The Swords of Babylon (Matt Drake 6) (13 page)

Jonathan Gates hurried
into the crisis meeting, still dazed and unable to fully grasp the absurdity of the situation he currently found himself in. Twelve men sat around the enormous table, stern gazes reflecting either the precedence of their station, the gravity of their concerns or the depth of their desperation. These were powerful men – undoubtedly some of the most powerful men in the world – but they were still only men, fighting to be heard.

President Charles Coburn
nodded toward him. “Jonathan, sit down. We can get started.”

Gates took his seat
, seeing the Vice President, the Secretary of State, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the President’s Chief of Staff and the Counsel to the President all assembled along with Directors of the CIA, FBI and Homeland, plus two five-star generals.

President Coburn indicated the latter two.
“General Stone and General Edwards. You should start at the beginning.”

Stone took the lead.
“We believe the three tombs at Iceland, Hawaii and Germany represent the biggest threat to America’s freedom and security since the cold war. Forget Al-Qaeda, the potential threat inherent through ownership of Singen’s doomsday device is unprecedented. And now,” he half turned toward Gates, “with the latest revelation that a
second
method of activation probably exists, I feel –
we
feel – that America should take the initiative.”

If possible
, the expressions at the table grew even more severe, but it was still impossible to gauge where everyone’s view would land.
Or better,
Gates thought.
On which side everyone’s agenda would be best served.

“Go on.” Coburn leaned over as his assistant whispered briefly into his ear.

“The only way to be safe and sure is to activate the device, see what it does, then deactivate it, either making it unusable or burying it in a deep hole somewhere.”

Gates saw an immediate head shake from the Director of the CIA and counted him as a potential ally. “It
’s already in a deep hole,” the Director said. “And a German one at that. How do you propose to pull that one off, General?”

Stone pursed his lips. “Any way we can, sir. This is the country
’s wellbeing at risk.” He was clearly pursuing the security and vulnerability angle which, Gates imagined, was the main reason he hadn’t been kicked straight back to base. A clever angle, more important to the people assembled in this room right now than anything else.

Especially to the President.
“What makes you think you can turn it off again?”

“NASA
send men into space. MIT train supercomputer engineers. We surely have enough learned minds between us to disable an archaic device. It might not even work.”

“But we need to know
,” the other General spoke up.

President Coburn turned to Gates. “Your team
is pursuing this one, Jonathan. Assuming we can talk the Germans into cooperating, what’s your take?”

Gates studied the
President. Though in his mid-fifties he looked more like a fit young man of forty, with the face and physique of someone who looked after himself and worked out regularly. Gates had heard it said that Coburn only slept three hours every night, not because of the demands of the job, but because that was all he needed. The President’s face was now open and expectant. Gates had never taken him for a fool. That said, he still decided to appeal to the man the President used to be and, deep down, undoubtedly still was.

“
You were once in the field, sir. You know the importance of letting the team do its work. Eyes and boots on the ground are crucial and need paying attention to. They will come through.”

“How can you possibly know that?” The
President wasn’t blustering or complaining, or even drawing on past experience. It was a sincere, viable question. And not a man in this room really cared that the President had once fought with honor for his country. Since he had signed that oath of office he had become, by necessity, a very different man. One who was sometimes forced to bend, like a tree amidst a hurricane.

Gates tried a different tack.
“They’ve never failed us before, sir. They did, in fact, discover all of these tombs. They captured Dmitry Kovalenko—”

“I
’m aware of the team’s accomplishments, Jonathan,” Coburn interjected. “But unless you can give me a concrete reassurance that your team will stop the device being activated a second time, then I suggest you give me a straight answer.”

Gates licked his lips. “We don
’t know for certain, Mr President.” From the corner of his eye he thought he saw General Stone’s face crease into a smirk, but when he glanced that way, the man turned his head.

“
Mr President,” Stone said. “Give me the resources to at least put a plan into place. Let me prepare. Then, if the Secretary’s team doesn’t
come through,
we at least have a valid back up.” Everyone heard the inflection and several almost smiled.

“It
’s too risky,” Gates said.

“It
’s riskier not to try,” Stone affirmed. “The country’s independence is at stake.”

Gates flinched inside.
He knew precisely what would happen if Stone found himself in command at Singen, but the sway of this room was leaning toward General Stone. With such support, the President would surely have to honor a simple request. But Stone was angling for glory, and almost everyone here would accept the General’s declaration that America possessed the bright minds capable of deactivating Odin’s device on spec. Maybe it did.

Trouble was,
Gates thought.
Rather than working at NASA or studying at MIT, the mindset they needed now was more likely to be that of the peculiar loner slapped in jail for hacking supercomputers or the weird bedroom lout hitting the top of the leader boards of the new Tomb Raider game.

Courage, strength, skill
, a trace of crazy and the flair for fantasy. It was what they needed. He thought of it as the motto for SPEAR. If what the team had learned so far was true and the old gods were again part of all this, then the crazy and fantastic might be the only things that saved them all in the end.

Karin Blake
knew it was a race against time. Though the last week could best be described as an intense, stressful whirlwind, she knew that these next few hours would move swiftly from excessive to extreme.

She was alone in the new HQ.
Komodo had set out hours ago on his quick jaunt to Pittsburgh, aiming to meet up with Romero, Smyth and two other Delta soldiers. Patterson’s wife was still being held prisoner inside their compact home. Even though the professor’s release had been effected a relatively short while ago, Karin had expected something to have happened up at his suburban house, but it seemed the head Russians – Razin and Zanko that they knew of –were far too busy to take note. Or perhaps the news hadn’t filtered down yet. Karin ran a last check through Komodo’s comms.

“Going smooth so far, T-
vor?”

“As Mountain Dew, my little
Kazmat.”

Karin smiled at his use of their pet name. “
I take it the soldier boys haven’t arrived yet?”

“Still waiting.
These comms are amazing, Karin. Sounds like you’re sitting next to me.”

“I wish.” Karin was nevertheless quite excite
d about being alone in the HQ. It showed the level of trust Gates had in her. It showed that her future, through Jonathan and SPEAR, was bright and full. It showed she could have a life again.

“Heads up
,” Komodo said. “They’re here.”

The team leader went off comms for a little while to explain the situation to his new crew. Karin expected him to return in a few minutes and readied the loop that would patch them all through the same
piece of equipment, linking them to each other and, via satellite link, to her. The new HQ was a little undersized, with no windows and employed the outdated parking-garage-only access method, but they had made it work. The cutting edge communications and surveillance systems took up most of the main room, the team’s gear filled the second. There were no cells, no interrogation rooms, just a small basement that contained, in Karin’s opinion, the HQs coolest feature.

An underground escape route that led straight into the Pennsylvania mall.

What girl couldn’t love a thing like that?
she wondered. Even better, it was an awesome, busy getaway location with dozens of exits, guards and places to hide. And to top all that, she could use the tunnel to grab lunch too!

But not today.
Komodo and the team were relying on her to aid their assault. With the comms fixed up, she concentrated on the surveillance system, using the CIAs global mapping system to zoom right on top of the house. The magnification was tremendous and crystal clear. She remembered one of the weapons they had utilized on a previous mission – the one that could see through walls. Such a weapon would come in handy here, and in the future, but she just couldn’t get the idea out of her head that Alicia would use it for something unsavory.

A double click told her Komodo was back online. “Game on?”

“It’s in play. Herrera and Tyler are scouting and finding a place to hole up. We’re gonna snatch the first one to show his ugly Russkie face, and use him to get inside.”

“Sounds risky.”

“Tried and trusted. Besides, it’s all risky, babe. We’re outside trying to get in.”

Karin heard one of the men whisper about
canning the babe talk,
and guessed immediately it was Smyth. She had heard enough about the irascible marine to recognize his disposition even over the comms.

“Don
’t worry,” Komodo said. “Poor ole Smyth’s depressed. He texted Mai twelve hours ago and she hasn’t replied.”

Karin laughed. “
Maybe he missed off the kiss kiss at the end, eh?”

There was a short silence
, then Smyth’s voice came over the airwaves. “Miss, I can only say you’re lucky I’m Delta. If I were a marine I’d have told you to go fuck yourself after that.”

Komodo burst into laughter.
“He’s got it bad. Hey, Romero, how d’you live with this all day?”

“We ain
’t married, sir. He can see whoever he wants.”

“I think Drake might have something to say about that.” Karin watched as two figures – Herrera and Tyler – cautiously approached the Patterson house.
The two Delta soldiers competently worked their way to the foliage and waist-high decking that fronted the house, concealing themselves within. They did not rush. Karin counted twenty eight minutes of waiting and shuffling.

“We
’re all set here.”

Komodo paced the inside of their white builder
’s van. The cover was sound. The house across the road was being renovated and demanded different amenities every day.

Romero said, “So how
’s Drake? This all part of some new exploit?”

“Babylon
,” Karin heard Komodo reply with amusement in his voice. Then, “Don’t ask.”

“See, we
’ve been wondering,” Smyth said. “Since our team hasn’t yet been renewed, if you might put in a good word.”

Karin could almost hear Komodo
’s brain ticking. “A what? Why?”

Silence followed. Maybe they were communicating through eyebrow and hand gestures.

Then Komodo spoke with excitement in his voice. “You’re kidding? Really? You want to join SPEAR? Well, Drake speaks very highly of you, Romero. I’m humbled that you asked me to speak for you.”

“Any time, man.”

Smyth’s voice broke in. “Did Mai speak well of me?”

“She said she
could never have survived without you.”

There was another silence, and then Karin heard Romero
’s whisper. “Don’t start crying, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fuck you.”

She shook her head at the displays of military humor. With nothing else to do for now, she walked over to the little fridge freezer and took out a bottle of water. As she stood swigging the cold liquid, it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone like this. An odd thought for her. Karin was used to being physically alone in the darkness of her apartment, and mentally alone in the darkness of her mind. Her last alone moment must have been in her apartment, just before she told Ben she was going to Hawaii to help.

She
had slotted into her new existence with ease, reasoning that she’d been born to lead this life. All her tragedies had prepared her for it. The moments she lived in now, these fine days, were the best she had ever known.

And Komodo held firm
at the center of it all, her anchor. As that thought crossed her mind, the double-click of a live comm caught her attention.

“We
’re in play. Side door just opened.”

Karin ran back to her seat, switching between the satellite display and Komodo
’s helmet-cam. He was focusing between the barrel of his gun and the van’s inside handle as he waited for the go. Karin switched to Tyler’s head-cam. Through gaps in the foliage, she saw a bulky figure moving toward the man. Tyler’s light breathing punctuated the other man’s steps.

“Target outside. Do we have a go?”

Karin immediately switched to the overview. Nothing else moved in the vicinity of the house. “All clear.”

“Move.”

Komodo’s command started the team’s offensive. The back of the white van burst open and three men jumped out, racing across the sidewalk and up the garden path. Tyler stepped out from concealment and dragged his opponent down to the ground, executing a perfect choke hold. Karin heard desperate struggle and frantic grunting noises, but it didn’t last long. Herrera joined Tyler and, between them, the two Delta soldiers trussed the Russian up tighter than a Christmas turkey.

Karin watched through Tyler
’s head-cam as Komodo passed them on the path. The tiny camera swiveled to watch Komodo, Smyth and Romero press on through the half-open door. Then Komodo’s head-cam showed an empty hallway, paintings on the wall, the steep stretch of a staircase, a washing basket full to overflowing. The comms system picked up coarse laughter coming from down the hall. Komodo signaled, and the three men headed that way. Komodo’s gun barrel made controlled movements from side to side. Karin quickly checked the overview. Still clear, but a paperboy was making his way down the street.

A
bull-like man emerged from the room at the end of the hall, surprise written almost comically across his face when he spotted the three armed soldiers approaching him. Immediately, the testosterone kicked in, outweighing the intelligence by at least five-to-one, and he reached around the back of his waist for a gun, shouting.

Komodo
’s weapon bucked. The bull hurtled back against the frame, changing the paint from white to vivid red. Komodo pushed on. A shot was fired blindly from inside the room, burying itself into the wall.

“
Tyler, Herrera, check upstairs,” Komodo whispered into his comms.

“One in the kitchen
,” Romero reported. “Unfriendly.”

Smyth had checked the rest of the ground floor.
“All clear.”

Komodo turned quickly. “Finish it.” He moved fast down the hall, tracking Tyler and Herrera up the stairs. “Smyth,” he said. “Don
’t forget the garage.”

“On it.”

Karin watched as Romero’s helmet-cam kicked back heavily. The man fired heavy rounds through the kitchen’s plaster walls, leaving holes the size of side-plates. A brief scream signaled that the coast was clear.

Smyth ran inside, double-tapping the Russian to be sure. The inner connecting door that led to the garage was slightly open. Karin watched him approach it swiftly, but carefully. He nudged
the door wider with the barrel of his weapon.

“Contact
,” he murmured under his breath. “The wife’s here and not alone.”

As if to verify
, a high-pitched command rang out,
“Get back! You come no closer to me!”

Karin winced. The last remaining Russian stood behind Audrey Patterson, one arm across her throat, the other holding a pistol to her head. The woman looked terrified
and tears streamed down her face.

Smyth moved forward, probably hoping to force the assailant into the classic mistake and move the gun away from the hostage in order to point it at the bigger threat. But the Russian didn
’t comply.

“I shoot!”

The gunshot rang out, deafening through the comms. Karin saw Audrey Patterson shriek and go limp, but the bullet had only shot past her forehead.

“The next goes in!”

Komodo grunted as he joined the scene. Karin watched as four head-cams fanned out into a semi-circle. The fifth was aimed at the rough concrete floor, creeping slowly.

“Nowhere to go, fucker
,” Smyth said with typical testiness. “Put the pea shooter down.”

“You let me go!”

“End of the line, Boris,” Smyth growled. “Be a good Russkie. You don’t want to end up smeared across the walls like your friends back there.”

Komodo stepped forward. “Calm down,” he said softly.
“Both of you.” Karin wasn’t entirely sure if he meant the Russian and Mrs Patterson, or the Russian and Smyth.

“What do you want?” Komodo asked. “You let her go. We
’ll talk.”

“Leave. You get ou
t of garage, we drive away. I push her out when clear.”

Smyth snorted. Karin felt every muscle in her body tense, every nerve ending stand on edge as the fifth head-cam, Tyler
’s, focused on the treads of a tire and stopped. He had to be only three feet away. Now he would wait.

Komodo stepped to the side this time. The Russian followed him, gun wavering.
“Why don’t we all just calm down,” Komodo said. “Point that gun away from Audrey’s head and we’ll talk.”

“Alright!”
the Russian screamed. “I aim it at you!”

It all happened very quickly and clinically. Tyler got the signal from Herrera, stood and fired twice. The Russian
’s head exploded, spraying the professor’s wife and the side-wall. The woman collapsed to her knees, hysterical but alive.

Smyth and Romero rushed to help her.

Komodo addressed the comms. “Mission complete,” he said. “Be back soon.”

Karin
checked the overview again. The paperboy had disappeared. The houses were all quiet. She would inform the authorities that they could move in. The peace and quiet of suburbia would live to see another day.

With time to spare, she fished out her cell phone and speed-dialed her parents
’ number, wondering how life was treating them over in Leeds. After that, she would call Ben.