Drake let the recording play for a while longer. Nothing else was said. The Yorkshireman held his head in his hands. “Shelly?” he breathed. “I just keep thinking she’s being framed. Or coerced.”
Alicia grunted. “I knew Shelly too. Nice chick, if a little slutty. One thing I do know is that Coyote is a part of this tournament. We’ll see her and break her, whoever she is.”
Mai’s mouth hung open. “Did you really just call someone slutty? You? And I thought I’d heard everything.”
Drake’s phone started ringing. “It’s Crouch,” he said. “Quiet.”
The commander wasted no time with pleasantries. “Just got a special invite, Drake. To your tournament. Guess I’ll be joining you.”
Drake frowned. “Won’t that just make her job harder?”
“Who knows? This Coyote’s clearly the cleverest bastard we’ve come across. Fooled me for God knows how many years. All of us.”
“I always had my doubts about her,” Alicia said with arms crossed.
Drake snorted. “Give it a rest. Just because now you think she’s a slut? Damn, Alicia, the only boss you never slept with was the President.”
Alicia smirked. “Ya think? Don’t be too sure.”
The room quieted. Even Drake narrowed his eyes to see if she was joking. Crouch cleared his throat down the phone.
“I never slept with Myles. Is that good?”
“Well, it’ll save you a few diseases,” Mai said practically.
Drake turned back to the phone. “We’ll see you there then, sir.” He finished the call and stood up. “So. Let’s find out when and where were going.”
Dahl looked around the room. “Which one of us do you think will win?”
Drake held his gaze. “So long as we get Coyote I don’t care.”
“Good,” Dahl said. “Since it’s obviously going to be me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Yorkshire Post impatiently yielded its prize, falling open to the classifieds the moment Drake threw it on the table. The ad glared out at them with blackest humor: SMALL COYOTE FOUND. RECENTLY RELOCATED. HATES WATER. WELL TRAVELED. RESPOND TO LMS BY 8PM FRIDAY. A landline number rounded it off.
Karin looked on as Mai googled the number on her mobile phone. Ordinarily, the tech-geek would be the first to break out the digital aid but her mind was a wreck, her sentience a ruin. Having survived Kovalenko’s blood vengeance, she wanted nothing more than to grieve. The man at her arm was doing the best he could and she loved him for it. But she was washed out, devoid of compassion and motivation.
She heard Mai say that the STD code belonged to a single town, called Sunnyvale, only about a forty minute drive from Leeds. Whilst Mai looked up some local knowledge, Karin again zoned out.
The story of her past, and thus her lack of ambition, was a sad one; not something she relished looking back on at any time, but grief and tragedy had again brought those past events into sharp relief. When she was young, highly impressionable, and full of life she’d been out chasing around with her best friend, Rebecca Westing. ‘Go burn off some energy, you two,’ her mother had said to them. And they needed no more prompting than that. Out, over the fields, past the relic of an old playground trashed by youths and ignored by the local council, and eventually into town they had run, savoring their freedom. They’d reached their limits, the furthest their parents allowed them to wander, quickly, and thought about running back. But Karin saw something. She headed down a blind alley — a ginnel Becca had called it — where something had been discarded. It was a rusted ruin, a wreck, but to two young girls it was hours of nirvana. A swing set, swaying gently in the breeze; an open-armed death trap.
Karin had seen the danger at once, but fended the feeling away. Becca had jumped on first, trying out a few tentative swings and then her face lit up.
“It works!”
Karin claimed the seat beside her friend. Up they went, higher and higher, aiming to touch the sky with their heels, until one of Becca’s chains snapped and she flew out of the seat at an awkward angle; not only hitting the nearby brick wall with her head but also the concrete floor.
Before Karin had even managed to stop her momentum, the blood was pooling.
But Becca was breathing, groaning, even trying to move. Karin was young but she knew what she had to do. She ran for help. She’d raced to the top of the alley, out into the street and screamed for help. And it was then that she’d learned about life. An old couple stared hard at her, this young flush-faced girl, their eyes hard with contempt. They thought she was playing some kind of prank. The businessman swished by with his phone to his ear, too busy to help. The taxi driver rode on by, spotting a distant fare. The man in the black saloon mouthed an obscenity as she almost stopped him making a green light.
And all the while her best friend died, bleeding out. And Karin, so young, felt an agony of helpless frustration that threatened to burst her heart. In the end a young, female student helped her, but Becca had died. Becca was dead and gone and the life she would lead, the hearts she would touch, and the dreams she would fulfil would now never know her.
Karin fell by the wayside, despite the great efforts of her parents and brother. They had tried until it almost killed them.
And now… what would she do without them?
After Becca’s death, Karin had nurtured the loss and turned life away, choosing not to be involved. As heart-breaking as that was, she was still clever enough to turn out right, to ignore the worse things in life that can swamp and extinguish a lost soul.
Karin returned to the present as she heard Drake’s request to contact the guys back in Washington DC. As Drake placed the call and opened up the speakerphone she listened with a little lift of hope as Hayden’s voice came on the line.
“Hey guys. Is it raining?”
Dahl snorted. Drake laughed. “It doesn’t always rain over here, you know.”
“So it is then?”
“Yes.”
“Knew it.” Hayden laughed lightly, but stopped quickly. Her recovery was progressing slowly and she’d barely gotten past the wracking cough part yet. Karin imagined Kinimaka was sitting beside her and soon enough the Hawaiian’s deep tones came across.
“We’re only allowing her to speak for three minutes a day. So enjoy.”
Again Hayden laughed and this time did degenerate into coughs. Karin heard Mano apologizing. Her own eyes flicked to Komodo and saw the gentle smile there. The soldier and the SPEAR team had taken her out of a decade-long fugue, only for all the happiness to be blasted apart in a single night of violence. But Komodo was still there. He was her anchor, her safe haven in the storm.
And still she could not bring herself to speak.
Kinimaka’s voice returned. “We have a few things simmering over here. Nothing world shaking. My sister Kono is being looked after in Los Angeles by the FBI. I have to say this Agent Claire Collins seems an extremely capable Fed. It was her fast actions that saved Kono’s life on the night of the Blood Vendetta. Only hers. Oh, and President Coburn is about to appoint a new Secretary of Defense — Robert Price.”
Drake didn’t know the name, nor did he care. “Remember, Mano, the vendetta is far from over. The Ninth Division was taken out — that’s part of Kovalenko’s revenge. So is this prissy tourney we’re being forced to enter. Keep your loved ones safe. That includes all of you.”