Embracing the local rationale, the team jumped aboard and fired up their low-powered scooters. Kenzie felt the engine ping to life, and looked around. Mai sat demurely aboard her cycle, looking ridiculous but determined, her dress all gathered around her waist. Dahl grimaced, clearly unhappy but willing to accept Kenzie’s recommendations. She gave him the raised brows.
“Well one thing’s for certain. They won’t expect a special attack team looking like we do.”
Then she noticed Kinimaka. Oh, if they only had time to take a cellphone pic she could blackmail him forever. If there was a straining scooter under the Hawaiian’s bulk it was barely in evidence. In another way though, Kinimaka looked ultra-cool — appearing to sit and glide above the concrete.
They sped around the side of the building, Dahl taking the lead and heading straight for the underground parking garage. Sure enough, the high, wide metal door was just opening, raising outward. Headlights showed below — a car waiting to climb the steep ramp up to the street above. Dahl manhandled his scooter and told them all to back off.
Soon, the car — a black Jaguar F-Pace — powered up the ramp and bounced onto the street. Dahl sat astride his scooter, taking a look at the occupants. As the vehicle passed he nodded to the others.
Game on.
Kenzie had made several risky but educated assumptions for tonight’s mission. She assumed she would know the middleman. She assumed he would take the artifact. And she assumed he would stay in Paris — hence the scooters. If Tremayne now peeled off on the motorways toward Lyon or further afield they would be left floundering. Now, the mission’s entire success counted on her best guess.
Kenzie was rarely less than confident and felt the same now. Tremayne — or rather his bodyguard — took the F-Pace to the bottom of the street and pulled up to the curb. Kenzie saw three black-suited men climb in — more guards. Now they faced five, including the relic dealer and, in Kenzie’s experience, they would be no mere mercenary pushovers.
The team did have a stash of weapons close by, but no time to reach it now. In single file they followed Tremayne, staying at a good distance, especially as the car turned back toward the Champs and entered the slow flow of traffic. Establishments closed for the night lit both sides with soft, golden glows beside restaurants and clubs, their facades alight. She saw a pub — Comptoir De L’Arc — where, a long time ago, she’d passed a happy night with friends. Long gone. Long past. An entirely different world now.
Kenzie came up alongside Dahl, her ears filled with the straining wail of a youth’s scooter. “Now we wait. See where he ends up.”
“My guess, somewhere quiet,” Dahl shouted back. “He’ll be calling the buyer and seller from the car.”
They both turned as Kinimaka’s scooter let out a strange tortured shriek. The Hawaiian gave them a staunch wave, clearly ignoring his machine’s pain. Mai flicked in and out of traffic carefully as she kept the Jaguar in sight. Headlight beams shone all around, catching their clothes and fake jewels with sparkling light. Cars moved aside as they undertook. The streetlamps illuminated the way ahead as their target vehicle crawled along.
“Bollocks, it’s that bloody roundabout.”
Kenzie watched as one of France’s most notorious roundabouts came up near the Arc De Triomphe, along the Champs Élysées, the only place she knew where insurance companies refused to pay out 100 percent for an accident.
The scooters proved easier than the cars though, and they soon had to back off as they approached a little too close to Tremayne. Kenzie found herself sat at the curb for half a minute, alongside Dahl.
“How bad is this guy?” the Swede asked seriously.
Kenzie let out a pent-up breath. “As bad as they come.”
The F-Pace passed and they prepared to follow.
“My kinda mission then,” Dahl growled. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
CHAPTER TWO
Kenzie tucked her scooter in behind traffic, weaving steadily in the same way as the locals. Dahl came alongside her for a while, then shot down the white lines in pursuit of a youth, blending in. The Jaguar crawled ahead, unhappy in the Parisian gridlock and making slow progress.
After thirty minutes they peeled off the main road and headed down a tree-lined thoroughfare where hotels and restaurants made up the bulk of the buildings. Kenzie saw mostly young people sauntering about, students and shoestring tourists. Ahead, the road narrowed and she backed off, allowing Mai to take point and trail Tremayne.
The journey continued for another twenty minutes and then Tremayne’s driver crossed a road bridge. Kenzie paused for a moment to get her bearings and realized they were approaching a more industrialized part of the city. As she had expected. In her experience a lock-up or private container increased anonymity, and was always useful if you had to leave town for a while. The F-Pace motored downhill, away from the busier roads, and entered an area comprised of warehouses, fast-food places and small offices. The team backed off fully here, watching the car’s progress by its taillights, then approaching the point where they last saw it.
Eventually, it pulled into an empty parking area in front of an unlit building. Kenzie threw her scooter to the floor and took shelter behind a padlocked burger van. The F-Pace idled. The building’s stark, empty windows reflected the lights. The other members of her team drifted a little closer, hiding behind a landscaped hill that bordered the building. Kenzie took a moment to join them.
“What’s happening?” Dahl deferred to her mission status, though probably not happily.
Kenzie shrugged. “Could be a number of things. Still on a call. Or maybe they’re getting ready to stash the artifact.”
“In an office building?” Kinimaka frowned.
“Just because it looks like an office doesn’t mean it’s a functioning one. To be fair, it’s a good front. They use a small team to man it during the day, make it look genuine, and then conduct a shadier business after hours. It’s what I would do.” She coughed. “Would have done.”
Dahl shot her a speculative look. “But would you return to it?”
Kenzie didn’t look away. “Ask me in a few more weeks. We’re all in flux right now.”
It was honest and direct and the best he was going to get, though she knew he wanted more. The Swede was vouching for her among his esteemed friends. He saw the good in her — a good she barely believed in herself. All that was good and cheerful and optimistic in her had been wrenched out long ago.
Mai crawled to the top of the small slope. “Car is switching off.” She looked around. “It’s now or never to catch them off guard.”
Kenzie knew it too and nodded. The team crept over the slope and moved among some bushes until they could make out Tremayne’s features and those of his bodyguards. The blanket of darkness helped them. One of the guards leaned into the car’s back seat as Tremayne wandered over to the office.
Kenzie broke cover, streaking toward the car, Dahl at her side. Mai and Kinimaka came a step behind. The first the guards knew of them were the black flashes approaching their peripherals.
Kenzie hit her target with a flying knee, striking the ribs. He fell backward, but not down, hitting the car and grabbing hold. She struck again, a blow to the face. His head snapped left but still he did not go down nor make a sound. His face came around now, eyes narrow and furious.
Immediately, she knew she’d chosen a deadly opponent.
She barged him again, ensuring his spine hit the car. He rebounded and twisted away, grimacing, but gaining space. She saw a gun under his jacket, holstered, and a knife at his waist, pinned to his belt. But he reached for neither. He came at her with fast hands, first hitting her cheekbone, then her temple. The rest she caught on her wrists and elbows, dishing out some agony of her own. But she backed away.