“And serious payoff,” Drake added, thinking of Dai Hibiki’s original message. Something about advanced weaponry. They hadn’t seen any signs of it on the island. “Tell me — where is the HQ?”
“The island.”
Drake shook his head. That wasn’t it. Couldn’t be. The chain of command would stretch much higher than that, but then a soldier wouldn’t be privy to that kind of information. He tried a different tack. “Okay. Where is the European HQ?”
“Germany.” The Korean spat the word out. “But I know most about the smaller houses in China and Russia. The big one, the important one, is in Germany, but now everyone talks of the Russian one because they have made some fantastic discovery. Something about gods and ancient towers. Something so big they say it makes the island operation a tiny speck. ”
“And the rest of the HQs?”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me.”
Drake listened as the man reeled off addresses in China and Russia, then shot Romero a look. “We could do worse than heading to China,” he said. “We need to get out of Korea pronto. China is as good a place as any round here.”
“Better than South Korea?”
“We don’t know how far this thing reaches,” Drake said. “This guy’s already mentioned Spain, Russia and Germany. Who knows where else?”
“And in China?”
“We could pay a visit to their little house. Maybe learn some more.”
“Sounds like a plan. What about him?” Romero jerked the barrel of his gun sharply.
The Korean soldier began to shrink back, as if he might be able to squeeze into the tree at his back. “Please. I have a wife. A child.”
Drake stepped forward and buried his knife through the man’s heart.
“So did I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hayden put the phone down after another odd conversation with her boss. Gates had just rung to inquire about Lauren Fox’s mental state. Now the secretary had told her he was on his way to meet the woman. Hayden had warned him about the news reporter, Sarah Moxley, who continued to hang around but her boss seemed unperturbed.
The man had changed since his wife died. The fast-thinking, clear-talking, inspiring leader had been replaced with something cloudier. Something more suited to politics perhaps, but not something she could stake her career on anymore.
A situation that needed reviewing, but not yet. The high-class hooker, Lauren Fox, had been rumbling on about going home for the last twenty minutes.
“You should stay for your own safety.” Kinimaka was telling her, the huge Hawaiian looking out of place as he sat next to the small, pretty woman, dwarfing her. Hayden found a smile flitting around the corners of her lips as she stared at him, seeing his discomfort like no one else could, knowing him so well after their long working relationship, and wondering more and more often how the other kind of relationship might get started.
Lauren waved at him. “I already proved I can look after myself.”
“Your assassin was one of many, Miss Fox. You are the fourth victim in a few days. Sorry, attempted victim.” Kinimaka coughed. “We don’t know the scope of this thing yet. If you could help by giving us your movements—”
“I already told you! I get about. My job calls for some travel every now and then, alright? I gave you my movements.”
Trouble was they didn’t match up to all the previous victims. Not yet anyway. Kinimaka was studying the paper she’d written on. “How about early January? Let’s try that.”
Hayden thought about the previous victims. All dead because, as strangers, they had crossed paths with someone dangerous. And they had pretty much travelled in the same areas. At least, that was the theory. How they fitted in with suicidal, faceless assassins was a mystery that had them all beat.
“I have clients,” Lauren was saying. “If you’re not gonna charge me, at least let me contact them. My business is my livelihood.”
Kinimaka looked surprised. Alicia, still sitting next to the feisty woman, brightened up. “Tell you what, Foxy. I haven’t had a shag in months. How ’bout I spend a few days standing in for you?”
Lauren was about to answer when a shout rose from the control room. Hayden sped off immediately, Alicia a step behind.
The banks of monitors were flashing. Both Ben and Karin were standing. Torsten Dahl was buckling into a bulletproof vest.
“Move!” the Swede cried. “Fifth attempt in progress! The victim and the cops’re holding the assassin off at a friggin’ service area not thirty minutes from here!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Torsten Dahl leapt out of the big Dodge SUV even before it stopped moving. A row of cop cars sat before him, lined up outside the entrance to a small service station. A dozen pairs of world-weary eyes swiveled toward him.
“Who the hell are you?”
Dahl ignored them, considering the black SUV classification enough, and not caring for their tones or surly looks. He sized up the scene himself within a minute.
Several bodies lay strewn across the grassed area in front of the station. Dahl guessed these were innocent bystanders, caught up in the madness when the assassin tried to reach his target. It was after this that reports had started coming in of a shooter behaving very much in the manner Hayden and Kinimaka had flagged with every US agency. After that, the shooter’s target — a truck driver — had apparently produced a gun, escaped and barricaded himself in an alcove the service station used for a game room.
“We need to take this bastard alive.” Hayden breathed in Dahl’s ear. “If possible.”
Beyond the wide glass doors, Dahl made out the shelves and bright lights of the shop. Foregoing subtlety, he dragged one of the cops over. “What’s the layout of this place, my friend?”
The cop blinked for a moment before catching the look in the Swede’s eyes. To his credit, he was wise enough to know it was time for some straight talk. “Doors open onto an entrance hall. Shop’s off to the right, game room down a bit and to the left. Then the restrooms. We think the shooter’s past that, roaming the small food court and the fast-food area.”
“Civilians?”
“You better believe it, buddy. Restaurant staff and day-trippers. Some got away when the shooting started, sure, but it’d be a mistake to think everyone made it.”
Dahl grabbed Hayden’s arm. “If he’s anything like the other assassins, this man will be hunting the truck driver to the point of obsession. He won’t be watching the exits or entrances. He won’t be watching the people in there.” He paused, looking between Hayden and Alicia, quickly deciding on the least caustic and embarrassing of the two. “Sorry, Mano. Your girlfriend’s mine for a while.”
Lauren Fox, watching events unfold on the big screen monitors, saw the camera swerve and sway as Dahl and Jaye moved swiftly around the building, heading for the rear entrance. She was intrigued, despite herself. One part of her wanted to get the hell out and salvage whatever remained of her clientele; the other was most definitely caught up in the excitement.
And a deep, wiser part of her knew that staying put was the safest move. For now.
The Secretary of Defense had joined them a few minutes ago, given her an appraising look, and then gone to talk to Ben and Karin Blake and their bodyguard, the big dude they called Komodo. Lauren noticed his eyes lingering on everything — from the field cams of Dahl and Jaye and Kinimaka to the surveillance cameras that protected the building’s perimeter, to the toned curves of Karin Blake’s body.
There was an interesting dynamic running through this group, she thought. She saw loyalty and compassion running alongside the capacity for instant violence and ruthlessness. Lauren knew how to read people. It was a quality that had kept her alive most of her life. She saw Ben Blake’s despair. His sister’s delight. Komodo’s happiness. And Jonathan Gates’ utter desolation.