The Gates of Hell

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Drake rounded up the eight Delta Team members who’d been assigned to him in the event a deep-cave exploration became necessary. They were the relative veterans of the squad, the most experienced, and every man had at one time, in some godforsaken place, run his own op.

Before they loaded onto the chopper, Drake took a moment out with his friends. The Blood King had already divided the Hawaiian and government forces and now he was about to divide them.

“Stay safe.” Drake met everyone’s eyes in turn. Hayden. Mai. Alicia. Kinimaka. “We have to spend one more night in hell, but we’ll all be free tomorrow.”

There were nods and a grunt from Mano.

“Believe it,” Drake said and held out his hand. Four other hands bumped it. “Just stay alive, guys.”

With that, he turned and jogged over to the waiting chopper. The Delta squad had been finalizing equipment preparations and now took their seats as he climbed aboard. “Ay up, lads.” His Yorkshire accent was strong. “Ready to take this vodka-swilling pig apart?”

“Booyah!”

“Shag it.” Drake motioned to the pilot who lifted them into the air. He took a last look back at the ranch and saw his friends still standing in the same circle, watching him go.

Would he ever see them all alive again?

If he did, there would be some major reckonings to have. Some apologies he would have to make. Some terrible realities he would have to accept. But with Kovalenko dead — it would be easier. Kennedy would be avenged, if not saved. And now that he was firmly on the Blood King’s trail, his spirits were already soaring that little bit higher.

But the final reckoning between Mai and Alicia might well yet turn all that upside down. Something huge was between them, something terrible. And whatever it was, it involved Drake. And Wells.

It didn’t take long for the chopper to arrive at Ben’s coordinates. The pilot landed them on a flat piece of land about a hundred yards shy of the tiny compound. Drake saw Ben and Karin already sat with their backs against the high fence. Their faces were pure white with strain.

He needed to be the old Drake for a while. This mission needed Ben Blake at his best, at his frostiest, and if Ben was firing on all four cylinders, then Karin would feed off that. The mission’s success depended on all of them being on the best form of their lives.

Drake signaled the Delta soldiers, exited the chopper surrounded by violent buffets of air, and jogged up to Ben and Karin. “All good?” he shouted. “You brought the logs?”

Ben nodded, still a bit unsure how to treat his old friend. Karin started tying her hair back. “We’re fully loaded, Drake. I hope you’ve brought some bloody good back up.”

Delta soldiers crowded all around them. Drake clapped one man — a big, bearded individual with neck-tattoos and arms like a biker. “This is my new friend, call sign- Komodo, and this is his team. Team, meet my old friends, Ben and Karin Blake.”

There were nods and grunts all around. Two of the soldiers got busy breaking through the token padlock that prevented folk from taking a trip down one of Hawaii’s famous lava tubes. In a few minutes, they stepped back, and the gates stood open.

Drake strode into the compound. A concrete platform led up to a metal door, securely locked. A high stanchion stood to the right, at the top of which a rotating CCTV camera surveyed the area. Komodo waved the same two soldiers forward to take care of the door.

“You guys got any clue to what me and my men are about to walk into?” Komodo’s gravelly voice made Ben start.

“In the words of Robert Baden-Powell,” Ben said. “Be prepared.”

Karin added, “For anything.”

Ben said, “It’s the boy scout motto.”

Komodo shook his head and muttered “Geeks” under his breath.

Ben fell in behind the rough-looking soldier. “Why do they call you Komodo anyway? Is your bite poisonous?”

Drake interrupted before the Delta captain could reply. “They may call this a lava tube, but it’s still a plain, old-fashioned tunnel. I won’t insult you by stating the usual protocols, but I will tell you this. Watch for booby traps. The Blood King is all about big displays and separation techniques. If he can isolate us, we’re dead.”

Drake led the way, motioning for Ben to come next and Karin to follow Komodo. The small guardhouse held nothing but a pair of large lockers and a dusty phone. It smelled of must and dampness and resonated with a deep, primordial silence that hung in the air ahead. Drake walked forward and soon found out why.

The lava tube entrance was at their feet, a vast hole leading down into the creeping darkness.

“How far down is that?” Komodo came forward and dropped a glow stick. The device flickered and rolled for a few seconds before clunking onto solid rock. “Not far. Secure a few ropes, men. Hustle.”

Whilst the soldiers worked, Drake listened as best he could. No sounds echoed up from the inky blackness. He guessed they were a few hours behind Kovalenko, but he intended to catch up quick.

Once they had descended and had planted their feet firmly on the lava tube’s smooth floor, Drake got his bearings and led the way toward Diamond Head. The tube narrowed and dipped and undulated. Even the Delta team sometimes lost their footing or scraped their heads due to the unpredictability of the volcanic shaft. Twice, it turned sharply, making Drake panic until he realized the gentle curve was always in the direction of Diamond Head.

He kept his eye on the rangefinder. The subterranean dark closed in on them from all sides. “Lights forward,” Drake suddenly said and stopped.

Something had rushed out of the darkness. A blast of cold air from below. He paused and studied the gargantuan hole ahead. Komodo came up and dropped another glow stick.

This time it fell for about fifteen feet.

“All right. Komodo, you and your team get set up. Ben, Karin, let’s have a look at those logs.”

Whilst the Delta team erected a sturdy tripod over the jagged hole, Drake swiftly read through the footnotes. His eyes widened before he had finished the first page and he let out a long breath.

“Bloody hell. I think we need bigger guns.”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “It’s not bullets we’ll need down there. It’s brains.”

“Well, luckily, I have both.” Drake lifted his gun. “I guess if we need to listen to some crappy music along the way, we’ll turn to you.”

“Balls. I have Fleetwood Mac on my iPod now.”

“I’m shocked. Which version?”

“There’s more than one?”

Drake shook his head. “I guess all babies have to start their education somewhere.” He winked at Karin. “How we doing, Komodo?”

“All done.”

Drake stepped forward, grabbed the rope attached to the tripod, and repelled down the strangely glowing tube. Once his boots hit the bottom, he tugged and the others came sliding down one by one. Karin, a trained athlete, managed the descent with ease. Ben struggled a little, but he was fit and young and eventually landed without breaking too much of a sweat.

“Onward.” Drake set off quickly in the direction of Diamond Head. “Stay alert. We’re getting close.”

The passageway began to slope down. Drake wondered for a moment how a lava tube might incline against the natural flow, but then realized the magma itself would shoot through the path of least resistance with hellish force behind it. The lava would take whatever angle it wished.

A few minutes more and Drake stopped again. There was another hole in the floor ahead, this time, smaller and perfectly rounded. When Komodo dropped the glow stick they guessed the shaft to be about thirty feet deep.

“More dangerous,” Drake said. “Take care you two.”

Then he noticed that the glow stick’s light wasn’t being reflected by any rock walls. Its orangey light was eaten up by the surrounding dark. Below them was a large chamber.

He signaled for quiet. As one, they all listened intently for any kind of sounds echoing up from below. After a minute of utter silence, Drake took hold of the drop-rope and swung out over the empty shaft. Quickly, he slid down its length until he emerged under the ceiling.

Still no noise. He snapped half a dozen more glow sticks and threw them into the chamber below. Gradually, the unnatural light began to bloom.

And Matt Drake finally beheld that which few men before him had ever seen. A large, rectangular room about fifty meters long. A perfectly smooth floor. Three curved walls etched with some kind of ancient markings, indistinguishable at this distance.

And dominating one wall — the curved archway that had so fascinated Captain Cook. The doorway inside it that so obsessed the Blood King. And the terrors and wonders that might lie beyond that filled Matt Drake and his companions with so much dread.

They had found the Gates of Hell.