The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake 2) Read Free Page A

seconds he heard a sound from behind and whirled to look.
    Kennedy stood in the doorway, staring. “Who was that?”
    “Old contact.” Drake collected himself and strode past her towards Ben’s room. “What do we have?”
    Ben’s eyes were watery. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
    It was Kennedy’s mobile that rang first, a tune by The Pretty Reckless that shattered an uncomfortable stillness. She answered and punched the speaker button.
    “It’s Justin Harrison.”
    “I know,” Kennedy drawled, still showing her cops’ abruptness. “What have you got?”
    “Bad news I’m afraid, Miss Moore. The CIA are still gathering information, but it seems one of their high-security Miami safe-houses was literally taken out. Quite a mess down there. Reports of some very bad deaths. Terrible stuff, Miss Moore.”
    Kennedy’s eyes filled with tears. Drake felt his own throat choke up. “Hayden? Hayden Jaye? Is she-?”
    “Well, like I said, they are still gathering but it seems three agents are missing. Possibly taken captive or . . . well, who knows? Names are Jaye, Kinimaka, and Godwin.”
    Drake felt his hands clench into fists at the careless use of Harrison’s rhetoric. Names are . .
    “She’s missing? Hayden is missing?”
    Ben was on his feet, trying and failing to keep his emotions in check.
    Drake looked at Kennedy as she cut off the connection. “Fancy a trip to the homeland, love?”
     

 
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Deep inside the Florida Everglades, Hayden Jaye twisted on the concrete floor. Her hands were still bound but she used Mano Kinimaka as a fulcrum and pushed to her feet.
    She looked around.
    They had been thrown into a makeshift cell. The place they were in was a ramshackle mess; nothing more than a few old buildings knocked together. Obviously a temporary base, but for how long? Their cell was full of empty, torn-apart cardboard boxes. Wyatt Godwin, the only other surviving member of her team, sat propped in a corner and gave her a weak smile.
    Beyond a row of heavy, black bars lay a vast, untidy room, dominated by a chaos of technological clutter and weaponry that had clearly just been thrown together. Hayden counted dozens of men making their way among the jumbled islands; none wore masks.
    She turned to Kinimaka. “Any ideas?”
    The giant shrugged, displacing dust from his shoulders in a mushroom cloud. “Everglades. Trees. Water. Gators. The four airboats we all arrived on.”
    It had taken four airboats to carry the members of their enemy squad. When they arrived at their destination Hayden had seen nothing but derelict walls and overgrown doorways, but inside, the place was a veritable, if untidy, shopping mall of advanced machinery.
    Hayden stared at Kinimaka. “Airboats.” She repeated. He nodded.
    The bars rattled. Hayden spun to see the devil responsible for the murder of three CIA agents pressing a leering face between the narrow gaps. “Ed Boudreau,” he thrust a gloved hand through and made a play of shaking thin air. “Pleased to kill you.”
    “Likewise,” Hayden whispered, knowing she shouldn’t but unable to stop herself. Her father had been better than that, had taught her better than that.
    “You look quite a mess, my dear,” Boudreau said. “Oh, my, is that brain in your hair? Who’d have thought an enemy agent would actually have one and then lose it, eh?”
    Kinimaka used the wall to stand up behind her. She didn’t see him, she felt the rumbling and the shaking.
    “Hey, hey big boy,” Boudreau laughed. “Calm down. I’m not going to start with either of you two.” His gaze fell upon Wyatt Godwin. “Hi there.”
    “So what do you want?” Hayden continued to evaluate their surroundings, as she knew the other two were doing.
    “You touched on the subject briefly, remember? Back when your friends were painting the walls? It’s a local phenomenon known as the Bermuda Triangle. Been around a few years. Tell me what you