Brothers in Arms

CHAPTER TWENTY

Drake almost jumped out of his skin when Mai descended on their camp. The Japanese woman was moving quickly, her every movement screaming urgency. It took but a few minutes to relay her information.

Romero and Smyth were up and ready to go. Drake grabbed his pack and said, “Lead on.” They filed into the deeper forest, following Mai. The moon offered a scant glow, the sea breeze distracted them with its urgency. When Mai stepped into a clearing and stopped, Drake quickly summed up the situation.

Of course, she was right. “Time to get off this bloody island.”

They dragged the bodies away from the clearing and into deeper undergrowth. There was nothing they could do for the poor, dead captive, so they concealed him with the guards. It did cross Drake’s mind to make it appear as though he had recovered and killed the guards himself, but on listening to Mai’s account of his debility, he quickly dismissed the idea.

It was time to fly.

They crouched among the creaking trees. It had taken some time to hide the bodies and dawn was already streaking the skies. Drake was beside Mai, their bodies touching.

“Hibiki?”

“Too early to say. We can’t risk alerting him.”

“Why else would he send the message?”

Mai breathed a heavy sigh. “He’s good, okay? That’s my instinct. He’s good.”

“Only way off this island is on that warship.”

“But somebody has to stay behind to shut this damn base down faster ’n crap through a goose. We can’t rely solely on our escape attempt or any kind of rescue.” Romero put in from behind.

“Unfortunately,” Drake said. “I agree. Bollocks.”

“So.” Smyth sounded impatient. “You and Maggie Q here got any plans on how to persuade the ship to leave?”

“There is only one way,” Mai said confidently. “The person in charge of it must believe he wants to leave.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that from? The Art of War?”

Mai turned a steely eye on the marine. “I think we have our teams, Matt. Romero and you take the ship. Smyth and I will take the island and meet you on board.”

Drake had already guessed as much. The rising dawn amplified the fire in Mai’s gaze. Smyth might well regret his choice of words.

“Use Hibiki only if you’re convinced about him. Otherwise…”

“I know.”

“A simultaneous attack?”

“Yes. We’ll hit the base and go for the ship’s Captain. When we do that—” Mai paused. “You need to be on board. Just in case.”

Drake frowned. “We could help by—”

“Best if you’re on board,” Mai said softly. “No mistakes.” She met his eyes. “Besides, it won’t be a problem. You have your work cut out finding a place to hide and then leading us to it. And we’re more than likely going to land in North Korea, if we survive the trip.”

“Piece of piss,” Drake said quickly. “North Korea. China. Russia.” Drake counted the places off on his fingers. “Europe. Washington. Like I said—”

“A cellphone would be good too,” Smyth said drily, but with a rare smile. Maybe he was looking forward to working with the legendary Mai Kitano. Maybe he thought she really was Maggie Q.

Drake hunkered down and rummaged around for food and water. “Right then. Let’s thrash this out. We want to be ready for tonight.”

As darkness invaded the land, Drake and Romero crept among the thick trunks, staying as close to the tree line as they dared. The warship was a large, ugly chunk of steel sitting at ease among the calm waters of the natural harbor a short swim away. The decks were quiet, seamen lounging around as if bored. This may well be a regular, monotonous trip for some of them.

The two men found a flat piece of earth to dig into near the water’s edge and secured their weapons. All they were waiting for now was Mai’s signal.

Mai crouched alongside Smyth, waiting for the shadows to creep even farther over the guards’ quarters. They had decided to strike at them where they felt most comfortable — the place they rested, the place they slept. The weapons they had lifted from the dead guards were held loosely in their hands, two Dragunov SVUs and a Bullpup sniper rifle. With a sound suppressor and special muzzle-break to help absorb a large amount of recoil, it was perfectly suited to their needs. And interestingly, it was Russian made.

At last the darkness was enough. Mai strode toward the main door with Smyth watching her back.

“Go, Maggie,” he said as she neared the entrance.

She paused and looked back. “Have you got a little crush on me, Smyth?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the door and stepped inside, straight into a communal room complete with a widescreen TV, several loungers, a big sofa and a round table pockmarked with knife scores.

Several men stared at her, stunned.

Mai opened fire without mercy. There wasn’t a man on this base worth saving. She believed that as much as she believed in herself. Bodies pounded back into the walls or tumbled over the sofa. Mai allowed a man to scramble out the open window to raise the alarm and bounded across the hallway.

Into a kitchen. A Korean guard was running at her in mid-flight, checking his weapon whilst still clutching a mug. His mistake. Mai sent him and the mug’s contents against the window, smashing the pane and staining it red.

Smyth fired behind her.

She stepped back into the hallway. Enemy guards were jumping into the line of fire, clearly dazed and unused to action. Maybe at one time they had been a crack force, but today, they were cats in a barrel.

But then, the entrance door behind them, the one Smyth had closed, suddenly crashed open. Mai heard a cry of “Get them!” before a bunch of troops swarmed toward her.

Drake heard the gunshots and prepared to slide into the water, but at that moment, the warship erupted with activity. All hands hit the deck running and the great engines began to turn. Was it coincidence?

Never mind. Drake dove forward, hitting the murky waters with a splash and cutting through the waves with a strong stroke. As he swam, he saw both the warship’s boats cast off from the dock and rev their engines.

He trod water for a second. Romero rose beside him. “What gives, man?”

“They’re heading back to the ship.”

“Not even a Korean with his ass on fire could get to the boats that quickly.”

“Agreed. It’s coincidence. But look — they’re not changing course.”

“They have orders,” Romero reasoned, “from their high command. Shit, man, we’d better hurry it up.”

“But Mai—”

“Ain’t gonna make it! Come on!”

Mai fired around Smyth, then turned back to the hallway. A few bodies still twitched, but otherwise, the coast was clear. She raced forward then dropped to her knees and skidded, twisting her body as she did and shouting at Smyth to move.

The marine backed toward her, firing carefully. Bullets whizzed around him. At one point, he half-twisted and yelled, but it was only a bullet tearing through the sleeve of his jacket, nothing to really shout about.

Koreans fell at his feet. But more came. It soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to make it.

At least not alone.

“Damn!” Mai waded in. Jumping among her enemies, she sent one tumbling against the other so they fell hard to the floor. She smashed heads against heads, turned rifles inside out and disengaged their firing barrels with a deft turn of the wrist. She ripped a handgun from a man’s hand, turned it on him first and then shot two of his colleagues in the blink of an eye. She caught a knife a hair’s breadth from her throat, having allowed it time to get that close to dispatch another enemy, and then wrenched it away from its owner.

“Here, have it back,” she muttered, burying it through his sternum.

He was the last.

Smyth stayed on one knee, eyes sweeping the bloody mess for survivors. “Jeez, lady,” he breathed. “If I didn’t have a crush on you before I sure as shit do now. That was—”

A booming gunshot drowned out his words. The bullet nicked his ear. Smyth whipped round calmly and fired. The guard collapsed noisily.

“Grab some weapons,” Mai said without stopping. “And light these bastards up. There’s more outside.”

Drake allowed the current to take him closer to the big, steel-hulled ship. They had been waiting for the distraction of Mai’s fire to use the ropes they had salvaged from one of the Zodiacs. A rough plan to be sure, but then a man from the north of England prided himself on being rough around the edges.

Now it was a bigger gamble. The warship’s own dinghies were already back in place and the great anchor was rising with a savage clanking sound, as if all the ghosts of purgatory had risen at the same time. Drake heard shouts from up top. Even the Naval Officers were sounding shocked. Mai and Smyth had set something alight alright.

“Now or never.” Romero pushed him. “Do it.”

Drake set his jaw. Mai could still make it. He set his sights to the back of the ship where several taut lines had still to be cast off and above that, where the depth charge rails were. Hand over hand he climbed up, facing the skies, listening only to the sounds of Romero aping him on a nearby line and the tramping of feet above. Once, when the sound of voices became too clear, Drake froze, hanging in mid-air, praying for a stroke of luck. Then more cries struck the air. Drake scurried up the last few feet like a rabid monkey.

The Korean staring over the ship’s rail got the shock of his life, but before his eyes had widened to more than a saucer’s diameter, Drake snapped his neck and hurled him into the waters below. Romero nodded as he alighted to his left.

“Good work.”

Drake made to skulk over to the starboard side, but Romero grabbed his heavy jacket. “We should get below. Our mission can’t fail now, bud. She’s on her own.”

Drake angrily shook the marine’s hand off and moved stealthily onward, but then stopped. “Balls,” he whispered.

Romero was right.