentioned. . .”
“You want to take me to bed?”
Drake gawped. “Sorry?”
“To his bed. He’s waiting whilst I slip into something more comfortable.”
Drake took in the white bikini yet again. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s not true,” Mai said with a wicked grin. “But in the interests of expediency, I’ll explain. Doku is a freak, a murderer, a pervert and an international terrorist. To you I imagine he’s just a kidnapper, but that’s enough. Right now he’s lying naked on his bed, hands fake-tied, expecting me to climb the walls to his balcony and accost him whilst he’s helpless.”
Drake shook his head. “What the fu—?”
“It’s called role play. You’ve never tried it?”
“Not like that.”
“Well, I’m Japanese. I’ve done my fair share. Anyway, I can take him out. I can take his guards out. No problem. But to escape alive, I need a diversion.” She paused expectantly.
“But why tonight?” Drake suddenly asked, catching up quickly. “You’ve been undercover for so long. Why now?”
“For the same reason you’re here. Doku’s become more than a simple embarrassment to his country. And this party at least helps hide the origin of his killers. We won’t get a better chance, Matt Drake.”
“If he’s the kind of man you say,” Drake said, “he’ll have CCTV even in his room. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” Mai presented a silver key. “Plan A—kill Doku and destroy the CCTV room. Plan B—just kill Doku and fuck it. You okay with that?”
“Where the hell did the key come from?”
Mai smiled. “A place close to my heart. Now—you ready?”
The Japanese woman leapt lithely onto a nearby marble balustrade. Drake wanted nothing more than to stay and flirt with her for the rest of the night, but forced himself to admit that it just wasn’t going to happen. Mai was already grabbing hold of a first-floor balcony, lithe legs swinging, body straining. Drake shot up after her, only then remembering to examine the courtyard and grounds below. The coast was clear, luckily for him, but he had an inkling that Mai had been scouting their surroundings even as she explained her plan.
Some woman, he thought admiringly. There was a woman coming through the ranks of the army, aspiring to the SAS or similar by the name of Myles who the guys were all whispering about. Maybe they were from the same mold.
Mai bounded up the wall. Drake followed. Time stopped for him as she disappeared over a balcony, but she reappeared within five seconds, beckoning furiously. Drake scrambled up the remaining few feet.
And landed softly on the other side, facing a partially open patio door. Through the flimsy drapes, he could see the figure of a man laid out on the bed, a man who could be heard laughing through a silk blindfold and gag.
Mai’s eyes twinkled. “Guess what he’s about to get.” She twirled and tapped on the glass. “Oh, hi. Well who’s this fine specimen? All trussed up and so helpless.”
Drake watched as the crazy agent strutted up to the bed and straddled the lightly bound man. She actually looked like she was enjoying herself. For a moment he watched, spellbound, then remembered.
He had a job to do. Feeling a little like fresh meat being led to the kill, he leapt from balcony to balcony until he reached the backside of the house. Then, he started to smash glass and throw patio furniture about until it splintered. He shouted and screamed until lights started to come on, not just where he was but all around the house. After a minute or so, he proceeded back, smashing the tall glass doors and on one occasion elbowing one of the shocked guests back into their room.
It didn’t take much to cause a distraction. Just noise and an ex
ample of violent intent.
By the time he returned to Doku’s balcony, Mai was already throttling the life out of the Chechen kidnapper. Drake moved quickly, expecting the door to be kicked in a moment before it actually was.
Three guards shoved inside, eyes registering shock at the scene that greeted them, but no real surprise. Drake understood. Doku was a weirdo. But then the guards saw Drake and brought their weapons quickly to bear.
Too late. Drake crushed the first’s larynx with a palm chop, damaged the second’s eyes with a two-finger strike, and incapacitated the third by head-butting his nose almost through the back of his skull.
Mai landed deftly beside him. “Not bad, soldier boy. But I could teach you a trick or two. You ready?”
“For what?”
“Me!” She leapt into his arms, screaming hysterically.
Drake got the idea. With a swiftness born of excitement and determination, he barged his way out the door and into the brightly lit hallway. Mai spun in his arms and kicked the door shut behind them. “That way!”
Drake carried the sobbing girl past a gaggle of guards, threading a path through milling guests and inebriated hangers-on, listening hard as Mai mumbled directions into his chest. It wouldn’t be long before Doku’s men found them and then the game would be up.
Mai screamed a bit too loud. Drake squeezed her hard. “Careful.”
“Ooo, I like that. But, my new friend, we’re here.”
“Oh.” Drake dropped her and faced a solid wooden door. Mai used the key. The lock turned. Within half a second, they were inside. Several banks of monitors greeted them, all with live video feed. Of course, many were hooked up to the private rooms, but just as many scanned the common rooms and the grounds.
Mai produced a matchbook. Drake stared at her, but didn’t dare ask. Her sinful smile said it all. She picked up a chair and proceeded to smash every screen in sight. Drake followed suit. It wouldn’t completely disable a state-of-the-art security system, but it would incapacitate it long enough for them to escape. Mai exited the room, flicking a match. Drake tried to keep up. The corridor stretched both ways before them, empty for now.
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