Kenzie found herself keeping an eye on the still-open metal roller door and uttered a silent congratulation. Here she was, a proper agent, watching their perimeter and looking out for her teammate. How the hell did that happen?
“So we really fucked it all up now,” Dahl stated as he retrieved the katana. “The seller just lost a middleman and our only contact with him has gone. Hopefully, the team will be able to pinpoint his base in Peru.”
Kenzie helped clean up, wrap the priceless Incan vase, and then walked with Dahl back to where he’d stashed a car.
“Tremayne may be gone, but he’s not the seller’s only buyer. And he’s just one of dozens of high-quality facilitators out there. Remember, Torsten, I know them all.”
The Swede offered her the katana, a nice gesture. “Tremayne’s buyer? He’ll be pissed. Maybe we can exchange the vase for information.”
Kenzie nodded. “Yeah, but putting aside the incredible danger, isn’t that a bit unethical? I mean, for a government-funded Special Forces team?”
Dahl waved it away. “Ach, nobody knows we really exist. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well then, the deeper we go, the worse, barely human animals we get in contact with… the more likely we are to learn more details about this mysterious seller. And who he previously sold to.”
Dahl opened the car door for her. “All right then, Kenzie. I’m ready to go all the way in.”
She paused, wondering for just a moment if he was flirting with her. Surely not. She met his eyes and wondered a little more.
The Swede offered a glint.
“What do you call ‘all the way?’” she asked.
“Balls deep,” he persisted.
“I do like the sound of that.”
“Clearly. So start making calls. The further we penetrate this criminal underworld that exists around the smuggling and selling of ancient relics the closer we will be to unraveling this conspiracy. Let’s get dirty on this one.”
Kenzie swallowed drily, finding it hard to concentrate on work. If the Swede didn’t stop using innuendos soon, welcome or not, she was going to have to jump his bones.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Drake trod the venerated streets of the historic capital of the Inca Empire, trying hard not to let his attention be stolen by the immense sight of the purple-blue mountains in the distance — sentinels guarding the Andes range around Cusco.
A man wearing a T-shirt beckoned the party as they approached a black SUV. The man appeared dubious, but then Drake knew they were probably a larger team than he’d imagined. The only person they had left behind was Lauren Fox, and then only at her request.
The breach between her and Smyth now seemed unrepairable. Drake would never pry, and had decided he was not qualified to offer advice; in fact he was most likely the one that needed it. So Smyth came and Lauren stayed. Drake didn’t want to spin the dice on the outcome of that one.
The man nodded as Hayden approached him. “You Jaye?”
“Yeah, and we’re SPEAR. You Eckhart?”
“Yup. I’d say ‘get in’, but y’all ain’t gonna fit.”
Alicia pointed at a nearby coffee shop. “We can catch up later.”
The team split, Hayden climbing into Eckhart’s back seat. Ordinarily, Kinimaka would have accompanied her but today the big man hesitated, unsure of his place anymore. Hayden closed the door behind her before anyone could react.
Drake decided Hayden shouldn’t be alone, and walked around to the other side, sidling in alongside her. Eckhart took one of the front seats.
“All right guys, you come with good kudos. What exactly can your motley local CIA crew do for you?”
Drake knew they would be far from motley. They were operating mostly undercover and behind enemy lines, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. They would be nothing less than outstanding agents.
“Nothing earth shattering,” Hayden said. “We’re interested in Cusco and the mountains around it. We have a vague tip-off that something bad is going down in the area.”
“Vague?” Eckhart interrupted. “So vague it brought seven of you out here?”
“It’s not the whole team,” Hayden said in a spry manner. “We need to know the local bad cops. The more corrupt the better.”
Eckhart let out a short laugh. “Y’all would be better off asking for a list of the good boys. It’d be a damn sight shorter.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Oh, they’re not so bad as a rule.” He tapped his fingers on the leather seat. “Petty, even. A few dollars here and there. A stint at the underground casino. A free wager on the ponies.” He stopped tapping. “Y’might be looking dubious. But the low wage not only breeds corruption, it makes us see the solution as taken for granted. Believe me, Miss Jaye, I know.”
“Owt worse than ponies, pal?” Drake asked.
“Man, you got a strange accent. You Australian? Anyhow, yeah, of course. The higher you go the worse the corruption.”
“Stolen artifacts?” Hayden pressed. “Maybe by someone based out of town?”
“Nah, all of that crap used to go on in town. Safer for ’em and easier to network. Sorry.”
Drake looked at a dead end, but Hayden urged Eckhart for more. “Give us three of the worst. The shadiest. The guys that you think might know more than you do.”
Eckhart looked swayed and reeled off a trio of names, along with the places they tended to frequent by night. In closing, he promised to send over their mugshots by email. Hayden climbed out of the SUV and turned to Drake.
“Best we could do.”
“It helps. It has to.”
“Crap. Now you’re sounding desperate.”
“Odd thing, Hayden. I know this isn’t exactly a world-saving mission and there are probably more important things happening right now. I know we could be called back any time. But this feels right.” He paused. “Know what I mean? I feel like we’re supposed to be right here, right now.”
Hayden checked her watch. “You do? I wish I could agree, but I’ve been flying in and out of one mission or another for so long I can’t say I really belong anywhere. Right now, DC feels more like home than anywhere else.”
Drake stared at the coffee shop where Alicia made a face through the only window. He smiled, then remembered York, the place he once called home, and wondered if he’d ever return there. He still had the house and wanted to see inside it once again. See the old pictures, hear the croaking frog, look inside Ben’s old room and check out the attic.
“I don’t mean that I’m home,” he said quietly. “I also don’t know where that is anymore. One day though. One day.”
“Ya think? When you’re too old to fight?”
“When I’m too old to fight back,” Drake amended and headed for the coffee shop.
After darkness fell they moved out, hoping an afternoon of preparation was enough to weed out the crooked individual they were after. Not knowing who that might be did have its drawbacks, but Drake was willing to bet at least one immoral serpent could be persuaded to point them in the right direction.
The three worst. Out of how many? The man they’d narrowed it down to was an ex-cop, squeezed out for brutality but never charged. Eckhart understood this man now helped run things from the outside, giving the corrupt authorities a thick shield of deniability. If this were true, then this man would have a finger in every pie.
Called only Joshua, he had been described as a cactus — short, prickly, and able to thrive in adversity. After the day’s dirty business was done Joshua liked to retire to a seedy little bar on the dark side of the town, spending his ill-gotten gains until the place shut down in the early hours of the morning. From there, it was a short stumble to his apartment where he slept through the rest of the night and the next morning.