Drake wondered if perhaps it had all been too much for her and she’d gone into shock, but there wasn’t
much
they could do about her mental state. Their orders were to bring her back alive.
‘Why me?’ Frost asked, clearly unhappy.
‘Because you’re a woman.’
Frost glanced down at her breasts in mock surprise. ‘Oh, so that’s what these are.’
Drake gave her a disapproving look. ‘She’ll feel less intimidated by you. Now piss off and get it done. I’ll keep an eye on Mason.’
The young woman flashed a defiant smile, but turned to head aft.
‘Oh, and Keira?’
She paused and glanced over her shoulder.
‘Good job, yeah?’
She nodded, looking sober and serious for once, then carried on without saying anything.
A satellite phone had been set up just aft of the cockpit where their two pilots were still wrestling against the appalling weather. Drake was in no mood for a full debriefing, but he knew Cain and Franklin would be clamouring for an initial report. Better to get it over with.
His back and shoulder were throbbing. He didn’t know how badly he’d hurt himself during the rough rooftop landing, and wasn’t keen to investigate. Coffee and painkillers would have to do for now.
Summoning up his flagging energy, he picked up the chunky phone unit and dialled the number he’d memorised.
It rang only once before it was answered.
‘Franklin.’
‘We’ve got her,’ Drake reported, deciding not to beat about the bush.
‘Thank Christ. What’s your situation?’
‘There was trouble during the extraction. Mason took
a
round to the shoulder. He’s stable, but he’ll need medical attention when we land. Dietrich’s also been hit, but he’s still in the fight.’
‘I’ll have medics on standby at Elmendorf.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And … Maras?’
Drake chewed his lip. ‘Physically she seems intact. As far as her mental state’s concerned, your guess is as good as mine.’
He was no psychologist, but it didn’t take one to realise she had problems. She’d been physically abused, locked in solitary confinement for God knew how long, deprived of any stimulation. Who knew how she would adapt to this sudden change?
That gave the older man pause for thought. ‘I hear you. Just get her back. We’ll take care of the rest later.’
Drake got the message. Her long-term psychological needs were none of his concern.
Just then, he heard the sound of smashing glass, and Frost’s panicked cry. ‘What the fu—!’
Dumping the phone, he turned in time to see Maras gripping the woman in front of her as a human shield, one arm around her neck. In her other hand, she held a broken glass bottle against her throat.
Keegan and Dietrich, reacting to the sudden disturbance, drew their side arms and levelled them at Maras.
‘Let her go!’ Keegan yelled. ‘Let her go right now.’
Drake’s stomach twisted.
Not now. Not after all this.
Shutting down the satellite phone, Drake staggered aft, struggling to keep his balance on the lurching deck.
‘Nobody fire,’ he ordered. Aside from killing both women, the shots would likely penetrate the aircraft’s fuselage.
Maras had backed up to the rear of the fuselage, still
keeping
Frost in front of her. Her vivid blue eyes moved constantly between the three men surrounding her.
‘Tell them to lower their weapons,’ Maras said, her gaze resting on Drake. ‘Do it.’
‘Ryan, what are we doing?’ Keegan asked.
‘Shoot her,’ Frost hissed. ‘Shoot the fucking bitch!’
‘Shut up,’ Maras warned, pressing the broken shard into her throat hard enough to draw blood. ‘Drop the guns now or she dies.’
‘You’re wasting your time,’ Keegan said, managing to keep calm despite the situation. ‘Look around. You got nowhere to go.’
She remained unmoved by his reasoning.
‘She’s fucked,’ Dietrich decided. ‘She’s lost it.’
Drake wasn’t hearing them. His eyes were locked with the woman’s, trying to understand what was going on behind them. He had seen the wild lust for blood as she stabbed that guard to death, but it wasn’t there now.
Her look was fearful, anxious, uncertain. She was in an environment she didn’t understand, being taken somewhere she didn’t know, and she was afraid. She was like a cornered animal.
She had reacted to that fear the only way she knew how – by lashing out and trying to take control.
‘Lower your weapons,’ he said at last.
‘What?’ Frost gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
Dietrich’s gaze flicked to him just for a moment. ‘Ryan, have you lost your mind?’
‘Do it,’ Drake snapped. ‘We didn’t go through all this to lose someone on the flight home. Lower your guns, and then we’ll talk.’
‘Ryan, please …’ Frost said, staring right at him.
‘It’s all right, Keira,’ Drake promised her, wishing he
felt
as sure as he sounded. ‘Nobody’s going to do anything stupid. Lower your weapons.’
Hesitating, the two men glanced at each other. Then, as if by unspoken consent, they lowered the side arms.
‘All right. It’s done,’ Drake said, keeping his voice low and calm. Shouting would only provoke her fear. ‘We’re not here to hurt you. We came to help you.’
She said nothing, but a little of the tension had left her muscles. She was in control of the situation, or at least she thought she was.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded.
‘We’re going to Elmendorf Air Force Base in Alaska.’
‘And what then?’
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘We were sent to bring you home, that’s all. The rest is out of our hands.’
She seemed to believe him. ‘Who sent you?’
‘The Agency. We’re a Shepherd team, part of Special Activities Division.’
That made an impact. He saw the shock in her eyes, the recognition, and something else that he couldn’t quite identify. Was it sadness? Nostalgia? Longing?
She swallowed, the muscles in her throat moving up and down. ‘What year is it?’
Drake hesitated a moment, taken aback by her question. Jesus, how long had she been in there? ‘It’s 2007.’
The woman let out a faint gasp, almost a sob, and the look in her eyes changed to one of utter, crushing grief. And just like that, she released her grip on Frost.
The younger woman wasted no time twisting out of reach, visibly shaking with a mixture of anger and fear at her sudden brush with death.
‘The goddamn bitch is out of her mind!’ she snarled, rubbing the cut at her throat. ‘Someone taser her, or I’ll do it myself!’
‘No.’ Drake moved forward, putting himself between Maras and Frost. He lowered his voice to speak to the younger woman. ‘I know you want payback. But look at her.’
Maras, who only moments before had seemed so dangerous and formidable, appeared to have crumpled before their eyes. She had sunk onto the bench, shoulders slumped, eyes staring straight ahead but seeing nothing. Her expression was one of utter desolation.
‘Give her a break, yeah?’
Frost glared at the older woman for several seconds, then seemed to see her as Drake did. Her expression softened a little, until finally she sighed and shook her head in resignation.
‘Just keep her the hell away from me.’ With that, she turned and strode forward, making for a seat as far away from Maras as possible.
Releasing his breath, Drake rubbed his eyes and glanced at Maras again. The woman wasn’t seeing him. She was in her own world. In her filthy bloodstained clothes, matted hair falling around her face, she was a pathetic, broken figure.
He had to do something. Leaving Keegan to watch her, he made his way to the front of the aircraft where food and drink had been stowed. Unscrewing a bottle of mineral water, he emptied it onto a hand towel until it was sodden, then poured some hot chocolate from a Thermos into a plastic cup.
Thus armed, he returned to Maras and held the towel out to her. ‘Here,’ he said gently. ‘Clean yourself up.’
Her face and hair were still covered with congealed blood, grime, dirt and all kinds of other shit, but she seemed oblivious to it.
She stared at the towel blankly for several seconds, as
if
struggling to understand his meaning. Then at last she reached out and took it. Her first effort at cleaning her face was tentative, almost experimental. She kept her eye on Drake the whole time, as if he might suddenly spring at her if she lowered her guard, but gradually she relaxed.
By the time she was done, the towel was soaked red with blood. Her face was still stained crimson in places, but it was a marked improvement.
She looked down at the towel, as if unsure what to do with it, then finally dropped it on the deck by her feet.
Drake lowered himself onto the bench beside her and held out the cup of steaming liquid. ‘Here, are you thirsty? It’s some hot chocolate. It’s good.’
She eyed him with suspicion for several seconds before accepting the cup.
Drake cocked an eyebrow. ‘You’re not going to try to kill me with it, are you?’ he asked with a wry smile.
Her expression didn’t change.
‘Sorry. Bad humour.’
She sniffed the contents, then finally took a drink. The taste must have pleased her, because straight away she took a much deeper gulp, ignoring the fact that the liquid was close to boiling.
‘We’ve got food too, if you’re hungry,’ he said, gesturing forward.
She kept drinking the chocolate, saying nothing.
‘We’ll get you proper medical attention and clean clothes when we land at Elmendorf. In the mean time we—’
‘Why are you doing this?’ she cut in. She spoke excellent English, but it was obviously not her first language. There was a faint trace of an accent. Russian or Eastern European, he couldn’t tell.
Drake frowned. ‘Doing what?’
She laid the empty cup on the deck at her feet. ‘Treating me with respect. I almost killed one of your team. You should have tasered and handcuffed me by now.’
He looked at her for a long moment. ‘Would you prefer that?’
‘No,’ she decided.
Fair enough. ‘Look, I understand this must be very difficult for you—’
Her eyes lit up. ‘You understand?’
He sighed and looked away for a moment. ‘All right, that was a stupid thing to say. I
don’t
understand. But I can guess life hasn’t been kind to you recently. I can guess you’re used to protecting yourself, and I’d like to think that’s why you acted the way you did back there.’
She said nothing and her eyes gave away even less, but he took her silence as tacit acknowledgement of his suggestion.
‘But you don’t have to be afraid. Not any more. Whatever happened to you in that place, whatever you went through, it’s over. As long as you’re with us, no one will hurt you. I promise.’
At that moment, something changed in her. He saw a flicker in her eyes, a lowering of the defences. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked open and vulnerable.
She smiled. A faint, wistful smile, filled with sadness. ‘It has been a long time since anyone said that to me.’
He leaned forward a little and extended his hand to touch hers. He didn’t know why he did it, merely that it felt right.
‘Believe it. We’re here to help you.’
Instinctively she moved her hand back. Not much, but enough to put it beyond his reach.
He’d pushed too hard. He shouldn’t have done that.
Deciding to give her some time alone, he rose up from the seat. Keegan was hovering nearby to keep an eye on her.
‘Like I said, we’re here to help. You don’t have to trust us, just don’t threaten any of my people. We’ll try to make your trip back as comfortable as possible. If you need something, ask. Okay?’
He had no idea what the future held for this woman, but she would come to no harm while she was with him. That was one promise he was determined to make good on.
He was just turning to leave when she spoke up again.
‘What is your name?’
He stopped and looked at her. ‘Drake. Ryan Drake.’
The woman looked at him for a long moment. Then at last she gave a nod of acknowledgement. Her face remained impassive, but the raw emotion in her eyes was impossible to hide.
‘Thank you, Drake.’
With that, she turned her gaze away, leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. Drake lingered close by a few moments longer, wondering if perhaps he should acknowledge her thanks, then decided against it.
She had said what she wanted to say, and it was enough.
Chapter 25
Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska
STANDING WITH HIS
head bowed and his hands braced against the tiled wall, Drake did nothing for some time, allowing the hot shower to sluice down on him. The heat helped to loosen the stiff, knotted muscles in his bruised shoulder and soothe the pain across his back.
He was exhausted. The journey from Russia to Alaska had taken six hours, during which Maras had to be guarded at all times and Mason had required constant monitoring, further adding to the stress on the already weary team.
The plan had originally called for a quick aircraft change at Elmendorf, followed by an extended flight back to Washington DC for debriefing. However, given that two of the team were injured, and Maras was, in Drake’s opinion, badly in need of proper medical attention, he had taken the decision to disembark at the earliest opportunity.
Never in his life had he been so relieved to touch down. Landing beside an isolated hangar at the eastern edge of the base, they were immediately met by an Agency retrieval team who escorted Maras to a waiting vehicle.
That had been the last he had seen of her. There had been no words of farewell, no expressions of thanks or
good
luck. She had simply allowed them to take her away, marching right off the chopper with her eyes straight ahead. Only as she was helped into the waiting vehicle did she look at him for a moment, though he couldn’t tell what was going on behind those cold blue eyes.
Drake doubted he would ever see her again. It was the nature of the job. He was there to bring lost operatives home. After that, it wasn’t his problem.