The Swords of Babylon (Matt Drake 6) (11 page)

Drake
used the downtime to allay at least one demon. He made the call to Ben Blake, the one he’d been promising himself to make for the last few weeks. A careful, profound conversation was long overdue, but, even as he dialed the phone, Drake knew this call probably wouldn’t go well. In some ways, he still partly blamed Ben for Kennedy’s death, but that was the soldier in him unable to accept that the kid hadn’t made at least some attempt to save her. On the other hand, he had dragged Ben into this from the very beginning and, at first, it had just been the two of them. Not even six months had passed since they’d begun their quest for the bones of Odin, and an awful lot of turbulent water had passed under the bridge since then. Ben himself had gotten blood on his hands and faced death many times. And now that Drake was at least starting to move on with Mai, a few things had attained a clearer perspective.

Ben Blake had been his best friend before all this beg
an. Ben had offered his friendship and his help for free before, and after, he knew what kind of man Drake was. The poor kid had lost Hayden Jaye, possibly the best catch of his life. He deserved better than being shunned.

“Hello? Matt?”

“Hey, Ben.”

“I can
’t hear you. Matt? How you doing?”

“Good. I
’m good!” Drake raised his voice. The noise coming from Ben’s side of the phone was horrendous. “What the hell’s that? The frog chorus?”

Ben groaned.
“In a manner of speaking. It’s the band.”

“The Wall of Sleep.
I hear you haven’t improved much then.”

“I just got back a couple of weeks ago. Give me chance.
What have you been doing?”

“Ah, not so much.
Kidnapped, tossed into jail. Almost got to play a game of footie with the inmates, though, before God-Zanko fell on me.”

“Eh? Which god now? You went to jail? I thought you were fighting the North Koreans.”

Drake snorted. “That was last week. This week it’s the Russians and maybe someone else. You know the drill.”

“Russians?”
Ben sounded scared. “Is the Blood King—”

“Nah.
Don’t worry about that bastard. He’s away for life. Even his men have vanished now. This is another set of nasties. Anyway, enough of that bollocks. How’s it going with you?”

“Mum and
Dad were happy to see me, but they miss Karin. How’s she doing?”

“She misses you, Ben.”

“I’m okay. And . . . and Hayden?”

“If you spoke to them when they called you
, then you’d know.”

A powerful guitar riff drowned out Ben
’s reply. Drake heard the guys calling him in the background. Ben heaved a sigh. “Well . . .”

“Alright, mate. But Ben, the next time I
’m in England, we need to talk.”

“That would be good.”

Feeling as though he’d accomplished nothing, Drake finished up. Next he rang Sam, his ex-SAS buddy and the man who had helped him take down the terrorists in the Czech Republic not so long ago. He asked that Sam and Jo, his other great Army friend, keep their eyes on Ben whenever they were able. Sam told him it would be tough, but promised to do what he could. Drake couldn’t ask for more.

As he dumped the cell
phone on the bedside table, Mai walked into the room. Her shoulder length, black hair was drawn severely back, her dark eyes troubled. Drake knew she would speak her mind if she felt the need, so said nothing.

A little while later
, she sat beside him on the bed. She placed a hand on his knee, but not in a sensual manner, more of a comforter.

“Matt
.” She stared at the floor. “I don’t lose often. And to get beat and lose you . . .” she shook her head. “I’m not used to it.”

“It
’s not your fault. Hey, I got beat too. Twice, actually, if you include my jail-yard brawl with King Kong’s big brother.”

Mai
’s expression put him in his place. “You
do
lose, Matt. I don’t. And this is the worst possible time for me to start failing.”

“Why?
Because of Cayman and the Babylon thing?”

“Of course not.
Something else is in play, Matt. Something that leads all the way back to my childhood. You know about that of course.”

“Fuck me, Mai. That
’s huge.”

“I know. I just can
’t lose my edge now.”

Drake relented.
“We got complacent. We took a few days off. We shouldn’t have to be on our guard twenty four hours a day, but,” he shrugged, “that’s the job. And, Mai, I’m always here for you.”

Mai stood up. “It won
’t happen again. Look, when this is over I want to go and see Chika. Visit her in Tokyo. Maybe the two of us?”

Drake grinned. “Sound idea.
Bloody sound. I haven’t visited Tokyo since the old Coscon days.”

Mai looked wistful for a minute, remembering. “Those were the
best of days.”

Drake framed her face with his hands and leaned in to kiss her. “And so are these.”

Mai Kitano watched Drake sleep from her perch by the window. She couldn’t relax. The endless, sleepless nights had not affected her yet, but would soon take their toll. Even here, in Russia, in this safe house, with CIA protection, she knew that she was far from safe. Mai was not afraid, fear did not live in her, but she was anxious and worried about her friends.

The C
lan is looking for you.

Just a one line message, received on a personal email address that nobody except
a few of her old contacts knew. But devastating. Truly dreadful. The past that she thought she had left behind was catching her up, a looming freight train full of horrors, and she had no option but to meet it head on.

Now,
she thought.
Just when I got him back.

The events of the past few days had put the very real mortality of Mai and her family and friends into perspective. Reality had checked in with a vengeance.

Without any more deliberation she dialed Chika’s number. Her sister answered on the third ring.

“Moshi
-moshi?”

“It is me Chika.”

“Sister! I have missed you.”

“And I you, Chika.
It is good to hear your voice.” Mai proceeded to ask her sister about her job, her friends, and whether any men had appeared in her life of late. Chika reacted a little cagily to the last question, but confirmed that all was well, and Mai started to relax. She laughed a little, talked of the few good times they had shared, but then, near the end of the conversation, Chika finally came out with the one thing Mai had been dreading all along.

“Two days ago,” she said. “Some men visited me at work. They were asking about you Mai.
And about your past.”

“Did they threaten you?”

“Oh no. They were very nice. Why would you say that?”

“Because of my past, Chika.
That is why.”

“I don
’t know much about your past. I told them that. And I told them I didn’t know where you were. Which I don’t.”

Mai glossed over the rest, quickly alleviating any alarm Chika may have felt by saying it was most likely something to do with her old
job at the government. She waited the required time and then told Chika to be safe.

“Goodbye,
Sister.”

Her ne
xt call was to Dai Hibiki. “Where are you, Dai?”

“Wow, Mai. No
contact for years, then you wrench me out of deep cover and now ring me whilst I’m servicing the girlfriend. This had better be good.”

“Correction, Hibiki. I
saved
your feeble hide from being flayed to bits, and then your
girlfriend’s
from two minutes of skin on skin that doesn’t really measure up, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah, you remember me well.”

“Never forget.” Mai owed her life and more to Dai Hibiki. “But I need to ask you something—”

“Don
’t bother. I know what you’re going to ask. I gave them nothing, Mai. Nothing.”

“What?
Then they came to you also?”

“Also?”

“Some men visited Chika recently, asking about my past.”

“Then yes, they visited me too.
But at work, Mai. They showed no signs of malice. No ulterior motive.”

But the C
lan wouldn’t,
Mai wanted to scream. They moved in the highest circles, taking every head they fancied and smiled whilst they did it. Once, she had been a part of that.

“Please. Do your best to look after Chika for me.
Until I can get there.”

“Already on it.”

“What?”

“I mean yes, way ahead of you. As soon as you mentioned her name I started planning a visit.”

Mai knitted her brows. There was something in Hibiki’s tone, something that told her he was keeping a secret. She wondered briefly if it had to do with Chika.

“Okay, Dai. I
’ll speak to you as soon as I can.”

She terminated the call, still staring out the window, searching the shadows for the returning ghosts of her past.

Drake met Torsten Dahl at the door, patting the big man on the back, and then shook hands with the diminutive-by-comparison professor, Olle Akerman.

“Bit of an adventure?”

Dahl wrinkled his nose. “Nothing special. Just practicing my free running.” As usual, the Swede wasn’t boasting. To him, the Iceland jaunt had been standard fare.

Akerman still looked a little shaken. “I had to run for my life whilst Torsten here was playing
‘boats’ with a couple of thugs. Frightful.”

Drake bolted the door behind them, listening carefully as the triple locking mechanism kicked in.
The CIA manned CCTV would also be surveying the surroundings for as far as a mile in every direction, but, not wanting to solely trust the CIA, Hayden had put Mai on patrol as back-up.

The boss of SPEAR pointed Dahl and Akerman to a seat. “We
’ve waited for you. Please tell us what you know.” Smiling, the blond-haired agent sat down next to Akerman, the worry lines of the last few months all but gone from her face. Drake thought that Kinimaka was shaping up nicely for her.

Dahl went quickly through the story that Akerman had told him in Iceland.
“One of Olle’s colleagues discovered some kind of ancient message in the tomb, written in the language of the gods. Something significant, apparently. This man – Jakob Hult – sold his findings to the kind of ruthless individual we seem to keep on coming up against. They killed Hult and tried to kill us.”

“But they didn
’t succeed.” Hayden smiled again.

Dahl shrugged. “There were only three.”

“Whatever this message was, Hult took it away from the tomb,” Akerman told them. “He smashed off part of the rock where it appeared.” The older man looked angry. “Such disrespect for our history.”

“
For proof,” Drake said. “He needed proof.”

“Yes
,” Dahl carried on. “Well, then my little friend here, he bumped into Russell Cayman. What that crazy bastard was doing at the tomb we don’t know. But Olle escaped and called me. That’s it.”

Hayden sat back. “That
’s it? You said this was good information, Dahl.”

The Swede nodded. “Later, as Jakob died, he
revealed a few things relating to the translation, particularly the doomsday device. First he said, ‘there shall remain one other way to activate . . . two failsafes’.
And finally he said, ‘three minds, three tombs, three bones. Nine parts. Do you see?’ Just like that.”

Drake feigned alarm.
“Just like that?”

Dahl
growled at him. “Don’t start.”

Alicia helped herself to a beer.
“Alright, Torsty. Well, I guess your trip wasn’t a total washout. It’s certain now – there’s another way to activate that device, and you can be damn sure Cayman’s on to it, as well as whoever’s controlling that fruit bat. But the nine parts were all destroyed.” She stared at Dahl. “Weren’t they?”

“Absolutely.
Blown to hell.”

“Well, we don
’t know where Cayman is. We don’t know who or where his boss is. We don’t know the rest of the translation,” Hayden said. “I say we stick to the plan and go after the swords.”

Drake stood up.
“Ready an’ willing. Let’s thrash this out.”

Russell Cayman
was flown by private jet to Honolulu, landing on a rough airstrip somewhere north of the city. As the airplane banked over the famous shoreline of Waikiki Beach, he stared down at the wealth of hotels; the rainbow-striped ones, the pink ones, the high-rise ones, and, beyond them across the golden sands, all the way to Diamond Head itself. The old crater jutted out from the landscape as if proclaiming its importance. Deep rooted in Hawaiian legend, none could have guessed as to the shocking significance of the ancient myths buried within.

Cayman was alone on the plane.
Alone apart from the pilot and a small rucksack that took pride of place on the seat next to him. The rucksack was well-padded and the item within carefully wrapped. Cayman sat with his left hand resting atop it, his fingers within, touching the outer packaging of the object.

Kali
’s smallest right hand finger, whole. The pinkie of her left hand he had already hidden within the Icelandic tomb. He had slipped in and out, posing as a translator and using the dead man’s I.D., coming unstuck only when a chance meeting occurred with someone who knew him. Cayman couldn’t even remember the old man’s face, but saw the recognition and fear in those eyes. He gave chase, but the old man knew the tomb like the back of his hand. No way could Cayman find him and maintain his ultimate cover, so he planted the bone and left. Zak Block would never know.

Now, as the plane skidded to a bumpy halt, Cayman made ready to disembark. He had seen no sign of Block
’s mercenary ‘cells’ in Iceland, but the leader of the Shadow Elite had recently assured him that
two
cells had now entered Honolulu, and were just getting into place. They would help Cayman if they could, but their chief directive was to infiltrate and wait for Block.

Cayman drove toward the city. Diamond Head grew larger ahead, the ocean to his left sparkling and dotted with swimmers and surfers as the sun began to set, swelling across the horizon. He circumvented the extinct volcano, finally parking the car out of sight near one of the
fenced off entry points to one of Oahu’s many lava tubes. They all led to Diamond Head, but this one especially had been pinpointed as leading indirectly to the trap system below. Cayman strapped Kali to his back, picked up another bag full of the tools he would need and set off. Neither of the Hawaiian cells had been in touch yet, so he had to believe he was on his own.

Cayman cut through the wire at the back of the compound, the most unobtrusive place, then fixed it back up with
wire ties. Not perfect, but good enough for the time he would need. He climbed on to the roof of the small building and carefully swiveled the CCTV camera until its lens pointed away from the door. Again, not perfect, but kids and youths broke into these places all the time, and Cayman only needed a few hours. He jumped to the ground and within seconds was inside.

Not bothering with the light
, he switched on his own flashlight and made his way to the lava tube. In this facility it was a smooth black hole in the ground, but one that sloped gently downwards instead of descending into a pit. He slipped inside, careful to adjust Kali’s pack, and began to slither down on his backside, now holding the Maglite between his teeth.

The darkness down here was comforting, not slithering with unknown horrors like the one in Singen, but
profound and menacing nevertheless. He wondered what manner of creature might survive down here, what subterranean terror, and felt a sudden longing for Kali’s old tomb. Soon, he would return. Soon, it would become his home.

Cayman
traversed the length of the lava tube, dropping gently until he sat with his legs dangling, forty feet up and looking out over the first trap system. Wrath – the first level of Hell.

The carved face of the Devil stared hard at Cayman, the fires that had once given life and meaning to the trap now extinguished. Cayman
took a moment to study those hollow eye sockets, the hooked nose and cavernous mouth, and broke out into a smile. This was going to be a much more pleasurable evening than he had ever imagined.

And then on to Singen.