The Gates of Hell (Matt Drake 3) by David Leadbeater Page B

know. He never comes here. I run the place but I… I don’t know Claude.”
    “Regrettable.” Alicia slammed her foot against Pilipo’s heart. “For you.”
    Drake took a moment to scan their perimeter. All seemed secure. He bent down until he was nose-to-nose with the club owner.
    “We get it. You’re a lowly minion. I’ll even accept that you don’t know Claude. But you sure as hell know someone who knows him. A man who visits from time to time. A man who ensures you keep yourself in check. Now—” Drake grabbed Pilipo by the throat, his rage barely concealed. “You tell me that man’s name. Or I’ll twist your fuckin’ head off.”
    Pilipo’s whisper went unheard even up here, where the pounding beats were subdued by the heavy acoustic walling. Drake shook his head like a tiger shakes the head of a felled gazelle.
    “What?”
    “Buchanan. The man’s name is Buchanan.”
    Drake squeezed harder as the rage began to take over. “Tell me how you contact him.” Images of Kennedy filled his vision. He barely felt Mai and Alicia pulling him off the dying club owner.
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
    The Hawaiian night was still young. It was barely after midnight when Drake, Mai and Alicia slipped out of the club and hailed a parked taxi. Alicia had covered their way out by gleefully striding up to the DJ, grabbing his mic, and doing her best rock-star impression. “Hey, Honolulu! How the fuck are ya? So glad to be here tonight. You guys are fucking beautiful!” Then she’d sashayed off, leaving a thousand speculations on a thousand lips behind her.
    Now they talked freely around the cab driver. “How long you think before Pilipo warns Buchanan?” Alicia asked.
    “With good fortune they might not discover him for a while. He’s well trussed. But if they do—”
    “He won’t talk,” Drake said. “He’s a coward. He won’t draw attention to the fact that he ratted out Claude’s man. I’d put my mortgage on it.”
    “The bouncers might talk.” Mai said quietly.
    “Most of ‘em are unconscious.” Alicia laughed, then said more seriously. “But the sprite’s right. When they can walk and talk again, they’re gonna squeal like pigs.”
    Drake clicked his tongue. “Damn, you’re both right. So we have to do this quick then. Tonight. There’s no other choice.”
    “North Kukui Street,” Mai told the cab driver. “You can drop us off near the mortuary.”
    The cab driver flicked a glance at her. “For real?”
    Alicia drew his attention with a feisty smile. “Keep it down, five-o. Just drive.”
    The cab driver muttered something that sounded like “Fuckin’ haole,” but switched his eyes to the road and went silent. Drake thought about where they were going. “If this really is Buchanan’s office, he’s unlikely to be there at this time.”
    Alicia snorted. “Drakey, Drakey, you just don’t listen hard enough. When we finally realized that the silly man, Pilipo, had jammed his throat so hard into your hands he was turning purple we set about saving his ridiculous life, and he told us that Buchanan has a house.”
    “A house?” Drake made a face.
    “Of business. You know these dealers. They live and eat there, play there, organize their local jobs from there. Keeps it neat. He’ll even keep his men around. It’s a nonstop hard-core party, dude.”  
    “Which will help keep the nightclub events quiet, for now.” Mai said as the cab stopped outside the mortuary. “Remember when we infiltrated that shipping magnet’s office in Hong Kong? Fast in, fast out. That’s what this should be.”
    “Just like when we hit that place in Zurich.” Alicia said loudly to Drake. “It’s not all about you, Kitano. Not by a long shot.”
     
    *****
     
    Hayden entered the apartment she’d been assigned within the Honolulu CIA facility and stopped dead in surprise. Ben was waiting for her, perched on the bed, legs swinging.
    The young man looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot from days