Hayden and Yorgi stood behind them, both seeming alone despite standing side by side. Drake nodded. A moment passed and in walked Kinimaka and Mai, freshly returned from their European escapades. More quiet nods. The only people missing were Smyth and Lauren.
“We’d best get this done,” Dahl said, his voice distorted. “Kenzie’s due back any minute.”
“How’s the trust between you two?” Hayden asked.
“She’s doing well so far. Seems straight up. Honestly, I can’t fault her. She’s becoming more and more a vital asset.”
Hayden coughed. “I meant between Kenzie and Tremayne.”
“Ah, well, obviously he’s aware of who she is and who we are. He knows who backs us. He knows our Interpol contacts. He might be slippery and he might be tough but the man knows when he’s in a lose-lose. He’ll come through and she’ll ensure it.”
“High confidence.”
“Well, don’t forget I’m here too.”
Dahl backed away as they all heard a knock at the door. Presently, Kenzie’s frame appeared in screen and then she approached. “Everyone okay? Still fighting?”
Drake assumed she meant in a general way, but ignored it just to be sure. “What’s the latest out there?”
“Tremayne is all go. Made contact today with our target whom he only knows as sir, apparently. They arranged for the next artifact to be sold in Lyon.”
“And Tremayne’s going to dig a little deeper into his client this time?” Hayden asked.
“Yeah, that’s the idea. We’re working on the details.”
“Did you hear this man speak?” Kinimaka asked.
“I did. Sounded reserved, used short sentences, educated. No accent that I could read.”
“We’re sending you a gift,” Hayden said. “CIA’s finest. You get this guy on the phone again, attach this baby, and it’ll trace anything pretty damn close in a minute no matter the safeguards they got in place.”
“All right. I don’t wanna spook him though. Everything has to appear authentic. I’ll talk to Tremayne.”
“Well, if the auction’s soon we might as well wait for their next communication,” Dahl said, out of picture. “The item has to be dropped off, exchanges arranged. Might be tomorrow or the next day.”
“Sounds good.” Hayden walked over to pour herself a coffee. “Anything else?”
“No, but we’re fully committed with this. Don’t worry.”
Dahl signed off. Drake watched as his friend’s face disappeared abruptly, trying to force down a wave of gloom. The recent divorce filing from Johanna — Dahl’s wife — had left the Swede melancholy and his future uncertain. Would Johanna stay put in America? Would she take the children or make access difficult? These were the thoughts at the forefront of Dahl’s mind right now and the sole reason he immersed himself in hard work.
Or at least, Drake assumed that was it. The Swede had been first to volunteer for the Europe mission after they all agreed Kenzie should take lead. He stared around the room.
“Where the hell are Smyth and Lauren?”
Rain pelted sideways at them as they stood frozen in place.
Smyth glared as water ran down his face, the droplets lit by an array of bright lights that fronted the office building. Not the Pentagon anymore, but an obscure frontage deep in the commercial district, it was far from the top-notch secret base they had been hoping for. It angered Smyth, but then everything usually did.
“Nothing has changed,” he said shortly. “Nothing.”
“This isn’t the place to discuss it,” Lauren said, her dark hair soaked and plastered to her shoulders. “Or haven’t you noticed?”
“I know damn well that you’re avoiding all this. So let me lay it out for you right here, right now.”
Thunder cracked overhead.
Lauren narrowed her eyes, the New Yorker attitude taking over. “Oh, go ahead. You lay it all out for me.”
“Stop visiting Nicholas Bell. I know there’s something between you. He’s a fucking prisoner. A terrorist.”
“This is your ultimatum?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Nobody tells me what to do. Even when I was a hooker they didn’t tell me what to do. I told them. Now go on into the office, Smyth. And tonight? Get yourself a hotel room.”
“This is a mistake.” He wiped water away. “Why can’t you talk about it?”
“Because you don’t understand. You won’t. You can’t. He’s no monster; he was manipulated, dragged in deep, and you refuse to see it.”
Smyth held up his hands. “Stop visiting the man. Move on. In truth he should die in prison.”
Now Lauren blinked in shock. “You want him to die there? No proper trial? No reward for his help so far?”
“Help?” Smyth reached out in despair. “The man’s looking for a deal. An easier life. A way out, God forbid. He’s desperate and so fucking dangerous, Lauren.”
“I know him.” She backed away, looking to the car. “Y’know. I just can’t do this anymore. The missions. The chasing. The battles. This is where it all ends, Smyth, right here. I’m officially out.”
He stared. “What? You can’t do that. Remember Jonathan. Remember… everyone. You can’t quit.”
Lauren’s face streamed with tears, drowned with rain. “I remember them all and quitting does not taint their memories, or their actions. I’m done, Smyth. Just get the hell outta my life.”
The ex-soldier glowered, almost marched off in anger, but something stopped him. “Just promise me you won’t see him again.”
Lauren shook her head. “Goodbye, Smyth.”
Drake stared as Smyth came in, soaked from his head to his toes, face streaming and red. Alicia let out a playful guffaw.
“You walk here, dickhead? Car break down?”
“Something like that.” Smyth shook his body like a drenched dog and then glared at everyone.
“Where’s Lauren?” Alicia went on. “Fixing the engine?”
“Just get the fuck on with it. I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Oh well, excuse the nation and its needs. Best press on, Drakey, before Smyth implodes.”
Drake saw something in the man’s face, but didn’t want to push or pry. The whole team had their secrets, some more so lately, and some destined to be revealed now that Tyler Webb had made such a bold statement. The man — now dead — clearly had a nasty little stash of information somewhere and had wanted it revealed.
“Dozens of agencies and powerful individuals all around the world are watching this,” Hayden spoke up. “For good and bad, I’m sure. For wealth. For their passion. For reputation, retribution and respect. No, we don’t know all the details yet but there’s no doubt that the marketing of these artifacts will have far-reaching consequences.”
“I still don’t see how you come to such a dramatic conclusion,” Mai said. “Relics are bought and sold on the black market every day.”
Hayden frowned. “You’re right, to a degree. Like I said we don’t have all the details surrounding these relics yet, but I will paint you the same picture I painted Drake and Alicia recently from the latest information. Somehow the most valuable of all Inca treasures came to be in the same place at the same time. Somehow, they got lost to history. Now, almost as incredibly, these relics begin drip-feeding onto the market, starting over a decade ago. One a year. Then two. No real provenance. Disguised from the masses but revealed to just a few. Whoever sold them preferred even his middlemen not to be mired in shady, back-street deals where a thousand things could go wrong. He wanted it all in plain sight, and with less risk. Less chance of the relic being stolen by thieves even worse than himself. Perhaps then, he isn’t a career criminal, a dyed-in-the-wool gangster. Perhaps he has other vices. In any case, the regularity with which the Incan relics appeared increased until now we have one every two months. And today, one a week, it seems. The money could be running out. The sheer size of the treasure hoard might be an issue. Or maybe he just can’t hold his wad anymore. Either way, we have to track every single treasure that has been sold and we have to find the man behind the sales. We have to shut this down.”