“My God,” he breathed.
Hayden sucked in a breath. “There’s no way this can end well. No way at all. Drake, we need to get this controller out of here. Now.”
Drake was thinking hard. “How many civilians do you reckon are staying here, Hayden?”
“Drake!”
“What?”
“Do you want a madman calling the shots? Plundering the economy? Setting impossible goals?”
“Would we notice the difference?” Drake couldn’t resist. “Sorry, just kidding. I know, I know. No time for it. I can’t leave these people to face that madman’s army, Hayden, so make your own choice. Look, I know I’m not your boss, but it could be more dangerous out there than if you stay here. For you and the controller.”
Hayden’s face revealed her uncertainty. For once, the CIA agent seemed at a loss.
“There are some major players here,” Drake pushed a little. “Mai’s the best. Wells, he’s ok and could bring an army of his own in about thirty minutes. And Alicia, she’s pretty formidable when she’s on our side.”
“That depends on what colour pants she’s wearing, if any.” Hayden flashed a weak smile.
“We do have the high ground,” Drake assured her as they exited the room. “Technically speaking.”
Gunfire echoed along the corridor. Something even louder rocked the night around the front of the hotel.
Drake headed back into the room.
It was going to be a long night.
The scene outside the hotel reminded him of war zones he’d visited. Miami P.D. had barricaded the streets as far as he could see. Hundreds and hundreds of black-and-whites and police vans were cordoning off the area. Figures dressed in bullet-proof vests were approaching the ‘hot’ zone even as Drake watched with a shiver of trepidation running down his spine.
Boudreau would have expected the law.
When the police advanced to within ten metres of the hotel grounds the seemingly impossible happened. Half a dozen car bombs exploded, traps that the cops had walked right past. At the same time shooters hidden in nearby buildings opened fire, picking off cops like plastic ducks at a fairground shooting gallery.
Fire and metal bloomed high into the air, crashing down amidst panicked men.
Drake watched the horror and the slaughter for another minute. If this was the force that Boudreau and the Blood King were willing to bring to bear then that changed his outlook somewhat. Maybe Hayden had been right. Maybe it was time to get out of this death-trap.
Time for Plan B.
He ran out of the room, relaying to Hayden what he’d seen and telling her to mobilise. When he reached the corridor junction he paused. Kinimaka and Alicia were keeping the enemy at bay with sparse covering fire, but when Drake risked a peek around the corner he saw something that made his blood run cold.
Boudreau’s men were starting to drag people out of their rooms. They were herding them into a group and were clearly going to force them forward and use them as cover.
Kinimaka stared at Drake with frantic eyes.
This wouldn’t stand.
Drake stepped into the open and began to advance. In full sight he breathed deeply, took careful aim, and began squeezing shots off. One shell whizzed through the curls of a blonde-woman’s hair to smash through the forehead of the mercenary behind her. The second shell grazed past a man’s neck and destroyed the throat of his aggressor. The third found an enemy who popped his own head up in shock.
Drake continued forward, calm, focused. One of the enemy soldiers hit the deck and fired a shot off. The bullet tugged at Drake’s jacket but he only needed a millisecond to readjust. His fourth bullet sent the man spinning against the corridor wall, painting the blue wallpaper in crimson whorls.
He reached the group. The hotel guests ducked as he went by. He took a brief moment to fire off more shots until his clip ran empty before herding the shell-shocked people into the nearest room.
He studied them for the one who looked most capable.
“That’s all I can do for you. Now you have to help yourselves.” He’d addressed a tough dude who looked like a biker and had been sheltering his wife with his own humongous arms. “Barricade the door after me. Make it hard for them to get in here and they won’t even bother trying. And find something you could use as a weapon. Anything.”
Drake exited the room, confident that both Kinimaka and Alicia would be laying down enough covering fire to facilitate his escape. He left the empty gun with the guests. Last resort kind of thing.
“How’s the ammo?” he asked Kinimaka when he reached the junction.
“Low. Maybe half a dozen shots left.”
Alicia nodded grimly. “Three.”
“We’re getting out of here. Conserve what you can.”
He entered their room. Ben was sitting with the desk-clerk on the leather sofa, making eyes at her and trying to lighten her fear. It was never going to work, but Drake thought it was a good way to occupy the kid’s time. Kennedy, Mai and Wells were staring out of the big windows. This part of the hotel was around the corner from the entrance but they could still see part of the fire-fight going on out there. Flames and bullet traceries and the screams of sirens still tore holes through the night.
Alicia leapt through the door behind him. “I’m out.”
“Time to go,” Drake told them. “Move.”
Ben and the desk-clerk were up and past him quickly, his words music to their ears. The other three started to walk towards him and at that moment there was a terrible noise as if the very fabric of the hotel had shattered.
The room’s windows exploded. Fragments of glass burst across the room. Kennedy lost her footing and fell face first across the sofa. Mai and Wells staggered but bounced off each other after a momentary embrace.
In all this bedlam why on earth was Wells smiling?
Got some Mai-time, he mouthed at Drake.
Drake didn’t move as glass shards rained around him. Bullets now fizzed and rocketed through the empty window panes. The bad guys below had found their room and were making life even more difficult.
Boudreau’s evil voice drifted up. “Come out, come out little pigs!” Then he started to squeal like a pig being slaughtered, his screaming louder than all the bullets and the explosions and even the random gunfire coming from the hallway.
The madness had taken him completely. It had never been far away.
Drake ushered Kennedy out the door, shielded by Kinimaka’s bulk, and down the dog-leg towards the far room. He started to follow when there was the shocking sound of close-up gunfire behind him.
Just one shot.
He turned instantly. The scene that greeted him numbed even his jaded battleground emotions. Wells was lying on his side, twitching slightly, a red pool spreading from the side of his head. Both Mai and Alicia were stood watching him, guns lowered, showing no sign of concern or offering any assistance whatsoever.
Drake stared from one woman’s eyes to the other. “What happened?”
Alicia jerked a hand towards the window. “In case you haven’t noticed, Drakey, there’s bullets flying everywhere. Poor old bastard got clipped.”
Drake stared at Wells’ motionless body, finding it hard to weigh his feelings for the old man, his Commander, a man of unspeakable secrets.
There wasn’t time now.
Mai stared Drake right in the eyes. “The secrets that man kept,” she shook her head a little. “I can’t say that I mourn his passing.”
More bullets shattered through the walls and ceiling of the hotel room.
Drake had no time to consider what had really happened in the room when his back was turned. Chief problem being — if one of the women had killed Wells why were they both keeping quiet about it?