“Good job. Let’s catch up with Lea and Danny and get out of here.”
They met up with the others on the tree line dividing the forest from the beach and decided the sub was the only way they could get back without Zito’s men finding them again.
Leaving the warzone back in the forest and hitting the beach, they saw the Aurora glinting in the moonlight down on the waterline. The only problem was the sight of a man climbing into it. “Can’t be Zito,” Hawke said. “He took off in the chopper.”
“No,” Lea shook her head “Plus Zito’s much bigger than that.”
Hawke sighed. “In that case he must have ordered one of his men to submerge the Aurora to trap us on the island.”
“We better get a move on, in that case,” Lexi said.
They ran across the beach but as they drew closer to the sub the man heard them and jumped inside. He started to close the bubble cockpit down ready for diving, and Hawke knew if he closed it there was no way to get to him. The glass dome on the sub was designed to withstand tremendous pressure, and he doubted even shooting at it would be enough to stop the man before he dived and took it out of range.
He threw himself inside the submarine just as the man was bringing the bubble down. The heavy dome caught on his back but at least he was inside. He grabbed the man around the throat and pinned him against the seat. Pulling his fist back he powered a hefty lunch into his face and knocked his head back into the bulkhead.
The man’s skull struck the metal hard and his eyes rolled up inside his head as he tumbled over in his seat. He came to a rest, supine and motionless and with cold, blank eyes staring up at the stars above the open bubble.
“Come on — he’s out cold!”
The others stepped off the jetty and climbed inside the Seamagine Aurora as Hawke stuffed the man down in front of the three front passenger seats and then climbed back into the pilot’s seat at the back.
Lea leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“What else was I going to do?”
“You’re lucky we made it,” Lexi said, looking at Devlin. “Thanks to the Lone Ranger here who went rogue and nearly got us all killed.”
“Is this true, Danny?” Lea said.
“I was just using my initiative.”
“Don’t get me hepped up again, Danny,” Lea said. “You should have waited for Hawke to give the order to go. He’s in charge of this operation, not you. Ya got that?”
Devlin was contrite, and offered his most charming Apology Smile. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you saying sorry to me for, ya eejit? You owe Joe the apology, not me!”
Devlin glanced at Hawke and offered his hand. “I’m sorry.”
A quick handshake and then they all strapped themselves into their seats as Hawke closed the cockpit and fired up the engines.
“This guy makes a handy footrest,” Lexi said. “Perhaps they should build an asshole into their next model as standard?”
Hawke turned the Aurora around and piloted it out into deeper water. They all heard the gunfire back on the beach, but now the former commando was diving them under the waves and taking them deep underwater.
After a long silence, Devlin turned to Lexi and said, “So what was that you were saying earlier about the size of Joe’s…” he paused a beat. “Cock, was it?”
Lea turned sharply. “What’s this?”
“I was going to say the size of your cocky attitude,” Lexi said with a weary sigh.
“See?” Hawke said with a smile.
“So don’t get any ideas,” Lexi added.
“I thought you were reminiscing about our little romance in Zambia,” Hawke said with a wink.
Lexi nudged Hawke in the ribs and laughed. “Yeah… right.”
Sitting in the back of Zito’s drug trafficking truck, Scarlet lit up a cigarette and watched as Hawke and Devlin dragged the unconcsious man up over the tailgate and tied him up with some old rope they’d found.
“Is that what you call a knot?” Scarlet scoffed as she looked at Devlin’s work.
“I suppose the SAS do better knots than everyone as well?” Devlin said.
“It wasn’t the SAS that taught her knots,” Ryan said. “It was her formidable sex life.”
Scarlet sighed and exhaled the smoke, unmoved by the attempt to wind her up. “So I take it you got the manuscript, darlings?”
“Indeed we did,” Hawke said. “But the idol is long gone.”
Scarlet sighed. “Simply fucktastic.”
“Who’s this?” Reaper asked.
“Submarine pilot,” Hawke said.
“Any word from Lund?” asked Lexi.
Scarlet nodded. “He wants us to go to Europol HQ in The Hague. Apparently he has some contacts there who have been monitoring Zito’s European drug empire for some time now and they can help us fill in the dots.”
“I’ll call the airport and have them refuel the jet,” Lea said.
“Already done,” Kim said with a wink. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Hawke looked through the one-way mirror and watched the man they had caught back in the Aurora. He was now in an interrogation room deep inside Europol HQ, and had been identified as a low-level scumbag named Marco Maroni. Not so tough now, he was sitting handcuffed to the chair and sweat was beading on his forehead.
Beside the former commando, his old friend Vincent Reno was looking at the ‘No Smoking’ sign above the door with a cigarette on his lips and a frown on his face.
“For me, the world ended when they banned indoor smoking,” he said glumly.
Before Hawke could respond, Lea and Danny Devlin joined them with steaming coffees in their hands. Lexi and Ryan were a few steps behind them, carrying more coffees.
“Cairo and Kim?” Hawke said.
“Arguing in the canteen,” said Lexi.
“Could get interesting,” Ryan said, handing Hawke a coffee. “Want to come down and watch?”
“Not a lot,” he said.
Lea gestured toward Maroni. “Got anything out of the bastard?”
“Some, but not much,” Hawke said. “Jansen’s good but I think Marco needs a little more encouragement to speak than a Europol official is prepared to give.”
They all knew what he meant. As a former SBS man, Joe Hawke had undergone extreme interrogation training and he knew what worked and what didn’t. Piet Jansen, the lead interviewing officer was doing a good job if they had all week, but they needed answers faster than that.
Jansen came out of the room and gave a regretful sigh. “He’s not talking.”
“When do we get to talk to him?” Reaper said.
Jansen looked disapprovingly as the cigarette wobbled up and down on the former French legionnaire’s lower lip and then cast an unimpressed glance at the tattoo of a burning grenade on his arm. “I just spoke with my superior officer and he says one of you can come in and attend the interview.”
Reaper rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Then let’s go.”
He moved toward the door and Jansen raised his hand. Placing it on the Frenchman’s chest he stopped him in his tracks with another heavy sigh. “Not you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mr Hawke will join me in the interview room. The rest of you will wait here and let us get on with our job.”
Hawke followed Jansen into the room. There were two wooden chairs against the wall, but only an uncomfortable plastic bucket seat at the desk. He sat in it and fixed his eyes on Maroni. After the fifteen minutes it took for the Dutch official to apprise the prisoner of his various rights, Hawke sighed and said, “Who hired Zito to take the manuscript?”