Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona

by David Leadbeater

  Hayden continued, “So, Ramses is trying to orchestrate the biggest event of his entirely unpleasant career. The world is a very large place and these people certainly have ways of communication we don’t yet know about. They could stage something like this and, believe me, we want them to. We just have to be there when it happens.”

  A soft knock at the door brought them all around. Before Hayden could utter a word it opened and a lithe figure entered the room, sending the place into a state of shock. Drake felt his jaw hit the floor and glanced across at Dahl, wondering what they should do. Yes they were inside one of the safest buildings in the world, but this man was an enemy and working for the Pythians.

  Wasn’t he?

  Dahl gawped back at him. It took a long moment before anyone found their voice.

  Smyth snorted loudly. “What the hell are you doing here, you asshole?”

  “I am sorry, my friends,” the figure said, moving swiftly. “But your Ramses will have to wait. I don’t have long and I have a far, far bigger problem to lay upon you. No pun intended, of course. You’re going to have to move and move fast if America is to survive.”

  Hayden audibly gulped. “S-Survive?” she stammered. “What are you talking about?”

  “The return of the dark ages,” came the answer. “We’re all about to die. Will you hear me out?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Drake peered around the lithe figure.

  “Alicia with you?”

  “Ah, sadly not. She is chasing Hercules, I believe. That girl cannot live a day without a man in her life. But perhaps you will see her soon, no?”

  Drake shrugged. He could see from the periphery of his vision that the others had Beauregard well covered, but past memories stung almost as much as the bruises that had been inflicted. The Frenchman was one slippery character.

  But there was one overbearing question . . .

  “You do realize this is the Pentagon?” Dahl asked it first. “How . . .”

  Beauregard allowed a self-assured smile to play across his lips. “My boss called your boss,” he said. “You know how it goes.”

  “I had a call,” Hayden said. “From Robert Price. He explained that an informant would be dropping by this morning but he never said it would be this guy.”

  “Wait. Wait.” Drake squeezed his eyes shut. “Your boss called Robert Price? Don’t you work for the Pythians?”

  Beauregard only smiled.

  The SPEAR team tensed. If the Secretary of Defense had allowed this man into their midst then perhaps he was as corrupt as had once been intimated. Drake knew that Hayden was trying to quietly investigate the new Secretary but had barely had time to breathe during the last few months. Something would give . . . he just wondered how bad it would be when it did.

  Beauregard then sat down and spread his hands wide. “I would love to spin this out longer,” he said. “The indecision on all your faces is worth my time. But sadly it is not worth the country’s time, and real lives. So I will tell you this—I work for a good guy and I am in deep cover. The time is fast approaching when the Pythians will self-destruct, a fact mostly down to their leader who is about as stable as a Greek bank. You will all need a man on the inside when that happens.”

  Drake didn’t move a muscle. “Who do you work for?”

  “That is his secret to tell, not mine. But now, I am here. Will you listen?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Smyth barked. “I still have the scars from our last little chat.” The ex-soldier made a menacing move forward.

  Beauregard only raised a brow. “Forget it. I got lucky.” The smirk in his eyes told them he didn’t believe that for a second.

  Dahl also advanced. “Me and you,” he said. “Right now, on the Pentagon lawn. I’ll show you lucky.”

  Drake rubbed his face. “Just calm down will you? The man says he has information on a credible threat. Let’s hear him out before we cave his fucking face in.”

  Beauregard nodded slightly. “That’s kind of you. One of the Pythians—a mega-wealthy developer named Nicholas Bell—has been constructing a plan that could shake America to the core. It is two-pronged. On the one hand it involves the recently appropriated, Chinese created Z-boxes. On the other, and at the same time, he plans to find the ghost ships of Arizona.”

  Drake eyed the Frenchman for almost a minute, trying to gauge his sincerity. In the end the point was wholly moot. Beauregard was here now, talking, trying to make them listen. And inside the Pentagon. Drake doubted there was an ulterior motive.

  What kind of madman would invent such a story and then tell it to a Special Forces team inside the most secure building on earth?

  The leader of the Pythians, Drake thought, keeping his guard high. That’s who. It’s gonna be a dark day when bloody Tyler Webb finally implodes.

  Beauregard locked eyes with him. “I have information on both attacks, and it can’t wait anymore. Seriously. They are imminent, yes? Imminent.”

  “Get the fuck on with it then,” Smyth said. “So we can boot your ass outta here.”

  “Did you know Tyler Webb was in DC?” Beauregard asked quietly of Smyth. “Did you know that, pretty boy?”

  Smyth rose fast, but it was Lauren who blocked him. Something passed between them and Smyth backed down, but the hatred emanating from his gaze was palpable.

  “We suspected Webb was in the DC area,” Hayden said. “Due to the intimacy and escalation of the stalkings.”

  “He is worse than you could ever imagine,” Beauregard said. “I was security once, when he chose to visit your house, Miss Jaye. I only saw brief moments but I would be sure to burn all your underwear. And you—” he nodded at Kinimaka. “As I’m sure you know it is relatively easy to install an undetectable bug these days, especially for a man of means. Do you want the world’s foremost madman knowing your location twenty-four-seven? Check everything.”

  Mano nodded, chewing his lip now and probably thinking of Kono. Drake maneuvered Beauregard back to the point at hand.

  “You mentioned a severe lack of time?”

  “Yes. Nicholas Bell—the builder—has come up with something particularly nasty. It is his turn to destroy the world, it seems. His roll of the dice. First, his fascination with the ghost ships is a long-standing one. Only recently did he figure out how they could benefit the Pythians, and then he put his plan to Webb. It is their content you see, pun intended, though you will not understand as yet. Bell is . . .” Beauregard paused.

  Lauren leaned forward. “Torn? Hesitant?”

  “I was going to say a ditherer. Wooly-headed, I believe the English might say.”

  “Lauren thinks he can be turned,” Hayden said.

  Beauregard frowned. “I haven’t thought about him in such a way, but maybe. Though the timing would be critical, and soon. Your choice. But let me continue.”

  “I wish you would,” Kinimaka said. “These ghost ships sound kinda mysterious. Not to mention scary.” He smiled. “We all gonna get haunted, Frenchman?”

  Beauregard didn’t smile this time. “The stories run deep over in the western states. Entire ships that appear at night and vanish by day. Drowned by the sands. Creaking they pass by, their sails motionless. Such a sight would make even you shiver in your boots, I am sure. Even the Native Americans told stories of them. Legends. Sightings span hundreds of years and still persist today. Do you want to know more?”

  The entire SPEAR team leaned forward.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Stories of the ghost ships began around the time of the American Civil War. We have the great Colorado River flood of 1862. The Los Angeles Daily News reported a sighting in 1870. The Gulf of California was once connected to what is now called the Salton Sea, once the enormous Lake Cahuilla, most of which dried up. Half-buried hulks, they saw. Some near Dos Palmas, California. Others near Yuma, Arizona. Easily viewed, they said, but when expeditions were sent out to salvage the vessels they had once again sunk beneath the drifting sands. It is be
lieved that any ships out there might now be buried under the Salton Sea, but such beliefs, long held, are often proved wrong, especially in the modern age. Nicholas Bell, at least, believes this.”

  “Any idea which ships they might be?” Dahl asked.

  “A good question and the answer is yes. But, alas, as fascinating as they may be, the ships are but a diversion in this room today. Webb is using them as a distraction for his fellow Pythians for two reasons. One, because he knows Bell will have to be dealt with and will thus divide his enemy’s forces. And two, because he is nose-diving, crashing at an alarming rate and doesn’t want them to see where he’s headed. His justification for allowing Bell to search for the ships is the new fortune their treasures will bring.”

  Drake cleared his throat. “You mentioned that this is a two-pronged plan? And hey, what the hell happened to your French accent?”

  Beauregard raised a brow but didn’t look like he wanted to over-explain himself. After a moment he carried on. “I did. Bell’s plan is to salvage the ghost ships at the same time as using the Z-boxes to take down the US.”

  “Take down the US?” Hayden repeated. “That is a bold statement, Beauregard.”

  “It is. And it will only be a warning shot across the bows. A statement of intent. It will take the form of an attack upon the United States’ electrical grid and will bring the deepest fear to millions. An uprising? No. Anarchy? No. But the government will have the struggles of a nation on its hands and will be hard pressed. Remember the New York blackout? The only people who enjoyed that night were very drunk.”

  “Or criminals,” Kinimaka said.

  Beauregard spread his hands wide. “You said it. Since your last escapade and the demise of Webb’s lieutenant, Dudley, he has changed tactics, instead preferring to flood his ranks with dumb, violent mercenaries. This—and everything else they have going on—will put a strain on even the Pythians’ finances, hence the other major reason for the ghost ship hunt. There are new Pythians now, too.” Beauregard shook his head in disbelief. “A man named Julian Marsh from the UK. A woman named Zoe Sheers. And one more I do not yet know. They too have big plans and are almost as dangerous as Webb. But that man—” Beauregard paused.

  “The bugger’s as cracked as crazy paving?” Drake offered. “Barmy enough to bite ‘is own arm off?”

  Dahl waved away Beauregard’s confused expression. “He’s from Yorkshire.”

  “Well, if you mean dangerously mad then that is a poor description for Webb. I would say clinically insane enough to organize Armageddon for fun. He is trying to prove his . . .” The Frenchman struggled for words. “His godship. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, lad.” Drake nodded. “Some of us may look daft and Swedish but we’re not all stupid.”

  “I still believe Nicholas Bell has bitten off more than he can chew,” Lauren said again. “He was nice to me. He could be an ally.”

  Smyth made a noise like an approaching thunderstorm. Beauregard cut in. “As I mentioned, they have boosted their forces already. They will hit hard and bluntly, not caring about casualties on either side. They have two Z-boxes left and intend to use them. I’m thinking multiple, simultaneous attacks. I do not know the exact way Bell or Webb will try using the Z-boxes to attack the electrical grid but I assure you, unless stopped, they will do so.”

  “We have one Z-box,” Hayden said. “And we’re trying to decode it even now.”

  “It will not be in time, Miss Jaye. All I know is they need access to three US substations and the game—as they say—is already on.”

  Drake absorbed that. He was no expert on any kind of electrical grid but he knew country-wide substations had to number in the thousands.

  “And I’m guessing you know which ones?”

  “No.” Beauregard looked glum. “I only know the first because that’s where they’re headed now, why I quickly broke cover, and why we have little to no time. It’s Almaden, in San Jose, in California.”

  “When will they hit?” Hayden was already reaching for the phone.

  “Tonight.”

  “But what’s their goal?” Karin broke her deep silence with an intelligent question. “I would imagine that the Almaden substation is a big facility. What exactly are they looking for inside there?”

  Beauregard again spread his hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Crap.” Smyth clucked. “What fuckin’ good are ya?”

  “I have my uses,” Beauregard returned. “As others have discovered. Perhaps this will endear me to you too.”

  “I’d have to fight you first,” Dahl said seriously. “In proper light. Just to see what kind of style you actually employ.”

  “What the toff’s trying to say is you’re a bloody tricky twat,” Drake said amiably. “And we don’t take loss or defeat lightly.”

  “Understood. I will look forward to the day. In the meantime . . .” Beauregard rose to his feet. “Oh, and remember one thing,” he added. “Tyler Webb is utterly desperate for one thing and only thing only. He calls it the Saint Germain factor and it is the only reason he invented the Pythians. To achieve this goal he will literally burn the world down, not caring that he might die in the process. Often I have heard him talking to himself and he says this over and over: I don’t care if I am the last man on earth. The way he talks—he is not just waffling. He truly believes that the prospect is real.”

  “Which begs the question—what about the Saint Germain factor could help achieve that state?” Karin said.

  Then Hayden cut in quickly. “Wheels up in ten, guys. We’re headed west. Get your butts and your guns into gear. You coming with us, Beauregard?”

  “If I did so I would lose everything that I have worked for.”

  Hayden nodded in understanding, then glanced around the rest of the team who were still staring suspiciously at the Frenchman.

  “C’mon, guys. Move it!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Drake made ready as the Gulfstream II streaked through the clouds at forty two thousand feet, travelling around five hundred miles per hour. Endlessly modifiable and used by entities no less than NASA, the Missile Defense Agency, the CIA and John Travolta, it offered everything a frontline team like SPEAR needed. Drake made use of the weapons cache, the shower and then the onboard buffet, finally settling in his single leather seat somewhere over Kentucky. Hayden reported that both she and Kinimaka were talking to the Californian authorities over the substation threats but that all was quiet so far. Perhaps tonight wasn’t the night. Or perhaps Beauregard was full of . . .

  Drake heard Hayden urging vigilance and telling a clearly irate individual that they’d soon be there to take charge.

  “So this electrical grid,” Drake said. “I assume this isn’t the first time somebody’s thought to take it down. Surely there are contingencies in place.”

  “Sure there are,” Hayden said. “But it’s the Z-boxes that pose the problem. Don’t you remember? They crack codes and the Pythians went to unbelievable lengths to acquire them. I guess this is a first step and I guess that they will override all contingencies.”

  As Hayden spoke, Drake saw Kinimaka drift away to make another call. Since the big Hawaiian gravitated over to his side of the plane the Yorkshireman heard every word.

  “Mahalo, sister. How are you?”

  Kinimaka listened for a moment before going ahead with what he needed to say. “Kono, the stalkings are worsening. We have people watching you but you still have to be careful. Okay? No trying to blow them off. They’re around for your safety. This is serious—”

  An answer stopped him short.

  “I can’t say when or how long. But please, change the habit of a lifetime and listen to your brother. I might not have done so well by you in the past but I’m trying to make up for that now. Okay?”

  Drake tuned out, feeling a little intrusive. Hayden still concentrated their thoughts on the Z-boxes. “The Chinese developed them to be able to crack every code, every PIN, every cypher out th
ere. Nuclear programming. Cyber warfare. Missile data. If they’re in our system then we’re already in deep shit. Counter programming is a good idea. A deterrent. But sooner or later somebody’s going to come up with something totally off the wall . . . and mad-dog crazy. If the Z-boxes can already crack our passwords and download information then they can be used to take everything down.”

  “They must need some kinda access,” Smyth put in. “Since substations and the like are mostly self-contained.”

  “Hence, an attack,” Hayden said. “Now, I have another idea. Since this substation and the ghost ships are around California and Arizona then maybe we can split our forces? End the threat and grab a Pythian whilst we’re at it. Bell, at least, is in the field according to Beau. We’ll check out the substation and then separate. Yes?”

  Drake’s thoughts centered round their dwindling numbers and all they had lost of late. Komodo, taken whilst saving Mai’s life. Mai herself feeling obligated to help Grace in Japan. Alicia, forging toward her own destruction with the Gold Team. Some fresh blood wouldn’t go amiss and, as reluctant as he was to admit it, a friendly Beauregard Alain could be a significant asset.

  “We’re only eight strong,” he said. “But if we can isolate this substation and stop the mercs I’m up for that.”

  “And snatching a Pythian would be a major success,” Dahl said.

  Yorgi spoke up fast. “I volunteer for ghost ship quest,” he said thickly. “I no good with all this fighting.”

  “Me too,” Karin said quietly. “For now.”

  Drake was just glad to hear her contributing. “All right. Me too. How about Hayden, Mano and the Swede take the substations?”

  Dahl cocked his head. “The Swede? Really?”

  “Yeah, dumbass. That’s you.”

  “Oh, please grab my sides to stop them from splitting with laughter.”

  Hayden glanced around. “Pilot says we’re about to land. Once grounded we have a ten minute journey to Almaden. Are we ready?”