Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER SEVEN

Flying at full speed toward the middle of nowhere, Drake was reminded of the vast size of the Pacific Ocean. It was no surprise that there still existed officially uncharted waters and even islands out here. The scale was staggering.

They sat in the back of a big Chinook cargo chopper, forsaking the preferred military alternative because of the size of their group. Alicia was complaining about the bumpy ride and Mai was reminding her that she usually enjoyed that sort of thing. Kinimaka and Hayden were chatting; Smyth was looking distant and holding a phone to his ear; Kenzie and Dahl were sitting apart, trying desperately not to stare at each other; Yorgi was passing the time with Luther and Molokai, the latter wrapping his heavy robes tighter as cold penetrated the chopper’s fuselage — so it was business as usual really, with Drake watching over them all.

Still no word from Lauren, or even Kimberly Crowe, so they were flying blind with no fresh updates on Tempest. Drake wondered how Karin was getting on. He didn’t expect to hear from her or her team so soon — infiltrating FrameHub would be extremely perilous even for her. The odd bunch of supergeeks that had targeted Egypt with a missile a short while ago were clearly unhinged.

But now she has training, and so do her new friends. And what the hell did she mean by saying: I’ll interrupt my agenda for this?

What was her agenda?

The pilot communicated that two of them should go up to the cockpit. Drake and Hayden rose first, so they trudged steadily along the steel fuselage, listening to their own reverberating footsteps and the quiet murmurings of their team.

Drake glanced sidelong at Hayden. “You good?”

“Feels like we’ve been on this damn road a decade, Matt,” she said. “Always another crisis. I do believe the world would continue to turn without us.”

“I’m not so sure,” he joked, but then grew serious. “We do make a difference. Sure, there are other teams, other agencies, all good men and women, but work at it like we already won it, Hay. We do good.”

“And who works for us?” Hayden said as they reached the cockpit.

The pilot turned to them so Drake could say no more, but he knew what she meant. The situation with DC and lack of understanding from President Coburn’s allies and even the man himself was challenging. Of course, with all the missions they had been through during the last few weeks, the time period seemed far longer than it was.

They had been safe in Transylvania only a few short weeks ago. Peru and the Incas just before that, each op leading straight into the next.

A drifter with a gun, in the full-time employment of the government that wants to kill me, he thought. That’s what I am, what we all are. Helluva job description.

“Thanks, guys,” the pilot was saying in what Drake recognized as a Yorkshire accent. “We’re twenty minutes out so you might wanna prep. Gonna belay you whilst we hover. Shouldn’t take too long to reach deck; we have four lines.”

Drake grinned. “Ey up, mate, are you from God’s own country?”

“Ey up.” The pilot turned with a genuine smile. “Don’t be shoutin’ down me lug ’oils, pal. Where y’ from?”

“Ponte,” Drake said, pronouncing it “pontey.” “You?”

“Cas.”

“Hey, Dahl!” Drake called back into the hull. “We got a bona fide Yorkshireman right here!”

“Oh, fuck,” came the long-suffering reply. “If only we had a half-intelligent translator.”

The pilot looked over his shoulder, through the door of the cabin. “You wanna understand Yorkshire, mate, go watch The Full Monty.”

Hayden disrupted the mutual northern solidarity. “Are you staying close?”

“I’ll hang around,” the pilot guffawed, all jovial now. “Judging by the fuel level you will have about…” He made several clucking noises. “Forty minutes.”

“That’ll give us time to steal the key, tidy up after ourselves and probably even re-paint the boat,” Drake said.

“Maybe even a spot of shark fishing.” Dahl poked his head through and stared at the Yorkshire pilot as if inspecting a new species. “Is this the inbred layabout?”

“Y’see any other pilots on board, ya blonde wazzock?”

Drake choked back laughter. The pilot held up a hand in apology. “Seriously, people, we’re ten minutes out.”

By the time the pilot called out again the team were lining up by the doors, rappel lines in hand. Drake and Hayden were staring out of the windows, trying not to let the rolling blue waves hypnotize them. They tested comms and checked weapons. Soon, Drake saw the shipping magnate’s boat on the seas.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” he admitted. “Better work fast, team, and sweep in pairs. Plenty of places aboard for guards to hide themselves.”

The Enlargo was a mixture of silver and black panels, the front end as sleek as a speedboat and the stern a sweeping fusion of elegant lines. Three decks above water were visible, but there would be at least two more below.

“Nobody in sight,” Hayden said. “Good start.”

“Time to go,” the pilot shouted.

Luther opened a door and then Drake, on the other side, did the same. Lines were dropped, spooling down to the clear, clean deck. The first two descended, guns ready, covered by those still up top. Soon, the next batch went and then the last, Drake and Hayden among them. Luther touched deck first, with Molokai and Smyth a second behind. The soldiers dropped low and checked their surroundings. Drake landed softly and heard no noise other than the lap of waves against the hull and the chopper overhead.

Weird.

Somebody should have heard the chopper’s hover pattern, if not the approach. Quickly, the team divided and moved aft and forward. Drake saw highly polished brass rails, gleaming windows and one cold, but half-drunk ceramic mug of coffee. He saw an open door, a misplaced throw heaped in a corner, a yellow bottle of sun cream with the top still open.

A small pile of coins as if someone was in the middle of counting their change.

But no signs of people.

Alicia voiced his feelings before he could. “Well, this is fucking creepy.”

The boat rocked gently, soundless except for the newcomers. Drake wondered if they were all hiding below, or all passed out, or…

Don’t think. Search.

“The key may still be here,” Hayden said in his earpiece. “Move your asses.”

He climbed a set of stairs quickly to the top deck, but it was nothing more than a pool surrounded by sun loungers. The second deck was an outside viewing area and recreational room, bordered by smoked glass windows and a pair of sliding doors. He went through drawers and a cupboard with minimal hope of finding anything and wasn’t surprised.

“Heading down to main deck,” he spoke over the comms. Alicia, his partner, tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He wasn’t in the mood for a witty comeback. All his senses were on red alert. “Probably, love.”

“Good. Because I’m a few minutes away from abandoning ship.”

The comms blared into life. “Thought you should all know — that thing is drifting,” the pilot said. “Not much, but it’s a very calm day. See if you can drop the anchor, folks.”

Drake continued walking, trying to ignore the tiny shiver that traveled the length of his spine. Drifting? He’d been around boats enough to know where the electric anchor winch control would be situated and found it easily. The sound of the anchor deploying was raucously loud in the quiet day, causing both Alicia and him to check their perimeter uneasily.

Another transmission: “Scrubbing to the side of the boat. Looks like something came alongside.”

Drake moved within and helped Dahl and Mai search furniture and nooks and crannies for any sign of the Key of Hades. Cambridge had provided them with a photograph of the original artifact found near Odin’s tomb. Again, he found it surreal that they were weaving through another tale connected to their first mission and the old gods. The Key of Hades was a mediocre item as far as artifacts went, but its title and more likely its size was what made it appealing to thieves and collectors. Big money, small risk. They checked under sofas and behind the television, opened every paperback and a thick photo album, but came up with nothing.

“Below decks,” Mai said. “What do you see down there?”

Kinimaka responded. “Rumpled beds. A toothbrush with toothpaste still attached. Full coffee cups. The staff quarters are clean and empty, the kitchen too. I believe we have a ghost ship on our hands here.”

Alicia breathed out sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“Yeah,” Luther spoke up, surprisingly for Drake given the man’s level-headed and candid attitude. “I remember being lost back in a desert somewhere in some Taliban-infested shithole, and this young soldier with a busted helmet came walking down the road and told me where all the buried IEDs were. I lived, thanks to him, but it turned out he didn’t… I looked him up later, and the kid died three months previous.”

Drake felt Alicia shiver at his side. “Is that true?”

“Of course it’s fucking true. You don’t mess with shit you don’t know nothin’ about, boy. And that includes you, Hawaii Five-0.”

Kinimaka grumbled. Smyth, Yorgi and Molokai were searching the lowest deck and announced similar findings. No key, no signs of life. Hayden told them they had five minutes to double-check everything and then meet up on deck. Drake wandered over to a window to scan all the rolling horizons.

“Ghost ship,” he whispered aloud. “Where’d you all go?”

“If it were a Kraken there’d be more damage,” Alicia said with conviction. “So don’t worry.”

“Thanks, love.”

Of course, these days, there were several clear reasons why a ship might end up deserted, and none of them good. Pirates. Terrorists. A criminal undertaking. Ransom. But he was concerned at the lack of evidence, the sense that a full crew had been interrupted, surprised. The waters were empty to all the compass points; just blue, undulating ocean.

And it left them with one enormous problem.

They reassembled quickly, taking themselves out onto the main deck and up toward the prow where there was room for everyone. The chopper hovered above, its rappel lines snaking softly in the gentle breeze.

“It’s a new one on me,” Drake said first.

“Do we abandon the key?” Kinimaka asked, then added: “And the boat?”

“The Dagger of Nemesis comes next on the list,” Yorgi informed them.

“Bollocks, I hate losing,” Dahl said. “Somebody mentioned this thing was drifting, right? Pilot — can you track a path along which it may have drifted?”

“Aye, mate, that I can. But you gotta tell me first — why did the GPR device point us to the boat if it’s not there?”

Dahl waved it around, checked the batteries and then tried again. “A residual signal?” he ventured. “Or maybe it was here when Bennett ordered the check. Maybe… it’s only recently moved.”

The pilot offered a grudging, “Maybe.”

While the team waited for him to finish charting the drift of the Enlargo, they stood, trapped in the unnerving ambience that lay over the empty boat like a heavy shroud. Minutes later, the Yorkshireman came back on the comms.

“Must have drifted between five and seven miles assuming you’re right and whatever happened, happened this morning. They wouldn’t be drinking coffee at night, right?”

“The beds are slept in and unmade,” Mai pointed out.

“Aye, so let’s get you all winched back up and take a short trip.”

They left the Enlargo where it was, abandoned and lonely, and watched out of the windows as the chopper retraced the boat’s itinerant path. Empty blue seas greeted them and what had, at first, been a splendid vista was now humdrum and a little alarming.

“No rafts, no lifeboats, no… nothing,” Hayden said.

“Big storm could’a took ’em?” Kinimaka wondered.

“Nothing on today’s forecast,” the pilot said.

“I’m thinking something more physical,” Alicia said. “And with teeth.”

“Stop thinking.” Mai sighed. “It doesn’t work well for you.”

“Says the frisky Sprite.”

Drake ignored their bickering, watching Luther and Molokai. The two new members of the team rarely spoke to each other, but often communicated in shared looks and gestures. Clearly, they knew each other inside out. Drake got the impression that Luther could fit easily into any team and any situation, whereas Molokai would always be detached and uneasy. The story of their pasts would be a bloody interesting one.

He returned his attention to the window as the pilot told them they’d arrived at an approximate spot. Two minutes later he called out for people to come forward.

Drake crowded into the cockpit. Through the wide glass window, he saw a surprising mass. Surprising because the map on the instrument panel didn’t acknowledge it.

“Is that an island?”

“Aye, mate, it is, an uncharted one.”

“Shit.” Drake shared a glance with Mai, remembering another uncharted island they’d visited and what had happened there.

“Pull up,” Hayden said. “We need to see the size of it and check for others.”

“A few miles in circumference,” the pilot said. “Nothing you couldn’t walk around in a couple of hours, and I see no other land masses to any horizon. We’re pretty much on our own here.”

“Strangely,” Kinimaka said. “That doesn’t help.”

Even Molokai pulled his outer robe more tightly around him.

Dahl pointed the adapted GPR at the island, lowering the chopper’s window as they drifted nearer, now able to make out a small mountain chain, probably volcanic, and several stands of dense, green trees. A valley lay beyond the beach, bristling with shrubbery. Dahl switched the device on and there was no mistaking the sudden red pulse that started blinking in the center of the screen.

“The key,” he breathed softly. “It’s there.”

“Then put us down,” Hayden said. “Right there on the beach.”

Nobody spoke. They all remembered the Enlargo only too well and, with their imaginations fired up, they couldn’t help but wonder exactly what unknown hell they might be about to walk into.