She hoped Hawke had made progress with retrieving Nightingale, and like the former SBS man she too had presumed early on that her kidnapping must be related to the search for the elixir of life. It was just too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else, but she did allow for the fact that Nightingale was a former CIA agent and would certainly have made many serious enemies over the years — the kind of enemy more than capable of orchestrating a successful snatch from a New York apartment and making someone simply disappear.
Scarlet Sloane tried to focus. It would be easy to see things as spinning totally out of control right now. First, as far as she was concerned, Lexi Zhang was now even less trustworthy than she was before, and that really was saying something. She had faked her own death and stolen the map, and was now claiming that all of this had happened while she was under the coercion of a Russian criminal by the name of Yevgeny Sorokin. The image of her hostage parents had looked real enough, but it would be simple to fake such a scene, especially if you had the experience, contacts and morals of the Dragonfly — and she’d certainly had the time to cook it up as well.
Then there was the fact that their team was dangerously divided again. Joe Hawke was chasing ghosts in New York City, and Lea Donovan and Ryan Bale had insisted on going with him to give him back-up. While Nightingale’s disappearance was almost certainly connected to the map, Scarlet never counted her chickens until they were running around her garden.
Her SAS training kicked in as usual — bang on time. She knew what she had to do — retrieve the map from the safety deposit box while keeping a cautious eye on Lexi at all times, and then contact Sir Richard Eden and report her progress. He was the center of operations and would brief her on the next phase. The risks were high — she knew Kodiak was out there somewhere in Berlin, and that a man of his particular talents would be closing in on them fast.
When she spoke, her tone left no room for debate. “All right, we’re going to need that map now, Lexi, and you’re going to take us to it.”
The man known to the Russian underworld as Kamchatka, but more familiar to Western intelligence agencies under the codename Kodiak, pushed back in his seat and stretched his arms. It had been a long wait, but as the old Russian proverb went, patience and labor will grind everything, and that was certainly the case now as he watched the beautiful Chinese woman leave the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria and make her way along Hardenbergstrasse.
The only problem was that she was no longer alone. Now, she was being accompanied by two others — a large man who looked like he knew his way around a gym, and someone whose role-model he presumed was Catwoman. Neither looked like they could stop Kamchatka from completing his mission. They walked to the road where someone from the hotel parking service pulled up in a BMW 7 Series and handed the man the keys.
Thanks to the laser microphone on the lap of the dead taxi driver beside him, he knew they didn’t have the map on them, and that it was in a safety deposit box at a bank, but unfortunately they hadn’t given the name of which bank, so he would be obliged to follow them all the way to the precious treasure. He couldn’t risk any more mistakes after failing to kill the Chinese woman the first time and securing the map back at the airport. He knew his failure would have been reported by now, and he also knew only too well the folly of failing his leader.
Now, his targets climbed into the BMW and pulled gently away into the Berlin traffic.
Kamchatka pushed down the window and flicked his cigarette butt into the icy air. A moment later he fired up the Merc’s ignition and rolled the heavy car out into the traffic a hundred yards or so behind his targets. They would lead him right to the map and then he would have redeemed himself.
CHAPTER SIX
The holding room was small and uncomfortable. Typical government hospitality, Hawke considered philosophically. They were sitting around a table in handcuffs and their only distraction was two small windows, one of which looked out on a brick wall a few yards away — which Hawke had already dismissed as a potential egress point — and the other was an internal window through which they could see part of a long corridor.
On the other side of this narrow window, a man in uniform was standing with his back to them, presumably their guard.
“Hey,” Lea said. “Check that out — we have company.”
“I’m not checking anything out,” Ryan said. He was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. “I don’t care who it is. They’re all tossbags.”
But Hawke followed Lea’s gaze and immediately saw what all the fuss was about.
“Woah! I didn’t see that coming,” he said.
“Me neither,’ said Lea, leaning forward in her chair. “I haven’t been this excited since our divorce came through, Ry.”
“I’m not opening my eyes,” Ryan said. “I know you’re just trying to get me to open my eyes and I’m just saying that I’m not going to.”
“I really think you should, mate.”
“Joe’s right, Ry. You should definitely open your eyes.”
“Nope.”
Lea gave a frown. “I’m guessing this means we’re in deeper shit than we thought.”
Hawke laughed. “I would say you’re a good guesser.”
Lea nudged Ryan playfully in the side with her elbow. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to know who’s about to walk into your life, Ry?”
“As I said, you’re just messing with me, so no. You two losers probably have a bet going or something. I open my eyes and the freaking janitor’s coming, and so on.”
“Have it your way, mate.”
Lea bit her lip as she cast her mind back. “I’m also guessing this means the big boys had Nightingale under some pretty chunky surveillance.”
Hawke nodded. “Another good guess, I’d say, but then not massively surprising since she was a former CIA asset and had done more hacking than a coal miner.”
Lea shook her head in amazement. “But this…”
Hawke shrugged. “Just goes to show, you never know.”
“Looks like it’s show-time,” Lea said. The group in the corridor were now at the door to the holding room. The guard snapped to attention and saluted. “Last chance, Ryan.”
He sighed dramatically. “Nice try, but no cigar. Eyes are staying shut.”
Hawke rolled his eyes.
The door opened.
Agent Dempsey walked in first and a second later several men in suits were standing in front of them, imposing, unsmiling.
“You already know me,” Dempsey said, businesslike, “and I’m sure you know Jack Brooke, the US Secretary of Defense.”
Ryan’s eyes opened wide like saucers and he nearly fell off his chair.
“We know the Secretary,” Hawke said.
“And now I know you all,” Brooke said firmly, with no hint of a pleasantry in sight. “Especially you, Mr Hawke. Former SBS, British Special Forces, and now some kind of globe-trotting action-man wannabe, am I right?”
Hawke suppressed a smile and kept his cool. “And you’re Jack Brooke, former Delta soldier, and now some kind of pen-pushing President wannabe, am I right?”
Agent Dempsey and the other BDS men looked to Brooke for a reaction, but when the Secretary cracked half a grin and nodded in appreciation of the response, they relaxed and took a step back.
Brooke sat down opposite Hawke and put his hands on the table. “Mr Hawke, I want you to tell me why you were in Agent Nightingale’s apartment.”