The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3) (2 page)

Another shot. His knee exploded.

“You know nothing.”

A third bullet. Rodriguez doubled-over, holding his gut.

“Like all the rest of them.”

A final shot. Right between the eyes.

Drake surveyed the death around him, taking it in, letting his soul drink the nectar of vengeance for just a moment.

He left the house behind, escaping through the garden, letting the deep darkness take him.

CHAPTER TWO

Drake woke deep in the night, bathed in sweat. Eyes caked together with partly shed tears. The dream was always the same.

He had been the man who always saved them. The man always first to utter the words ‘
trust me.’
But then he failed.

Failed them both.

Twice now. First Alyson. Now Kennedy.

He slipped out of bed, reaching for the bottle he kept beside the gun on the nightstand. He swigged from the open top. Cheap whisky burned a path down his throat and into his gut. The medicine of the weak and the damned.

When guilt threatened to bring him yet again to his knees, he made three quick calls. The first to Iceland. He spoke briefly to Torsten Dahl and heard the sympathy in the big Swede’s voice, even as the man told him to stop ringing every night, that his wife and kids were safe and well and that no harm would come to them.

The second was to Jo Shepherd, a man he had fought many battles alongside during his days in the old regiment. Shepherd politely painted the same scenario as Dahl, but didn’t comment on Drake’s slurred words or the raw croak in his voice. He assured Drake that Ben Blake’s family was well guarded and that he and a few of his friends sat in the shadows, proficiently guarding the guards.

Drake closed his eyes as he made the last call. His head spun and his gut burned like the lowest level of hell. It was all welcome. Anything to draw his attention away from Kennedy Moore.

You even missed her damn funeral. . .

“Hello?” Alicia’s voice was calm and assured. She too had lost someone close to her recently, though she showed no outward sign.

“It’s me. How’re they doing?”

“All fine. Hayden’s healing well. Another few weeks and she’ll be back to her saintly CIA self. Blake’s okay, but pining for you. His sister just turned up. Quite the family reunion. Mai’s AWOL, thank God. I’m watching them, Drake. Where the hell are you?”

Drake coughed and wiped his eyes. “Thank you,” he managed before he broke the connection. Funny she should mention hell.

He felt he was camped outside those very gates.

CHAPTER THREE

Hayden Jaye watched the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean. It was her favorite part of the day and one she liked to spend in solitude. She slipped gingerly out of bed, wincing at the pain in her thigh, and padded carefully over to the window.

A relative peace settled over her. Creeping fire touched the waves and for a few minutes all her pain and worries melted away. Time stood still and she was immortal, and then the door opened behind her.

Ben’s voice. “Nice view.”

She nodded at the sunrise and then turned to see he was looking at her. “You don’t need to get fresh, Ben Blake. Coffee and a buttered bagel is enough.”

Her boyfriend brandished a drink carrier and paper bag like a weapon. “Meet me on the bed.”

Hayden took a last look at the new dawn and then took a slow walk over to the bed. Ben placed the coffee and bagels within easy reach and gave her puppy-dog eyes.

“How—”

“Same as last night,” Hayden said quickly. “Eight hours ain’t gonna make a limp go away.” Then she softened a little. “Anything from Drake?”

Ben settled back on the bed and shook his head. “No. I spoke to Dad though, and they’re all doing well. No sign of— ” He faltered. “Of. . .”

“Our families are safe.” Hayden laid a hand on his knee. “The Blood King failed there. Now all we have to do is find him and get the vendetta lifted.”

“Failed?”
Ben echoed. “How can you say that?”

Hayden took a deep breath. “You know what I meant.”

“Kennedy
died.
And Drake . . . he didn’t even go to her funeral
.”

“I know.”

“He’s gone, you know.” Ben stared at his bagel as if it were a hissing snake. “He won’t come back.”

“Give him time.”

“He’s had three weeks.”

“Then give him three more.”

“What do you suppose he’s doing?”

Hayden gave a half-smile. “From what I know of Drake… Covering
our
backs first. Then he’ll be trying to find Dmitry Kovalenko.”

“The Blood King might never turn up again.” Ben’s mood was so depressing, it leached away even the bright promise of the new morning.

“He will.” Hayden shot the young man a glance. “He has an agenda, remember? He won’t go to ground like previously. The time displacement devices were just the beginning. Kovalenko has a much bigger game planned.”

“The Gates of Hell?” Ben mused. “You believe that shit?”

“Doesn’t matter. He believes it. All the CIA has to do is figure it out.”

Ben took a long swallow of coffee. “That’s all, eh?”

“Well…” Hayden slipped him a sly smile. “Our geek forces are doubled now.”

“Karin
is
the brains,” Ben admitted. “But Drake would break Boudreau in a minute.”

“Don’t be too sure. Kinimaka didn’t. And he’s not exactly a poodle.”

Ben paused as there was a knock at the door. His eyes betrayed terror.

Hayden took a moment to reassure him. “We’re inside a secure CIA hospital facility, Ben. The layers of security surrounding this place would put the President’s inauguration parade to shame. Chill.”

A doctor popped his head around the door. “All good?” He entered the room and proceeded to check Hayden’s charts and vitals.

When he closed the door on the way out, Ben spoke again. “You think the Blood King will try for the devices again?”

Hayden shrugged. “You’re assuming he didn’t get the first one I lost. He probably did. As for the second one we recovered from his boat?” She smiled. “Nailed on.”

“Don’t be complacent.”

“The CIA aren’t complacent, Ben,” Hayden said immediately. “Not anymore. We’re ready for him.”

“What about the kidnapping victims?”

“What about them?”

“They’re certainly high profile. Harrison’s sister. The others you mentioned. He’ll use them.”

“Of course he will. And we’re ready for him.”

Ben finished his bagel and gave his fingers a lick. “I still can’t believe the entire
band
had to go into hiding,” he said wistfully. “Just as we were beginning to get famous.”

Hayden made a diplomatic grunt. “Yeah. Tragic.”

“Well, maybe it will make us more notorious.”

There was another quiet knock and Karin and Kinimaka came into the room. The Hawaiian looked despondent.

“That bastard ain’t gonna squeal. No matter what we do, he won’t even whistle for us.”

Ben rested his chin on his knees and pulled a gloomy face. “Damn, I wish Matt was here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The man from Hereford watched carefully. From his vantage point atop a grassy knoll to the right of a dense thicket of trees, he could use the telescopic scope mounted on his rifle to accurately pinpoint the members of Ben Blake’s family. The military-grade scope included
reticle illumination—
an option that allowed for extensive use under adverse light conditions and included BDC—Bullet Drop Compensation.

Truth be told, the rifle was equipped to the hilt with every high-tech sniper aid imaginable, but the man behind the sights certainly didn’t need them. He was trained to the highest level. He watched now as Ben Blake’s father stepped up to the television and turned it on. With the slightest adjustment he saw Ben Blake’s mother gesticulate at the father with a small remote. The crosshairs of his sights wavered not a millimeter.

With a practiced motion, he swept the scope across the grounds surrounding the house. It was set back from the road, hidden by trees and a high wall, and the man from Hereford proceeded to silently count the guards hiding amongst the shrubbery.

One-two-three. All accounted for. He knew there were another four inside the house and two more completely hidden. For all their sins, the CIA were doing a bang up job of protecting the Blakes.

The man’s brow furrowed. He detected movement. A darkness blacker than night was creeping along the base of the high wall. Too big to be an animal. Too stealthy to be an innocent.

Had the Blood King’s men found the Blakes? And, if so, how good were they?

A slight breeze blew in from the left, straight off the English Channel, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The man from Hereford compensated mentally for the revised bullet trajectory and zoomed in a bit closer.

The man wore all black, but the gear was clearly homemade. This guy was no professional, just a mercenary.

Bullet fodder.

The man’s finger tightened briefly and then released. Of course, the real question was—how many had he brought with him?

Without releasing the target from his crosshairs, he quickly appraised the house and its environs. A second later he was sure. The vicinity was clear. This black-clad man was acting alone, the man from Hereford was confident.

A mercenary for hire, killing for pay.

Hardly worth a bullet.

He squeezed the trigger gently and absorbed the kick-back. The sound of the bullet leaving the barrel barely registered. He saw the mercenary go down without any fuss, collapsing among the overgrown bushes.

The Blake family guards never noticed. In a few minutes, he would make a surreptitious call to the CIA, informing them their new safe house had been compromised.

The man from Hereford, Matt Drake’s old SAS pal, continued to guard the guards.

CHAPTER FIVE

Matt Drake twisted off the top of a fresh bottle of Morgan’s Spiced and tapped a speed-dial number on his cell-phone.

Mai sounded flustered when she answered. “Drake? What do you want?”

Drake swigged from the bottle as he frowned. For Mai, betraying emotions was about as uncharacteristic as a politician honoring his election vows. “You okay?”

“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? What is it?”

He took another heavy swig and ploughed on. “The device I gave you. Is it safe?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t have it. But it is safe, my friend.” Mai’s soothing tones were back. “It’s as safe as it could possibly be.” Drake took another mouthful. Mai said, “Is that it?”

“No. I believe I’ve almost exhausted my leads at this end. But I have another idea. One closer to. . . home.”

The silence clicked and crackled as she waited. This was not the normal Mai. Maybe she was with someone.

“I need you to use your Japanese contacts. And the Chinese. And especially the Russians. I want to know if Kovalenko has any family.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m fucking serious.” He said it more harshly than he had intended, but offered no apology. “And I want to know about Boudreau too. And his family.”

Mai took an entire minute to answer. “Alright, Drake. I’ll do what I can.”

Drake breathed deeply, as the connection went dead. After a minute, he stared at the bottle of spiced rum. Somehow it was half empty. He glanced up to the window and tried to see the city of Miami, but the glass was so dirty he could barely see the pane.

His heart ached.

He upended the bottle again. Without further thought he took action and hit another speed dial number. In action, he had found a way of putting the grief aside. In action, he had found a way of moving forward.

The cell phone rang and rang. Eventually a voice answered.
“Fucksake, Drake!
What?”

“Smooth talking, bitch,” he drawled, then paused. “How... how’s the team?”

“Team?
Christ. Okay, you want the bloody football analogy? The only person you can reasonably use as your striker at this point is Kinimaka. Hayden, Blake and his sister wouldn’t even make the sub’s bench.” She paused. “No focus. Your fault.”

He paused. “Me? You’re saying if an attempt was made on them it would succeed?” His head, slightly fogged, began to pound. “Because an attempt will be made.”

“The hospital is well secured. The guards are reasonably competent. But it’s good you asked me to stay. And good I said yes.”

“And Boudreau? What about that bastard?”

“About as chirpy as a fried egg. He won’t break. But remember, Drake, the whole U.S. government’s working on this now. Not just us.”

“Don’t remind me.” Drake shuddered. “A government that’s badly compromised. Information travels up and down lines of contact within the government, Alicia. It only takes one bad blockage to cram it all up.”

Alicia remained silent.

Drake sat and thought about it. Until the Blood King was physically located, any intel they had should be considered undependable. That included the Gates of Hell information, the Hawaii connection and any titbits he had gleaned from the four dead henchmen.

Maybe one more would do the trick.

“I have one more lead. And Mai’s looking into Kovalenko’s and Boudreau’s family connections. Maybe you could ask Hayden to do the same?”

“I’m here as a favor, Drake. I’m not your bloody sheepdog.”

This time Drake remained silent.

Alicia sighed. “Look, I’ll mention it. And as for Mai, don’t trust that crazy sprite as far as you can throw her.”

Drake smiled at the video game reference. “I’ll agree to that when you tell me which one of you crazy bitches killed Wells. And why.”

He expected a long silence and got it. He took the opportunity to swig down a few more gulps of the amber medicine.

“I’ll talk to Hayden,” Alicia finally whispered. “If Boudreau or Kovalenko have family, we’ll find them.”