The Blood King Conspiracy (Matt Drake 2) by David Leadbeater Read Free Book Online Page A

conditions. My thoughts are with you, and your lost men, and their families.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Hayden whispered. Kinimaka offered a grunt.
    “That being said we now know the kind of enemy we are up against. The notion of an actual Blood King is being looked at very carefully. You guys know the saying - ‘the Devil’s greatest trick was in convincing the human race that he didn’t exist?’ Well, I guess we’re treating this guy as the devil.”
    “Wise move,” Drake said. “From all I’ve heard.”
    “I want your input,” Gates said. “I do. Not the United States government, me. There are too many bureaucrats clinging on to this Blackbeard thing right now, and not enough real men. I’ll authorise your access and give you what you need to investigate where you see fit. We . . . we all owe you a huge debt of gratitude for the ‘Odin thing’.”
    Drake was fascinated how even a United States senator referred to their previous world-saving quest as the ‘Odin thing’. He also concealed a large slice of respect for this man. “We’ll start as soon as we land, sir.”
    The aeroplane started to lose altitude. Drake felt his ears pop.
    Jonathan Gates said: “Take a look around the salvage area. Then, we’ll transport you to the highly secure area where the device is being overhauled. Let’s see what you can do.”
    Gates smiled. Harrison’s return smile would have scared off a T-Rex. Drake sat there, wishing he could answer Wells’ most recent call but wary of American ears until he reached the safety of solid ground. A soldier’s obstinate principle - and not easily overcome.
    And, more importantly - wishing he could answer Mai’s latest call. He already missed her delicious, cultured tones caressing his eardrums. And the information she might have, of course.
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TEN
     
    After leaving the plane, Drake and the others were transported immediately to a small town called Atlantic Beach. It was offshore of this town, near a preserve called Fort Macon, that Blackbeard’s infamous ship lay waiting in shallow water for hundreds of years.
    The CIA were pushing this thing hard, Drake thought . By all accounts the so-called ‘device’ was secured aboard a U.S. Destroyer and guarded by a veritable army of marines. At the airfield they had been cautioned to absolute secrecy and bundled into sleek, black vehicles. Drake didn’t mention his recent calls to Wells and Mai, didn’t have to. People of that calibre would already know.
    Right now, they were passing Fort Macon, a busy state park that surrounds a coastguard base and, despite its seeming remoteness, claimed over a million visitors per year.
    “The operation’s continuing right over there,” Harrison pointed. “We’ll take a quick look and then we’re heading over to the U.S.S. Port Royal, sent over from its homeport, Pearl Harbor, to take part in the operation.”
    Kennedy raised an eyebrow at Drake. “By take part, I guess he means commit overkill.”
    Drake grinned, not only at the comment, but at the way she looked today. Since the death of Thomas Kaleb, Kennedy had become increasingly more outgoing and accessible. Gone were the body-concealing bland suits. Gone were the torture devices that used to pin her hair back.
    Now she sat with her long black hair framing her shoulders, an open smile on her face, and a nice pair of black hipsters that showed off her legs. She sensed Drake staring overlong at her. “What? Seen something ya’ like?”
    He shrugged his shoulders and made a rocking motion with his hand. “Meh.”
    They stopped parallel to the big salvage project that was underway around where Intersal Inc. had discovered the Queen Anne’s Revenge. It gave Drake a few moments to wonder how to approach the great pair of white elephants: the only things coming between Kennedy and him.
    Only things . . . and so far insurmountable.
    It had only been six weeks or so, but she hadn’t mentioned Kaleb once. Sometimes, at