And then there was Matt Drake. Destroyed by the death of his wife, rebuilt by the love of Kennedy Moore and then ripped apart again when the Blood King arranged her murder, he was a man struggling to cling on to the blasted pieces of his life. Constant action and mayhem had helped him cope, but the last two sluggish weeks had him asking some major questions.
By day, the team was organizing their new HQ and starting to monitor handpicked communications, by night they tried adjusting to a brand new situation, a fresh life in an unfamiliar city. They were still living out of hotel rooms, the powers-that-be never quick to assign housing.
Now, Mai cut across the main communications room of their new HQ, nodding to Drake and tucking her hair behind both ears. “Bored?”
“Aye.” Drake had stopped trying to lighten up his broad Yorkshire accent around her. They were becoming closer by the day. He wasn’t trying to hide anything anymore. He pointed to the banks of TV screens. “A hundred channels and nowt to bloody watch.”
Alicia chuckled. “You that desperate to dive straight back in, Drakey? The battle in the Czech Republic not big enough for you?”
“It had its moments.” Drake acknowledged. “But inactivity kills nearly as fast as a bullet. You know that.”
“I’d hardly call this ‘inactivity.’” Mai gestured around her. Engineers were installing the special insulation and ventilation system. There was currently a lot of head scratching going on. Some of the specs didn’t measure up.
“He means action.” Alicia narrowed her eyes. “I’ll take one of ‘em out if you like.”
“When you say it like that”—Drake sighed—“I don’t know if you mean you want to shoot him or shag him.”
Alicia nodded in agreement. “Either’s possible.”
Drake watched as Hayden drifted over to listen to the conversation, the ever-watchful Mano Kinimaka at her side. The last fortnight had seen both of them pussyfooting around some serious issues. Neither one, it seemed, was willing to make the first move. For Mano, it was because the whole thing was so important to him. For Hayden, it was something else all together. Something that combined the melancholy around her breakup with Ben, the pressures of her job — she had been appointed team leader of SPEAR — and the demands she levied against herself because of her father’s great name. It didn’t matter that she had probably already surpassed the greatest deed he ever did. He made her believe she would never live up to his legend — no matter what she achieved.
Drake stepped out of the room and wandered into the small canteen. Komodo, in addition to being a remarkable warrior and Karin’s sensitive boyfriend, had also proven to be a kick-ass cook and coffee connoisseur. He’d already saved them from starvation more times than Drake could remember with his quick culinary genius.
Komodo squeezed the garlic press as Drake entered. The Englishman took a whiff. “Smells lovely.”
Komodo blinked. “It’s just spag bol, man.”
“To you maybe.” Alicia had walked in behind him. “But after weeks of field rations that taste like Odin’s arse, I’ll tell you, Trevor, your sweet fare tastes divine.”
Komodo shook his head at her. “My girlfriend has a lot to answer for, telling you — of all people — about that.”
Alicia emptied the coffee pot. “We’re all friends here, mate. No hidden agendas. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make her pay, eh?”
Drake concentrated on the bubbling contents of the pan. The fact that Alicia raised the question of hidden agendas only brought attention to her own. If indeed she had one… But Drake had known her a long time. He could not pinpoint a time when she hadn’t been secretly working for herself.
He squeezed past her, leaving Komodo to fend for himself. Across the narrow corridor, the conference room stood empty, deemed the least important area to make ready. Farther down the hallway, he knew workmen and technicians were working on secure offices, an interrogation room, and a basement bunker for the arms cache. Maybe even more clandestine things he wasn’t party too. Who knew what top-secret, hush-hush ideas Jonathan Gates really had for this place?
Not even Hayden Jaye, Drake was sure.
He paused for a moment, alone in the empty conference room. His life was in tatters, his past naught but ashes. But dreams could arise from ashes as easily as they could be born in glory. His future was a blank slate, purposely so. Mai Kitano remained an enigma, but a desirable one.
He ran his knuckles across the rough walls, the texture like sandpaper, harsh to the touch. The room’s single window looked out on to a busy street. Cars flashed past and pulled into the strip mall opposite, odd to someone who’d lived in the UK his entire life. The White House stood resolutely to the south east, an awe-inspiring sight he’d never even seen, Langley and the CIA to the west.
His future was a blank slate.
But the past had to be dealt with. Many layers of profound regrets and deep-rooted guilt had to be raked through, evaluated, and faced. The saner part of his mind asked, what can you do now? What good will dwelling do? But the darker side wanted more. It craved action.
And so did his body to help dissuade and deflect the dark side. It offered a promise that said the harder he threw himself into the present, the farther his guilty nightmares would recede. Someone once said time heals all wounds. What a load of crap. Time would only cover it with scar tissue. The heart and mind would actually deepen the loss.
A hubbub erupted across the hall. Hayden’s voice and then Gates’s and then Torsten Dahl’s. The big Swede didn’t sound happy. Someone — it sounded like Karin — was trying to shush him. Good luck with that one.
Drake sighed. The so-called experts had probably installed the wrong ventilation system. A little depressed, he drifted back into the operations room and was surprised to see Mai, usually the picture of reserve, arguing animatedly with their boss — Jonathan Gates.
His radar perked up.
On one of the big screens a message was repeating:
“Our warship returned to the curious island I previously spoke of today. This time I was allowed to disembark and go ashore. Saw everything unexpected. A vast, well equipped lab. Bodies of European descent. And worse — experimentation. Many weapons — American made, state of the art. Some futuristic. And one other thing — the briefest mention of a possible target. US Senator, James Turner.”
A blue flag attached to the message symbol on the screen indicated that it had come direct from Homeland. When Karin used her keyboard to open the internal message, Drake saw it had been forwarded from the Japanese Defense Intelligence Headquarters in Shinjuku, Tokyo.
Mai touched Gates on the shoulder. “I know this man. I know Dai Hibiki very well. Years of his life have been devoted to this mission. You can’t—”
“You got it, Mai. My point exactly. Years of his life. Even the Japanese aren’t entirely sure Hibiki hasn’t been turned.”
“I just told you, Gates. I know him.”
A silence descended, frosted around the edges. Dahl was shaking his head at the both of them. “It really is a no-brainer,” he said. “It’s information about a threat to a US official. It has to be investigated.”
“Agreed,” Hayden, perhaps seeing the need to exert some authority and remind everyone of who was in charge, tapped the side of her coffee mug sharply against a screen. “The question is — should we take it or pass it on?”