David Leadbeater
The Swords of Babylon
For my family.
CHAPTER ONE
Alicia Myles was not the kind of person to look back on her life. In fact, the only time her old life caught up with her was when she slept. If, when awake, she could look upon her seven-year-old self, she would not recognize a single scrap of the person she was today.
That was before she’d been forged.
Aged eight, she remembered sitting up in bed and hugging her knees to her chest, bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight that filtered through the broken blinds; a wraith or an angel, barely formed, the promise of the future still fresh, pure and alive in her mind. The terrible, unfamiliar sounds had only recently started. Her father shouting. Her mother — at first — answering back. The sound of a glass smashing. The sound of the fridge door crashing open and, no doubt. the sight of her father reaching in to grab another one of those cans he'd started drinking — the ones he seemed to like even through the day.
Drink and crush. Drink and crush.
The awful noise of those cans being crushed in anger still reverberated through her memories. It was the sound of her innocence being taken, the sound of her family life being torn to shreds.
So she sat, huddled in bed, trying desperately not to hear, but at the same time dreadfully curious to understand what her parents were angry about. Were they mad at each other? At someone else? At the world outside their locked doors? Then she heard her mother start to cry. She felt her heart beat faster, the anxiety making her temperature rise. She gritted her teeth together in an attempt not to cry herself.
The fridge door smashed again and then, faintly, she heard her father consoling her mother. That was the start of it.
It would get much worse.
She woke in the dark, bathed in sweat, and sat up in bed. Alicia immediately hugged her knees to her chest in unconscious imitation of the girl she used to be. Tatters of old memory stirred smoldering ashes in her soul. In less than a second she had shrugged them off. She took a moment to evaluate where she was. So much had happened lately.
Naked, in bed, with a man beside her. That was nothing new. The first difference was that she knew exactly who this man was. He wasn’t just a body to numb away the night terrors. This was Lomas. The man she’d left Drake’s new team to be with. At least until the journey curved her away in another direction.
She slipped out of bed and moved soundlessly over to the window. A finely sculpted, tree-lined eighteen-hole golf course stretched away from her, nothing but a clump of shadows in the full moonless dark. Alicia shivered slightly. She had never been comforted by the dark, nor by the bed sheets or the solitary act of sleeping. Bad memories died hard. She heard Lomas’s breathing change and knew in that moment that he had come awake.
“Go back to sleep,” she said, tonelessly. “I’ll join you soon.”
Darkness shifted outside, trees stirred by the breeze. The biker gang had decided to enjoy a few days of R&R at Uncle Sam’s expense, part of a small package Drake had managed to secure through Jonathan Gates and his new agency SPEAR.
What the hell did it stand for again? Alicia couldn’t remember. She’d seen more than her fair share of action lately, and it was time to let the alertness slip a little and relax. Not that she ever could. Her dreams reminded her of that. At the age of nine she had sat up every night after her lights went out, attentive, prepared, waiting for the shouting to start.
And it always did.
Chasing away the anxiety, Alicia rushed back to the bed and jumped on Lomas’s prone figure, straddling him. She laughed, forced at first, but then slipped quickly into the person she had become. Lomas grunted and tried to push her off, but she pinned him with her knees.
“Not a chance, biker boy. Just lie there and enjoy the ride.”
She began to move on him, the pleasure forcing away the memories, her noise scaring off the old fears. Her hair whipped back. Her hands clutched his big shoulders, gripping painfully. Time, life, decisions, the past and the future all ceased to exist. This was her freedom, her true release.
When they finished, she rolled off. Lomas immediately rolled on top of her. “Now, how about we do this my way?”
Alicia held his gaze. “So long as you take your time. I’m no Ducati, to be ridden nought to a hundred in seven seconds. More like your luxury Harley chassis.”
“I think I know that.” Lomas bent his head to kiss her.
At that moment Alicia’s cell phone rang. She whispered, “Don’t stop,” to Lomas and picked it up from the bedside table.
“Hello? Not the best timing, Torsten.”
“Alicia? It’s Dahl.” The big Swede spoke rapidly as if he hadn’t heard her. “We need you…”
“Oh yeah? I heard—”
“It’s about Drake, Alicia. The Russians have taken him.”
Alicia sat up, ungraciously flipping Lomas’s body away in an instant. “What? Taken him where? What happened to Mai?”
“Russia. Where the hell do you think? Meet us there, Alicia. We’ll let you know the exact location. And… be quick… it’s not good.”
Dahl ended the call. Alicia closed her eyes for a moment and sighed inwardly. Then she whispered, “For fucksake, Drake.”
CHAPTER TWO
Matt Drake would later look back and wonder why on Earth Mai and he hadn’t been better prepared. Any rookie would have seen that the only chance the Russians had of abducting him was at sundown, when the two of them made their nightly sojourn to the Little Fountains Café on 18th Street. They made some of the best pulled pork sandwiches Drake had ever tasted, and offered them an anonymous romantic meal. The price was leaving the heavy cordon of security that surrounded their CIA-owned hotel and driving a few miles north.
Maybe it was the comedown after defeating the arms dealer, Shaun Kingston, and his North Korean accomplices only two days ago. Maybe it was because Jonathan Gates hadn’t secured them a new HQ yet, and they had no job to focus on. Or maybe it was just because Mai and Drake were a little lost in each other… for the second time in their lives.
As it was, the team were all taking a few days. Drake didn’t know the details, but Hayden and Kinimaka were working some things out, Karin and Komodo were at it like rabbits, and good ole Torsten Dahl was spending most of his days talking to his wife and kids via his laptop’s video link. Until Gates could acquire a new HQ, their options were somewhat limited. Homeland wanted them. The CIA wanted them. But those agencies would use the team for their own ends and means. Gates wanted SPEAR to retain its elitist image, determined to retain them as the best of the best, required only for the most critical missions.
And by critical, Drake thought. The Secretary meant crazy and desperate. Something verging on the apocalyptic.
He already missed Alicia and her odd, slightly unhinged wit. He wondered when he would see her again. Not soon enough, probably.
But Mai filled his days and nights with her inexplicable mix of tenderness and toughness. He barely remembered most of their previous relationship but, as they joined together again, some of the more complex elements came flooding back.
Like her insomnia. And how she hardly ever relaxed her guard, as if always afraid someone from her past was looking for her and would eventually find her. This was arguably true, but extremely unlikely.
Drake was driving one of the CIA pool cars. It was the third time they had made the trip in as many nights. The traffic, as always, crawled along like a snake stalking its prey, so Drake engaged the satnav and punched in the ‘previous address’. The machine began its monotonous directions.