Brothers In Arms (Matt Drake 5) (30 page)

“Special Forces peo
ple,” Mai said. “No matter the nationality, they share a bond. They respond to each other.”

Drake kissed the top of her head. “A theory I’d like to test.”

But then his phone rang. It was Alicia herself, ringing
him.

“Bollocks.”

But he should’ve guessed she would ring. Alicia Myles was
always
the exception to the rule.

“Drake? Didn’t catch you two shagging, did I?”

“Nice to hear your voice, Alicia. What’s up?” A hesitation made Drake narrow his eyes. Almost instantly, he sensed a bombshell. “Alicia?”

“I have something to tell you, Drake. And you’re not gonna like it.”

“Do you know something? About Coyote? Don’t tell me you’ve been keeping something else from me. Is it Cayman? The Shadow Elite? This new Russian thing.”

“What new Russian thing?”

“I told you. The seven swords and the saber dance. The Pit of Babylon. The Devil’s tower that led straight to the doorway of the gods and all that.”

“Sorry, mate. Must have been kipping.”

Drake closed his eyes. “Yeah or texting your new boyfriend.” Another hesitation. This time Drake let her think.

“I’m leaving, Drake. I’m quitting the team.”

His heart fell so far he was sure it hit the floor. “But. . .what? . . .
Why?”

“I miss Lomas,” Alicia said easily. “I miss the others too. With them, it’s all about the ride. The journey. Not the destination. I kinda like that idea. Bloody hell, Drake, you know me by now.”

“I do.”

“No agenda. I just want to live whilst I’m alive and have fun.”

“That’s what I love about you.”

Alicia’s voice softened to almost nothing. “Me too, Drake. Me too.”

“So…” Drake blinked away more than shock. “Will we see you again?”

“If it comes to the apocalypse. . . call me.”

Nikolai Razin was not a well man. At one time he’d been a bare knuckle boxer, and had broken every bone in his hands. Now, he could barely move his fingers, but the frequent doses of morphine helped. Now, he had men to fight for him. Now, he liked to watch them break other people’s fingers.

But the longing remained. His youth had been a hard, brutal, fleeting thing and now he wanted it back. That impossibility bred anger and hate in him, the kind that festers and sours. The highlight of his days was recognizing fear in another man’s eyes, the tremble in their shoulders. He had honed a stare, the unblinking, unnerving gaze of a madman that could agitate even the bravest of men.

And he had honed the team he surrounded himself with like a knife edge is honed on a whetstone. He had grinded them. Sharpened them. Molded them with violence and longing and more—with reward. With sadism. With a cruel love.

Zanko was his meanest, his most potent. Maxim, his stealthiest and most intelligent. Viktoriya, his most beautiful and resourceful.

The four of them sat around Razin’s big table with the wall-size picture window at his back, the Russian night falling and the deep-red sunset washing their faces with blood. Out there, madmen and killers might walk. In here sat the men and women who controlled them.

Razin spoke first as was protocol. “Tell me, Zanko, what have you found in Iraq?”

“Ancient Babylon.” Zanko spread his arms expansively, ever the showman. “The city of sin. Debauchery. Murder. Greed. All the good things in life. The place where every bad thing began and criminals were invented, no? Ha, ha! They say Saddam Hussein built a palace overlooking the ancient ruins of Babylon. But he didn’t have the cunning to search for what we have found. If he did…” Zanko shrugged
his muscle-bound shoulders. “Perhaps he would still be in power.”

Maxim spoke little, but when he did, it was usually fast and to the point, like the strike of a snake. “
Did you find the swords?”

Zanko
picked up several rolls of paper from the floor. He placed them on the deeply polished surface, sorting through until he found the right one. “We think the swords are there, and next week we should know more. But. . .” He jabbed the paper and the table urgently. “We found the
original
pit. The one from which Babylon was forged.
That
is what we found, my happy friend.”

“And ins
ide the pit?”

Zanko gave them a grin like a cartoon shark. “You are all invited to come
and look, of course.”

Razin tapped the table, reigning in Zanko’s zeal. “And the other site?”

The huge Russian held out both hands, palms up. “Insanity.”

“Zanko?” Razin’s tone held a note of warning.

“Seriously, my old friend, I mean what I say. It is impossible to describe. Imagine the size and breadth of a foundation that once held a tower reaching all the way to the clouds. But no swords at that site. Yet.”

“The Devil’s Tower.” Viktoriya breathed in her super-smooth, silky voice. “The tower of stone. Who’d have thought it once actually existed?”

“They
existed,” Zanko corrected her. “That’s the wonder of it. The legends state that these towers were erected by almost every ancient civilization. Could they all be wrong,
moyo sladkaya
? And collectively, what do they mean? What do they form? We. . .” He patted his mighty chest.
“I, Zanko
, will find out.”

Viktoriya curled a lip in distaste.
“Moyo sladkaya?
Be careful, Zanko. The last man who called me his ‘sweetheart’ ended up wearing his guts as a noose.”

“The doorway to the Gods?” Razin speculated. “The seven swords that were part of the saber dance on Alexander the Great’s deathbed?
I remain skeptical. We will see. And the writings you have found, are they a positive match to what the westerners found in the three tombs?”

“It’s being checked
,” Zanko admitted. “With all the secrecy—it is not an easy match to make.”

Razin
accepted with a nod. “And so now. . .now on to more mundane things. The man who raided our yard. Killed our men. He must pay for the devastation he brought to us. What has been done about him and his associate?”

“Matt Drake is part of a covert American agency with maybe a dozen operatives. Officially, they handle special response and recon around the world.” Maxim was reading from a prepared sheet. “If we strike at one we strike at them all. They are regarded as a ‘first strike’ team. Highly skilled.”

Zanko guffawed. “I promised to smother the little man with my armpits. I promise it again. I will not wash them until the job is done.”

Razin didn’t take his eyes off Maxim. “Do we have him yet?”

The man’s eyes glittered with intelligence and malice. “Within seventy two hours.”

THE END

Keep reading for more information on the development of the Matt Drake series:

Well, it’s that time again. Another Drake adventure draws to a close with the promise of an even more exciting one to come. The next two books, Drake 6 and 7, tentatively due October 2013 and January 2014 will form the Sinners Cyc
le in which we will unravel more ancient mysteries and, hopefully, explore more about the myths of the gods, but then. . .

….Matt Drake #8 changes everything.
There’s a developing back-story. Take Coyote out of the equation and then imagine Drake’s worst nightmare come true. Big things will happen and big changes will occur.

Next up, it’s the start of
the new series – The Disavowed. Those readers who have visited my website will know a little of this series already and I will soon be posting much more information. Hope you like it!