The Ghost Ships of Arizona

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

Drake passed around the rum, smiling as the whole team swigged it straight from the bottle. The pirate ship with its vast treasure groaned and moaned around them, its timbers expanding, its decks scoured by desert squalls. When his turn came the liquid burned a fiery path to his stomach and instantly put the world in better perspective.

“To fallen comrades,” he said and passed it around again.

Whilst he waited, Dahl turned toward him. “Have you heard anything from Mai?”

“As much as I expected to,” Drake murmured, but shook his head at the same time. “Grace is in hospital, fighting hard. She’s a battler that one and she will survive.”

“I have faith in Mai as much as anyone I have ever met,” the Swede said. “She will return.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Drake swigged again as the rum returned, now half empty. Sighing, he rested his weary back against a treasure chest. The bruises that marred his torso would be turning purple by now. The empty tooth socket ached. But none of that mattered.

“To the future,” he said. “To beating Webb and any other idiot daft enough to take us on.”

Hayden accepted the bottle with a bow of her head. “Speaking of that,” she drank deeply before continuing. “The latest intel on Ramses and that terrorist arms bazaar is quite promising. It’s imminent. Any day now. The NSA are working on a location.”

Smyth cleared his throat. “At least give us chance to wash the desert’s dust off.”

“Webb will be there,” Hayden responded. “Beauregard said so. And if that pans out, I don’t care if it’s tomorrow morning, we will be there too.”

Alicia took a double swig. “Shit, woman, chill out.”

“You ever wake up with a stranger staring down at you in bed?” Hayden flung back, but then — at the look that crossed Alicia’s face — had to laugh. “No, no, don’t answer that.”

“It will never happen to you again,” Drake said as Kinimaka laid a huge hand over his girlfriend’s. “No more splitting up for this team. From here on in, what we do we do together.”

“As good as that sounds,” Hayden smiled, “it might not be entirely practical.”

“Clearly.” Dahl huffed slightly. “Nobody shares my bed except my wife, pal.”

Drake looked exasperated. “Oh aye! That’s clearly what I meant—”

“I did promise Crouch one more treasure hunt,” Alicia said, handing the bottle to Yorgi. “But if this arms bazaar is as big as you say — we could gain an awful lot of scalps there.”

“Exactly.”

“You and your treasure hunts.” It was Dahl’s turn to take a sip of the rapidly dwindling liquid. “Always running.”

Alicia plucked the bottle from his hands before his lips reached the neck and finished it off. “Not anymore,” she said simply. “I’m not saying the road ahead isn’t going to be hard — more like hell with me — but I’m going nowhere fast anymore.”

“I hope so.” Dahl nodded and looked at Drake. “Got any more o’ that good grog, matey?”

Drake laughed, shaking his head. “Next time you try fighting whilst protecting a liter plastic bottle of rum in your backpack.”

Hayden held up a hand. “To craziness.” She held up an imaginary glass. “And all the things we have done.”

Drake saluted, his mind flicking back past the Odin and Blood King escapades to Babylon and the madness in DC. He lingered over the Pandora event where they had teamed up with a talented trio of ex-CIA agents called the Disavowed — Trent, Silk, Radford and now Collins were a force to be reckoned with and no less zany than Drake’s own team. He hoped one day to team up again.

Quickly, he told them all about Karin and her request. The words were met with solemn appraisal and a blanket acceptance. Fort Bragg certainly wouldn’t damage Karin and, chances were, it could help. The conversation reminded them all that Karin, Lauren, Jenny and Nicholas Bell were still out there.

Drake shifted, groaning. “I guess we should be heading out.”

“One more minute,” Alicia said softly. “I like this.”

The team settled again, wounds and bruises aching, but even behind the grimaces hidden smiles formed. There was no greater team than the one that fought for each other, played for each other and died for each other.

“Whilst we’re talking,” Hayden then said, “and nicely isolated here—” the old galleon moaned and grunted around them, scoured by sudden breezes, eddies of sand blasting through the deck in mini-tornadoes; the great, heavy treasure chests complaining with age and the surrounding timbers belligerent and burdened, “—I believe we need to investigate Robert Price.”

Dahl shifted uncomfortably. “The Secretary of Defense. You mentioned something like this before. Has he disobeyed one of your orders?”

“Very funny. No, I first heard it from General Stone. Remember him? He alluded to Price being dirty when he had no reason to. I just think… there’s something off about him, and we should be careful. We have too much at risk.”

Drake didn’t need to question her. “Whatever you say.”

“We ain’t sending Lauren in this time,” Smyth barked. “Not after the last shitstorm.”

Drake cocked his head. “Is that the real reason?”

“Sure it is!”

“I heard she was sweet over Nicholas Bell.”

“Fuck Bell. He’s going to jail.”

Drake refrained from ribbing the snappish soldier beyond his limits. Bell might actually be set loose if he could help them arrest Webb. He studied Alicia who sat relaxed at his side. Her blond hair had fallen across an eye and one cheek was all squashed up as she rested her head against a crate.

“You ready?”

Alicia considered the team sat around her. “One extra minute,” she said. “Just one. There’s no rush.”