“Kimberly.” Digby rubbed at his eyes. “You and I have a wildly different view of what that is.”
“Surely you can’t dispute their previous successes?”
“How do you define success?” Digby spread his hands in an infuriatingly smug manner. “Yes, they neutralized a few threats but so could the SEALs, the Rangers, the CIA’s Special Activities Division, SOG, Marine Raiders…” He paused. “See where I’m going?”
“You’re saying we don’t need SPEAR.”
Digby rolled his eyes on purpose. “Never have.”
Crowe took more than a moment to consider the intended slight. She looked between Digby and Gleeson, but the general only offered an emotionless, stoic glare, the exterior expression of his creative streak no doubt. It was clear to her where SPEAR excelled. Gleeson genuinely didn’t see it, and Digby was seeking a different goal.
“So far,” she said, “we only have words and reports, basically hearsay. This team have put their lives on the line, lost their own people, and sacrificed again and again for this country. They have a right to speak.”
Digby screwed his face up, but said nothing. Crowe sat back, drinking in the calm ambience that still existed around the four corners of the room in an effort to stay focused. One required focus and calm when dealing with poisonous snakes.
“I propose we send people to TerraLeaks in an effort to staunch this flow of information,” she said. “Until the authenticity of this Order can be determined. Which will be soon,” she added. “We investigate the Cuban bunker where it was found. And we let Team SPEAR do their job. Nobody will get it done faster.”
General Gleeson nodded in agreement. “They are on site,” he rumbled.
Digby then gave her a wide smile, intimating the cat that got the cream. “I accept all your proposals,” he said. “I want to go on record as not agreeing with them, but I will go along. And in return, I want you to accept a small proposal of mine.”
Dear God, no. “Which is?”
“We send a second team. To cover for and possibly assist them.”
Crowe knew what he was saying. “Cover for” meant watch, and assist quite possibly meant execute.
“Which team?”
“SEAL Team 7. They’re already close by.”
“Incredible.” Crowe shook her head. “We have two of our best teams in the same area at the same time. How did that happen?”
Digby managed to stay impassive. “Pure chance. But you gotta agree, two is better than one.”
“All right.” Crowe knew she had no recourse but to agree. “But under no circumstances do the two teams meet. Not for any reason. Are we clear?”
“Only if the world depends on it.” Digby smiled, dodging the question and drawing forth a groan from Gleeson.
“Staying professional,” Gleeson said. “I can have Seven in the right area in a few hours. Providing we wrap this up pretty soon.”
“Consider it wrapped.” Crowe refrained from telling the pair not to let the door hit them in the ass on the way out. For SPEAR this could hardly get more serious. For the man that killed Joshua Vidal it was severe. For her, it could be any of those things and worse. But first, let’s save the world, she thought.
Again.
CHAPTER TWO
Alexandria sprawled in all its modern glory beyond the plate-glass window; a thriving, concrete metropolis, bordered by a glittering sea, marked by palm trees and hotels, a curving coastline and the enormously impressive Bibliotheca Alexandrina.
The CIA safe house looked out over six jam-packed lanes that carried traffic slowly around the bow of the coast. All access to the feeble balcony outside was restricted by the heavy glass and bars. Only the main living room offered any signs of comfort; the kitchen was small and makeshift, the two bedrooms long since converted into steel cages. Only one person manned the safe house on a permanent basis, and he was clearly way out of his comfort zone.
Alicia ordered a round of coffees. “Hey, dude, that’s four black, two with milk, three with creamer and one with a sniff of cinnamon. Got it?”
“I don’t…” The thirty-something man with thin-rimmed glasses and bushy eyebrows blinked furiously. “I don’t… make coffee. Do you get it?”
“You don’t? Well, what the hell are you here for?”
“Liaison. Local contact. Housekeeper. I—”
Alicia squinted hard. “Housekeeper?”
“Yeah. But not like that. I—”
Alicia turned away. “Fuck, dude. You don’t make beds. You don’t make coffee. What the hell are we paying you for?”
Drake was trying hard to tune the Englishwoman out, concentrating instead on the meeting between Smyth and Lauren. The New Yorker had been prepped and flown out to Egypt the moment the new threat went from somewhat concerning to red hot priority. Standing at the center of the room, hair down and game-face on, she was ready to update the team, but as Smyth now approached Lauren a whole range of emotions struck her head-on.
“Not now,” she said immediately.
“I’m alive,” Smyth growled. “Thought you might be interested.”
Instead of snapping back, Lauren took a deep breath. “I worry about you every day, every minute. I do. Is that pleasing to you, Smyth?”
The soldier opened his mouth to retort, but Alicia stepped smartly in. “Shit, didn’t you hear? His name’s Lancelot. He prefers it to Smyth. We all call him it now.”
Lauren was taken aback for the second time in a minute. “Lance-a-what? Isn’t that the name of an old knight?”
“Sure is,” Alicia said happily. “Same guy that committed infidelity with the king’s wife.”
“Are you saying I should be worried? Or care?”
Alicia stared at Smyth. “Nah. If he loses you the best he’s gonna get is a baboon and there are no red-arsed monkeys in Egypt.” She swept the room with a questing air. “At least, not outside this room.”
Mai was now standing beside Lauren, having drifted over after double-checking the safe house’s security. “Shall we catch up with the op? I’m assuming that’s why Lauren is here?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The New Yorker quickly recaptured her composure. “You all wanna sit down? This might take a while.”
Yorgi found a seat. Drake perched on the arm of a chair, watching the room closely. It was clear to him, seeing from the outside, how Dahl and Kenzie drifted closer, how Hayden glided away from Kinimaka and, thankfully, how Alicia and Mai now seemed more accepting of each other’s presence. Drake felt hugely relieved over that outcome, but the next big thing was about to erupt. Yorgi had been almost completely silent since his revelation of only three days ago.
I am the one who killed my parents in cold blood.
Yeah, it had put a dampener on the celebrations but nobody pressed the Russian. He had come far indeed to confess the act; he needed time now to decipher the memory into real words.
Lauren looked a little uncomfortable standing at the head of the room, but when Smyth backed away she started to speak. “Firstly, we may have a lead as to the whereabouts of Tyler Webb’s secret stash. Remember — he promised more secrets would be unearthed?”
Drake remembered it well. They’d been worrying about the potential fallout ever since. Or at least, two or three have.
“But we have no time for that now. Later, I hope we can all take a trip. But this… this new threat began when the organization TerraLeaks dropped a whole slew of documents onto the Internet.” She grimaced. “More like a physical bomb dropped onto a digital foundation. The documents were all handwritten, clearly fanatical, and entirely self-aggrandizing. The usual old dross. Employees of TerraLeaks discovered them inside an old bunker in Cuba, something left over from decades ago. It seems the bunker used to be the headquarters of a group of madmen that called themselves the Order of the Last Judgment.”