The Bones Of Odin (Matt Drake 1) by Leadbeater David

Author:Leadbeater, David [Leadbeater, David]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-EIGHT

OAHU, HAWAII

On September 12th the midday sun over Hawaii was obscured by a dark rain of ‘jellyfish’ parachutes - the signature chute of the American military. In a unique operation, Delta commandos landed amidst Swedish SGG and British SAS - and one New York cop - on a remote beach at the north side of the island.

Drake hit the beach at a run, the sand cushioning his landing, clicked free of the dragging chute, and turned quickly to check Kennedy’s progress. She landed amidst a couple of Delta boys, falling to one knee but soon regaining her feet.

Ben would stay with the aircraft, continuing his research with the help of Hayden, who had been sent as a U.S. ‘advisor’ on the mission.

In Drake’s experience, advisors were usually better trained versions of their bosses - spies in sheep’s clothing so to speak.

They ran across the beach under the hot Hawaiian sun, thirty highly trained special-forces soldiers, before hitting a gentle slope with the advantage of a tree-lined canopy.

Here Torsten Dahl stopped them. “You know the drill. Quiet and hard. Vault room’s the target. Go!”

The decision had been made to hit the ex-Serbian Mafia leader’s mansion with maximum force. Time was horribly against them - their rivals might also know the location of the Valkyries by now, and to get the upper hand in this race was vital.

And during his term of leadership Davor Babic had not been a merciful man.

They topped the slope and ran across a road, straight up to Babic’s private gate. Not even the breeze stirred against them. A charge was set, and in under a minute the high wrought-iron gates were tumbling pieces of metal. They charged through the gates and spread out through the grounds. Drake sheltered behind a thick palm tree, studying an open lawn that led to a massive set of marble-lined steps. At their summit was the entrance to Babic’s mansion. To either side were a bizarre array of statues and Hawaiian cultural treasures, even a Moai figure from Easter Island.

No activity yet.

The Serbian Mafia retiree was fatally complacent.

An SAS man, his face half-hidden, slid in beside Drake.

“Greetings, old pal. Nice day, eh? Love that direct sunlight on the lenses. Wells sends his regards.”

“Where is the old wanker?” Drake didn’t take his eyes off the garden.

“Says he’ll get in touch later. Something about you owing him some Mai-time.”

“Dirty old bastard.”

“Who’s Mai?” Kennedy asked. She had scraped her hair back again, and wore a shapeless army uniform over her pantsuit. She carried a pair of Glocks.

Drake, as usual, carried no weapons, save for his special-forces knife.

The new SAS guy said: “Old flame of Drake’s here. More importantly, who’re you?”

“C’mon guys. Focus here. We’re about to launch one of the biggest civilian assaults in history.”

“Civilian?” Kennedy frowned. “If this guy’s a civilian then I’m Claudia Schiffer’s ass.”

The Delta team was already at the steps. Drake stepped out of cover the moment they started up and raced across the open ground. When he was halfway across the shouting began.

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