The Swords of Babylon

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It took all day Thursday for the team to prepare. Dahl constantly chomped at the bit. Hayden worked wonders through Jonathan Gates with the Russian government. Having already acquired a chopper and weapons, she further smoothed the path by getting the Russians to admit they would rather see the jail obliterated off the map than not — it would rid them of part of the blight that was Nikolai Razin.

But the chopper had to be American made. The arms had to be American. It was all to guard the Minister of Defense’s back, and it wasted valuable time, but was extremely necessary. Karin kept in touch and watched several areas via satellite feed, all the time fine-tuning her tech from Washington, preparing to be their ‘all-seeing-eyes’ when they assaulted the jail.

Alicia was ready within minutes of their arrival, and spent the next several hours texting Lomas and keeping herself upbeat by insulting almost everyone who came within three feet of her. The only person she gave a pass to was Mai — the Japanese woman seemed uncharacteristically anxious not only about Drake, but about something from her past too. She mentioned it briefly to Alicia — the Clan is looking for me — but Alicia didn’t know enough about Mai’s life to heed the first signs of onrushing calamity.

Kinimaka watched it all from the back of the room, offering advice where he could. When Hayden started to look overburdened, her jaw clenched and shoulders tense, he eased over to her and took her outside for a break. When Torsten Dahl appeared a few feet away, phone to his ear, saying what sounded like a ‘hope to speak soon but can’t be too sure’ speech to his wife and kids, Kinimaka moved away. When Alicia beckoned him over he listened to her talk about the biker gang as if they were her newfound family — and he smiled. It was good that she had found a semblance of home; at least until she decided it was time to move on.

And when the phones were dumped into their cradles and all calls ended; when the quiet of anticipation fell like a soft, frayed blanket; when the team — the family — looked to each other and prepared for one of the biggest assaults of their lives, Mano Kinimaka took a second to send his mother a last simple text.

Love you.