Matt Drake 07 - Blood Vengeance (18 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Kinimaka listened to his head and not his heart, and waited for the ambulance to turn up. It arrived accompanied by a military escort. Karin, using newly established local contacts, and Kinimaka, using his juice as an ex-CIA agent, had pulled every string in their respective bows to get Hayden escorted to the nearest best-guarded hospital. The men they had spoken to had won their confidence and come through with the prompt ambulance and heavily armed escort. The SPEAR team was still under threat, a point acknowledged by all, and were permitted as much security as the authorities could spare.

Kinimaka watched with a pained expression and an aching heart as Hayden was carried away on a stretcher. He held her hand until the last moment, its limp weight almost breaking his heart. The paramedics di
dn’t need to say that his impromptu field surgery had saved her life. He just hoped they could keep it that way. He glanced up into the morning sun as the ambulance drove away, seeking solace in its warmth, then returned to the ruined safe house.

“I’ll see you again
,” he said under his breath: a promise, a wish.

“Tell me again,” he
added, louder, “Why I can’t go with her.”

“This is why.” Karin held out her phone. “
The team needs you more than Hayden does right now. So does this country. I have Drake on speakerphone. Listen to this.”

“Kovalenko got away, Mano. He blew up some
underground tunnels, used some kind of drone and escaped through the labyrinth beneath Washington.”

Karin knitted her brows. “They’ll still have him on CCTV, Matt,” she said. “There’s surveillance cameras below DC too, and most other major cities.”

“I know. But the arsehole’s got some tech wizards working for him. They disabled some remotely, destroyed others. We have some patchy footage, but nothing that tells us where he and his psychotic band of brothers came out.”

“Tech wizards for sure,” Karin said.
“Covert agency standard at least. Controlling that drone must have been almost as hard as stealing it. Then we had the traffic light fuck up. The Special Agent Grid incursion. What next?”

“He hit hard and fast,” Dahl said. “He put everyone on the back foot. Especially us, with all the extra suffering we’ve had to face. Now he’s on the run.
This is our chance to pull together and end this the right way.”

“You have everyone
with you,” Kinimaka said. “We all owe that bastard.”

“Damn straight,” Smyth rasped quietly, a look of sadness on his face. “What’s the plan?”

“Head for the Foggy Bottom Metro and use your IDs. Coburn’s calling together the meeting of all meetings. I have an idea . . . a good one,” Drake paused. “But I need all of your support to help me pull it off and make it look good.”

“On our way.”
Kinimaka looked around. “C’mon, guys. It’s time to make Kovalenko pay. Time to shed some blood.”

Smyth snarled, “And
get a fuckload of vengeance.”

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Lauren Fox sat listening as the SPEAR team made plans to go after Dmitry Kovalenko. Her head spun. Ever since she’d been attacked in her New York apartment, impressed Jonathan Gate
s, and then accepted a role in the team, her life had been anything but regular. Not that she led the most ordinary of lives anyway.
But hell,
she thought
, There’s gotta be a limit.

Lauren was streetwise, quick-witted and, when necessary, somewhat of a smooth talker. But she was not polite. Maybe it was being dragged around foster homes all her childhood, maybe it was the New York vice, but Lauren could not bring herself to kiss ass.

Unless she was being paid two thousand an hour, of course. For that kind of money she’d pretty much kiss anything that presented itself.

Kiss ass or kick ass?
She thought back to her time on the streets. It had always been the latter.

Now, with Jonathan gone and the future of the team uncertain, Lauren’s
instinct was to bolt. She had the experience to look after herself. She had money saved in a Grand Central locker. The only reason she didn’t was because she knew Stone was an influential five-star general and thus held a lot of clout on the Hill. He
would
track her down when he had the time. SPEAR, or whatever element remained after today, was the kind of family that would have her back, no matter what. They would stand against the general and find a way to help her. The team that Gates had formed would be her salvation.

She had originally made contact with General Stone during the Babylon affair,
prepared to use her wiles, but later been told to stand down by Gates. Almost past the point of no return, Stone had guessed something was off and had made stronger enquiries. That was until Kovalenko struck at the capital. Tomorrow, if Kovalenko vanished . . . who knew?

Now Lauren looked around. The team was about to split up. Yorgi the Russian, Sarah Moxley the Washington Post reporter and herself would be dropped off at the hospital where Hayden was being treated. The place was heavily guarded, totally secure, and if Kinimaka had allowed Hayden to be taken there then Lauren had no problem joining the
wounded team leader. Plus, Kovalenko was on the run and so were his various cells. Maybe he had a plan for another day and maybe he didn’t.

Anyway,
she thought.
Life’s at its best when it’s unpredictable.

The team gathered together. To a person they looked disheveled, shell-shocked, even downtrodden, but sparks of life and hope still lived in their eyes. They would learn to live with their losses
and come fighting back.

Literally.

Kinimaka took a moment. “Look,” he said to Yorgi, Moxley and her. “I know you three guys have stuff that needs sorting out. Stick with us, and we’ll get into it right after we fry Kovalenko’s ass. Please, just give us a few days.”

Yorgi nodded vigorously. “I really have nowhere else to go.
I’m good.”

Sarah just nodded
absently. Lauren untied then retied her dark hair. “Only Gates knew how to help me.” She said. “It’s . . . very sensitive.”

Smyth looked up from his phone
, thumbs suddenly still. Lauren wondered who he was texting in these significant moments. “Sensitive, huh? Can I help with some ointment?”

“Do I even know you?”

“I guess not. But there’s always tomorrow.”

Lauren looked away. “Not for some.”

Smyth looked down. Before the mood sobered any further, Kinimaka pointed to the door. “Let’s move out.”

Lauren followed Karin and Komodo, keeping her thoughts to herself. The morning light hit her like a balm, the chill wind like a cold shower. People were moving around outside. Civilization, it seemed, had returned to the world after taking the night off.

News reports blared from open windows. Entire families sat around listening. Lauren could see them as Komodo drove them down the block. Newsstands were open, papers racked up out front with glaring headlines designed to sell thousands of copies. The brave few who wandered the streets did so with sad, subdued faces.

The nation was in mourning.

Komodo drove ten city blocks and pulled up to the hospital entrance. They were challenged almost instantly and made to show their IDs. Kinimaka called about Hayden’s progress and received the same unhelpful answer.

She’s in surgery right now.
No change.

Lauren exited the car without saying goodbye, not sure what to say, and stood and watched as Komodo drove Karin, Kinimaka and Smyth away.

Yorgi, at her side, voiced her exact feelings. “I wonder if we’ll ever see them all together again.”

CHAPTER FORTY

President Coburn and the Secret Service had made the decision not to relocate immediately to the White House or any secure bunker, but to safely address a select few decision
makers whilst Kovalenko was still thought to be actively on the run.

So, although Kinimaka was now the acting head of SPEAR, and Drake was and always would be a
gnarly Yorkshireman, it was still the ex-SAS soldier who was invited into the hastily assembled inner circle. Even Drake was surprised, but mitigating factors included the rationales of speed and Kinimaka’s absence and the fact that Drake had been part of the team which helped saved Coburn’s life—even fighting alongside him.

A
government building on 23
rd
Street was taken over, swept, secured and prepped in under an hour. All lingering students were quickly relocated. Policy dictated that the President should not stay in the area, but all the military men and minds present applauded the decision whilst the dyed-in-the-wool politicians dithered and moaned.

As Coburn had said, “We now have need of a military leader, not a political figure. Only the future can truly judge my next actions, but I believe they should be
powerful, swift and severe.”

Drake waited amid a knot of executives, the majority present purely because they were
there
, on site and in charge at a moment of crisis. When the Secret Service ushered them into a windowless holding room one by one, Drake fell into line. He took a seat and watched while the meeting was hastily called to order.

“My friends, I don’t have long,” Coburn began, walking to the front of the room. “We have the White House, the VP, and other leaders on teleconference call, and we have you. The terrorist Dmitry Kovalenko and his men are on the run, and I have to make a public address within the hour. I need options, gentlemen. What have you got?”

Drake kept an eye on his phone. Kinimaka would text when he arrived, indicating that Drake could present his proposal with the full backup and commitment of his team.

Reports came in thick and fast. The NSA were monitoring all signals and reporting that overall chatter was quiet. The CIA stated that all
of its foreign assets were on full alert, but had so far learned nothing. At domestic level, the FBI had alerted every one of its agents and was out in force. Other agencies and forces gave more details, but actual suggestions remained thin on the ground.

The Chiefs of Staff soon stepped in thro
ugh the teleconference call, all speaking at once. The FAA and NORAD took the opportunity and attested to the safety of the skies. The first person who actually stood up to be counted was the DC Chief of Police, who stated that although every available officer was being utilized in the search for Kovalenko and in scrutinizing the Metro stations and other egress points from the tunnels, it should be assumed that their quarry had already escaped by means of a carefully pre-planned route. Hundreds of thousands of square feet of abandoned tunnels ran beneath the city at varying points and, although some were monitored, it also had to be said that some were not.

“If his escape plan is as formidable as his plan of attack,” the Chief said. “Then he may have already left DC and its environs.”

Coburn didn’t bat an eye. He’d no doubt already been informed that might be the case. “One thing is clear cut,” the President said. “He will not be allowed to escape this country.”

The Director of the FBI spoke up. “Before any of you smart people think of tracking the rogue agent, Marnich, through the Special Agent
Grid, let me tell you right now that it’s a dead end. The Grid has been compromised.”

Drake knew the Secret Service and several other agencies wore trackers which allowed a central com
mand point to know their exact location at all times—most called it ‘the Grid’. He listened as the CIA Director explained that every single one of Kovalenko’s old contacts were being monitored and none had received any form of contact.

“He has money,” a man seated in front of Drake said. “This damned operation of his has been financed from somewhere. Can’t we follow that?”

The FBI Director took that one. “Without laboring the point, sir, we never did find all of Kovalenko’s accounts. And perhaps he has a new backer. We’ll start to follow the trail but it’s going to take some time.”

Drake thought he might as well start the ball rolling. “Have we retaken the prison yet?”

“Recently,” the Chief of Staff of the Army said. “The prison is now ours.”

Coburn looked directly at Drake. “Are you thinking he may have left something behind?
Some kind of information?”

Drake pursed his lips. He really wanted to wait for Kinimaka, but his natural enthusiasm had risen and jumped the gun. There was no delaying the President.

“Kovalenko’s goal is the fulfillment of his ‘Blood Vendetta’,” he said. “For any of you who don’t know what that is—it’s the murder of anyone connected in any way to his original downfall. The President. The Secretary of Defense. The SPEAR team. I say we give him the chance to realize his dream.” He paused expectantly.

Kinimaka texted at last.
Drake relaxed.

Coburn sat forward. “Tell me more.”

****

Drake left the meeting early, called Kinimaka’s cell, and let himself be guided to their position. When he saw the Hawaiian he felt a sudden urge to hug the big man.

“Thank God you made it through, Mano.”

“We were lucky.”

“And Hayden?”

“Still in surgery.
There’s no word yet.”

Drake steeled his heart. He couldn’t show too much emotion right now. The stakes were still space
station high. His gaze moved to Karin, and when her bottom lip started to tremble that decision went out the window.

“I’m so sorry about Ben,” he said. “And . . . and your . . . I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Karin came forward and buried her head in his chest. “I know.”

Drake allowed a few moments of mourning. It was hard to believe but as he looked over his gathered colleagues, his team mates,
and more than that – his new family – he saw pure iron resolve. There stood Alicia, battered and devastated; Kinimaka, mourning his mother’s loss; Smyth, trying not to show how deeply he had loved Romero; Karin, who had lost her entire family; Komodo, who would also have to deal with her losses for the rest of his life; and Dahl. The Swede’s family had remained mercifully untouched but Drake knew every single death would have driven spikes through the man’s heart and soul.

But the steel in
their eyes was as resolute as the hardiest warship, as resilient as the strongest sword, and ready to be put to work. Drake nodded at Kinimaka.

“They’re still debating half a dozen other plans. But
essentially they went for ours.”

Karin pulled away. Komodo put his beefy arms around her. She wiped her eyes. “So we’re going to Death Valley?
Now?”

Drake nodded.

“We getting any cover?” Smyth growled. “Not that I give a shit anyway.”

“Area 51’s close by,” Drake said without inflection. “Whatever
else that place may be, it’s still a big military base. They’re flying a fully equipped fuckin’ army into there.”

“So we’re really doing this?” Kinimaka took a huge breath.

Drake nodded grimly. “The Blood King started a war. He’s about to get one. It’s game on, motherfucker.”