Cruz’s face shone with pride and relief. “I won’t let you down.”
“Now, Greg.” Crouch stared at the ground. “The FBI should be with your family by now. And New Orleans is a fair distance by car, so why the hell are you still here?”
Coker stared open-mouthed at Crouch as if he might want to kiss him. “Are you winding me up, Michael? Don’t do that.”
“To my mind a man protects his family at all costs, puts their welfare above everything else. That’s the only crime you’re guilty of, Greg. Protecting your family. Only next time, tell me sooner.”
Coker turned away, clearly finding it hard to speak. Caitlyn laid a hand on his arm. “Go to your family,” she said. “Shelter them. Mine was destroyed, murdered a few months ago. There’s no coming back from something like that.”
Coker nodded and began to run. Alicia evaluated Caitlyn with a piercing stare. She knew for a fact that Caitlyn’s mother had died of a heart attack recently and that her father was very much alive and well. What was the girl up to?
Then Crouch eyed Russo, Caitlyn and Alicia. “That leaves us on a plane to South Africa.”
Russo nodded, eager to get going. “What I don’t get is why this asshole has to drag us halfway around the world to make the exchange. We’re all here now, and so is the treasure.”
Caitlyn glanced at Crouch who nodded. “My take is that since he’s a South African kingpin he can’t operate here as he’s accustomed to. In the US he has a huge protection detail, a small army, an extravagant lifestyle. But we can still get to him. Doesn’t matter how many men he has or where we meet, we could arrange to take him down anywhere. If he’s back home, on his own turf, he can control what happens even as far as paying off the authorities. Those who matter.”
“Exactly right,” Crouch said. “Now we have to go. If the US government knew we were carrying this gold in their country we’d never see the light of day again.”
Alicia narrowed her eyes. “Your ‘special’ friend isn’t an official?”
Crouch snorted. “Are you kidding? Could you name any politician or bureaucrat who wouldn’t take advantage of our situation?”
“Dare I ask then?” Alicia ventured.
“Movie star,” Crouch said in an offhand manner. “Known as — The Fortress. Big health advocate, gym god and all-round nice guy. He has access to the fastest private jet in the world and a new movie for which he’s now setting off on a promotional world tour.”
“Shit,” Caitlyn breathed. “The Fortress? Do we get to meet him?”
Crouch laughed. “Yeah, and he might even cook for you if he’s feeling good. But stay focused. By the time we land in Joburg we need a foolproof plan.”
Caitlyn blushed a little as if realizing she’d lost sight of Healey’s peril. By now the team were back among the crowds on Las Vegas Boulevard, staring up at the $40 million fountains of Bellagio. Waters swayed and twisted and swirled in their dramatic, bewitching manner, sometimes shooting over four hundred feet into the air. As they watched the show, the team paused for a moment as if relishing the last stunning vision they might ever see.
“Remember the last time you were in South Africa?” Crouch suddenly said to Alicia.
“Yeah. The Ninth Division. It’s where I met Matt Drake.”
“Try not to blow the damn place up again.”
THIRTY FOUR
The plane journey was a study in the extremes of the surreal dream and the hard-hitting nightmare. The Fortress — aka Reece Carrera — proved to be a charming, muscle-bound, witty distraction. Even Alicia, not a woman to dally with the famous or associate herself with the trappings of fame, found herself drawn to the handsome, larger-than-life movie star. There were no airs and graces, no false self-importance, just a man that loved living and took from life the best of what it had granted him. To Alicia, Carrera epitomized the true vision of the sharp-dressed man.
Crouch drew the team around whilst Carrera cooked for them in the luxurious kitchen. “I have Argento on the line. He’s already found Solomon’s compound, a ranch several miles east of Joburg, toward the coast. Trouble is, Solomon isn’t heading for his ranch. He’s heading here—” Crouch jabbed at an image he’d brought up on a computer tablet. “The eastern cape. And in particular the Isidenge Forest.”
“How can you tell?” Caitlyn peered at the screen.
“Argento has the flight plan. Not only that, but Solomon owns a huge tract of land out there.”
“Reasons?” Russo wondered. “More easily defensible. Quieter. No authorities.”
“And isolation,” Alicia added. “He’ll be able to do whatever he wants out there.”
Crouch nodded. “I see this as a bit of a break for us.”
Alicia grinned. “I know exactly what you mean.”
At that point Carrera slipped his bulk around a kitchen unit, into the main cabin. “So you guys like red meat, huh? Black beans? Spices? Tequila?”
“You got me on all four,” Alicia said quickly. Caitlyn giggled. Crouch signaled that they’d be with him in a few minutes.
He turned back to the screen. “Our three-man team, with Caitlyn doing what she does best — the surveillance part using all that high-end software — should be able to get in and out of there very quickly. The approach is through forest, almost jungle. See all the ravines and streams? A massive amount of cover. The escape is obviously the same. We stay clear of the road. Solomon’s compound is protected by a chain-link fence,” Crouch couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Shit, I’ve seen ole Carrera back there do this a hundred times.”
Alicia saw that Crouch was trying to buoy the troops, so didn’t mention that Carrera was more than a little removed from real life in work and play, despite all his efforts to prove otherwise. Solomon’s compound would be crawling with guards and surveillance equipment, most of it lethal since nobody was around to complain. A crime lord of his caliber would have every angle covered.
“Not a three-man team,” she said.
Crouch frowned. “What?”
“It should be a two-man team. Caitlyn stays out of harm’s way, agreed. But so do you. Russo and I are the best field soldiers on this team. We will know Healey’s exact position thanks to his tracker. And less bodies on the ground means less chance of being spotted. This is a two-man operation.”
Crouch looked ready to argue, but appeared to weigh Alicia’s talent and tactical skills against his own. “I guess I would serve the team better by overseeing the op,” he consented. “But that means we’ll have to be relatively close by. In case of difficulty.”
Alicia accepted the compromise. “Fine.”
Caitlyn brought up a detailed map of the area and pointed out an e-mail that had just landed direct from Interpol — Argento’s brief on the man and monster, Philip Solomon.
“Everything is as we expected. Solomon’s your archetypal villain. Coker was right when he told us he built his empire through underground gambling activities. If there’s illegal money to be wagered somewhere around the world you can bet Solomon’s in the thick of it. Of more interest to us, he’s also had his hand in more than a dozen antiquity thefts, though none can be linked to him. Indirectly, he owns an export shop in Berkeley Square, London, that deals in all manner of ancient artefacts.”
“On the level?” Russo asked.
“Yes, perfectly legit. Except—” Caitlyn panned down through the statistics. “The shop has never made a profit.”
“A front then. Maybe for stolen art. Artefacts.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Crouch said. “We’re inbound to save Healey. The treasure is ours and will soon belong to the world if the US government doesn’t dig its bloody heels in. Either way, we have finder’s rights and permits. Let’s go eat this bastard for breakfast.”