“They keep very detailed records of high rollers.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Drake was surprised to hear Mai’s voice, strong and sure. “Let’s go get the aerosols and wipe these goddamn Pythians off the map in one go.”
Now he understood, or thought he did. She was anxious for this mission to be over so she could pursue the Grace angle. The best quality he could glean from that was her upstanding faith that everything would end well.
“Let’s go save Lauren too,” he said. “And bring an antidote back to her.”
“Fuck that,” Smyth said. “We’re taking her with us. I’ll carry her all the way if I have to.”
Nobody questioned him. Nobody thought about gloating in Stone’s face. No time was lost. The two teams, SPEAR and Gold, were professionals to the end and prepared to move out.
“You might want to call the Razor’s Edge guys,” Drake said to Kinimaka. “They deserve to be in on the end of this. And the help sure won’t go amiss.”
The big Hawaiian nodded and tapped his phone. Hayden was already talking to Secretary Price in an effort to smooth their entry as Crouch informed Armand Argento at Interpol. Drake knew why. Despite Argento’s distance it was sometimes crucial what such deeply rooted agencies could accomplish.
Alicia looked around at all the activity and gave Drake a mixed smile. “God help Niagara Falls.”
“It’s what we’re trained for.”
“Yeah, I know. But with all our firepower and their army we’re gonna destroy the place.”
“We’ll find a way, Alicia. We always do. In any case won’t you be mega-happy we’re moving on? Maybe you’ll even get to see Beauregard again.”
Alicia’s expected witticism didn’t come. Instead she eyed Drake very closely. “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?”
Drake effected an idiotic grin. “After all we’ve been through together why would I suddenly feel jealous?”
“Dunno. Maybe because I’m me and you’re human?”
“Bollocks. You got me.”
“It sure looks that way.” Alicia flounced off, a satisfied smile on her face.
Drake turned a little wearily toward Mai. The Japanese woman sent him a troubled grimace but made no move to come over. In the end it was Dahl who appeared at his left elbow.
“Quite a team, huh?”
Drake stared around at the bustle of activity. Hayden and Kinimaka on their cells, gaining ground with every word; Karin and Komodo, Yorgi and Smyth trying to ward off their anxieties about Lauren and the aerosols by familiarizing themselves with Niagara Falls; Crouch’s team joining in. A jet was ordered to be made ready in a few hours, weapons prearranged, authorities battled with. The problem was, no matter the severity of the threat or the reputation of the team involved, there was always at least one man in authority looking to make a name for himself.
Drake nodded slowly. “It sure is, my friend. I can’t think of a better one I’d rather be going into battle with.”
“Aerosols. Antidote. Pythians. Dudley.” Dahl ticked the boxes with his fingers. “In that order.”
“And then that pint?” Drake stared into the middle-distance.
“Sure. We’ll set the world to rights.”
“Someone needs to.”
“Correct. The way it’s going our children or our children’s children are heading for…” He tailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “Y’know, Drake. There’s one thing people never tell you about having kids. One thing you can never truly understand until you’re a parent. You never stop worrying. Not for a second.”
“They’ll be fine, mate.”
“Oh, I can sure tell you’re not a parent, Drake. I don’t simply mean worrying now. Or next week or over the next few years. I mean ever. With such evil in the world, I even worry that my daughters will experience some terrible anguish over their sons or daughters.”
Drake looked into the bigger picture, the unending unease. It only reminded him that Alyson had died with their unborn child still growing inside her.
“Some people would still like to have the chance,” he said softly.
Dahl flinched a little, as if realizing what he’d said. For a second both men stared at nothing, shoulders together, soldiers together, envisaging all that they fought for.
Then Drake turned away. “C’mon dickhead, let’s go grab some guns and maybe a bacon sarni.”
Dahl shoved Drake in the back. “Typical Yorkshireman. Always thinking about food. No doubt they sell fish and chips wrapped in newspaper in Niagara Falls.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure how much of Niagara Falls is gonna be left after we’re done taking down the Pythians.”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
A monumental meeting took place inside the first floor conference room of the Maple Lake hotel, based on Dunn Street, Niagara Falls, behind the lofty Tower Hotel. This little place, with its C-shaped design, attention to cleanliness and detail, and adjacent wedding chapel, was massively overlooked and overshadowed by the towering award-winning hotel that stood over five hundred feet above the Niagara gorge and provided restaurant and room views of the stunning cascade. For that reason it was the perfect meeting place for three of the most capable, deadly and determined teams in the world.
Drake had never seen so many dangerous people in one room before. These men and women fought for peace, for a way of life they believed in, often without recognition or thanks. They were true heroes, and here they were about to put everything on the line once again.
He stood at the back, near the buffet table, sipping water and working through a plateful of nibbles. Mingling with his own team was Alicia’s new crew, who were actually Crouch’s unit. Damn, that’s gonna get confusing. It was easy to picture them as Alicia’s team because the woman was a pure force of nature. If she followed it was simply because the person leading was heading in the same direction that she was. Crouch, he guessed, was the one of the only bosses she would trust completely.
Russo seemed solid, a man he could accept. Both Healey and Caitlyn were young but dedicated and bright. They mingled well with the SPEAR team. The newcomers from California were an odd bunch, older than Drake had imagined, and somewhat of a misfit. Trent, their undeclared boss, was a grim-faced individual, slow to smile but with drive and purpose fuelling his every move. The concentration level with this man was huge and, to some, probably quite intimidating. Still, when he did occasionally direct a smile toward the woman in their group it was deep and genuine.
The woman, Claire Collins, was a force to be reckoned with, a multitasker, absorbing everything around her and commenting or acting with a leader’s confidence. Drake saw she wore the new bruises and cuts on her face without emotion; perhaps they would heal, perhaps not, but either way it wouldn’t matter to her. She had withstood a firestorm whilst taking down the Moose—that was what counted.
Radford and Silk were different again. The first a good-looking, scrawny individual who tried hard not to stare at all the ladies in the room; sporting an intellectual look that might well fool most people into underestimating him, and put them at his mercy. Drake wasn’t sure if the look was purposeful or just coincidental, but it no doubt worked for him. Silk, the roughest looking member of the Razor’s Edge, was an easy man to read — brought up hard he played hard and fought hard. Accustomed to nothing he took what he had to. Silk was Drake’s kind of man and the first the Yorkshireman naturally gravitated to.
“Drake,” he said, holding out a hand. “Matt Drake.”
“Adam Silk.”
“Great job over in LA. I hear you guys kicked major ass.”