Ben thought about all that. Drake tapped the aid on the shoulder. “You’re sending in teams to rescue her. Just like that?”
“Yes. Very important we get her back. Huge case. Just huge. Might be the CIA’s biggest case ever. She - Hayden - has information. Also, we think two other agents might be alive. Massive Mano and Godwin.”
“What case?” Ben was asking as Drake evaluated his next move. Time was key here.
“The Blood King. Some huge underworld figure everyone thought was a goddamn myth. Turns out, he’s real. He’s tied to Blackbeard’s ship and the salvage operation through the object we found.”
“The one that explains the Bermuda-”
Drake shouted. “Let’s go hitch a ride!”
Before even Justin Harrison could utter another word they were racing down the corridor.
*****
Drake hit speed-dial in mid-flight and got hold of Wells. “There’s at least one Delta Force or SEAL team mobilising right now for an operation in the Florida Everglades. We need to be on that flight.”
He snapped shut before Wells could speak. The lift plummeted at high speed. “Hope they’re inbound from Miami,” he said and shrugged. Time would tell.
Outside they flagged a cab and told it to head for the nearest Helipad.
“Ocean Beach or the Dade county airport?” the lazy drawl came back.
“Dade county,” Drake urged and the cab shot off.
Busy roads and busy shops surrounded them. Palm trees swayed this way and that as if leaning into a lovers’ embrace. The hot glare and shimmer of the sun made him wish he’d remembered to pack a pair of sunglasses. Just one pair. Sherlock, he wasn’t.
Within ten minutes his mobile belted out an old Dinorock tune. “Wells?”
“A private helipad on the Rickenbacker Causeway. Signs say it’s an animal sanctuary or something. It is, but it’s owned by the government. Get me?”
“Got you. Speak soon.”
Drake relayed their new destination to the taxi driver who grunted and shook his head. The word tourists probably crossed his lips. Drake’s mobile rang again.
“Yes?” He answered shortly without thinking.
“Be nice, my friend, you might like what I have to offer.”
The cultured tones again made him boomerang back in time. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Well, you actually sound disappointed.”
“Listen, I can’t speak right now.” Drake was uncomfortably aware of the cab’s close confines. “Call you back later.” He jabbed at the disconnect button, inwardly disgusted with himself.
Kennedy was giving him the eye. “What gives, Matt?”
“Nothing. We’re here.” Drake hardened his thoughts and flexed his muscles. When the causeway came into view and the cab stopped Drake only had to give their names.
One of the SEAL team commanders came over to him personally. “Good to have you with us, Drake. Everyone knows what you did in Iceland. You’re welcome, but . . . ” his dubious gaze swivelled to include Ben and Kennedy.
“Same crew who fucked Abel Frey,” Drake told him.
The SEAL-team commander nodded in respect. “Then we’re ready.”
It was almost time for war.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hayden found herself with a little time on her hands. Ed Boudreau had become absorbed with his boss as he tried to resolve several problems. Hayden again found herself amazed at the subservient tone this madman employed when dealing with his superior. Could anyone really be that scary?
Sprawled and broken before her cell lay Wyatt Godwin. Father of three. Surfer. Regular at the Cheesecake Factory over at Coconut Grove. Husband.
Hayden looked away before raw emotion stalled her brain. Kinimaka was staring at her.
“This Blood King,” the big Hawaiian rumbled. “He don’t seem all that mythical to me.”
“If that’s him,” Hayden motioned with her head, “on the phone. I’m thinking I really don’t wanna meet him.”
“Tough dude, that Boudreau,” Kinimaka smiled wistfully. “Not too tough though. His fear - it will undo him.”
Hayden started at her colleague, not normally known for his poetic outbursts. “Is that a Hawaiian proverb, or something?”
Kinimaka laughed like a whale snoring. “Just because I’m a native and follow the traditional ways doesn’t mean I quote scripture, Hayden. What I mean is, it will make him careless by dividing his attentions. That will give us our chance.”
“I hope so. You know, all this could have been averted if the damn device hadn’t been hauled up from Blackbeard’s ship on National TV. What a fiasco.”
Kinimaka shrugged. “They don’t know where it is. Or what it does.”
Hayden stared. “I’m not so sure, Mano. Look what the maniac’s done so far. Tortured and killed a CIA team. Launched a massive assault on American soil. Set up at least one high-tech HQ. This all speaks of unbelievable resources and madness. And obsession. The worst kind.”
“So this is, like, the tip of the iceberg?” Kinimaka looked genuinely shocked.
“Exactly.”
Hayden heard Boudreau’s voice getting closer and clammed up. In another minute the man’s hard, chiselled face was pressed back up against the bars. “My apologies.”
“Getting your orders, hey Ed?” Hayden tried a different tactic. “Whilst pissing your pants.”
Boudreau’s face didn’t even crack. Indeed, he appeared to agree with her. “You don’t know what this guy can do. He is one motherfucking scary bastard, believe me.” Then, he seemed to remember where he was and who he was speaking to.
“Get that bitch outta that cage!” The snarl was aimed at his men who leapt as if they’d been bitten by a rabid monkey. Hayden braced herself as they came at her, fighting back, but her head-butt was expected and her kicks were easily avoided. Within a minute Hayden had been dragged out of the cage and was facing Boudreau, so close she could smell the evil that clung to him like a poisoned shroud. She could smell his sweat, his lust, his veiled terror.
He was a millimetre way, the blood-crusted blade between them, touching both their faces. But Hayden clung on to sanity with one optimistic thought.
The guards had been moving so fast, and so reactively, that they hadn’t locked the cage behind them. She had to hope Kinimaka had realised too and was preparing his move.
“I was told to send an overwhelming force at you, Jaye. Twenty-one men, against a crack CIA team of six. You never stood a chance.”
“Maybe that also had something to do with you knowing our safe-house codes.”
Boudreau shrugged. “Maybe. I was told to hammer our point across. I think I succeeded.”
“That was about sending a message?” Hayden shook her head. “To the CIA? On American soil? That’s not hammering a point, Boudreau, that’s clinical insanity.”
“Blackbeard’s ship, and the device they salvaged,” Boudreau whispered. “Tell me about it or we’ll see how your nose looks on the floor.”
Hayden swallowed silently, and then indicted the massive array of computer terminals and other hi-tech gadgets around the room. “Looks to me like you have all the resources you need.”
“We do,” Boudreau sighed. “We’re just being thorough. You know the drill.”
She did. She watched the blade as it swayed before her. Her chance was getting close, but it needed to be sheer split-second madness and dumb luck. Then Boudreau said something that almost knocked her backwards.
“You need to tell us what you know about the second device too. The controller.”
Hayden’s face, unfortunately, said it all.
“Nothin’.” Boudreau looked satisfied. “That’s all we needed.”
He thrust the knife at her. Through luck or impeccable design Kinimaka chose that precise second to make his move. Roaring like a charging polar bear he smashed through the cage door into the guards stationed on the other side. Bodies flew and crashed everywhere. Bones broke and computers and m
etal tables smashed to the ground and into the walls. Wire and modems and half-empty cups of coffee scattered across the rough concrete floor.
Boudreau’s knife flicked away from Hayden’s ribs when a guard collided with him. Hayden leapt forward, bringing her forehead down hard onto the bridge of his nose and, as he fell, slid her strapped wrists along the length of his knife blade.
The plastic snapped. Her hands were free. She cast around, brain sharp, knowing that in the melee there would be more than one discarded weapon. Kinimaka was bulldozing everything in sight. Desks, garbage cans, computer geeks and mercenaries. They fled before him like debris before a mega-flood.
A light machine-gun caught her eye. She twisted away from Boudreau’s sudden lunge and skidded on her knees, grabbing the weapon in mid-slide.
Turned, already firing, instinctively knowing the positions of her enemies.
The bullets struck true. A group of guards pin-wheeled in all directions, spraying blood like liquid confetti through the air. Kinimaka ducked, but barged on, and now Hayden realised that he was clearing a path to the door.
The way was open!
Hayden ran, seeing daylight. Then Boudreau rose up in her path, a mountain of murderous intent and inbred evil, leering at her whilst licking the coagulated blood from his knife.
Boudreau thrust high. Hayden slid low. The blade nicked the edge of her forehead, leaving a red furrow. She was up in less than a second, firing to cover Kinimaka, firing at the other soldiers blocking their escape, wishing just one of those bullets could have been saved for Boudreau, one of the most sadistic and dangerous men she had ever met.
*****
Outside, the intense heat of the Everglades hit her. The contrast from concrete to forested greenery gave her a moment’s pause. Then Kinimaka was bellowing and she saw his great bulk bent down beside an airboat.
Sensing the immediate pursuit she put her head down and flew across the ground. Bullets pinged the air and struck hard bark around her. With a desperate effort she slewed to Kinimaka’s side, making the home run before the shortstop even knew she was there.
The airboat fired up. Kinimaka leapt on board and dragged her after him like a sack of meal. Her head hit the safety cage, but with nothing more than a glancing blow. Nevertheless, blood sprayed the deck of the flat-bottomed boat. Kinimaka swivelled the stick that controlled the vertical rudders and the airboat shot off, its low sides already riddled with bullets.
“Damn.” Hayden saw the three airboats they had left behind. “They’ll be chasing us, Mano. You ever pilot one of these things before?”
His blank look gave her a quick insight. His words “I’m Hawaiian,” gave her the answer.
“Don’t worry. Just stay in the middle of the channel.”
The river here was wide and the banks were carpeted in short grass, with trees beyond. Kinimaka threw the airboat through curve after curve and Hayden kept an eye out for pursuit. At first she saw nothing, but after a few minutes she heard the tell-tale whine of approaching airboats.
“Step on it, Mano.”
“I think all these things go the same speed, boss. But then, I guess, I ain’t really too sure.”
Mano, being Mano. Hayden held on tight and watched their rear. She also watched the banks for any signs of life or alternative routes. So far, nothing jumped out at her.
“They’re gaining, Mano,” she said tightly as the first airboat started to close behind them. “We need a Plan B.”
CHAPTER SIX
Drake met the eyes of the SEAL team as they flew towards the Everglades and their final destination. He knew what lay behind those flat, appraising stares. A slab of respect, a slice of estimation, and a complex topping of unease.
They had heard he was good, probably from their own colleagues, but would he fit with them. And, in a dick-swinging contest, could they take him?
“Answer’s no,” he said to the youngest, the one with eager glints. “Not until at least 2020.”
“I was goin’ to ask ya ‘bout Alicia Myles,” the boy drawled with a big grin. “She really the wildcat y’all talkin’ about?”
Drake took a breath. “Wouldn’t know,” he said diplomatically. “We lost track . . . right after she tried to kill me.”
“Heard she did a pretty good job,” the lad snickered. “And that you lost track as thanks for her not murderin’ you.”
“She’s good,” Drake said, refusing to be baited whilst Hayden’s life hung in the balance. “And she’s not been seen for a while, kid. Let’s leave it at that.”
The chopper now banked sharply and Drake began to see a lot of green below. Rivers and tributaries sprawled and meandered in random patterns. Flocks of birds took to the air.
The pilot looked around. “Five minutes.”
Drake steeled himself. Ben, at his side, was clenching both hands into fists, his face drip white with worry. Kennedy’s face was set in a stony glare, daring anyone to challenge her.
“Ready.”
The chopper swooped low, aiming straight for a ramshackle hodgepodge of buildings. Rappel lines were dropped. The SEAL team slithered down with professional swiftness, all out in less than a minute. Drake and his companions waited for the chopper to land, frustrated but knowing that the team knew its business.
The chopper landed with a mini thud. Drake leapt straight out the door. Cross-winds from the rotor blades battered him. Long grass whipped at his ankles. They were met by the SEAL team leader.
“Cleared out,” he said, but his eyes were dark.
“What else?” Drake clenched his teeth.
“CIA agent, dead inside.”
Ben gasped.
“Godwin,” the SEAL commander said, with murder in his voice. He pointed behind Drake.
“Looks like they cleared out in a hurry, most likely using airboats. They were probably chasing our men.”
Drake started walking. “Let’s go get ‘em.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hayden found herself flung to the deck as Kinimaka yanked the airboat’s stick and swerved past a dangerous, reedy bank. She struggled to her knees, bleeding, scraped raw in more places than she could count. Her hair would never be the same. Bullets from their pursuers peppered the airboat’s sides and skimmed and whined around them.
Enemy shouts and jeers carried on the wind, making her grit her teeth as she heard threats she would rather die before enduring.
She saw the channel ahead narrowing drastically. Kinimaka threaded the needle, waterspouts shooting up beside and behind the vehicle. Hayden saw big gators disturbed and twisting away in anger as they passed.
Where the hell were they going?
“Bearings?” She shouted above the harsh roar of engine, wind and weaponry.
The big Hawaiian frowned. “Eh? Nah, there’d be more of a squeal if the bearings had gone.”
“I mean do we have a heading?”
“Away from those bastards!” Kinimaka jerked a thumb behind as more light machine-gun fire preceded the popping and strafing of surrounding water.
The Hawaiian made the water surge as he negotiated another chicane. The airboat clipped the head of a small island and skipped free of the water for a second before landing with a crash and powering on. Hayden and Kinimaka made big eyes at each other.
“Shit!”
Hayden determined she should stay quiet and took a fleeting look back. She had decided that, unless their pursuers got any closer, she wasn’t going to waste ammo on speeding targets.
Three airboats were tailing them, packed with bad guys. Trouble was, they knew the waters. Kinimaka didn’t. It was only a matter of time before one of them recognised a short cut.
Even now she could hear Boudreau’s voice, manic, a banshee chasing her along the dark and bloody byways of hell.
Then Mano hit a partially submerged island. The airboat took flight, engine roaring. Water slewed from its side and rudders in white sheets. Hayden had half a second to hear cheering from behind and then the airb
oat struck the shallows like a pregnant hippo.
Hard.
She was instantly propelled forward and tucked her head and limbs in as best she could. Still, when she hit the ground the jolt jarred every bone in her body.
For a moment she was stunned. Then Kinimaka splashed down beside her like Shamu and drenched her with half the local water table.
She struggled onto her knees, partially submerged. The machine-gun was nowhere to be seen. She clapped Kinimaka about the ears, knowing she could never drag him up the sloping banks. After a moment his shaggy head came up, gasping for air.
“Thank God.”
Amazingly, they were both intact. The airboat was roaring crazily, lying on its side nearby and completely unusable. Hayden surveyed the reeds and the bank. Their only hope was to climb.
At that moment the three chasing airboats came into view. One of them hit the same island that fooled Kinimaka. The vehicle took off. Men and weapons flew into the air. Hayden scrambled out of the way, yelling at Kinimaka to follow. As she scooted clear she heard splashes all around her.
Machine-guns dropping. Kennedy reached for one and prepped it. Kinimaka made ready with another. Men were now dropping all around them. Splashes and grunts and the sound of breaking bones filled the air. When a man showed more signs of life than feeble movement Kinimaka fired a bullet into him.
Hayden turned and started to scramble through the shallow water. She sloshed among the weeds, tramping desperately upwards towards the drier bank. At that moment there was a huge eruption of water and one of Boudreau’s men rose up before her. His small revolver was levelled between her eyes and his twisted smile showed he had gotten lucky with the crash and decided to lie in wait.
Time stopped.
Kaleidoscopic images of stolen moments and regrets flashed through her brain: an old picture reel of a life of never-ending experiences. The man’s finger tightened on the trigger . . . Kinimaka was a world away, and screaming in frustration . . .when the fifteen-foot-long gator struck the man mid-torso.
The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake 2) Page 3
