The Plagues of Pandora

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Drake and Dahl had had enough. The Pythians had left nothing but death and crisis, heartbreak and devastation in their wake. The world was reeling. Since day one his team had been on the back foot, always playing catch up, but now, after all that had happened this day, the Yorkshireman and the Swede were about to take the bull literally by the balls.

They were going to squeeze until they got answers. And then there was Smyth, distraught over Lauren; Alicia always up for the destruction of a madman’s dream; Hayden and Kinimaka, ever the professionals, but like coiled vipers when backed into a corner; Mai, having taken a back seat until now, starting to wonder if she could have helped prevent what had happened to Lauren. And Crouch’s team too — Caitlyn, distressed at the news and moving mountains with her investigative knowledge; Russo and Healey, barely able to holster their guns, and Michael Crouch — the man with the wherewithal and the contacts to get anything done.

A fully fuelled jet. A shower on board. A quick, energy-laced meal and they were well on their way back to Washington. Drake wished he could have joined Mai in the shower, if only to liberate a little tension, but the Japanese woman remained distant. Alicia offered to join him, but since she’d already offered to join Russo and Caitlyn too he decided to completely ignore her, not even offering a rejoinder.

But he remembered the good times. Perhaps long ago now, but they had been great together once. Drake and Myles. Their stories, their exploits, their wild times together in and out of war would fill a book. Several books.

Christ it was so long ago. Far away now, like most of the best memories of his life. Of course, as he’d learned over time, you only realized you were living the best times of your life when you lost them. Never go back. The idea rang true for Alicia Myles, but not necessarily for him. He had returned to Mai, returned to England and to the place where Alyson died, returned to Coyote.

Has it helped?

Truth be told, he didn’t know. But one absolute remained unexplored. Before all that, before everything, there was the SAS, the Ninth Division and Alicia Myles. Looking back, he thought, you usually romance your memories. You remember them better than they actually were.

But not always. Sometimes they really were as good as you remembered them.

He watched out the window as Washington DC unrolled below and geared himself up for what was soon to come. Now wasn’t the time to vacillate, now was the time to storm across their enemies’ field of play, decimating their forces.

The moment the wheels bounced and squealed on American asphalt he rose to start doing exactly that.

“Do you have a location?” Hayden used a black walkie-talkie, holding the case to her lips.

A man’s voice came back, clipped tones conveying a no-nonsense attitude. “We have eyes on. Founding Farmers. Been there forty minutes, looks set for the night.”

Drake was listening in. “Hope he bloody well gets gut-rot from his last meal as a free man.”

The team, with Alicia’s new crew as crucial backup, hastened through DCs clogged arteries, updated constantly by the team on site. Drake experienced a little déjà vu. The last time he’d driven along these streets, a time that now seemed a long time ago, was when he’d chased the Blood King to the Foggy Bottom metro and saved President Coburn’s life. By the time they pulled up close to the restaurant known as the Founding Farmers, only a block away from one of their previous HQs, he felt totally lost. That started up a longing for the old streets of York where he’d started anew and met Ben, and that brought him full circle to the fact that they were here now, fighting hard, whilst most people in these parts basked in a healthy spring; forced to put an end to yet one more murderous son of a bitch’s apocalyptic plans.

Quickly they moved into position. When they were ready Hayden took a glance around the now admittedly overlarge team. “So who doesn’t he know?”

“Don’t worry,” Dahl growled. “It’ll take me just a minute to shove a gun down his throat and march him right out the back.”

“No. There’s innocent people in there. Kids.”

Dahl stepped down.

“Every second counts,” Smyth said, not only now for the good of the world, but also for a dying Lauren Fox.

Komodo said. “I’ll go in with Yorgi, Healey and Caitlyn. Mismatched colleagues grabbing a drink after work. We’ll find a way and fast.”

Quickly, the four were prepped and given civilian jackets. Alicia put a hand on both Healey and Caitlyn’s shoulders, leaning in to give advice.

“Now remember, we’re in a hurry. No slinking off to the restroom for a shag.”

Healey took a deep breath but then almost squeaked as Alicia gave them both a slap on the behind for good luck. “Now you’re both jealous of me.” She grinned and slipped back into hiding.

Drake watched the foursome enter the Founding Farmers. “Do you ever let up, Miss Myles?”

“Not in this life, Drakey. Just keeping my mojo train on the right track and moving forward. Life’s too short for repentance.”

“You have none then? No regrets?”

“Fuck, yeah. I have a ton. Just leave ‘em all behind.”

“Can’t do that forever.”

“Who says so? You? No way you hang on to yours, Drake, not without lugging a dump truck behind you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

They moved over to Hayden. A surveillance team had been watching their target for over an hour — after he finally reappeared on the radar — through a series of scopes they had assembled inside a neighboring office block. Drake took a peek through one of the glasses, carefully following Komodo’s progress as he meandered through several occupied tables. Yorgi, Healey and Caitlyn kept pace. Of course there were no free tables near the target, but the man, sat with his head bowed, didn’t know that. Komodo quickly took the seat next to him and leaned in, grabbing his arms and locking them to his sides. The maneuver looked like someone giving a greeting to an old friend. Drake imagined Komodo laughing out loud. The others took the remaining spare seats and also leaned in — perhaps secreting weapons that Komodo had already found, maybe imparting advice, but always covering their real intentions.

Within minutes, Komodo was leading the tall figure out of the restaurant. Healey left money on the table and Caitlyn and Yorgi were ready to field any questions. None arose.

Drake left his place of concealment to face the man whom the Pythians believed was probably the one most unlikely to betray them.

“General Stone,” he said. “You’re gonna tell us everything you know.”