Viper Nine Read online

  The real version stood with his back to them as they entered. He gazed out over a shimmering blue pool and a rolling stretch of floodlit lawns, ending in a curated tropical garden.

  Dressed in Burgundy silk pyjamas and a matching robe, Montero turned and flattened his fat moustache with thumb and finger.

  His attention lingered on Rios, before easing into the high-backed chair behind his desk. He opened an antique wooden box and took out a cigar. A Cuban, from what Rios could tell. Flicking open a solid silver lighter, Montero lit the end, tasted the cigar and puffed out a cloud of vanilla-scented smoke. He relaxed in the chair, regarded his visitors and shook his head.

  ‘You’ve got some balls coming back,’ he said to Rios, the bags heavy beneath his tired red eyes.

  ‘Believe me, this is the last place I wanna be,’ she replied.

  ‘What do you want?’ Montero asked, resting his cigar between scrubbed, manicured fingers.

  ‘A favour,’ Rios said.

  Montero leaned forward. ‘Why now? And how come you’re out? It can’t be for good behaviour.’

  Rios felt herself rise to the bait. He was lecturing her?

  She kept her cool for the sake of staying alive, eyeing Montero’s men. They hung back, but remained close at hand. Not a good sign.

  Montero ditched his cigar in a glass ashtray and rose to his feet. He leaned over his desk, narrow in the eyes. ‘You know I could have you killed.’

  ‘We’re not here with the DEA or anything,’ Pope said, breaking his promise not to speak. Though to be fair to the man, he’d lasted a full two minutes, which for him was a record.

  Montero looked Pope up and down. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked, his voice full of menace. ‘And what the fuck is he doing with my banana.’

  As Pope stepped forward, Montero’s men raised their weapons. He placed the banana with care on the edge of the desk. ‘Sorry mate, I’ll just leave that there.’

  ‘No one touches my fruit,’ Montero yelled with the slam of a fist. ‘No one!’

  ‘Listen, you don’t need to worry,’ Rios said, seeking to calm the cartel leader down. ‘I didn’t rat and we’re not wearing wires.’

  Montero made eye contact with Red Bandana, who gave him a nod to confirm they’d been searched.

  Rios hooked a thumb towards Pope. ‘And as for birdbrain here, he’s just a hired merc, for my protection.’

  Montero laughed. ‘You’re gonna need more protection than a banana thief.’

  Rios felt her impatience growing. The longer she spent in Montero’s presence, the stronger the compulsion to flee the scene. Thankfully, the cartel leader seemed just as eager to get down to business.

  ‘So what do you call me in the middle of the night for?’ he asked.

  ‘We need your help,’ Rios said.

  ‘I don’t have time to help,’ Montero replied. ‘I’m too busy dealing with the delays on my supply lines. It’s keeping me up at night.’ He put a hand to his stomach. ‘And giving me an ulcer.’

  ‘Let me guess, the cyberattacks,’ Rios said, sensing an opportunity.

  ‘Shipments are impossible and I can’t get my product over the border.’ Montero waved a hand in anger. ‘These hackers should be hung by the balls.’

  ‘Well it’s your lucky night,’ Rios said. ‘Because we know where to find them.’

  ‘They’re here?’ Montero asked, leaning forward on his chair.

  Rios nodded. ‘And we’re here to take them down.’

  Montero leaned back and picked up his cigar. ‘Go on…’

  Rios reached inside her jacket. The armed men reacted. She held out a calming hand and brought a slip of paper out slow. She handed it to the short, plump cartel leader. ‘I’ve written down what we need.’

  Montero snatched the paper off her. His eyes ran fast over her list. ‘We don’t have these kind of resources to spare.’

  ‘Don’t have the resources?’ Rios tutted, motioning to the grandeur of the mansion.

  ‘Not to spare in a gunfight,’ Montero replied, chewing on his cigar.

  Rios wanted to leap over the desk and punch the man’s face through his skull. ‘It’s the least you owe me.’

  ‘I owe you nothing,’ Montero barked, waving away her claims. He shook his head and looked away. ‘No, you ask too much. And you shouldn’t have come back.’

  Rios laughed to herself. ‘Well at least you’re consistent… Fuck it, we’ll take on their private army alone.’

  She grabbed Pope by the arm and moved towards the door. Montero’s men, unsure, blocked her path. Rios stared them down.

  Red Bandana traded nervous glances with his fellow foot-soldiers. He knew very well who she was. So did they all.

  ‘I ain’t playing,’ Rios said.

  Red Bandana took a gulp. He nodded at his fellow foot soldiers and stepped aside.

  ‘Maria!’ Montero yelled as Rios led Pope towards the door.

  She stopped with a smile to herself and turned with a straight face. Montero picked up the ivory-handled telephone he still insisted on using. He dialled a number and looked her in the eye. ‘If it was anyone else, I’d think you were bluffing.’ Montero muttered, putting his mouth to the receiver. ‘Wake up Alvarez.,’ he said into the phone. ‘Tell him it’s Carlos.’

  Rios dragged Pope back into the office. ‘I didn’t know you cared,’ she said.

  ‘Not about you I don’t,’ Montero replied, holding on for the Chief of Police. ‘But I need my pipeline back up and running. And the two of you are gonna fuck it up alone.’ He stubbed his cigar in the ashtray. ‘You sure about this? You know what this will mean for you?’

  ‘What’ll this mean for us?’ Pope whispered in her ear.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Rios said, answering Montero’s question.

  ‘If we do this, I can’t guarantee your safety,’ the cartel leader said.

  Rios huffed in return. ‘When could you ever?’

  Chapter 31

  Saudi Arabia

  ‘The account number,’ Kovac repeated, with an open hand. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I memorised it,’ Driver replied.

  The Serbian nodded towards the girl with the laptop. ‘Then give it to Jana.’

  ‘One moment,’ Jana said. ‘It will take a few minutes to set up a transfer.’

  Kovac rolled his eyes. Driver sensed impatience in the man – in every word, movement and tick. And little wonder. He was standing on the cusp of a trillion-dollar goldmine.

  The Serbian grunted and turned his attention to Driver. ‘And who are you exactly?’

  ‘Who do you think I am?’ she replied.

  He scoured her eyes for some clue as to her identity. ‘Therein lies the mystery.’ he replied. ‘There are no units we don’t know about since we breached the intelligence community.’

  ‘You check the US State Department?’ she asked.

  Kovac crossed his arms and breathed out deep through his flared, disjointed nose. ‘If you were State Department, we’d have found a record of your existence.’

  Driver felt relieved. After the Wildcard team had become a permanent arrangement, Mo had used Zeus, to seek and remove all known records of her and the other team members. He’d assured them all it had worked, but it was nice to have confirmation. Not that it would do her much good now.

  ‘You can either volunteer the information now, or I can have it pulled out of you later,’ Kovac continued. ‘It’s your choice.’

  Driver chewed on her lip. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter anymore,’ she said. ‘All right, the reason you haven’t found me is that the CIA wiped my records.’

  ‘I knew it,’ Kovac said, snapping his fingers and turning to Graf. ‘Didn’t I say?’

  The German shrugged, nonplussed.

  ‘I’m part of a task force for the agency,’ Driver continued. ‘Strictly off-book.’

  ‘I’d still expect to see a record of you on their systems,’ Kovac said.

  ‘They faked my death, around two and a half years
ago,’ Driver replied. ‘So I could enter a Siberian gulag and extract information from a Russian spy caught trying to defect. Only Langley got twitchy and ditched the project.’

  Kovac appeared amused. ‘They abandoned you? And you’re still working for them?’

  ‘After you disabled the CIA and Pentagon, they pulled me from the prison. They’re forcing me to work for my freedom.’

  Kovac nodded to himself. ‘They knew you couldn’t be shut down or tracked by us… Clever.’

  ‘Damn stupid if you ask me,’ Driver sighed. ‘It’s some joint initiative between intelligence agencies. Only now I’m here and the rest of the crew are either dead, or slipped off their grid, preferring to take their chances… I shoulda done the same.’

  ‘Yes, you should,’ Kovac replied. ‘But I’m glad you didn’t.’ He chuckled to himself, a finger to his chin. ‘Ah, the desperation of your so-called leaders. They’re even more spineless than I anticipated.’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but we’re ready,’ Jana said. ‘I just need the number of the account to extract the payment from.’

  ‘That’s clever, too,’ Driver said. ‘A transfer can’t be traced to an account if it’s stolen. That’s why you didn’t give us a number.’

  Kovac seemed pleased with himself, and appeared to be warming to Driver. ‘I respect you for showing up,’ he said. ‘And for being the only one to offer anything approaching a challenge… Now, the number…’

  Driver paused. Once the ransom was paid, there was no going back.

  ‘Tell me there’s a number,’ Kovac said, his mood darkening in an instant. He moved to draw his sidearm.

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Driver replied. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes and recited the twelve-digit account.

  Chapter 32

  Kowloon, Hong Kong

  As the triads scuttled like cockroaches out of the walls, Lim pinned an arm against Mo and held him flat to the wall.

  She unloaded a clip, scoring a direct hit on a target at the end of the corridor. He fell to the carpet, spilling gun and guts alike, whimpering in pain.

  Mo threatened to faint. Lim switched stolen pistols and dragged him onward.

  A remaining triad popped out from his hiding place, but she was already squeezing the trigger.

  As he collapsed on top of his wounded friend with a hole in his neck, Lim turned to see a triad exit one of the love nest rooms. With bare feet and an untucked shirt, he wrestled with the safety on his weapon. As Lim moved towards him, he took aim. She beat his hand away with the flat of her palm, only for him to return the favour. He was more senior by his appearance. And skilled too. They fought and smashed each other’s hands against the wall, trying to get the other to drop their gun.

  Lim’s weapon dropped from her hand, but she reached for a Honshu push dagger from the back of her belt. Gripped between knuckles, she thrust the blade up through the base of the man’s jaw. A twist to the right and blood poured out over his shirt. Lim kicked him away to the screams of a whore emerging from the room.

  ‘Back inside,’ she ordered the naked slip of a woman.

  She did as commanded, Lim turning to find Mo blacked out on the floor.

  ‘Typical,’ she tutted, crouching and slapping the young German hard on the cheek. As he came to his senses, he murmured something about the sight of blood. She pulled him to his feet and dragged his jelly legs towards the stairs.

  This was the second floor they’d had to seek refuge on after being driven out of the stairwell by triad security. Armed with TEC-9 automatic 9mms, she’d been forced to lure them into the corridors and take them down individually.

  It was slow-going, but Lim hoped that would be the last of them – a clear run up to penthouse level from here on in.

  Yet her hopes were about to take a hit. Out of the stairwell door came another three men. They looked at the corridor, littered with the dead and wounded. Looked at Lim. Paused a moment, then broke into a war-cry sprint, weapons firing.

  Lim was already kicking a door in behind her and backing in with Mo.

  They ducked out of the line of fire and she threw the young hacker into an open wardrobe, sliding the door shut and reaching for her remaining pistol. Her hand touched on an empty holster.

  Damn, she’d blasted through her second handgun too?

  Lim turned to the room for solutions. Standing by a bed was a dominatrix stood in neck to toe black PVC, a spanking stick in hand and a naked old man tied face-down on the bedsheets.

  She also spied a large candle burning on a side-table. Lim darted across the room and knocked the candle out of its glass tray.

  As the first gang member burst through the door, Lim scooped up the tray and threw the hot, clear wax in the man’s face. He let off a burst of fire into the ceiling before dropping the automatic and holding his face. He turned to run from the room, only to run into a triad friend stuck in the door. Lim dove and rolled, picking the TEC-9 off the carpet and made mincemeat of the pair.

  They collapsed in a heap. She attempted to do likewise for the remaining Kowloon Dragon, only to have the weapon jam.

  Lim cursed the cheap street weapon and dropped it to the carpet. The third man was sumo-proportioned. He charged in, but tripped over the bodies and spilled his weapon. Lim reached again for her dagger, stained with the blood of its last victim.

  Yet the fat man had hold of her ankle. He dragged her to the floor. She hit the carpet and tried to scramble away. But the big man was faster than he looked, on his feet and into a charge. He scooped her off her feet into a bear hug. Lim drove the blade into the base of his neck.

  He sucked up the blow and crushed the wind out of her. Any longer and he’d shatter her ribcage. And as for the dagger, it was stuck so deep, it wouldn’t come out, any purchase lost thanks to the warm, slippery blood all over the handle.

  Lim looked over a shoulder to the dominatrix, crouching and cowering by the foot of the bed. ‘Here,’ she gasped, beckoning for the madam to throw her the spanking stick.

  She duly did. Lim caught it and smacked the man hard across the nose. He dropped her to her feet, his nose bloody. She hit him again, forehand and backhand. Stinging blows to the head, another to the crotch. The snap of the stick oddly satisfying.

  The big man backed up and tripped up over the two bodies in the door, Lim’s dagger still in his neck. He picked himself up and attempted to run.

  She retrieved a pistol from the holster of a downed triad and put three in his back.

  He collapsed and didn’t move again, prompting Mo to emerge from the wardrobe.

  Lim tossed the spanking stick to the dominatrix and checked the clips of the remaining weapons. The other two were empty. Half a magazine was all they had. And there was no time to backtrack, robbing the corpses of the dead.

  They had to get off the seventh and up the remaining three floors. And fast.

  Lim took a breather by the side table, picked up a glass of ice water and drank it all the way down. She put down the glass and wiped the blood from her hands with a nearby white towel.

  The Chinese agent regarded the old man as she caught her breath. The man strained his neck to talk to the dominatrix. ‘Give me the same,’ he said, eyeing the stick in her quivering hand.

  Lim shook her head and caught Mo staring. She put her hands over his innocent eyes and pulled him out of the room, stepping over the two dead men into the hallway.

  This time they made it to the stairwell. They looked up the wide, carpeted staircase for further signs of trouble. Either the remaining triads were lying in wait on the floors above, or Lim had killed all twenty-or-so of them on the way up.

  She never really believed that, did she?

  Chapter 33

  Saudi Arabia

  At first she didn’t notice it. But as Kovac waited with hands on hips, Driver spotted the tattoo on his forearm. A white fist on a red flag, the same as her own.

  She could have kicked herself – why didn’t she put it t
ogether sooner? Kovac was a disciple of Sergei Molevchek’s, the author of the open text on the Serbian’s desk, a book she’d read during her time in The Boneyard gulag in Siberia.

  Driver glanced again at the book, enough so that he caught her.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were a fan of The Coming Dawn,’ Driver said. ‘It’s a great work.’

  ‘Follower, believer, yes. Not fan,’ Kovac corrected her. ‘And what would you know about Molevchek?’

  Driver saw genuine surprise in his eyes, much as he tried to hide it. ‘You spend enough years hunting down Jihadi terrorists,’ she replied, ‘you start to realise where the problem lies.’

  Kovac’s brow furrowed, his interest captured.

  ‘It was a Muslim who sold me to the Russians,’ she continued.

  Kovac rubbed his tired eyes with finger and thumb. ‘Doing business with the enemy. My country has grown so weak.’

  ‘Your country?’

  ‘Russia and Serbia both,’ Kovac explained.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Driver continued. ‘Not that I can complain. The Boneyard was the best thing that could have happened to me.’

  Kovac’s dark eyes brightened with curiosity. ‘How so?’

  ‘Two years inside learning a new philosophy,’ she shrugged, glancing at the world map on the wall. ‘Trust me, no one wants to see a radical change more than me.’ Driver met Kovac’s eyes with a quizzical smile. ‘I thought the attacks were about money, but they’re not, are they?’

  Kovac gave little away. ‘Not entirely.’

  ‘If only I’d known the true nature of your plans back then,’ she continued, stepping in closer to the Serb. ‘I would have handed you the warhead myself.’

  Kovac laughed off her claims and wagged a finger. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Driver put a hand on his forearm, her fingertips on his tattoo. She showed him the still-healing scar from her attempted suicide. ‘Sergei Molevchek saved me from myself. I saw the true nature of things. I spent so much time blaming myself for the things in my life, but it was them. I should have been blaming them.’

  ‘Them being?’ Kovac prompted.