The Blood King Conspiracy

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.

The chopper steadied. Men jumped out onto the ropes. The assault was on.

Drake hit the deck and moved swiftly away, sensing rather than hearing Mai and Alicia landing and free-roping swiftly above him. He’d landed on the Helipad, glad to feel hard wood under his feet and running for the cover of one of the nearby tenders — a reasonable-sized boat used for ferrying people and goods to and from the mainland.

As he approached a head popped up from behind the prow. Drake double tapped without breaking stride and watched the man fall away. Another foe appeared from behind the tender. Drake fired again, sending him reeling against the ship’s rail and his weapon flying overboard.

Mai and Alicia were now right behind him.

They skidded up to the base of the tender and surveyed the Lido — top — deck. The mishmash U.S. military force had already landed about thirty men on board, half at the bow and half at the stern, who were taking covering positions to help speed up the arrival of their fellow troops. The Blood King’s men were stowed away in every available nook and cranny, being largely pinned down due to the excellent covering fire of the support choppers.

Drake pointed ahead to the double set of smoked-glass doors that led inside. “We need to get in to get down.” He fired a shot that bounced off the heavy panes. “Thought so.”

Mai shrugged. “It also means they can’t fire out. Let’s take a closer look.”

Running in tandem, each covering the other, Drake led the two women towards the glass frontage. Three marines were already lurking to one side.

“We’re blind here,” one of them grated. “Can’t see a thing through that shit.”

“Blow it,” Alicia said with a quick raise of her eyebrows.

There was a moment’s thought, then one of the marines grinned. “Never refuse a lady,” he said, glancing at the rest.

“You’d best stand back.”

Hayden and Kinimaka landed with a small force of men on the sun deck. As Hayden set foot on the sole — the decking — a bullet skimmed past the heel of her shoe. She pivoted quickly, firing from the hip. An enemy combatant with rope-like hair and a dirty face ducked and came immediately up to fire.

Kinimaka shot him as he descended. The heavy thump as he landed made even these heavy windows rattle. They were attached to a force of Delta men, all with Tweeters and hi-tech comms. Hayden heard a double-click in her ear — the signal to move forward — and then one of the soldiers took a shot to the arm.

Bullets zinged around them.

Three of the Blood King’s men popped up from the vast gym that was the centrepiece of the sun deck and opened fire. Two were immediately gunned down, the quick reactions of the Delta team paying off. The third crawled behind a group of step-machines.

“No good,” said Hayden pressing forward. “We have to get below. Boudreau will be below.”

She fired a shot that skimmed the deck and made sparks fly from the well-greased machinery. Their assailant jerked his head up in shock.

A weapon barked.

Delta-one clicked three times, paused and then sent a double-click.

Enemy down. Move forward.

Hayden stayed behind the Delta team with Kinimaka backing her up. They threaded the heavy metal of the gym and skirted the bubbling Jacuzzi. A man lay dead in there, face down. One of the Delta boys double-tapped him to be sure. His bubbling grunt of pain gave them an early warning of just how far these mercenaries were prepared to go for their megalomaniac boss.

Down a set of spiral stairs and they were facing an open doorway that led into the heart of the bridge deck. Once inside the Delta team fanned out, weapons held steady. A few of the Blood King’s men lay dead on the inner carpet.

Hayden stared around a plush living room. A glistening wet bar held sway in one corner, holding an array of every kind of bottle she could imagine. Through the inner door and they crept past a row of bedrooms, clearing them out as they went. A SEAL team had already been this way, but the Delta soldiers were leaving nothing to chance. Hayden darted glances from room to room. The decor was obscenely lavish.

Gunfire erupted above them. The Blood King’s men, it seemed, were still buried away in some part of the upper cabins.

Beyond the guest cabins they came to the cinema. Hayden stared in amazement. Nineteen plush leather seats were arranged in rows around a wide cinema screen.

Kinimaka’s jaw dropped. “Is this guy for real?”

“Forward,” Hayden said. The sounds of combat now came from in front of them as well as above them. “Our men were murdered because this asshole wanted to make sure, Mano. Sure as your name means ‘passionate lover’ we’re gonna get a slice of him.”

“And Boudreau too.” Kinimaka voice sizzled with hate.

“He’s going out in chunks.”

Beyond the cinema the oversize cabin area opened up into a circular room surrounded by glass windows. Even the ceiling was made of glass. The room’s centrepiece was an enormous swirling Jacuzzi, surrounded by life-like palm trees and easy-chairs that even Kinimaka would drown in.

The sound of the bubbling Jacuzzi filled the small space. The group moved forward. A mini bar stood to one end of the room. A walk in cupboard at another. One of the Delta soldiers ran up the Jacuzzi steps to check it out…

… and fell back dead, clattering back down the pristine wooden treads, a ragged hole blasted through his forehead.

At the same time a hidden maintenance door burst open beneath the Jacuzzi and a stream of men almost tumbled out. Funny it might have been, if they weren’t brandishing every kind of weapon from a serrated blade to a fully-automatic machine-gun.

And right before Hayden, bursting up from inside the Jacuzzi with water tumbling off him in torrents rose the lethal madman, Ed Boudreau.

His scream of blood-lust sent daggers through her heart.