“Sir?”
“I need a briefing of where we’re at and how we got there. Now.”
The facility’s team leader came forward, proffering a hand and then pointing out a row of hi-tech terminals that sat below a bank of TV screens mounted on the wall.
“A demonstration is usually quicker,” he said. “Then the explanation.”
The tech sat down without inviting anyone to join him and started pecking at a few buttons. Within seconds a grainy image started to emerge on the screens.
“Just tasking our baby,” he muttered to himself. “There she is, there…” he finessed a pair of toggles as he pecked away. “It’s normally quicker, but we put her on stand-by. Poor girl’s had a rough few days.”
Kennedy grunted at him. “Some of us have had a rough few years.”
Drake laid a hand on her shoulder. At least she didn’t shrug it off. When she turned her head slightly he beckoned her over to a quiet corner.
“When this is over,” he said, “do you think we could talk? About Kaleb. About the families’ victims. And about Alyson?”
It was the first time he’d openly invited talk about his late wife since her death.
Kennedy looked shocked. “You want to? Really?”
“Yes.”
“I would,” Kennedy nodded immediately. “That would be good.”
A series of long beeps interrupted their moment. Drake looked over to see the tech indicating the high screens and a rapidly emerging image. “Ok,” he spoke like a college lecturer, “what we have here is your standard satellite image, as seen… ” he bowed his head,“… on many a TV show. This is what you, the general public, are used to.”
Drake wondered if he’d really lost it that much. Damn, he needed to get back into that tough regimental training that the Hereford boys did every day.
The classified system zoomed in closer as the tech squeezed a toggle. Within seconds they were looking down at a busy street, so close they could pick out the features of passers-by.
“Paris.” The tech told them. “It’s around eight a.m. there now. See there? The Park Lane hotel, right in the heart of the Champs-Elysees.” The camera whizzed up to the roof, so close Drake could actually see individual pebbles and bits of litter.
“Fantastic,” Ben breathed.
“Old hat,” the team leader said. With that he squeezed a little harder and the camera panned forward, zipping through the very fabric of the walls.
“Woah,” Kennedy said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
Now the view showed one of the hotel corridors.
“This?” the tech grinned, “this has been around for a while. You can get this kind of technology on a cell-phone right now. They’re marketing it as ‘see-through-walls’ technology, but they’ve dumbed it down so you only get to see about four inches in. Privacy laws and all that.”
“I should think so,” Kennedy told him. “Imagine what a stalker or a killer would use that kind of technology for.”
“Agreed. But this is what we use it for.”
The tech sent the camera whooshing along the corridor, through the lift doors and down the shaft, and then up the next corridor. Quickly, just to show the scope of the science, he darted into a room where a couple were eating on the bed.
“We tap into a previously unused range in the electro-magnetic spectrum. Combining the terahertz waves with CMOS technology we can actually see anywhere. It’s an upgrade to the old Thermal Imaging Satellites that only read body heat. You may have seen satellites that showed people looking like blobs of fire, running around? Well, this is the next step. Clearly, it’s had to be classified beyond top secret.”
“This doesn’t even exist?” Kinimaka looked around. “Cool.”
Kennedy was shaking her head. “I can’t believe you have this. And that you’re pleased with yourselves. You never hear of ‘invasion of privacy’?”
“Can it, for Christ’s sake will you?” Alicia drawled back at her. “Let the little man get to his point. I’m dying of boredom here.”
In reply to Kennedy the tech said: “We’re the United States Government, Miss. We do pretty much whatever we want.” Then he flicked a shy smile towards the English assassin.
“And my point…” he flicked another switch that set off a new set of pictures, “is this. We recorded all this yesterday and today.”
The pictures suddenly began to whizz by and then, with sickening quickness, came into perfect focus. Drake smiled to see an enormous vessel laid out before them, what could only be described as a super-yacht.
“Is that what I think it is?” He glanced at Harrison.
“The floating home of Dmitry Kovalenko,” he said. “The Stormbringer.”
Alicia took a step forward. “So Hudson cracked it,” she said with a rare authentic smile. “He actually found the Blood King when no one else could.”
“Yes, miss Myles,” Harrison took a moment to return the smile. “Mr Hudson did us a great service.”
“That he was always good for,” Alicia waved at the screens. “Carry on.”
“Well, it’s a super yacht. Five hundred feet long. Five decks above the water and one below. Cinema, helicopter hangar, car port. Submarines onboard. Probably a medical centre. At least five tenders — small boats used for grocery runs.” The tech shook his head in disbelief. “Never underestimate the greed of the super-rich.”
Drake was listening hard. “You’ve mentioned three methods of escape already.”
“I know. And that’s the one’s we know of. Even this baby couldn’t get down to the last level, the one below water. It’s shielded with some kind of heavy sheet material.”
“Where is he?” Alicia and Hayden said, almost at the same time. They both had reason to confront the Blood King.
“Several miles south of the Dominican Republic,” the tech told them. “That’s deep water just off the Bermuda Triangle.”
“The Triangle?” Kinimaka blurted. “That crazy SOB”
“Yes, well the Blood King has several properties in the United States. We think he is steadily making his way towards one. Obviously he is unaware we have located him.”
Drake pursed his lips. “Don’t be a dick. The man owns you. He knows your every move. You’re lucky he’s at sea or he’d have disappeared already. Perhaps that, in the end, was his only mistake.”
Hayden spoke to Harrison. “What’s the plan? You’ve already mobilised, right?”
Harrison grinned. “Can you say Fort Lauderdale?”
The tech chimed in. “I often do at Spring Break,” he said, shooting a grin around, received nothing in return and carried on. “Based there, you got half a dozen USS Destroyers. A fleet of F22-A Raptors. And about sixteen USS submarines. That bastard just sailed near the wrong harbour.”
“Did you identify his defence capabilities?” Drake asked.
“Firstly-” Harrison sighed, “a vast amount of men, all armed with the latest weaponry, you can bet your ass. I’m sure he’ll have a cupboard full of rocket launchers too. Obviously he can’t have deck-mounted gun turrets — that would’ve drawn to much attention through the years. His capabilities have to be hidden. So, we think defence is his strongpoint. Early warning systems. Laser shields. Armour-plating. Booby-traps. The army of willing men.”
“Willing?” Kennedy hissed. “No, they’re not willing, count on that. The Blood King’s way is through coercion not employment.”
Harrison continued with barely a flicker. “Ed Boudreau may also be on board. He has vanished since the last attack.”
“All these defences, of course,” Drake said, “are designed for just one thing. To give Kovalenko time to escape whilst those who protect him die.”
Harrison shrugged. “A plot he has no doubt hatched and re-hatched many times since he became a self-made myth.”