Drake looked around, now truly stumped. “And how the hell do you intend to make us do that?”
Coyote’s smile now filled her full face. Even a small chuckle escaped those full red lips. “I thought you might wonder about that. Interesting dilemma, yes? What to do? I agonized for hours. Then I realized the answer was right under my nose.”
Alicia leaned forward. “You ain’t coming anywhere near me with those filthy lips, love.”
Coyote pouted. “Ah, the rest of the team. Alicia Myles — looking for a real home ever since Mom and Dad fell to pieces. Never found one. The black eye suits you, by the way. Rather symbolic of your journey through life. Mai Kitano — so much potential yet so badly broken. Torsten Dahl — not much to say. Dropped out of private school to join the Army. My main Intel on you consisted of just two words—‘mad bastard’. You out of all of them I find interesting.”
Drake never lost a single ounce of concentration. “And what of all the innocents, Shelly? Who cries for them?”
Coyote sighed. “Psychopaths don’t have consciences, Matt. It’s one of the perks.”
“Look.” Mai stepped up. “Why don’t we just say we fought and I won? There’s only going to be one winner here.”
Drake looked askance at his girlfriend. “Only if you fight yourself.”
Dahl stayed quiet, never the boastful one, except in banter.
Alicia coughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bitch.”
Coyote stood back, watching them. The playful smile never left her lips and the now bittersweet tones never altered. “It’s good that you’re ready.”
Mai was staring at the rest of her team, genuinely surprised. “Am I missing something?”
Drake only had eyes for Coyote. “You’re sick. Get help. Don’t feed your infection into the lives of so many decent human beings.”
Now Coyote’s face hardened. “Decent? You have got to be kidding me. I only ever took the bad ones. The child killers. The molesters. The drug pushers. Kingpins. I only ever took the worst of the worst, the most capable opponents. But one thing you learn — the more jobs you take, the more you’re in demand. And the more you’re in demand, the less you can decline. There comes a point, a turning point, when it’s stick or twist. You slowly decay — as in never pushing anything forward — or you move ahead. Test everything you think you know about yourself. Grow some balls and jump headlong into the arena. That’s when you live. That’s when you grow. That’s when you become the person you were always meant to be. And Matt—” She paused.
And said sadly, “That was Alyson.”
Drake felt his throat close up, the memories crashing down like killer waves. Time did not heal this kind of memory — he already knew that. The painful loss would be with him until his dying day. And Coyote just didn’t get it. The woman was a self-confessed psycho. A born killer. If Drake had been hoping for a reason, a confession, even a sliver of remorse, he would not find it here. And the worse thing was — he believed Coyote was regretful in her own way, but feelings like regret, compassion and love were sentiments she just couldn’t imagine.
There were no answers here. Nor would there ever be. In life’s tribunal there were no real judgments, no major prosecutions. Just experience. And emotion.
“So here we stand,” he said again. “What’s next?”
“Where’s Michael?” Coyote suddenly said, as if realizing for the first time that her old boss was missing.
Drake made a noncommittal gesture. “He didn’t want to see you.”
“Michael Crouch would never avoid a confrontation. Do not play me for a fool. Where is he?”
Drake drew a line slowly across his throat, undaunted by the firepower aimed at him. “Time’s almost up, Shelly. Make your play.”
Dahl surreptitiously tapped the tracking device still clasped in one hand. “Number four’s time is almost up. Do something, Drake, or I will.”
“Location?”
“The hotel.” Dahl was referencing the tall, wide structure to their left which took up a good chunk of the main street.
Coyote stepped forward, reducing the distance between her and Drake to a daring few yards. “You want my play? Well here it is! I knew there was only one thing that would make goody-goodies like you people fight. And here they are!”
Drake experienced a foreign emotion right then — nerves. What the hell can she possibly mean? To what depths has Shelly Cohen sunk?
Then he found out. And felt something die inside.
Coyote’s mercs parted and allowed twelve civilians to be marched through their ranks. Every single one of them wore a nano-vest.
Coyote snarled at Drake. “Fight to the death or they die. Fight or watch them explode. And all the rest of these pathetic townspeople. I know where they hide, where they cower in fear. I will burn them in their churches. I will destroy their homes. I will send them to their precious heavens with a rocket and a bullet in their backs. Them, and their precious children.”
Drake felt his heart lurch even as adrenalin electrified his entire body. “You crazy, crazy woman. What have you done?”
“She earned a pay packet,” Dahl said. “Do it, Drake. Take the fight inside.”
Drake nodded. “The hotel,” he said. “It seems we have no choice. We will fight, but you will not win the day, Shelly. Nothing can save you now.”
Coyote smiled back, sugary as ever. “The hotel is perfect. We have CCTV, of course. I want to see every blow, every broken bone. I want to live it with you, feel the pain and the exultation. And only one comes out alive. Or these cowards, and this town, dies.”
Drake moved fast, crossing the sidewalk and hitting the hotel swing-doors as hard as he could. Inside, a huge entrance hall opened out and up, ending in an arched ceiling a hundred feet high. The reception desk appeared to be a mile away, across a set of thick Turkish carpets. Plush sofas, chaises longues, gleaming wooden desks and antique furnishings filled the room, interrupted randomly by several out-of-place, mock-Egyptian relics — a sarcophagus, a sphinx and a scarab clinging to the wall. Mirrors were everywhere, an attempt to make the outsize hall seem even larger than it was. To the right a bank of elevators stood waiting. To the left a curving staircase led to higher floors.
Drake spotted the fourth man easily, strapped to the underside of a table.
“Thirty seconds!” Dahl cried. “Give or take!”
Drake launched himself, sliding the last few feet on his knees. “Give or take?”
“Calm down.” Alicia was at his side. “No need to squeak about it.”
Mai came in from the left. “Yeah. We’ve faced worse than this.”
Drake unclipped the belt and separated the metal plates. The entire process took eight seconds. Once safe, they freed the man and directed him toward the door. A minute ticked by as they watched him go.
Then Drake turned to Dahl. “I guess it’s time to see who’s best.”
“Yeah. Sorry about the bruises.”
Drake nodded. “Me too.”
Alicia turned to face Mai. “Time for that rematch, Little Sprite?”
“If you’re referring to that scrap we had on Waikiki Beach, Taz, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. That was… recreation.”
“And now you’re serious?”
“Mostly.”
Alicia spread her hands. “Then let’s see, shall we?”
On all four fronts, the battle was met.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Karin heard the door open for the hundredth time that night. She heard the faint rustle as Komodo turned around. She heard the voice of Sergeant Pearson.