Food arrived and talk halted for a while. Caitlyn flicked around her tablet as they ate, but came up with little else. When they were done Crouch proposed they walk down Park Lane to Hyde Park Corner and take a look at the second triumphal arch. The trip was uneventful, though noisy, and resplendent with old hotels and frontages, an odd petrol station built on a steep slope and several underground parking garages. Beyond the Park Lane Hilton the road curved toward the traffic lights that looked over Hyde Park Corner.
Alicia followed her colleagues down the long, prominent road and then down the steps that led to the underpass, thinking all the while of their quest, their enemies, her future and her few real friends. Beauregard was also on her mind — the ally who might be an adversary or might be about to switch or… shit, who the hell knew who the Frenchman really was?
Along the underpass they passed two homeless men wrapped in blankets, one conversing with a tourist about the problems faced by vagrants — how the government just refused to help them because they were too interested in housing immigrants.
It made some sense to Alicia. There was no money in helping the destitute.
She dropped money into an upturned hat, then found herself traversing a tiled passage on which several caricatures of the Duke of Wellington were displayed. Crouch stopped to view them but said nothing. Caitlyn went ahead with Healey, the two enjoying a private conversation and leaning into one another. As Alicia climbed and then reached the top of the steps the Wellington Arch came into sight to her left.
It reminded her of the Arc du Carrousel, though its façade was nowhere near as ornate. It stood grand, stunning, empowering, an epic commemoration to victory, to triumph. Surmounting it was the grand quadriga, the original vision of its designer, a colossal bronze depicting Nike, the Winged Goddess of Victory, descending to the Chariot of War. The largest bronze sculpture in all of Europe. To Alicia it evoked feelings of wonder, but they were mixed with disquiet. The memorial to her right, the Royal Artillery Memorial with its list of many names was far more meaningful to her.
“It’s also hollow,” Crouch told them. “There’s a museum inside, fairly big, but nothing more.” He turned on the spot, taking in the surrounds, the sunlight sparkling off the windows of Apsley House — the residence of the Duke of Wellington — the traffic peeling around Hyde Park Corner and vanishing up Piccadilly toward the Ritz and down Pall Mall toward Buckingham Palace.
“This feels… right,” he said. “How many people standing on the grass here or passing under this arch might guess a priceless treasure lies somewhere about? How many privileged people mock their ignorance?”
“But where could it be?” Caitlyn said. “I see nothing useful.”
“Nor would you. It is time we dug around a bit more. There’s the treasure of a lifetime lying around London’s busy streets, my friends, I’m sure of it. And even more — I’m sure that we’re going to find it.”
THIRTY ONE
Alicia later found herself inside yet another disconcerting place — a public restaurant just off Park Lane. The bar area was busy, the tables full, the noise tremendous. The stage at the far end was inviting those couples who wished to dance, the queue outside stretching around the corner. The Gold Team had been settled for a while, and were determined to remain until they’d shed some light on their current mystery.
Alicia picked at her food, a juicy steak salad. The meat was delicious, the greens splattered with some nasty acidic sauce. As she contemplated tracking down the person who’d decided the extra dressing was appropriate a familiar face approached through the throng that separated their table from the front door.
Kenzie.
Alicia half rose, the fork gripped in her hand.
Kenzie laughed as she approached, holding both hands open and giving a quick twirl to show she wasn’t armed. The skintight black jeans and high, floaty white blouse she wore publicized that not even a cellphone was hidden on her body.
“Love the jeans,” Alicia said. “But I’d work out more, love. Lose some of the fat on that ass.” As she spoke Alicia’s eyes roved the restaurant. Every face, every body was skimmed. No obvious threats registered.
Kenzie looked a little outraged. “I didn’t come here to swop insults, bitch, I came here to offer you a deal.”
The lithe-bodied, black-haired woman squeezed in next to Healey. Caitlyn gave her an obvious warning look but she only chuckled. “Steak looks good,” she said, sliding the plate from under Healey’s nose. “Do you mind?”
Healey gestured helplessly and glided over the leather to Caitlyn’s side. Kenzie picked up his knife and fork, then cut and skewered a large piece of rib eye. As she chewed she eyed both Alicia and Crouch.
Silence blanketed the table. Not even the noisy patrons nor the loud music penetrated their bubble. Crouch had an odd look on his face — one of fear mixed with disbelief and it was then that Alicia remembered the events that transpired during his old, original encounter with Daniel Riley.
He was intersecting the two, worrying over something that Kenzie — despite her maliciousness — would never do. Kenzie wanted to retire wealthy, not spend the rest of her days being hunted.
“Deal?” Alicia prompted. “Spit it out.”
“I’d rather swallow, thank you.” Kenzie still chewed the lump, cheeks working hard.
“Yeah, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Kenzie coughed, looking sick. “Oh, you certainly know how to put a girl off her food.”
Alicia gestured toward the dance floor. “Wanna dance?”
“Are you serious?”
“You got something to say you better whisper it in my ear. We’re already too exposed out here.”
Kenzie watched the dancers. “Then let’s go.”
Alicia rose, slipped out from behind the table and held out a hand. Without missing a beat Kenzie took it and the two women walked together to the dance floor. At her back Alicia heard Healey’s strangled excuse as Caitlyn rebuked him for staring too hard. In reality the move isolated Kenzie even more, cemented the knowledge that she had no backup and put her solely in Alicia’s hands. That she had accepted was more telling to Alicia than any amount of words.
“So,” she placed her hands on Kenzie’s hips and started to move to the music, “what debauchery do you have in mind?”
Kenzie’s eyes were centimeters away. “A deal. You help me out with half of the treasure and I help you with Daniel Riley.”
“And if not?”
“I’ll have every available merc for five hundred miles at your throats.”
They moved among the other dancers, the music alive with rhythm and power, the beat that stirred Alicia’s blood.
She placed her lips close to Kenzie’s left ear. “You ever heard of Dino Rock?”
“Uh, no.”
“It’s just a reference to old rock music. But I have a friend who likes to quote it, at least he used to before one of his best friends died. I’m reminded of a line now, something like — do you do more than dance?”
Kenzie pushed away at the sight of Alicia’s smiling, knowing eyes. “Shit, stop trying to freak me out. You already have me off balance. Are we dealing or not?”
Alicia pulled Kenzie in tight. “What do you know of Daniel Riley?”
“I don’t know his past,” Kenzie admitted. “Or how he relates to you. But I do know he survived France and that he’s now in London. Anything beyond that you’re going to have to help me out first.”
“Oh, I’ll help you out.” Alicia swung Kenzie around and marched her through the throng. “If I see you again it won’t be so pleasant.”
“When I see you again it will be my blade that gets close to you, not my body.”