Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER FORTY

President Coburn and the Secret Service had made the decision not to relocate immediately to the White House or any secure bunker, but to safely address a select few decision makers whilst Kovalenko was still thought to be actively on the run.

So, although Kinimaka was now the acting head of SPEAR, and Drake was and always would be a gnarly Yorkshireman, it was still the ex-SAS soldier who was invited into the hastily assembled inner circle. Even Drake was surprised, but mitigating factors included the rationales of speed and Kinimaka’s absence and the fact that Drake had been part of the team which helped saved Coburn’s life — even fighting alongside him.

A government building on 23rd Street was taken over, swept, secured and prepped in under an hour. All lingering students were quickly relocated. Policy dictated that the President should not stay in the area, but all the military men and minds present applauded the decision whilst the dyed-in-the-wool politicians dithered and moaned.

As Coburn had said, “We now have need of a military leader, not a political figure. Only the future can truly judge my next actions, but I believe they should be powerful, swift and severe.”

Drake waited amid a knot of executives, the majority present purely because they were there, on site and in charge at a moment of crisis. When the Secret Service ushered them into a windowless holding room one by one, Drake fell into line. He took a seat and watched while the meeting was hastily called to order.

“My friends, I don’t have long,” Coburn began, walking to the front of the room. “We have the White House, the VP, and other leaders on teleconference call, and we have you. The terrorist Dmitry Kovalenko and his men are on the run, and I have to make a public address within the hour. I need options, gentlemen. What have you got?”

Drake kept an eye on his phone. Kinimaka would text when he arrived, indicating that Drake could present his proposal with the full backup and commitment of his team.

Reports came in thick and fast. The NSA were monitoring all signals and reporting that overall chatter was quiet. The CIA stated that all of its foreign assets were on full alert, but had so far learned nothing. At domestic level, the FBI had alerted every one of its agents and was out in force. Other agencies and forces gave more details, but actual suggestions remained thin on the ground.

The Chiefs of Staff soon stepped in through the teleconference call, all speaking at once. The FAA and NORAD took the opportunity and attested to the safety of the skies. The first person who actually stood up to be counted was the DC Chief of Police, who stated that although every available officer was being utilized in the search for Kovalenko and in scrutinizing the Metro stations and other egress points from the tunnels, it should be assumed that their quarry had already escaped by means of a carefully pre-planned route. Hundreds of thousands of square feet of abandoned tunnels ran beneath the city at varying points and, although some were monitored, it also had to be said that some were not.

“If his escape plan is as formidable as his plan of attack,” the Chief said. “Then he may have already left DC and its environs.”

Coburn didn’t bat an eye. He’d no doubt already been informed that might be the case. “One thing is clear cut,” the President said. “He will not be allowed to escape this country.”

The Director of the FBI spoke up. “Before any of you smart people think of tracking the rogue agent, Marnich, through the Special Agent Grid, let me tell you right now that it’s a dead end. The Grid has been compromised.”

Drake knew the Secret Service and several other agencies wore trackers which allowed a central command point to know their exact location at all times — most called it ‘the Grid’. He listened as the CIA Director explained that every single one of Kovalenko’s old contacts were being monitored and none had received any form of contact.

“He has money,” a man seated in front of Drake said. “This damned operation of his has been financed from somewhere. Can’t we follow that?”

The FBI Director took that one. “Without laboring the point, sir, we never did find all of Kovalenko’s accounts. And perhaps he has a new backer. We’ll start to follow the trail but it’s going to take some time.”

Drake thought he might as well start the ball rolling. “Have we retaken the prison yet?”

“Recently,” the Chief of Staff of the Army said. “The prison is now ours.”

Coburn looked directly at Drake. “Are you thinking he may have left something behind? Some kind of information?”

Drake pursed his lips. He really wanted to wait for Kinimaka, but his natural enthusiasm had risen and jumped the gun. There was no delaying the President.

“Kovalenko’s goal is the fulfillment of his ‘Blood Vendetta’,” he said. “For any of you who don’t know what that is — it’s the murder of anyone connected in any way to his original downfall. The President. The Secretary of Defense. The SPEAR team. I say we give him the chance to realize his dream.” He paused expectantly.

Kinimaka texted at last. Drake relaxed.

Coburn sat forward. “Tell me more.”

Drake left the meeting early, called Kinimaka’s cell, and let himself be guided to their position. When he saw the Hawaiian he felt a sudden urge to hug the big man.

“Thank God you made it through, Mano.”

“We were lucky.”

“And Hayden?”

“Still in surgery. There’s no word yet.”

Drake steeled his heart. He couldn’t show too much emotion right now. The stakes were still space station high. His gaze moved to Karin, and when her bottom lip started to tremble that decision went out the window.

“I’m so sorry about Ben,” he said. “And… and your… I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Karin came forward and buried her head in his chest. “I know.”

Drake allowed a few moments of mourning. It was hard to believe but as he looked over his gathered colleagues, his team mates, and more than that — his new family — he saw pure iron resolve. There stood Alicia, battered and devastated; Kinimaka, mourning his mother’s loss; Smyth, trying not to show how deeply he had loved Romero; Karin, who had lost her entire family; Komodo, who would also have to deal with her losses for the rest of his life; and Dahl. The Swede’s family had remained mercifully untouched but Drake knew every single death would have driven spikes through the man’s heart and soul.

But the steel in their eyes was as resolute as the hardiest warship, as resilient as the strongest sword, and ready to be put to work. Drake nodded at Kinimaka.

“They’re still debating half a dozen other plans. But essentially they went for ours.”

Karin pulled away. Komodo put his beefy arms around her. She wiped her eyes. “So we’re going to Death Valley? Now?”

Drake nodded.

“We getting any cover?” Smyth growled. “Not that I give a shit anyway.”

“Area 51’s close by,” Drake said without inflection. “Whatever else that place may be, it’s still a big military base. They’re flying a fully equipped fuckin’ army into there.”

“So we’re really doing this?” Kinimaka took a huge breath.

Drake nodded grimly. “The Blood King started a war. He’s about to get one. It’s game on, motherfucker.”