Ghost Target (Ryan Drake)

by Will Jordan

  So he’d accepted her offer. Even if he didn’t fully understand it, even if he harboured a lingering suspicion that the scheme wasn’t entirely above board, Pete McKnight had accepted the chance of life against the certainty of death. Because first and foremost he wanted to live, not just for himself but for Samantha. He was all she had left as far as family went, and he knew his death would hit her hard. Harder than she deserved.

  Why shouldn’t a man fight for his life, both for his sake and those he loved?

  He was halfway through an article on deep-sea tuna fishing when the cell phone in his pocket started to go off. Samantha had given it to him when he started his treatment, made him promise to keep it with him at all times no matter how sick he got.

  He could feel his excitement growing at the prospect of speaking with his daughter again. It had been too long since he’d heard from her, though she’d explained that she was overseas on deployment and might not be able to call him as often as she’d like. He understood from his own experiences in the Marines decades earlier. It was the nature of a life in the military.

  ‘Sam. Damn good to hear from you, girl,’ he said, grinning despite the fatigue. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘Good… Dad.’ Her tone made it plain she wasn’t doing good at all. ‘What about you? How’s the treatment going?’

  ‘Getting better every day,’ he said, hoping he sounded strong and confident. Unconsciously he reached up to touch the smooth, hairless dome of his head. ‘Plus I’ve saved a fortune on shampoo lately, so it’s all good here.’

  He heard her chuckle down the line, though he sensed it was more for his benefit.

  ‘Listen, kiddo. What’s going on?’ he asked, his voice growing quieter and softer now. The way he used to talk to her when she was a little girl and upset about something. ‘Something you want to talk about?’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Samantha sighed then. A weary sigh, such as he hadn’t heard from her in a long time. But he knew it meant she was going to tell him.

  ‘Remember when you started your treatment, and I said there might come a time when I’d need you to do something for me?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘That time’s now, Dad,’ she admitted, her tone grave.

  Pete swallowed, feeling his stomach tighten up. A familiar sensation over the past few months, but in this case it wasn’t caused by the cocktail of drugs he was taking, or the radiation he’d been blasted with.

  ‘Okay. What do you need?’

  ‘I’m going to send someone to your hospital today. An old army buddy of mine. His name’s Taylor. When he comes for you, I need you to go with him, no questions asked.’

  Pete frowned at these bizarre instructions, his mind racing. ‘What do you mean? Where’s this guy supposed to take me?’

  ‘Somewhere safe. Somewhere they can’t find you, at least until things calm down.’

  His concern and surprise was giving way to real fear for his daughter’s safety now. All of a sudden, he began to see his miraculous treatment in an entirely different light, and cursed himself for ever agreeing to it. ‘Sam, what have you done?’

  ‘It’s going to be okay, Dad.’

  Going to be okay? Those were the kind of reassuring words a father was supposed to say to his daughter, not the other way around. ‘Sam, listen to me—’

  ‘I don’t have time to argue, Dad,’ she cut in, a harder edge creeping into her voice for the first time. ‘I need you to do this for me, okay? You made a promise that you’d help me when I asked for it. Well, I’m asking now.’

  ‘I won’t help you get in more trouble.’

  If it came to it, he would accept full responsibility for what had happened, perhaps claiming he’d bullied or blackmailed his daughter into helping him. If it meant spending what time he had left in a prison cell, then so be it. He’d lived his life already. Perhaps not as long or as well as he would have liked, but well enough. She still had hers ahead of her.

  He heard an exhalation of breath as she searched for the right words. ‘Bad people are after me, Dad. They might use you to get to me. I can’t let that happen, and I can’t do the things I have to do unless I know you’re safe.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘That’s all I can say right now,’ she evaded. ‘I’m asking you, please, do this for me. I’ll explain everything when it’s over, but for now please trust me.’

  Pete glanced up at the ceiling, torn by indecision. Would he make things worse by cutting and running, or would it give her the breathing room she needed to make this right? How was a man supposed to make a choice like this?

  ‘I trust you,’ he said at last.

  It was a moment or two before she responded. ‘Thanks,’ she said, her voice close to breaking. ‘Get your things together, get ready to move. He’ll be there soon.’

  That wouldn’t take long, he thought as he surveyed the sparse room. His worldly possessions here could comfortably fit into a small gym bag.

  ‘Change of scenery couldn’t hurt, huh?’ he quipped, hoping to lighten the mood.

  It wasn’t going to work. Not now.

  ‘I’ll speak to you soon, Dad,’ she managed to say before hanging up.

  * * *

  Closing down the phone, Samantha let out a sigh and wiped the tears from her eyes, doing her best to regain her composure. After all, she had to keep up appearances amongst the group. Keep the act going just a little longer.

  ‘McKnight?’

  The sound of a voice from behind startled her, and she whirled around to find Anya standing close by. How had the woman approached without making a sound?

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, irritated and a little unnerved by her sudden appearance.

  The older woman glanced away for a moment, looking a little uncomfortable herself, as if she had a difficult topic to broach.

  ‘I came to thank you,’ she said at last.

  ‘Thank me?’ If Anya had a clue who and what she really was, she imagined thanks would be the last thing on her mind.

  ‘For calming Frost down earlier. I…appreciate the gesture.’

  McKnight could feel colour rising to her face. Already strained after the difficult conversation with her father, the thought of having earned Anya’s gratitude, of all things, only served to raise her ire. This woman who was at the centre of the maelstrom that had consumed so many lives already now wanted to thank her?

  ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Anya,’ she said, taking a step closer. ‘I don’t like you any more than Cole or Keira do, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. As far as I can see, you bring nothing but pain and death wherever you go.’

  Anya regarded her without emotion. ‘So why help me?’

  ‘Because I like Cain even less. I want that son of a bitch to pay for what he’s done, and right now you’re our best… our only chance at making that happen. I stopped a fight – that’s all. I did it because I didn’t want Keira to get hurt, and I didn’t want our only ally to walk out the door. So don’t fool yourself that we’re going to be friends after this is over. We won’t. I’d sooner you went on your way after we take Cain down.’

  Outwardly Anya gave little sign that McKnight’s outburst had affected her. She didn’t recoil, didn’t clench her fists in anger, didn’t show shock or indignation. But McKnight could sense that some hidden switch had flicked inside Anya’s mind. She had changed for good in Anya’s estimation, going from a possibly ally to something quite different.

  ‘That’s your choice,’ she conceded, dismissing the matter from her thoughts. ‘In that case, I’ll take up no more of your time.’

  She was just turning to leave when she paused, another thought occurring to her. ‘Oh, and McKnight?’

  ‘What?’

  She nodded to the phone McKnight still clutched in her hand. ‘It was a wise move, getting your father to a safe place. I hope for his sake you were not too late.’

/>   Leaving that thought to linger in McKnight’s mind, she turned away and walked off, heading back below deck.

  Chapter 26

  Working alongside Mason, Drake was putting the finishing touches to their plan of attack. Anya had agreed to handle transport into Pakistan, and to supply the equipment they’d requested. He had little understanding of the financial resources she could call upon, but based on past experience he doubted she was short of cash.

  In any case, planning the complex and difficult assault on the safe house was going to require most of his attention. Logistical difficulties were one burden he was happy to be relieved of.

  He was disturbed from his contemplation as a shadow fell across the design blueprints he’d been studying. Looking up, he saw Frost standing close by. The look on her face made it plain this was no time for light-hearted banter.

  ‘A word,’ the young woman said quietly. ‘In private.’

  ‘I’m busy,’ he said, all too aware of their limited time.

  He felt her hand on his arm, the grip strong and urgent. ‘Make time, Ryan.’

  On the opposite side of the table, Mason glanced at the pair of them, giving Frost a meaningful look. He wondered suddenly if the two specialists had been conspiring together.

  Chewing his lip in frustration, Drake nodded towards the armoury room at the bow. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’

  Leading the young woman through, he closed the heavy hatch behind her. The bulkheads in this old vessel were thick and airtight, as were the internal hatches, making eavesdropping difficult at best. Whatever she wanted to say, she could say in relative privacy here.

  ‘We’re short on time,’ he warned without preamble. ‘Spit it out.’

  Frost, direct as always, was happy to oblige. ‘It’s about Cain. More to the point, it’s about what we plan to do with him.’

  ‘You were in the room, same as me. Would you like the Cliff’s Notes?’

  ‘Don’t bullshit me, Ryan,’ she hit back. ‘You know what I’m talking about. The whole point of Downfall is to kill that son of a bitch, not to abduct and interrogate him. Christ, we’ll be lucky even to get within kill range as it is. But if we’re not going to finish the job, what the fuck are we risking our lives for?’

  ‘Nobody’s talking about keeping him alive. Anya wants him dead, just like us.’

  ‘Does she?’ Frost asked. ‘Because from where I was sitting, it sounded an awful lot like she was trying to save his ass.’

  As much as he knew that was a ridiculous assumption, there was a part of him that struggled to dismiss it. He could understand Anya’s desire for answers, considering Cain was the last man left alive who could explain why exactly she’d spent four years in a Russian prison, but he was unnerved by her reluctance to kill him.

  ‘Why would she do that? You know what she’s been through because of him, you know what she’s lost. She wants revenge.’

  ‘I don’t know what the fuck she wants, and frankly I don’t care. You want to bring her to Pakistan with us? Go ahead – I can’t stop you. But Anya’s screwed us over too many times for me or any of us to trust her. She might be part of this operation for now, but only as long as she’s useful.’

  ‘What are you saying, Keira?’

  There was a dangerously mutinous look about her now. ‘I’m saying that if Anya doesn’t have the guts to complete Downfall, someone needs to do it for her.’

  ‘And I suppose that’s you?’ he challenged her.

  ‘If I have to. One way or another, that bastard’s going down. And he is not getting up again.’

  ‘That’s not your call to make.’

  ‘You’re right, it’s not,’ she countered. ‘This decision belongs to all of us. We’re each risking just as much on this job, so we each have a say in how this goes down. If not, you’d better cut us loose now.’

  ‘And does this “we” include anyone else?’

  Frost sighed. ‘Cole’s with me on this one, Ryan. You know he is. And Sam wouldn’t take much convincing either.’

  Drake exhaled slowly, taking a moment to compose himself. Now was not a time to lose his temper, because he knew it would accomplish nothing. Worse, he knew he had no right to do it. She and the rest of the team were not soldiers under his command any longer. They followed him because they chose to, because he’d earned their respect and their loyalty. If he lost either, he lost the team as well.

  ‘And what exactly should I tell Anya if this goes down?’

  At this, Frost moved a step closer and lowered her voice. ‘Extractions are messy affairs, Ryan. We both know things can go wrong real fast. Wouldn’t take much for Cain to get hit by a stray round – nobody’s fault, just bad luck.’

  Bad luck. They’d seen enough of that already without inviting more.

  Glancing down at the floor, Frost sighed. ‘I never wanted to have this conversation. I feel like shit that it’s come to this. You know we’d move heaven and earth for you if we could, but what Anya’s asking…’ She shook her head. ‘We need more. We can’t…I can’t leave something like this in her hands. Please tell me you understand that.’

  What could he say? He couldn’t tell her she was wrong, that she was out of line, because in truth he knew exactly how she felt. Cain was always their endgame, their final objective. Maybe they wouldn’t get all the answers they wanted, maybe they’d never know what he’d truly been trying to accomplish, but he would still be dead and they’d be alive.

  Drake could live with that.

  ‘I do understand,’ he said at last, and he saw the tension leave her body in that instant. But no sooner had she let out a sigh of relief than he moved forward and gripped her arm. ‘But you need to understand that nobody is going to kill him without my permission, Keira. Nobody. If it comes down to it, if Anya can’t or won’t kill pull the trigger, I’ll take care of it myself. And I’ll take responsibility for it myself. You can pass that on to the rest of the team with my regards. Do I make myself clear?’

  If it meant as much to Anya as he suspected it did, then she would likely show no mercy to anyone who broke their agreement. Except perhaps himself, though that was questionable. Whether or not he was in a position to give orders, he was still the leader of this group. If the burden had to fall to anyone, it would be him. That was the responsibility he had assumed.

  Frost’s eyes were wide as she stared back at him. She had seen many sides to Drake over the years, had witnessed most aspects of his personality manifest themselves, but this was something new. There was a colder, darker, more ruthless element lurking in the depths of his soul. And it was coming out now.

  ‘You do,’ she said quietly, visibly shaken.

  Drake relaxed his grip then, allowing her to back off. She looked as if she were about to reach up and rub her arm, but thought better of it, unwilling to show weakness. ‘Then you’d better get back to work.’

  For once, she looked happy to escape this confrontation. Pulling the hatch open, she turned to leave, pausing in the doorway as if to say more. Then, shaking her head faintly, she walked off in silence, leaving him alone.

  Letting out a breath, Drake turned away from the hatchway. This situation was growing more difficult with every passing hour. He’d expected Anya’s arrival to ruffle a few feathers, but her presence was driving a wedge between himself and the rest of his team. And yet, he needed the help of both if Downfall was to succeed.

  The choice then was clear – betray Anya’s trust, or betray his friends.

  ‘Fuck,’ he said under his breath, heading for the hatch. He needed to get back to work; he couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

  Returning to the main cabin, he briefly caught Mason’s eye. The man was quick enough to glance away, suggesting Frost had already given him the gist of their conversation. It was as well for him.

  ‘Heads-up. Just had word from Franklin back at Langley,’ Frost called over from her computer, having returned to her station. ‘Cain’s flight lifted off from Andrews about ten mi
nutes ago, en route to Pakistan.’

  Silence descended on the cabin then. Their target was already on his way to the meeting. True, he had a good deal further to travel than them, but he was airborne already and they quite clearly weren’t.

  ‘Then it’s going to happen tomorrow night,’ Drake decided.

  ‘How do you figure?’

  ‘It’s a 7,000-mile flight from DC to Islamabad. Factor in at least one refuelling stop, and you’re talking 16, 17 hours’ flight time at a minimum.’ Drake did some rough mental arithmetic, trying to take into account the various time zone changes that Cain’s flight would pass through. ‘That puts his ETA at about 5 a.m. local time. No way is he going straight into a meeting like this after flying halfway around the world.’

  ‘Ryan is right,’ Anya said, descending the stairs with a cell phone in hand. ‘Marcus always believed in preparation, especially for crucial meetings like this. He would not go into it tired and jet-lagged.’

  Drake looked at Frost. ‘Can you pull up a copy of his flight plan?’

  ‘Not unless I made a copy of Franklin’s secure access key, which I did,’ the young woman replied, going straight to work. ‘There’s no passenger manifest, but there’s a flight number and a destination. Looks like they scheduled an eight-hour layover at Ramstein before going on to Islamabad.’

  ‘So we’re talking a midday arrival,’ Drake concluded. ‘If he has any sense, he’ll wait until after dark, which is…’

  ‘About 19 hundred hours local time,’ McKnight said.

  ‘About 19 hundred hours,’ he repeated, giving her a nod of gratitude. ‘Multiple vehicles and new arrivals at a suburban house will attract attention during the day. At night it’ll be easier to hide.’ He pointed to the printed map of central Islamabad pinned to the wall, where the safe house had been encircled by red pen. ‘So, tomorrow evening. If we’re not there at least 12 hours in advance, we can forget about being ready in time. That means we need to be out of here and on our way to Islamabad today.’