The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake 2) (22 page)

“Paris.” The tech told them. “It’s around eight a.m. there now. See there? The Park Lane hotel, right in the heart of the Champs-Elysees.” The camera whizzed up to the roof, so close Drake could actually see individual pebbles and bits of litter.

“Fantastic,” Ben breathed.

“Old hat,” the team leader said. With that he squeezed a little harder and the camera panned forward, zipping through the very fabric of the walls.

“Woah,” Kennedy said. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Now the view showed one of the hotel corridors.

“This?” the tech grinned, “this has been around for a while. You can get this kind of technology on a cell-phone right now. They’re marketing it as ‘see-through-walls’ technology, but they’ve dumbed it down so you only get to see about four inches in. Privacy laws and all that.”

“I should think so,” Kennedy told him. “Imagine what a stalker or a killer would use that kind of technology for.”

“Agreed. But this is what we use it for.”

The tech sent the camera whooshing along the corridor, through the lift doors and down the shaft, and then up the next corridor. Quickly, just to show the scope of the science, he darted into a room where a couple were eating on the bed.

“We tap into a previously unused range in the electro-magnetic spectrum. Combining the terahertz waves with CMOS technology we can actually
see
anywhere. It’s an upgrade to the old Thermal Imaging Satellites that only read body heat. You may have seen satellites that showed people looking like blobs of fire, running around? Well, this is the next step. Clearly, it’s had to be classified beyond top secret.”

“This doesn’t even exist?” Kinimaka looked around. “Cool.”

Kennedy was shaking her head. “I can’t believe you have this. And that you’re pleased with yourselves. You never hear of ‘invasion of privacy’?”

“Can it, for Christ’s sake will you?” Alicia drawled back at her. “Let the little man get to his point. I’m dying of boredom here.”

In reply to Kennedy the tech said: “We’re the United States Government, Miss. We do pretty much whatever we want.” Then he flicked a shy smile towards the English assassin.

“And my point . . .” he flicked another switch that set off a new set of pictures, “is this. We recorded all this yesterday and today.”

The pictures suddenly began to whizz by and then, with sickening quickness, came into perfect focus. Drake smiled to see an enormous vessel laid out before them, what could only be described as a super-yacht.

“Is that what I think it is?” He glanced at Harrison.

“The floating home of Dmitry Kovalenko,” he said. “The Stormbringer.”

Alicia took a step forward. “So Hudson cracked it,” she said with a rare authentic smile. “He actually found the Blood King when no one else could.”

“Yes, miss Myles,” Harrison took a moment to return the smile. “Mr Hudson did us a great service.”

“That
he was always good for,” Alicia waved at the screens. “Carry on.”

“Well, it’s a super yacht. Five hundred feet long. Five decks above the water and one below. Cinema, helicopter hangar, car port. Submarines onboard. Probably a medical centre. At least five tenders - small boats used for grocery runs.” The tech shook his head in disbelief. “Never underestimate the greed of the super-rich.”

Drake was listening hard. “You’ve mentioned three methods of escape already.”

“I know. And that’s the one’s we know of. Even this baby couldn’t get down to the last level, the one below water. It’s shielded with some kind of heavy sheet material.”

“Where is he?” Alicia and Hayden said, almost at the same time. They both had reason to confront the Blood King.

“Several miles south of the Dominican Republic,” the tech told them. “That’s deep water just off the Bermuda Triangle.”

“The Triangle?” Kinimaka blurted. “That crazy SOB”

“Yes, well the Blood King has several properties in the United States. We think he is steadily making his way towards one. Obviously he is unaware we have located him.”

Drake pursed his lips. “Don’t be a dick. The man owns you. He knows your every move. You’re lucky he’s at sea or he’d have disappeared already. Perhaps that, in the end, was his only mistake.”

Hayden spoke to Harrison. “What’s the plan? You’ve already mobilised, right?”

Harrison grinned. “Can you say
Fort Lauderdale?”

The tech chimed in. “I often do at Spring Break,” he said, shooting a grin around, received nothing in return and carried on. “Based there, you got half a dozen USS Destroyers. A fleet of F22-A Raptors. And about sixteen USS submarines. That bastard just sailed near the wrong harbour.”

“Did you identify his defence capabilities?” Drake asked.

“Firstly-” Harrison sighed, “a vast amount of men, all armed with the latest weaponry, you can bet your ass. I’m sure he’ll have a cupboard full of rocket launchers too. Obviously he can’t have deck-mounted gun turrets - that would’ve drawn to much attention through the years. His capabilities have to be hidden. So, we think
defence
is his strongpoint. Early warning systems. Laser shields. Armour-plating. Booby-traps. The army of willing men.”

“Willing?” Kennedy hissed. “No, they’re not willing, count on that. The Blood King’s way is through coercion not employment.”

Harrison continued with barely a flicker. “Ed Boudreau may also be on board. He has vanished since the last attack.”

“All these defences, of course,” Drake said, “are designed for just one thing. To give Kovalenko time to escape whilst those who protect him die.”

Harrison shrugged. “A plot he has no doubt hatched and re-hatched many times since he became a self-made myth.”

“I so wish we could find out what it is he has over all these people,” Ben said.

Harrison pursed his lips. “Well, it has to be something big. He sure owns some connected people.”

“So what are you planning?” Hayden asked impatiently. Drake could see her fists clenched and how tight the skin was around her eyes. The CIA agent was desperate to challenge the Blood King and Boudreau on their own playground.

“The one feasible option. We get close to the Stormbringer, get men aboard, and commandeer his ship.”

Drake spoke quickly. “You can’t just sail up in one of those USS Destroyers and threaten him? Make him surrender.”

“That’s the ideal scenario. But you’re forgetting one important factor.”

“They believe he may have both devices,” Mai said softly. “In which case - he may set them off.”

“He might anyway!” Ben exploded. “If he does in fact have them.”

Drake shot him a loaded glance, but Ben just looked confused. The eighteen-year-old said: “You ok, Matt?”

Then, Hayden started laughing. “I get it,” she bobbed her head, “I get it. You’re offering the Blood King an olden day battle to make him believe it is a mark of respect. You’re offering him to go down fighting like the pirates used to.”

“You’re going to board his ship?” Drake felt the adrenalin begin to flood through him.

“With an army,” said Harrison grinning. “The USS Lake Erie has already sailed from Fort Lauderdale. This could be the biggest naval battle of modern times, against probably the greatest adversary since, well . . . Blackbeard.”

Drake’s elated expression said it all. “I have to get a bite of this. Can you get us onboard before they launch the strike?”

“Choppers are fuelled and waiting,” Harrison said quickly looking at his watch. “The operation is still in planning, but even then it’ll be touch and go.”

Drake and Hayden were moving first. “We’ll make it. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The Blood King stood alone in his primary stateroom. His gaze lingered around the walls and upon the images hung there: paintings and black-and-white photographs of Russia in its various forms; the revolution and the deposition of the Tsars; depictions of Petrograd in chaos; and Lenin. The Socialist state at the height of its power. The superpower years. Moscow. The new Russian Federation.

Good. Bad. It mattered not to the Blood King. Russia was his country. His home.

So,
he thought,
the Americans are coming.
He had known it would happen since the day he made the conscious decision to end his lifelong quest. He hadn’t planned on it happening so soon - the unearthing of Blackbeard’s device had accelerated his schedule dramatically.

But no matter. Everything was in place, as it had been for years.

The ranch in Hawaii was almost fully populated. Two more to go. Boudreau had failed him yet again in that task. But Boudreau could yet prove useful. And when that maniac was dead or maimed or imprisoned . . . there was always the next.

In a few weeks we reach for the gates of hell,
he thought. The prospect sent a barrage of icy chills through his body that not even the expectation of murder could match.

His eyes settled upon a thick file that lay open on the table. It contained the names, histories and a full information pack about each of the adversaries who had recently come to his attention. And once his attentions were aroused then Blood King did not hold back.

A heavy knife lay on top of the file, keeping it open. The non-smiling face of a soldier stared up from the page. A
once
soldier. Matt Drake. The other pages held information about every one of his cohorts and their families.

The lists were exhaustive, as required.

These were the people who had hunted him from the USS Port Royal to Key West; the people he had found and lost in that hotel in Miami.

The Blood King did not suffer such foolishness lightly.

The blood vendetta had been issued. On each of them and on every single member of their families. No future existed for them that wasn’t filled with misery and torment.

The Blood King thought about his escape plan and the secure ranch in Hawaii. All was well. In the end, the ship was always going to be sacrificed and sacrificed hard.

He sat down to read the file again.

Justin Harrison and Jonathan Gates had done well.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The USS Lake Erie ploughed the waters of the Bermuda Triangle, its four gas-turbine engines firing nine thousand tonnes of iron at thirty knots through the rich turquoise of the Caribbean. Its estimated time of arrival remained evenly at one hour from now.

Drake jumped off the chopper and immediately sought out the SEAL team’s commander. There would be a lot of hierarchy involved with the troops. SEAL and Delta were more suited to his wavelength and more likely to let him integrate. Mai and Alicia tailed him. Hayden and Kinimaka sought the ship’s captain, Hayden already on her cell-phone and no doubt requesting clearance.

Kennedy and Ben made a show of heading for the ship’s galley, wanting no part in the testosterone-fuelled attack.

Twenty minutes later, with their places secured Drake, Mai and Alicia drifted towards the bow and the glorious panorama of glittering waters and electric blue skies that opened up before them. Drake stared for a while, taking it in, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I don’t think Wells died by a stray bullet.”

The sentence hung and spun in the hot, dry air.

Mai’s comment was soft, as soft as the caress Drake remembered. “He died because of his past, and the things he did. He died because he needed to die. Don’t think you know his biggest secret, Drake. It would bring you to your knees.”

Alicia remained uncharacteristically silent.

Drake trusted Mai with his life. He was shocked to hear her speak so. “I watched those soldiers’ so-called
interrogation
in that village, Mai. I know Wells signed off on that. Don’t tell me I don’t know.”

“If you think that’s his most terrible secret, Drake, then you know nothing at all.”

Drake felt a rush of anger. “Then enlighten me.”

But there was silence. Drake considered the calibre of the two women standing next to him. Mai - one of the world’s greatest agents bar none. Alicia - the most outspoken and confident woman he’d ever known, and one of the most deadly.

The fact that they were staring at the deck, not knowing what to say, sent icicles into his heart. For a moment he struggled for something to say. Then: “Alright, alright. But one day . . . one day you will tell me.”

“One day,” Mai whispered. “We will
have
to tell you.”

He trusted Mai with his life, so he said no more. Instead he pointed towards the horizon. “Kick-off time’s approaching.”

A vessel snugged up against the skyline. A vast, gleaming-white Superyacht.

Alicia came to life, grinning like a hungry mountain lion who’d wandered into a busy shopping mall. “Let’s get jiggy.”

*****

A storm of helicopters darkened the Caribbean skies as the United States declared open war on the myth and the man they called the Blood King. The strategy had been dictated.

They were to exit the choppers using the FRIES system - a method where several soldiers descended a thick braided rope at the same time, one after the other, in a non-stop stream of manpower. Extra unmanned helicopters were present to provide covering fire. FRIES is a quicker alternative to abseiling, but more dangerous, as the descent is freefall. The strategists had deemed its use necessary for this mission. Fast-roping onto a ship takes one man less than thirty seconds and is used by the military when a rapid, massive build-up of personnel is needed.

“Fast-roping,” Alicia licked her lips, looking insanely different now in army fatigues and safety-vest. “No matter which way you say it, it always sounds dirty.”

Under fire, the helicopters closed in. Drake watched as the first few approached from the starboard side with bullets lacing the air around them. Now, a support chopper swept the ship’s decks with lead, allowing the first chopper to swing down at a sharp angle. Rope-lines flickered into the air and unfurled towards the ship.