Matt Drake 07 - Blood Vengeance by David Leadbeater

bud. We could do with you and that crazy Swede about now.”
    Drake nodded to himself. “What happened?”
    “Fuckers hit the HQ hard, man. Didn’t give us a chance. Must’ve been watching it for weeks. We’re lucky any of us got outta there alive.”
    “And Hayden? Romero?”
    Smyth drew a breath. “They got hit,” he said irritably. “It happens.”
    Drake relayed the news to Dahl as the Swede squatted next to him. “Where are you, Smyth?”
    “Gray’s Military Hospital. I haven’t the slightest idea where it is. It’s pretty well guarded and they’re working on Hayden right now. Got a bad feeling though, Drake, like . . . safe ain’t safe anymore. Something don’t feel right, you know?”
    Drake did. If the Blood King ’s men could find the SPEAR team’s HQ, he felt they sure as hell could track them to a hospital, military or not.
    “We ’re on our way.” He was about to end the conversation when the phone bleeped to warn him of another incoming call. Drake checked the caller ID and was shocked to see the bat phone symbol flashing, the one he had assigned to Jonathan Gates’ most secure emergency line. It had never rung before.
    His mouth dropped open yet again. “Smyth. Wait. Just wait.”
    Quickly, he flipped over to the new line, answering, “Yes? This is Matt Drake.”
    An official -sounding voice spoke in hard impassive tones. “We’re calling all active agents from every agency together right now to attend a crisis meeting at the Hotel Lewison Park, Conference Room 1B.”
    Drake noted Dahl answering the same call. “What ’s this about?”
    “Go there now. The VP will address you.”
    “Now? I—”
    The connection broke. Drake stared at the phone. VP? he thought. As in Vice President? His phone had a tracker, so they would know he was close by the Lewison. For a second, he just stared at Dahl.
    “Can Kovalenko really do all this?”
    “I don’t know.” Dahl pointed out the Lewison, not a hundred yards away. “But that’s one call we can’t ignore.”
    Drake explained the situation to Smyth and told him they would be in touch as soon as they were able. “What happened to the President?” Smyth asked.
    “I don ’t know,” Drake said. “But I think we’re about to find out.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
     
    Mano Kinimaka sat down heavily in the plastic seat, aware but not caring that its legs were splayed dangerously close to collapse. Before him, Hayden struggled to turn her head on the pillow, her pasty white face scrunched up in pain. The hospital had done a good job of patching her up, but the bullet had taken a heavy toll on her strength.
    Kinimaka wiped his eyes.
    Slowly, Hayden’s lips moved. Kinimaka caught a whisper. “What is it, Mano?”
    The big Hawaiian stared at the far wall. “My mom,” he said in a voice that sounded like he had a mouthful of knives. “Kovalenko got to her.”
    Even in her critical state, Hayden struggled to sit up. Her gasp of pain alerted Kinimaka and dra gged him back from the brink of shock. “Stop.” He moved over to sit on the bed and leaned over, feeling the entire apparatus shift and hugged her hard. “Stop, Hayden.”
    “Is she . . . ?” The feathery whisper was like a dream voice in his ear.
    “Okay?” He spoke into the bed cover, his voice muffled. “No. They murdered her. Th at bastard murdered my mom.”
    Hayden kissed him softly. Kinimaka felt tears flood his eyes and shook his head. “It ain ’t worth it. All this shit we put ourselves through? It just ain’t worth it anymore.”
    “I know. And with Jonathan gone, what will we do?”
    Kinimaka turned his head so he could look into his girlfriend ’s eyes. The sparks that had twinkled there, glittering by-products of an energetic vivacious heart, were now dulled almost to obscurity. The pallor of her skin spoke of her nearness to death. But she wouldn’t give in. Still, she fought.
    Kinimaka steeled himself, using her strength to rally his own resilience and