Drake grimaced a little.
“It’s what makes the world go around, Matt. Politics. Business. Commerce. Banking. The favors, the special invites, the small concessions. Negotiation is as much a currency as banknotes. In any case, I can get us access to a country and its more interesting parts through my contacts. Our benefactor has the money. Now all I need is a team.”
Drake blinked rapidly. “Oh. Are you trying to ask me?” he blurted. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Us Yorkshire folk need it laid out in plain English. We’re not that good on the uptake.”
“Actually no.” Crouch grinned. “I was asking her.”
He turned toward Alicia, who’d been listening in on their conversation. An expression of surprise was soon covered by a victorious leer.
“In yer face, Drakey!”
Crouch winced a little. “Her qualities are unmistakable.”
Drake nodded seriously. “Alicia is the best teammate and companion anyone could ever hope for.”
Crouch nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
Alicia stared down at the table. Her lips moved but nothing came out, as if the emotion had choked her words. Seconds passed. When finally she met Drake’s gaze the slight sheen in her eyes spoke for her.
Crouch leaned forward. “Will you join me, Alicia?”
“I will,” the Englishwoman said. “I will. But not indefinitely. My options are always open, Michael, so that if the something I’ve been looking for presents itself then I’m free to take it. I’ll also have to talk to the bikers. And SPEAR.”
Drake recognized the craving in those words, the desire that Alicia never let go. A free spirit, she would always follow the road, searching, seeking for that one thing she might never find.
A family.
“And of course you can call on her. And us. Anytime,” Crouch told Drake, and now the rest of the table who had all tuned in.
Alicia said, “You guys have been awesome. The best soldiers, the best friends. The best of everything. Even you, Mai,” she added with a laugh. “But I have to keep searching. Once a rebel always a rebel. Away with the clouds. Riding into the sunset. That’s me. Look for me at the break of dawn, the dying of the day. That will be me — saluting you.”
And she stood up, trying to hide the emotion she felt, no doubt trying to find that one last memorable quip.
“I’ll say my proper goodbyes to SPEAR. Oh, and if I could maybe interrogate Beauregard? Three or four minutes of hard work and I should get what I need.”
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Tyler Webb sat alone behind his great desk, staring out of the enormous picture window that, due to the building’s height, gave him a clear and wonderful view of the Falls. Such a grand view came at an equally grand premium, but Webb and his fellow Pythians sat on more riches than they could squander in a thousand lifetimes.
The Pythians were growing; becoming notorious, mysterious. Now they had a second layer of protection — a tier of first-degree members — each one powerful and wealthy in their own right. Not one of them knew who the puppetmasters were. Their army was growing. Security levels were extraordinary and would only increase in both physical and cyber strength. They would need the extra layers. Their recent failed operation in the heart of Washington DC was proof of that. Do-gooders were always happy to thwart them at every turn, laying their very lives in the line, for what? Glory? Duty? Certainly not power or money.
Webb didn’t understand the lower masses at all.
Webb now allowed himself the luxury of respite. Goals and ambitions flooded his mind, crowding in. It would all start with Pandora, very soon. London, Paris and Los Angeles would pay a high price. After that, more attacks would come, some covert and deep, others as obvious as the destruction of a small town. The Pythians would worm their way into the infrastructure of the world, corrupting and betraying everything until they held every string that controlled every puppet, every red button that might start a war.
And above it all one single quest. One overwhelming objective.
The greatest unsolved mystery of our time:
Le Comte De Saint Germaine.