Matt Drake 11 - The Ghost Ships of Arizona

by David Leadbeater

  Grace popped her head around the corner. “Guys?”

  Still wary, still unsure of herself, Grace was well on the way to a wonderful emotional comeback. The horrors of her childhood were receding; the worst of the returning memories mostly dealt with and compartmentalized. They would never pass away, but they could at least be managed. Grace’s way of managing them involved copious amounts of fun, food, laughter and shopping, much of it at the same time. If Mai had thought it wasn’t helping Grace she would have gently eased her in another direction, but the young girl seemed to be flourishing. The next step would be a more stable environment and Mai began to think for the first time about heading back to the US, maybe sending her to a DC school . . .

  “Come here,” she said, and Grace did. Mai explained everything, sensing that she needed full disclosure. At first Chika and Hibiki winced a little—their synchronized shying away actually a little comical—but as they read Grace’s understanding they soon warmed up.

  “It is over,” Hibiki said. “We can all return to our lives again. Or start new ones.”

  Grace snuggled into Mai. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

  Mai tried not to gasp as movement tended to elevate her pain levels. “Together, we will make it work.”

  “Oh, sorry!” Now Grace pulled away, realizing that her friend was still in pain. “Hey, that’s a mega scar!”

  Hibiki grimaced. “Maybe it’s best not to—”

  “No, no! It’s a warrior’s scar. A sign of victory in battle. And well earned.”

  Mai grunted. “Whatever happens don’t ever tell me you want one.”

  “Jeez, you kidding? Imagine what the boys would say.”

  “Thanks,” Mai said drily, then: “What boys?”

  “Umm, nothing.”

  “Believe me, boys are bad for you. They stink, they scratch, they drive too fast. They forget, they develop hormones and they don’t shower properly. They’re pack animals, always—”

  “Excuse me,” Hibiki said a little huffily.

  Mai laughed. “Oh, you’re okay. I don’t class you as a boy.”

  Now Chika laughed. “Really? What is he then?”

  “More a big sister.” Mai leaned into Chika and they smiled at each other. Grace bounded in between them, right across their knees. Hibiki finished cleaning Mai’s cheek, now eyeing the liquid stitches.

  “I’m no doctor, of course, but I think that will be a warrior’s scar of major import, a talking point.”

  It was good that they could make light of it, Mai thought. Being dejected would not change anything.

  “Wait until Drake sees you,” Grace said. “He won’t be able to keep his hands off you. Not that he ever could anyway.”

  Mai felt her face soften. “Ah, well, I don’t really know how things stand there.” She knew she should at least have kept in touch with the SPEAR team. “Maybe he has a new girlfriend,” she added lightly.

  “As long as it’s not that Alicia!” Grace burst out. “Blond bimbo said she’d give me a lesson in the birds and the bees when I’m ready. I don’t even know what she means!”

  Mai gulped slightly. “Yeah, avoid that one at all costs.” But she wasn’t entirely sure Matt Drake would. They had been the original couple, the original team, and Alicia had come a long way back to normal over the last few years.

  Chika drew their attention to the clock. “It’s beyond late, my friends. Maybe we should call this morning and breakfast time. I’m certainly famished.”

  Grace nodded eagerly. “Me too!”

  Mai couldn’t keep the smile off her face, despite the pain that it caused. Grace was perpetually hungry and could eat at any time of the day or night, even minutes after declaring herself “full to the brim”. Hibiki caught her eye and shared the joy of it and then grinned as there came a quick knock at the door.

  “Postman’s right on time,” he said. “We ordered Grace something.”

  Postman’s early, Mai almost said but didn’t want to disturb the playful atmosphere. There was a time when a ninja soldier should remain dormant, if only to promote peace and happiness, and this was it. Hibiki walked over to the front door. Chika paused and waited and Grace stared between them with wide eyes.

  “What is it?”

  “Wait and see.”

  Grace pouted on hearing the time-honored parental phrase.

  Hibiki swung the door wide open, smiling. “What do you have for us?”

  *

  It was all so easy in the end. She had planned and planned. She had waited and waited. She had run away and stayed quiet. She had known this day would come from the moment she received news about her poor father. She had eaten garbage from the street and evaded tramps and sex-slavers. She had gotten lucky more than once, but then she deserved that kind of good fortune didn’t she? Her name was not known to those people. Her name was no longer important to anyone, for she had no family. Her name was mere fresh air, a lifelong gift of pure nothingness.

  And the moment, quite suddenly, was here. Right on this doorstep. Her name did matter for this passing of a few seconds. It did. They did not see the danger. They were all so blind and uncaring. But she cared, and she would prove it right now. The cop, Hibiki, was even smiling as he stared at her. The sister, Chika, seemed so happy and secure. Mai herself, the great ninja warrior, would never be a threat.

  Not to her.

  Emiko was totally sure of that.

  The gun, an enormous Magnum, raised and the deadly barrel pointed unwaveringly at Mai Kitano, the woman who had murdered her father on his yacht and then sent the Yakuza after the rest of her family. Mai Kitano would not evade the bullet, Emiko knew, she would welcome the absolution of it.

  Hibiki was still smiling—in that split second—for he recognized the girl and probably believed she had found her way back to the light. But his features began to falter as his instincts registered the gun. Chika’s eyes were widening, her mouth turning into a huge ‘O’. There was only one who reacted.

  Mai screamed as she recognized Emiko and the huge gun she held in her right hand. There was no evading it and, even now after everything she had won back, she believed this was her fate. It had been all along.

  But nobody factored in the streak that suddenly intervened. Nobody banked on Grace reading the situation perfectly—even before the door opened she had realized the hour was too early—and throwing herself at Mai to try and make her move.

  The gun boomed, deafening and deadly. Hibiki screamed. Chika screamed. The bullet flew straight, unerring and fatally.

  Mai flew back with the impact, staggering to her knees. Hibiki drew the gun he always carried and shot Emiko dead on the doorstep before she could squeeze off any more shots, even as Emiko staggered back from the initial recoil. Chika turned toward Mai, shrieking.

  “No!”

  Mai cradled Grace’s dead body, the blood already blooming from the bullet hole in her back, soaking through her clothes and staining Mai’s shaking hands. Staring down into Grace’s lifeless, unmoving beautiful eyes she felt her body clutch so tightly she could not breathe. Shock destroyed her. In less than a minute a bright new world had turned to ashes.

  “What . . . what has she done? Oh no, oh, no.” Chika scrambled over on her knees, distraught. She clutched Grace’s shoulders and laid her head down and began to sob.

  Finally Mai found her voice. “My beautiful . . . my . . . beautiful . . .”

  The word daughter was spoken in her mind only.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Mai crumpled. Grace was gone and two worlds had died with her. Two futures. Throughout her life she had known despair, but this . . . this . . . it simply destroyed her.

  She collapsed onto the floor, oblivious to all else. Grace stayed with her and she would never let go. She heard Hibiki’s movements and Chika’s crying but none of it was starkly real. Only one stark truth existed.

  There would be no more life for Mai Kitano.

  Deep character tr
aits bloomed up, forcing her to look at the truth, to accept the facts, showing her that moving forward was possible. But how much could one person take? How much should one person take?

  “Mai.” Chika’s voice at her side. Her sister’s arms wrapping themselves around her.

  She said nothing, barely able to breathe. All she knew was the lifeless presence in her arms. All she felt was despair.

  And Emiko? The girl had survived all this time just to kill Mai Kitano. Now she was dead too. And Hibiki? How would he handle this?

  “Mai!”

  His shout penetrated her fugue only marginally. Chika was so close now her breath was hot in Mai’s ears, her tears streaming down Mai’s own face. Blood coated Mai’s hands and forearms, lifeblood.

  “Mai!”

  Digging deep, calling on every ounce of strength she ever possessed, the Japanese woman raised her head. Everything was blurred until she blinked her eyes and then the water cleared.

  Hibiki knelt before her, holding Emiko. Blood covered his face too.

  Chika knelt beside them both, horror etched so deeply in her face it formed furrows.

  Mai saw her family, but still felt overwhelmed. As powerful as she was she could not protect the people she loved. None of them could. Nobody could. Disaster and tragedy lurked around every corner, every curb, every main road and every schoolyard. Not so long ago it had been safe to let a child visit the park alone. Now, even the presence of parents couldn’t keep them totally safe.

  Mai looked up at the ceiling, feeling certain she would never move again.

  Hibiki’s voice brought her back down. “Mai!”

  She glanced at him instinctively, recognizing the tone of utter urgency. “Just leave me with her,” she said finally. “This was not supposed to happen.”

  Anger raged inside. What chance did Grace ever have? And she had been such a fighter . . . so spirited . . . taking all the bad and trying to turn it to good.

  “Mai! I saw her move. I saw her fucking move!”

  The words jolted her like machine-gun bullets. Mai flicked from Hibiki to Grace and took it all in. The blood. The body. The eyes that had closed long ago.

  “Wha—”

  There! Mai saw the movement too. Grace was moving her fingers ever so slightly. The fingers of her right hand. It wasn’t a cruel vision nor a sudden spasm.

  Grace was alive!

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Hayden entered the Sierra Nevada electrical substation in a sub-zero mood. It didn’t matter what anyone said, Hayden found a way to pick a hole in it. Her colleagues looked as though they’d both been hit by icy daggers. The facility’s security had been beefed up, along with two other lesser ones that were close by—but Hayden was taking zero chances. Approaching the entrance and shading her eyes from the sun and heat, the first cop who met her gave a little attitude—especially on seeing the unfamiliar SPEAR badge—and almost ended up in a heap on the floor.

  Dahl intervened. “We’re a covert agency,” he said in a rush as Hayden’s fists clenched. “So covert we’re practically unknown.”

  “That work out well for you?” the cop drawled, oblivious of his near-death experience.

  “Almost never.”

  Hayden pushed past and Kinimaka followed. Dahl forestalled any wisecracks from the cop by verifying the extra security.

  “How many, bud?”

  “Thirty,” the cop said. “Includes a Special Ops team.”

  Dahl had been about to squawk “thirty?”, knowing that wasn’t nearly enough and dreading how Hayden would react in her current mood, when the final part of the cop’s answer registered with him. “Special ops? Now you’re talking.”

  He moved off, keen to meet the elite team. Hayden stopped him inside the facility. “How many?”

  “Well . . . they’re still counting but we do have a Special Forces team.”

  “We do? Well, thank fuck for that. About time Robert Price started getting his act together.”

  Dahl sauntered past, having averted the explosion quite nicely, he thought. Kinimaka’s shrewd glance didn’t go unnoticed. The inside of this particular facility was relatively cramped—a wide open space crammed full with offices, electrical boxes, small pylons, and gantries. It was a maze, but thankfully one in which you could always see all four walls.

  Cops stood around in huddles, disorganized. Dahl followed Hayden to the main control room where a diminutive bank of CCTV screens minded the facility. Immediately, he saw the men he was looking for.

  “Torsten Dahl.” He nodded at the group.

  “How ya doin’?” To a man they eyed him suspiciously. “You in charge here?”

  “Nope. She is.” Dahl nodded at Hayden. “We’re part of the other Special Forces team here.”

  “What?” a man said. “All three of ya?”

  Dahl conceded that point. “It’s been a rough one.”

  Hayden quickly scanned the screens. “We need some of the cops outside. Those two police cars ain’t gonna be enough. Don’t these people listen to the news?”

  “The important part is to prevent them from gaining access to this room,” Dahl said. “We think they’re planning to enter the system by leaving behind a back door. The harder we make it the better the chance they’ll give up. So let’s make it very hard.”

  A rugged soldier stepped forward, addressing Hayden. “Where do you want us, ma’am?”

  “First—the next person who calls me ma’am is gonna be walking funny for about three days. It’s Jaye or boss. I mean, do I look like a friggin’ ma’am? Second—we need to get those cops organized. I don’t want any dead officers today.”

  “I’ll do it.” Kinimaka turned on his heel.

  Dahl nodded at the screens. “Thirty minutes and we should have this place pretty well sewn up.”

  Hayden sighed. “Yeah, ahead of the game at last.”

  “Don’t count on it,” the Special Forces leader said. “You told them how many mercs assaulted the last station, yeah?”

  Hayden nodded, already ahead of him. “I did. And our boss sent a few cops and you guys. No offense, but that ain’t enough.”

  “And there’s a bigger problem,” the leader said.

  “Which is?”

  “The mercs are already here.”

  Dahl reacted faster than anyone, lunging for a weapon rather than reaching for his own. This way he got among them and caused a little havoc. A weapon came free, its owner stumbling as Dahl wrenched hard. These men were not Special Forces then, and as he tackled them he immediately knew it. They were slow, and poorly trained. They were unsystematic. Dahl swung the weapon hard, connecting with the side of a skull. The first merc toppled at his feet, the second went flying. That left four, all drawing guns.

  Hayden swept the desk clear of junk, aiming it straight toward the mercs with a powerful sweep as she drew her own gun. The facility workers froze in place, eyes wide. Hopefully Kinimaka, behind them, would bring the cops running.

  She fired instantly, her shot going wide. A merc lunged at her face, grabbing for the gun. Dahl swept another weapon aside, grabbed its owner, and slammed him against the wall. The man battered both his ears with fists the size of soccer balls. A sixth sense warned him of a blade zinging in toward his spine but he knew the stab-vest would deflect it, waited, and used the ricochet to gauge where his cowardly attacker would end up. Dahl’s arm was ready, wrapping around the neck and squeezing. With the other hand he jabbed his first opponent, keeping him against the wall.

  Hayden struggled as her merc caught her in a bear hug, their faces pressed together. The gun was trapped between them. His strength crushed the breath from her body. They were too close to enable her to maneuver, but she drew her head back and used her skull. The merc was clever, having dipped his head so she couldn’t reach his nose. The blow still smashed against his temple though, a wallop that he felt all the way down to his knees.

  Hayden pivoted and smashed him into the bank of TV screens, then bore down o
n his spine. With a little room now she brought a hand up, stiffened the fingers, and dug them into his windpipe—harder and harder, each second applying more force until the choking drowned out all else. He was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but nobody could resist such pressure forever. At last he pushed her away, staggering. Hayden vented much more than frustration with a sharp kick to the head.

  She whirled. Dahl was dealing with two mercs, and that left just one unattended. Yes, they had been outplayed but the odds were certainly changing. The merc waved a gun in her face.

  “Step back, ma’am. Sit your pretty little ass down on that chair and put your hands behind your back so I can tie ‘em together.”

  Hayden backed away meekly, holding her hands slightly apart. “All right. Just calm down. No one needs to get shot here today.”

  “Well that depends how good you are at keeping us happy, ma’am. Now sit the fuck down.”

  Hayden bowed her head, still meek and subservient. The man stepped forward menacingly and it all fell into place. Or rather his testicles fell into place. Now at the perfect range she made good on her earlier promise and drop-kicked them from his groin to his throat. The man collapsed with a high-pitched squeak, scrambling about the floor. Hayden collected his gun.

  She turned again. Dahl had already choked one merc into unconsciousness. The other batted futilely at him, already knowing he was going to lose. Quickly, Hayden spun toward Kinimaka and the cops.

  The day is ours! Even now we’ve thwarted the Pythians . . .

  Kinimaka didn’t look happy, being prodded in the back by four handguns and surrounded by thirty grinning mercenaries dressed as cops. More than twenty weapons were leveled at her and Dahl.

  “Now,” grated a swarthy man with a face and arms as dark and wrinkled and hard as a tree-trunk. “Get your ass down on that floor. And you too, big guy. One wrong move an’ you’ll get to see yer fucking brains across them TV screens.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY