“Makes sense. Easier all round. A local that wants something is far easier to plant than an outsider.”
“Well.” Drake breathed deeply as they converged on the creatures that surged around the house. “Let’s make sure we catch one of them.”
Alicia made a noise of distaste. “Instead of Glocks and HKs,” she moaned. “We should have brought cans of Raid.”
Villagers stood in the windows and filled the door, which had been broken down. They held spades and garden forks and a dozen other man-made implements. One creature writhed on its back, a long wooden handle sticking up out of its stomach. Another bled profusely, struggling to keep balance because it appeared to only have one arm. The darkness, the black clothing, the way they crawled… it all spoke of el monstruo.
But what kind of man— Drake stopped the thought for a moment. His next words would have been, bred them. But they weren’t bred. They were adults; they were full grown; they were…
The attack was unconvincing, uncertain. Drake, Alicia and Hayden usually entered the fray with guns blazing, fighting weapon with weapon, but these assailants were unarmed. They hadn’t hurt anyone. Drake found himself twisting arms and grabbing material where he could find it, throwing men and women aside, punching those that were stronger and generally barging the rest out of the way. Soon, their hands and clothing became coated with the oil. Their skin stank. Drake grabbed a limpid binding of hair, felt the grease squeeze out all over his knuckles and flinched away. The owner whirled and charged. Drake fell to one knee and sent them flying over one shoulder.
Then the screams began.
A cluster of assailants was overrunning the doorway. One of them disarmed a woman and pulled her bodily from the step. She fell, crying out, her fellow villagers trying to reach her but tripping and falling themselves. The black creatures dragged her away, leaping and jumping at her as if she were a magnificent treasure, starting to squeal with pleasure now that they had found their quarry.
At the side of the house another knot found another victim, and started the same routine.
“We can’t let this happen.” Hayden’s face was fixed and the Glock came out. She headed around the side of the house.
Drake turned to Alicia. “Try to stop her killing anyone. I’ll sort this out.”
He started to run after the beleaguered woman, but then the villagers came rushing out of the house; buoyed and daring with their new helpers. They jabbed at the creatures with their weapons, eliciting screams and grunts and keening wails. Drake reached the woman, dealt out several crushing blows, and took a couple of bruising strikes. The woman ran to him, fighting creatures off. Drake pulled her out of their midst, now helped by villagers who sank sharpened edges into greasy flesh. Drake saw one creature caught along the throat; the jugular opened up and a fountain of blood shot forth.
No.
But the frenzy was on the villagers, and he could hardly blame them. They fought the things of nightmare, their worst dreams made reality this past few months, and the rage of release was irresistible.
Drake dragged some away. The creatures hesitated. He saw Alicia at the other side of the house and Hayden too, then heard the boss fire her gun. A creature twisted and writhed. The rest of the horde reared back; an incredible sight to watch and so unnerving Drake caught his breath. For a second the world went quiet.
The creature with the severed neck bled out. Others nursed breakages quietly. The woman they’d tried to abduct held a hand over her mouth to keep from sobbing. A man that might be her husband enfolded her in his arms.
Then the creatures came to some kind of decision. As one, as if possessed of mental telepathy, they scuttled and raced toward their fallen, gathered them up and carried them away from the village. They ran by paths and roads and between houses. They made no sound. The only thing they left behind was blood. Drake watched the horde vanish, an undulating black pack, greasy and spidery, all arms and elbows and legs, many of them amputees. He watched them swell and heave into the dark that surrounded the village and then beyond that, across the flat plateau, under the silver-shod fields, toward the silent majesty of the mountains.
Alicia met him a few steps in front of Hayden. “Dude, I sure do hope they don’t call us back to DC anytime soon. ’Cause we ain’t fucking going.”
Their boss still held her weapon but now slid it back into its holster. “I second that enormously.”
Drake said nothing. Since they arrived in Peru he’d somehow known they had a deeper mission. These remote, vulnerable villages needed help and they needed the SPEAR team. They were out here until they won… or died.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Kenzie knew that the deeper they delved into the filth that surrounded and filled the criminal underworld the better chance they had of finding Tremayne’s buyer and at least one more of the seller’s middlemen. Of course, there was nobody more qualified than she.
“Haven’t heard from the team in a while,” Dahl was saying as he paced the hotel room’s floor back and forth.
“We have our own problems.” Kenzie reluctantly ripped her gaze from his tensed body and stared over at the priceless Inca vase they had appropriated. “Based on my queries so far the supposed ultimate buyer of that thing is a violent, criminal superstar — a real piece of work that thinks he’s God’s gift to law breaking. The other players might be happy to give up the middlemen, the corrupt authorities and locations of previous items, but they want something out of it.”
Dahl stopped and shrugged. “Of course they do. What?”
“They won’t say. But they can point the finger at all involved.”
“They won’t say?” Dahl repeated, deeply surprised. “What kind of criminal won’t say what he wants out of a deal?”
“The kind that wants to meet.” Kenzie sighed. “Tonight. Two nasty little rats known as middlemen. We’ll try to get a bead on Tremayne’s renowned buyer, the real rock star, but it’s gonna be hairier than an old woman’s armpit in there.”
“Sounds like the most violent meet in history,” Dahl said.
“Well, I’m sure there’s been worse.” Kenzie coughed without giving anything away. “But I have met both these guys before. They come armed to the hilt, as edgy as your white cliffs, puffed up to the max with self-importance, and ready to kill as instantly as bad coffee. I’m not sure I want to deal with them again.”
“But they don’t know you’ve changed sides… wait… my white cliffs? For fuck’s sake, Kenzie. Do you not yet know that I’m Swedish?”
“Swedish?” She looked surprised. “Are you sure?”
Dahl started to turn an odd shade of red before realizing Kenzie was baiting him. Only then did he take a breath, relax and sit down.
“You’ve been pacing for an hour,” Kenzie said. “There are other ways to work off extra energy, you know.”
“I am married.”
“Not for long,” Kenzie muttered, but loud enough for him to hear. “The old battle axe still in touch?”
“If you’re referring to Johanna, the mother of my children—” Dahl walked over to the window and stared into the gathering darkness— “then yes. She may have changed her mind.”
Kenzie snorted. “Oh, the mother of my children,” she repeated in a mocking voice. “That squaw has you turning up, down, inside and out. She’ll be the death of you.”
“You’re saying I’m not focused?”
Kenzie looked away. “Maybe.”
“On the job? Or on you?”
“I am the job, Torst, believe it or not. And not just because we’re tracking relic smugglers. My life… is one big job. Morning till night. Dusk till dawn. There’s nothing else.”