The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3) Page 6

  “Boudreau’s turned even crazier if that’s possible. When his sister stood up, alive—” Hayden shook her head. “Ultimate meltdown.”

  “The plan worked. The idea was sound,” Drake told her. “We got the information. It was worth it.”

  Hayden nodded. “I know. I’m just glad the maniac’s behind bars.”

  Drake stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. “If it were up to me,” he said as Hayden vanished from sight. “I’d shoot the bastard in his cell.”

  *****

  Drake took a cab to Biscayne Boulevard and headed for the Bayside Marketplace. The person who had called him, sounding subdued and shaky and completely out of character, had wanted to meet outside the Bubba Gump. Drake had experienced a moment of humour and suggested Hooters, a place probably more fitting for them, but Mai had acted as though she hadn’t even heard him.

  Drake joined the throng, listened to the rowdy merriment all around him, and felt completely out of place. How could these people be so happy when he had lost something so dear? How could they not care?

  His throat was dry, his lips cracked. The bar at Bubba Gump beckoned. Maybe he could sink a few before she arrived. He was under no illusions, though; this had to stop. If he was going to Hawaii to hunt the murderer of the woman he loved, if he was going to extract vengeance and not become a victim— this had to be the last time.

  Had to be.

  He was about to push through the door when Mai shouted at him. She was right there, leaning against a pillar not six feet away. If she had been an enemy, he’d be dead right now.

  His resolve for savagery and retribution was worthless without focus and expertise.

  Mai headed for the restaurant and Drake followed. They took seats at the bar and ordered Lava Flows in honor of the forthcoming Hawaiian trip.

  Drake remained silent. He had never seen Mai Kitano nervous before. He had never seen her scared before. He couldn’t imagine the scenario that would faze her.

  And then his world collapsed again.

  “Kovalenko abducted my sister, Chika, from Tokyo. Many months ago now. He has been holding her ever since as captive.” Mai took a deep breath.

  “I see. I understand what you did,” Drake said in a whisper. It was obvious. Family always came first.

  “He has the device.”

  “Yes.”

  “I came to the US to find her. To find Kovalenko. But I failed until you and your friends contacted me. I owe you.”

  “We didn’t save her. You did.”

  “You gave me hope, made me part of the team.”

  “You’re still part of the team. And don’t forget the government has the other device. They’re not about to give it up.”

  “Unless one of them has had a loved one in captivity.”

  Drake knew what had happened to Gates’s wife but said nothing. “We will need you in Hawaii, Mai. If we’re to beat this man, we will need the best. The government knows it. That’s why you and Alicia and the others have been cleared to go.”

  “And you?”

  “And me.”

  “What of your loved ones, Drake? Has the Blood King tried to make good on his vendetta?”

  Drake shrugged. “He failed.”

  “And yet he will keep trying.”

  “Is your sister safe? Does she need extra protection? I know some people—”

  “It is taken care of, thank you.”

  Drake studied the untouched drink. “Then it will all end in Hawaii,” he said. “And now that we have almost found him, it will be soon.”

  Mai took a long sip of her drink. “He will be prepared, Drake. He has been planning this for a decade.”

  “It’s a land of fire,” he said. “Add Kovalenko and all of us to the equation and the whole place might just explode.”

  *****

  He watched Mai walk away toward the parking lot and headed over to where he thought a cab might be. The Miami nightlife was in full swing. Alcohol wasn’t the only intoxication available and the mix of endless, balmy nights, the fine men and women, and the up-tempo tunes were working hard to boost even his shattered morale.

  He rounded a corner and the marina was laid out before him—yachts bristling to take pride of place, crowds thronging the walkways, an open-air restaurant studded with beautiful people without a care in the world.

  Due for most part to people like Matt Drake.

  He turned back. His cellphone began to ring that haunting, melodic tune.

  A quick jab of the button. “Yes?”

  “Matt? Good day. Hello.” The fine Oxford educated tones surprised him.

  “Dahl?” he said. “Torsten Dahl?”

  “Of course. Who else sounds this good?”

  Panic struck Drake. “Is everything okay?”

  “Do not worry, mate. All is well at this side of the world. Iceland is great. The kids are fantastic. The wife is. . . the wife. How goes it with Kovalenko?”

  “We found him,” Drake said with a smile. “Almost. We know where to look. There’s some mobilization taking place right now and we should be in Hawaii tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Well, the reason I am ringing may or may not be of some use to you. You can decide yourself. As you know the exploration of the Tomb of the Gods continues cautiously. You remember back at Frey’s chateau when I stood on the edge of Odin’s tomb with my tongue hanging out? You remember what we found?”

  Drake remembered his immediate awe. “Sure.”

  “Believe me when I say we are discovering treasures equal to or surpassing even that almost every day. But something more mundane caught my eye this morning, mainly because it reminded me of you.”

  Drake stepped into a narrow alleyway to better hear the Swede. “Reminds you of me? Did you find Hercules?”

  “No. But we did find markings on the walls of every niche of the tomb. They were hidden behind the treasures so weren’t apparent at first.”

  Drake coughed. “Markings?”

  “They matched the picture you sent me.”

  It took Drake a moment and then a bolt of lightning struck his heart. “Wait. You mean exactly like the picture I sent? The picture of the whorls we found on the time-displacement devices?”

  “Thought that would get you biting, my friend. Yes, those markings- or whorls, as you say.”

  Drake was momentarily at a loss for words. If the markings in the Tomb of the Gods matched the markings they had found on the ancient displacement devices, then that meant they were from the same era.

  Drake spoke through a bone-dry mouth. “That means—”

  But Torsten Dahl had already thought it through. “That the gods made the devices for the purpose of travelling through time. If you think it through, it makes perfect sense. We know from what we found in Odin’s tomb that they existed. Now we know how they manipulated the course of time.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Blood King stood at the edge of his small preserve, watching a few of his Bengal tigers stalk a small deer that had been loosed for them. His emotions were torn. On the one hand, it felt good to own and observe at leisure one of the greatest killing machines the planet had ever produced. On the other—it was a crying shame they should be held captive. They deserved more.

  Not like his human captives. They deserved what they were about to get.

  Boudreau.

  The Blood King turned as he heard a number of people trudging through the grass. “Mr. Boudreau,” he grated. “How was CIA detention?”

  The man came to a stop several yards away, affording him the respect he demanded but facing him without fear. “Tougher than I had imagined,” he admitted. “Thank you for the quiet extraction.”

  The Blood King paused. He sensed the tigers at his back, stalking the terrified deer. The deer would squeal and run, overwhelmed by terror, unable to stare its own death in the eye. Boudreau wasn’t like that. The Blood King gave him a measure of respect.

  “Did Matt Drake best you?”


  “The CIA was more resourceful than I gave them credit for. That’s all.”

  “You do know that if it were me holding the gun, your sister’s death would not have been faked.”

  Boudreau’s silence showed he understood.

  “The time has come for action,” the Blood King said. “I need someone to destroy the other ranches. The ones on Kauai and the Big Island. Can you do that for me?”

  The man he had ordered to be saved from lifelong detention suddenly looked hopeful. “That I can do.”

  “You must kill every hostage. Every man, woman and child. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Blood King leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

  The Blood King betrayed no outward emotion, but was pleased. Boudreau was his most competent fighter and commander. It was good he remained so loyal.

  “Go prepare yourself then. Await your instructions.”

  His men led the American away and the Blood King motioned for one man to wait behind. It was Claude, the overseer of his Oahu ranch.

  “As I said, Claude, the time has come. You are ready, yes?”

  “All is prepared. How long should we hold out?”

  “You will hold out until you are dead,” the Blood King rasped. “Then your debt to me will be paid. You are part of the distraction. Only a small part, granted, but your sacrifice will be worth it.”

  His Oahu overseer stayed silent.

  “Does this bother you?”

  “No. No, sir.”

  “That’s good. And once we have their focus on the ranches, you will unleash the local island cells. It is I who will be going through the Gates of Hell, but Hawaii will burn.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The private CIA jet cruised along at thirty-nine thousand feet. Matt Drake rattled the ice in his empty glass and cracked the seal to another miniature whisky. He had positioned himself alone at the back of the plane in the hope they might respect his solitude. But the constant sideways glances and furious whispers told him the ‘welcome back’ wagon would stop alongside him soon.

  And the whisky hadn’t even started to take the edge off yet.

  Hayden sat across the aisle from him, Kinimaka at her side. Despite the nature of his mission, the Hawaiian seemed quite cheerful about the return to his homeland. His family was being carefully guarded, but the ever-optimistic giant seemed quite certain he would still get chance to see them.

  Hayden was talking to Jonathan Gates by sat-phone. “Three more? That makes twenty-one captives, sir. Well, yes, I’m sure there are more than that. And no location yet. Thank you.”

  Hayden broke the connection and hung her head. “I can’t talk to him anymore. How do you talk to a man whose wife was just murdered? What do you say?”

  Drake watched her. It took a moment but then she turned a haunted look toward him. “I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t think. So much going on.”

  Drake nodded and drained the glass. “Shouldn’t Gates be taking a leave of absence?”

  “The situation’s too volatile.” Hayden clicked the phone against her knee. “In a war no one gets to take a back seat.”

  Drake smiled at the irony. “I didn’t think Hawaii was that big.”

  “You mean why haven’t they found at least one of his ranches yet? Well, it isn’t big. But there’s an awful lot of tough forest, hillsides and valleys out there. The ranches are probably camouflaged too. And the Blood King’s prepared for us. Washington seems to think the locals will help us more than outright manpower.”

  Drake raised an eyebrow. “Surprisingly, they’re probably right. Which is where our friendly giant comes in.”

  Mano gave him a big unselfconscious grin. “I do know a large portion of the population of Honolulu.”

  There was a blur and Ben Blake was suddenly at his side. Drake stared at the young man. It was the first time they’d seen each other properly since Kennedy had died. A wealth of emotion rose inside him, which he quickly squashed and covered up by taking another drink.

  “It all happened so quick, mate. There was nothing I could do. She saved me but. . . but I couldn’t save her.”

  “I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “But you left.”

  Drake was looking at Karin, Ben’s sister, who was staring at her brother with angry eyes. They’d obviously discussed Ben’s rash move and he’d gone against the grain. Drake cracked another whisky and sat back, his gaze fixed. “About a thousand years ago I joined the SAS. The world’s best fighting force. There’s a reason they’re the best, Ben. Among other things, it’s because they’re hard men. Ruthless. Killers. They are not like the Matt Drake you know. Or even like the Matt Drake who looked for the bones of Odin. That Matt Drake wasn’t SAS. He was a civilian.”

  “And now?”

  “Whilst the Blood King is alive and the Vendetta still exists, I can’t be the civilian. No matter how much I want to be.”

  Ben looked away. “I get that.”

  Drake was surprised. He half-turned as Ben stood up and walked back to his seat. Maybe the young lad was starting to grow up.

  If the last three months hadn’t accelerated that process, nothing ever would.

  Hayden was watching him. “He was with her, you know. When she died. It’s been hard on him too.”

  Drake swallowed and said nothing. His throat closed and it was all he could do not to start blubbering. Some SAS man. The whisky burned a hot trail down to the pit of his stomach. After a moment he said, “How’s the leg?”

  “Sore. I can walk and even run. Wouldn’t want to fight Boudreau for a few more weeks though.”

  “So long as he’s in jail you won’t have to.”

  A commotion caught his attention. Mai and Alicia were seated a few rows in front and across the aisle from each other. Relations between the two women had never been more than frosty, but something was getting the two of them riled up.

  “You compromised us!” Alicia started to shout. “To save your own damn sister. How else could they have found the hotel?”

  Drake slipped out of his seat and started down the aisle. The last thing needed on the flight was a fight between the two deadliest women he had ever known.

  “Hudson died in that hotel,” Alicia snarled. “They shot him whilst. . . whilst—” She shook her head. “Was that your intel, Kitano? I dare you to tell the truth.”

  Alicia stepped into the aisle. Mai rose to face her. The two women were almost nose-to-nose. Mai backed up to give herself room. An unskilled observer might think that was a sign of weakness on the Japanese girl’s part.

  Drake knew it to be a deadly indicator.

  He raced forward. “Stop!”

  “My sister is worth ten Hudson’s.”

  Alicia snarled. “Now I get me some Mai-time!”

  Drake had known Mai would not back down. It would be easier to tell Alicia what she already knew—that Hudson had given himself away—but Mai Kitano’s pride would not allow her to yield. Alicia jabbed. Mai parried. Alicia shuffled sideways to give herself more space. Mai came at her.

  Drake darted toward them.

  Alicia fake-kicked, stepped in and drove an elbow toward Mai’s face. The Japanese warrior didn’t move, but turned her head ever so slightly, allowing the blow to whistle a millimeter past her.

  Mai struck hard at Alicia’s ribs. There was a high whistle of escaping breath and Alicia staggered back against the bulkhead. Mai advanced.

  Hayden was on her feet, shouting. Ben and Karin were up too, both curious about who would win the fight. Drake stormed in hard, shoving Mai against a nearby seat and slamming an arm across Alicia’s throat.

  “Stop.” His voice was quiet as the grave but loaded with menace. “Your dead fucking boyfriend is not the issue here. And neither is your sister.” He threw a glare toward Mai. “Kovalenko is the enemy. Once that bastard is FUBAR, you can fight all you want, but until then, s
ave it.”

  Alicia twisted her arm away. “The bitch should die for what she did.”

  Mai didn’t bat an eyelash. “You have done much worse, Alicia.”

  Drake saw the fire rekindled in Alicia’s eyes. He blurted out the only thing he could think of. “Instead of arguing, maybe you could explain to me which one of you really killed Wells. And why.”

  The fight went out of them.

  Hayden was right behind him “Hudson was tracked through a hi-tech tracer, Myles. You know that. No one here is happy about the way Mai gave away the device.” Her voice was steel. “Let alone the way she obtained it. But even I understand why she did it. Some top government officials are currently going through the same thing. Kovalenko is already playing his end game and we’re barely at second base. And if the leaks aren’t plugged—”

  Alicia snarled and returned to her seat. Drake found another stash of miniatures and headed back up the aisle toward his own. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, unwilling to make any kind of conversation with his best friend yet.

  But on the way, Ben leaned toward him. “FUBAR?”

  “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Before they landed, Hayden received a call to tell them Ed Boudreau had been broken out of the CIA prison. The Blood King used an insider and, against his own inclinations, extracted Boudreau in a low-key, no-fuss operation.

  “You people never learn,” Drake said to her and wasn’t surprised when she had nothing to say in return.

  Honolulu airport flashed by in a blur, as did the swift car ride into the city. The last time they had been in Hawaii, they had attacked Davor Babic’s mansion and been placed on a hit list by his son, Blanka. At the time, that had appeared serious.

  Then Dmitry Kovalenko came along.

  Honolulu was a busy city, not unlike most American or European cities. But somehow, the mere thought of Waikiki Beach being not more than a twenty minute drive away tempered even Drake’s murky thoughts.

  It was early evening and they were all weary. But Ben and Karin insisted they head straight for the CIA facility and get themselves set up on the local network. They were both anxious to start delving into the whereabouts of Captain Cook’s logs. Drake almost smiled at that one. Ben always loved a mystery.