Devil's Island Page 4

  “These catacombs,” Hayden said. “Are they a prison area?”

  “No. I didn’t visit them but heard a lot of whispers. It’s more like . . . a proving ground. Only the strongest survive. Many die there, or so I’m told. The Devil’s Catacombs is a fitting title.”

  Dahl walked over to Tolley. “Harrison told us we couldn’t land at the docks,” he said. “Too dangerous. Is there anywhere else we might land?”

  Tolley nodded. “Here.” He indicated a feature of coastline that looked like a ragged hook. “If you go ashore inside that curved headland you’ll be sheltered from prying eyes and the worst of the elements, and the sea. It’s a tough climb there, the cliffs are steep, but I’m guessing you’ve negotiated worse?”

  Dahl grunted. “In the Swedish Special Forces, we climb cliffs for breakfast.”

  Drake stared at him, ready to tender the old Yorkshire wit, but Dallas beat him to it. “In SWAT we climb out of our SUVs into a local Denny’s. I think I prefer that.”

  Alicia laughed, surprised the newcomer had once been a member of SWAT never mind confident enough to rib the Mad Swede. Both Drake and Dahl gave him an evaluating stare.

  Tolley continued, “You’ll have to negotiate the clans, the cliffs, the forests, the wild animals. The worst gang is called the Scavengers, but they’re on the south-east side and might not even bother you. You head north, and then east.” Again he indicated their journey on the map. “I’d come up to the northwest of the castle and find your friends from the top of the mountain.”

  “You mentioned . . . genetics?” Kenzie asked.

  “An unknown quantity,” Tolley admitted. “The Devil spent a decade drafting in the best scientists, experimenting with animal DNA and mind control, but ultimately failed. Most of the test subjects died I think, but some . . . escaped . . . and roam those mountains to this day.”

  Alicia wanted to hear more—she’d never had much charity for scary or poisonous beasts—but Hayden checked her watch. “We need to move,” she said, withdrawing a wad of cash from her pocket. “Can you tell us anything else?”

  “My friend. Look after him. His name is Grant Hawkins. Oh, and take a drone with you. It’ll help to scan the surrounding terrain and warn of any dangers.”

  Alicia thought that a great idea. “Let me ask you this,” she said. “If everyone that visits the island doesn’t know where it is . . . how can you?”

  Tolley smiled broadly for the first time. “I’m old school,” he said. “I don’t rely on this new techno shit. Sat-nav. GPRS and the like. I can locate myself anywhere on the planet just by using the stars.”

  “I thought that might be it,” Dahl said.

  “Even the Devil can’t hide the stars,” Tolley said. “Let me give you the coordinates.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later they were gone, driving through the back streets of Kuala Lumpur once again. Full night had fallen and the streets, if anything, were even busier. Alicia saw every manner of trader she could think of through the car windows—and every type of consumer.

  The last step of their journey to Devil’s Island was a quick one. A final stop at a local CIA site to tool up, to pack and holster every weapon they could think of. Entire arsenals. Every gun and bullet and rocket launcher. Every strip of ammo, knives and grenades. They backed it up with the newest tech, the best gadgets. They attached some waterproof sheeting to the map and grabbed two state-of-the-art drones. In the end, they almost cleared the local armory out.

  “We ready to go get our friends?” Hayden asked.

  “Ready for war,” Drake said.

  “About bloody time,” Alicia muttered.

  “My last job,” Kenzie said. “With all of you.”

  “Don’t decide before Mai and the others are safe,” Hayden said, “and you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  “Can’t promise anything.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “You guys gonna stand there gassing?” Molokai asked, his voice like low thunder. “Or are we gonna get my brother back?”

  Alicia looked around at them, fully loaded and prepared to bring war to this lonely, deadly Pacific island.

  “I think the Devil just met his match.”

  They moved out.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Luka Kovalenko stared out the window of his room inside the Devil’s mysterious castle, reflecting on recent events and looking forward to the next stages. The attack on the President and his family had failed and would have to be shelved—for now. No matter, it had paved the way for future plans and helped bring at least two SPEAR team members to this island. Soon, it would bring the entire team. Kovalenko wished he could stay—and watch the deaths of the traitorous Karin Blake along with the demise of Matt Drake, Alicia Myles and the others—but the failure with the President and the loss of Topaz had impacted his plans. He needed to recruit a new bodyguard first, and then a thinker to replace Andrei. The criminal underworld would know he’d lost his two best assets and would be . . . wondering.

  He needed to respond to that with a harsh show of force.

  The Blood King was here to stay. First, he’d prove it to them and then he’d make them enlist in his ever-growing army.

  Thoughts of the future brought him back to the present. This was where it would start. His room was positioned on the eastern side of the castle, his window overlooking a courtyard, the beach and the docks. He could see his superyacht, moored beyond the shallows. A flurry of activity across the docks. Mercenaries stalking this way and that, carrying boxes or herding prisoners. Delivering supplies. This island had been the best place in the world to spend a few quiet days whilst the authorities chased down every nugget of information, wasting resources as they searched for him. Kovalenko had rested here in luxury whilst they searched the lowest rat holes of Eastern Europe and Russia itself.

  And so, to the next part of his extensive plan. A discreet knock on the door interrupted his train of thought, which vexed him. “Yes?”

  A slave shuffled in with the meal he’d ordered. Kovalenko sprang over to punch the hapless individual for ruining his thought process. There was no struggle, no sound, not even the slightest attempt to put up a defense. Kovalenko liked that. He lashed out again and again, making the slave bleed, making him crumple to the floor. He laughed. How much damage can I do for free?

  At first the idea excited him, but then on reflection, it pained him. There was an unspoken rule on this island. The Devil owned it. Kovalenko preferred to believe that wasn’t the case, and that the Devil worked for him.

  But right now, in this moment, it was a belief he couldn’t physically test.

  Wait. It will all come to you.

  His mantra for years, ever since his father was murdered at the hands of the SPEAR team. Luka had turned waiting into an art form.

  He kicked the slave out of his room, then settled at the table to start on a plate of green olives and sundried tomatoes. Where had his thoughts been when the stupid slave knocked? It didn’t take more than a moment to recall.

  What comes next?

  Well, SPEAR would immolate right here. Either that or be killed by warring gangs, genetic monsters or mercenaries. It all sounded good to him. Devil’s Island was quite probably the most dangerous place on earth—especially when Kovalenko initiated his next step.

  He’d considered it long and hard. Topaz and, in particular, Andrei had warned against it. But they were dead. They hadn’t wanted to infuriate the Devil by taking this next step. Kovalenko didn’t care. They’d reminded him of what the man did for a living, of where his legend had been created. Kovalenko no longer cared. Legends were made to be torn down. Wasn’t his father the embodiment of that?

  He hated the Devil and all his machinations.

  But there were other things on this island that Kovalenko wanted to hide. Far worse things than the Devil himself.

  His cell beeped. Kovalenko answered immediately, knowing that for the next step to succeed timing w
as of the essence. “Hello?”

  “Sir, we are ready to sail at a moment’s notice.”

  “You have every supply I noted?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That is good.” Kovalenko eyed his main course with some regret. It looked delicious. But still . . . there was always the yacht and its facilities.

  “Prepare red wine poached halibut with bacon and garlic toasts. I want it ready for our departure in, say, twenty minutes.”

  “I will see to that, sir.”

  Kovalenko ended the call. Happy that his dining plans were in order, he turned his thoughts to the murder of several hundred people and, on the back of that, several thousand more.

  The plutonium had been stolen from an abandoned Soviet cold war facility decades ago. It had resided in Russia and then Kazakhstan for years, awaiting the arrival of men with the skills to enhance its potential. It had been forgotten about, transported openly on trucks, taken to Afghanistan only five years ago. As time passed technological advances increased. Things could be done with the plutonium now that could not be done back then. It had remained stable. Those that carried it did not want repercussions. It had also remained secret . . . almost.

  Kovalenko heard of it through Andrei. Of course. Most of my insider knowledge and connections came from Andrei. His loss is irreplaceable. It took months, but finally they had tracked the plutonium down to a nasty part of Chechnya near the border of Azerbaijan. Kovalenko had sent men to extract it with extreme prejudice and—days later—had been the proud owner of a football-sized piece of plutonium. The next step was finding scientists that knew what to do with it and then locating a place to store it.

  And then work began on it. Turning it into something Kovalenko was proud of.

  Striking a deal with the Devil, Kovalenko stored it on the island. He sent scientists there to transform it. The Devil had balked at first but was then offered a lot of money. Of course, it was Andrei that found out the Devil was struggling to fund his mercenary army, defend his castle and buy supplies. Everything fitted perfectly.

  The plutonium had been turned into a weapon. No, that’s incorrect. It had been made into twenty weapons. Each one a mini nuclear bomb with a plutonium core, carefully fashioned. Each one less than a quarter of a megaton. These plutonium cores had been inserted into small warheads with enough explosive charge to detonate them.

  Nineteen were now stored upon the Blood King’s superyacht.

  And the twentieth?

  Kovalenko laughed as he finished off the olives and stood up. He couldn’t stop a rush of euphoria. He didn’t flinch when his left foot slipped in blood left by the careless slave he’d beaten. He wiped his sole on a rug and ambled back to the window.

  Deep below him, in the foundations of the castle, the twentieth plutonium core waited.

  He wanted Devil’s Island gone. Obliterated. He wanted the clans that roamed it gone. He wanted the Devil and the SPEAR team gone. But most of all he wanted to hide what had been done here. He wanted to cover up the fact that six of Eastern Europe’s foremost nuclear scientists had been forced to create twenty low-yield nuclear weapons.

  He would do that by detonating one of them.

  Looking over the mass of activity at the docks, thinking about the tall building behind his—the so-called keep where the Devil lived—Luka Kovalenko reveled in pulling out his cellphone and typing in a number.

  A signal was sent to the bomb, arming it. The countdown began.

  One down, he thought. Nineteen more to go.

  But where should he send the others?

  The next part of his plan beckoned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mai Kitano sat upright against the cave wall, rubbing at any bruise she could reach. Her head still reeled from the ocean voyage. The hard ground beneath her seemed to move with a gentle roll. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the sensation but that just made it worse. Feeling nauseous, she took a deep breath and opened them again, trying to focus.

  Where the hell were they?

  The nightmare journey had ended just a few hours ago. The cargo ship dropped anchor and drifted to a stop—not that it had been going particularly fast in the first place. Luther had assumed they’d be a few miles off shore, in deep water.

  It took almost an hour for their door to be opened and natural sunlight to flood in. For the first time in what felt like months they were led outside, bathed in warmth, their eyes closed to shield them from this new assault on the senses. From that point their guards bullied, prodded and shoved them across the ship’s deck and deposited them in a large dinghy.

  When Mai was able she evaluated their guards. Some stood close enough to tackle, but many more watched from the ship, some on deck and others up high. All carried automatic weapons, and she counted at least fifty. When her eyes caught Luther’s, he shook his head ever so slightly.

  “Later,” he muttered.

  She understood. He wanted to get the hell off this ship and onto dry, firm land as much as she did. The dinghy smashed them through wave after wave as it headed for a sandy shore. Mai hung on, feeling battered, her head whirling. She saw both Dino and Karin throw up over the side, weak from endless days of sailing coupled with meagre food and their living quarters. It was something Mai just wanted to forget.

  The dinghy made a hard landing on the beach. Guards surrounded them. To the left, Mai saw a wide, asphalted path at the end of a nearby jetty, leading straight to a fenced compound. The path was full of mercenaries wearing fatigues and T-shirts, holding their weapons at ease. Many were joking among themselves as they fetched and carried.

  The compound walls were manned by more soldiers. Beyond that she saw several buildings surrounded by a castle wall, the central tower standing higher than all the others. It was a hot day, humid. Already, she was sweating. Mai welcomed it, hoping the heat might squeeze out some of the toxins that had collected inside her body over the last few days. But she needed water. Lots of it.

  Instead, they were dragged along the beach, past the noisy compound, toward a large, craggy mountain. Here, Mai caught a glimpse of a smaller compound sitting against the base of the towering rock face; this one separated into cell-like cages. Faces were pressed up against the bars, staring out at the passersby with a desolate lifelessness.

  “You have prisoners here?” she asked. “Is that where you’re taking us?”

  The only answer was a rifle butt to the kidneys. Mai gasped and staggered. Luther kept her from falling, receiving similar treatment for his actions.

  They did not stop. Mai was no stranger to adversity—all her life had been spent fighting one enemy or another. From the Ninja clan that her parents sold her to and its enigmatic but appalling leader, from Yakuza far and wide, and a hundred other enemies, Mai Kitano had faced almost every form of hardship on the planet.

  And she had faced all of it down.

  It molded her. It forged the warrior that now shone forth. But she never forgot where she came from—two loving parents forced through poverty and the twisted words of a conman to give her away. And she never forgot her sister and friends.

  Mai had found her parents. She had seen Chika discover love with an old friend of hers. And she had fought battles in Japan to save Grace, also taken by the Ninja clan but now living the best life that she could. Weeks ago, Mai had come to the conclusion that she wanted to share her life with someone. Some time ago, it would have been Matt Drake—but that chance was gone, and she didn’t begrudge it. She’d realized that the door was open to play the field, to test the waters.

  Of course, then she met Luther. The issue with the American was her own misgivings. Luther was the first man she’d liked since Drake—was she rushing in? Was she too needy? Was she settling when she could speculate?

  Before any of these questions could be answered, the Blood King came along and wrecked everything. Now, oddly, she was glad it was Luther who’d been kidnapped with her. She’d see him for the kind of man he was.

  The
beach ended where impassable rocks began. Their captors—eight in total—dragged them through the uneven stones with the high cliff face to their left, the crashing waves to their right. It was a narrow path. When Mai turned, she saw another group following them, this group dressed differently to the regular mercs and eighteen strong. She didn’t have long to look but thought there might be civilians among them.

  She was at the head of their group, hands tied behind her back, Luther a step behind. Karin and Dino were further back, heads low, walking as if they were already defeated. Mai had to make herself remember that those two hadn’t faced the life challenges that she had. They weren’t as seasoned.

  She trudged on, skin alight where the sun beat down on it, face and hair sprayed by sea foam. Ever since she left the ship she’d been trying to snag a glance at a merc’s watch. She knew it was early morning, but wanted an exact time. Now she saw that it was a little after 5 a.m. Steadily, they left the compound and its buildings and cages behind and circumvented the mountain. Its rock face towered over them. Sometime later they stopped and were ushered into a craggy cave entrance. Mai ducked her head to enter.

  Down and down for what seemed like an hour they trudged. The darkness was absolute, but the time gave Mai—and she hoped her companions—time to shed the debilitating miasma that the voyage had injected her with. The way was lit by flickering torches set into the rock walls at varying intervals.

  At last, they came to a wide, high, well-lit cave. Their captors told them to sit in a corner and listen. All four were handed a bottle of water and then randomly kicked. Mai couldn’t shuffle away from the blows in the tight space, but held on to her bottle and took it. Pain flared from her shin, her thigh. Luther sat and accepted it, stoic faced. Karin and Dino tried to crawl away, but the aggressors only followed and made their blows harder.

  Now, Mai nursed her bruises and watched as their captors gave way to the other eighteen men she’d seen following. Everyone fitted inside the cave. Most of the men rested on their haunches, faces glowing eerily in the flickering light as they were thrown into amber relief and then shadow. Their eyes didn’t change though, Mai noticed; they glinted with an unyielding malice.