“One of them is,” a deep voice spoke up. “Aaron Trent. And it’s fine. Enjoyed the opportunity to rid the world of some trash.”
Trent spoke in a clipped manner, serious and to the point, as if time was always precious. Drake had heard the story of how his team had been set up to be disavowed by the president, and of how they had lost friends, wives and fellow brothers in arms in their struggle to right such a great wrong, and of how they had prevailed. Still, he couldn’t fully respect a man’s abilities until he’d seen him in action.
“It seems there’s a new threat,” he said aloud. “You guys ever heard of the Pythians?”
“Newest set of evildoers by all accounts,” Collins broke in quickly. “And who is that? Mano? Don’t tell me I’m on friggin’ speakerphone with your whole damn team.”
“Don’t worry,” Dahl said. “Alicia Myles is missing.”
“And this is Drake,” the Yorkshireman spoke up. “Matt Drake.”
Collins didn’t miss a beat. “Okay then. Well, we’re the FBI, Drake. We know all about the house on the hill killings. The global recruitment of mercenaries. The massive movements of funds. We’re also privy to what the NSA are monitoring — that there has been a huge surge in the amount of mercenary and terrorist chatter in the past week over all known channels and others we aren’t supposed to monitor. We know—”
“Something’s about to happen,” Hayden finished. “Yeah, the rumors are everywhere. Trouble is — we have nothing concrete.”
“The chatter will narrow down. Localize. Then we’ll know.”
Kinimaka had been trying to process the imminent arrival of his sister, Kono, and what it might mean for his health. Never easy to get along with, his sister now blamed him for their mother’s murder and her own new misfortunes. The fact that she left Hawaii years ago for the lure of a seedy world, and in doing so broke their mother’s heart, didn’t seem to matter anymore. Everything was now Mano’s fault.
He snapped back to the present. Kono would have to wait. “Well, Trent, thanks again. And the same to Silk and Radford. I know what you guys lost to Blanka Davic. We’ve been chasing that bandit down for years.”
Drake remembered taking Davic’s father down during the quest for the bones of Odin. It struck him then how small the world and the circles that they all ran in actually were; either that or they had all been a part of somebody’s master plan from the very beginning.
Come together at last.
“Trent, this is Drake. You probably know this bloody Pythian thing is escalating. Whatever you can learn, it would be appreciated.”
“We’re on it.”
Collins ended the call by reminding Kinimaka of why she’d called. “Watch out for that one when she lands, my friend. I know she’s your sister, but she’s trouble.”
Kinimaka nodded to himself. Try telling me something I don’t friggin’ know.
CHAPTER FIVE
Drake was with Mai when Grace returned from her time with the private investigator. By not saying anything the Japanese woman had requested his presence. For that alone he was grateful. For two weeks now this private investigator had been searching into Grace’s past, trying to stitch together the tattered patchwork quilt that was her memory. Two weeks. Surely he must have dug up something, Drake thought. But seventeen years was an awfully long timespan to have to trawl through, and Grace herself said she could remember nothing beyond her time with the Tsugarai and her master, Gozu. Drake knew they were bad times. Best forgotten. Mai Kitano had saved Grace’s life the moment she untangled those bonds, in more ways than one. Then Mai had made herself personally responsible for Grace’s welfare and future, a development Grace seemed not entirely happy about. So when Hayden offered to help by introducing Grace to an off-the-books investigator, they had all leaped at the chance. Perhaps Grace could get some real closure; maybe she could start to live again. Even find her parents. A fresh start and all that. In particular, maybe he could do something the DC doctors couldn’t — help find and revive her past memories. Grace needed to be made whole again.
In any case, he could search for her physical past.
Drake knew that Grace regretted her refusal of Mai’s offer of companionship the moment he saw her. The normally upbeat outer veneer crumbled and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. Drake feared the worst.
Mai stepped forward, taking her in her arms.
“You are seventeen,” she said. “You have been through hell. Standing up for yourself is one of the ways you will begin to step back into the real world.”
Drake had met Aiden Hardy very briefly before they allowed Grace to visit alone. He remembered the man as in his early thirties, rugged, with a day’s growth covering his big chin, and a smile that made his eyes twinkle, which was a quality someone like Grace would hopefully take to.
Grace pulled away from Mai, staring down at the floor and letting her words rush out in a flood. “He said that Hayden called him in to find answers. Nothing official, but something done quicker and dirtier than usual. That’s kinda my specialty, he said.” Grace sniffed. “He called me in because he found something.”
Mai stroked her hair. Drake had never seen her so soft, so nervous. He knew that Mai was being bombarded mentally on two fronts — from feelings for Grace and the family of the man she had killed.
“Hardy stopped smiling after a minute,” the young girl said, “and told me that I was probably a runaway.” Tears caught in her throat. “I have no family history up to the age of twelve that he has yet found, which is probably when I ran away. But after that, there’s more than enough. At twelve I was a streetwalker, bought and sold. These men, these animals that control the slave trade, they know what they’re doing. They keep you pliable through a cocktail of alcohol and drugs, and probably brutality, that’s what Hardy told me. I was one of the lost, ready to be used up and thrown away. I was failed, adrift. Treated as garbage. Of course, the dark streets of most major cities are awash with stories like mine. I was somebody’s daughter, I guess, but that somebody is unknown.”
Drake saw Grace’s show of confidence slipping. “I don’t even know if my mother loved me.” She sniffed.
Drake swallowed hard. Mai held the girl in strong arms. “Your mother loved you,” she said. “I know it.”
Now Grace’s voice grew harsher. “You haven’t figured out the worst part have you?”
Drake frowned. “You might still be able to find them.”
Grace wiped her eyes. “It’s not that. Finding them is a dream that might save me, but not knowing what happened to me from age twelve until now is one thing. Remembering it is going to be…” She began to wail, burying her head.
Drake felt a slice of horror stab his heart. What could be worse that having horrific old memories return? The memories she had so long craved for would serve only to ruin her again.
Drake fought to speak. “As the memories return perhaps you can get counselling. Or—”
Grace shook. “All the memories that will return to me are… are… horrible ones. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is… quit.”
Mai spoke for the first time. “So I’m suggesting that you start living your life. Now. For the present and the future because the past will one day return and you will need great new memories to help combat those long regressed nightmares.”
Grace shook her head slowly, clearly unable to believe her quandary.
I’m an empty shell,” she said. “A blank sheet. Love is dead, long live vengeance. Where do I belong?”
Drake responded to the thin voice, the devastated tone. “To the here and now,” he said. “Make yourself a life full of shiny new memories.”