Drake took a breath. “Wouldn’t know,” he said diplomatically. “We lost track… right after she tried to kill me.”
“Heard she did a pretty good job,” the lad snickered. “And that you lost track as thanks for her not murderin’ you.”
“She’s good,” Drake said, refusing to be baited whilst Hayden’s life hung in the balance. “And she’s not been seen for a while, kid. Let’s leave it at that.”
The chopper now banked sharply and Drake began to see a lot of green below. Rivers and tributaries sprawled and meandered in random patterns. Flocks of birds took to the air.
The pilot looked around. “Five minutes.”
Drake steeled himself. Ben, at his side, was clenching both hands into fists, his face drip white with worry. Kennedy’s face was set in a stony glare, daring anyone to challenge her.
“Ready.”
The chopper swooped low, aiming straight for a ramshackle hodgepodge of buildings. Rappel lines were dropped. The SEAL team slithered down with professional swiftness, all out in less than a minute. Drake and his companions waited for the chopper to land, frustrated but knowing that the team knew its business.
The chopper landed with a mini thud. Drake leapt straight out the door. Cross-winds from the rotor blades battered him. Long grass whipped at his ankles. They were met by the SEAL team leader.
“Cleared out,” he said, but his eyes were dark.
“What else?” Drake clenched his teeth.
“CIA agent, dead inside.”
Ben gasped.
“Godwin,” the SEAL commander said, with murder in his voice. He pointed behind Drake.
“Looks like they cleared out in a hurry, most likely using airboats. They were probably chasing our men.”
Drake started walking. “Let’s go get ‘em.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hayden found herself flung to the deck as Kinimaka yanked the airboat’s stick and swerved past a dangerous, reedy bank. She struggled to her knees, bleeding, scraped raw in more places than she could count. Her hair would never be the same. Bullets from their pursuers peppered the airboat’s sides and skimmed and whined around them.
Enemy shouts and jeers carried on the wind, making her grit her teeth as she heard threats she would rather die before enduring.
She saw the channel ahead narrowing drastically. Kinimaka threaded the needle, waterspouts shooting up beside and behind the vehicle. Hayden saw big gators disturbed and twisting away in anger as they passed.
Where the hell were they going?
“Bearings?” She shouted above the harsh roar of engine, wind and weaponry.
The big Hawaiian frowned. “Eh? Nah, there’d be more of a squeal if the bearings had gone.”
“I mean do we have a heading?”
“Away from those bastards!” Kinimaka jerked a thumb behind as more light machine-gun fire preceded the popping and strafing of surrounding water.
The Hawaiian made the water surge as he negotiated another chicane. The airboat clipped the head of a small island and skipped free of the water for a second before landing with a crash and powering on. Hayden and Kinimaka made big eyes at each other.
“Shit!”
Hayden determined she should stay quiet and took a fleeting look back. She had decided that, unless their pursuers got any closer, she wasn’t going to waste ammo on speeding targets.
Three airboats were tailing them, packed with bad guys. Trouble was, they knew the waters. Kinimaka didn’t. It was only a matter of time before one of them recognised a short cut.
Even now she could hear Boudreau’s voice, manic, a banshee chasing her along the dark and bloody byways of hell.
Then Mano hit a partially submerged island. The airboat took flight, engine roaring. Water slewed from its side and rudders in white sheets. Hayden had half a second to hear cheering from behind and then the airboat struck the shallows like a pregnant hippo.
Hard.
She was instantly propelled forward and tucked her head and limbs in as best she could. Still, when she hit the ground the jolt jarred every bone in her body.
For a moment she was stunned. Then Kinimaka splashed down beside her like Shamu and drenched her with half the local water table.
She struggled onto her knees, partially submerged. The machine-gun was nowhere to be seen. She clapped Kinimaka about the ears, knowing she could never drag him up the sloping banks. After a moment his shaggy head came up, gasping for air.
“Thank God.”
Amazingly, they were both intact. The airboat was roaring crazily, lying on its side nearby and completely unusable. Hayden surveyed the reeds and the bank. Their only hope was to climb.
At that moment the three chasing airboats came into view. One of them hit the same island that fooled Kinimaka. The vehicle took off. Men and weapons flew into the air. Hayden scrambled out of the way, yelling at Kinimaka to follow. As she scooted clear she heard splashes all around her.
Machine-guns dropping. Kennedy reached for one and prepped it. Kinimaka made ready with another. Men were now dropping all around them. Splashes and grunts and the sound of breaking bones filled the air. When a man showed more signs of life than feeble movement Kinimaka fired a bullet into him.
Hayden turned and started to scramble through the shallow water. She sloshed among the weeds, tramping desperately upwards towards the drier bank. At that moment there was a huge eruption of water and one of Boudreau’s men rose up before her. His small revolver was levelled between her eyes and his twisted smile showed he had gotten lucky with the crash and decided to lie in wait.
Time stopped.
Kaleidoscopic images of stolen moments and regrets flashed through her brain: an old picture reel of a life of never-ending experiences. The man’s finger tightened on the trigger… Kinimaka was a world away, and screaming in frustration…when the fifteen-foot-long gator struck the man mid-torso.
His scream was high and insanely comical. His gun spiralled away. The man disappeared in less time than it takes to blink, leaving behind him the ghost of a scream and only a hint of spilled blood.
Nothing compared to the nightmare he was now enduring as he was dragged to the bottom of the river.
Violence saturated the air.
Hayden brought every ounce of her will to bear and collected herself. It took every memory of every good thing her father had taught her. Every hard lesson and proud moment. She focused on the moment when she learned of his death, his cold murder, and remembered the life changing vows she had made right then and there.
It was all she had to spur herself on, to forget the carnage and advance. One step at a time. She reached the bank. She dug her fingers into the earth and pulled. She climbed. Then her stomach clutched with dread as she heard another enormous detonation of water behind her and out of her peripheral vision saw the nightmarish shape of the gator as it twisted and lunged for her.
In that moment of utter hell she witnessed a massive blur shooting past. It was Mano Kinimaka, roaring like a man possessed and tackling the gator around the exposed belly with a crunch they probably heard in Disneyland. The gator, no doubt in shock at being tackled by anything, let alone this man-mountain, was tipped over and thrown, back-first, into the shallows. Kinimaka landed atop it, arms encircling its body, gripping tight as if his life and the life of his boss depended on it.
And now, as Hayden balanced and rose to her feet, the men from the other two airboats began to open fire. Bullets thwacked and thudded the greenery around her, and kicked up sprays of water. Kinimaka thrashed with the gator. Hayden fell back against the muddy bank, exposed.
Brought her machine-gun around and opened fire.