“Sure. I’ll call him.”
Eden was silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was level and commanding. “Three of our own are dead, including a very dear friend of mine. I want Morton Wade punished and his cult shut down.”
“Got it.”
“And I want to know why he’s been spending so much time in the jungle as well — we’re going to need to analyse that video feed for a start and see if we can pull anything out of it.”
Scarlet stubbed out her cigarette. “Wheels up in ten minutes.”
CHAPTER THREE
Lea Donovan smiled at Joe Hawke and looked back down at the menu. They were sitting on the terrace of a Tex-Mex restaurant in Covent Garden, enjoying some rare sunshine with some cold Corona lagers. Ryan Bale and Maria Kurikova were at the adjacent table. The four of them had decided to take a few days away from business and get in some critical chillaxing, as Ryan had put it. A few yards away a busker was playing a Rachmaninov adagio and not for the first time Lea hoped Hawke wasn’t carrying a weapon otherwise it might be the fiddler’s last stand.
“So much to choose from,” she said, perusing the menu.
“I can tell that,” Hawke said, raising his beer bottle. “This must be your third flypast of the menu.”
“Get used to that,” Ryan said out the side of his mouth.
Lea rolled her eyes but made no reply. The simple truth was that she was enjoying not being shot at for once, which was how she seemed to spend so much of her life these days. Spending a few carefree hours with the man she loved, away from bullets, explosions and ancient tombs, was a welcome relief and she didn’t want to rush a single a part of it.
She was still haunted by the way Álvero Sala had mocked her back in his Andorran château, and crowed about not being chosen to kill her father. She had no idea what any of it meant, but if it was true it scared her more than anything. Sala had known so much about Valhalla and the Athanatoi that his reference to her father made Lea’s skin crawl. She had the terrible feeling that Sala was only the tip of the iceberg, and she was frightened to think about how far down she would have to dive to reach the end of it.
But not today, she decided. Today was almost perfect… the cool beer, the easy chit-chat, the casual laughter of their fellow diners and the wispy cirrus clouds high above the capital made a great summer’s day. All around her she felt the city’s electric vibe — the possibility of possibilities receding like echoes down every road and alleyway. And then there was Joe Hawke… Sometimes she wondered if they should get hitched, but it never seemed like the right time to talk about it.
She glanced at her watch. Their rendezvous still wasn’t here. Eden had received a call from a man claiming to be a member of Wade’s bizarre sun-worshipping cult, the Order of the Sixth Sun. He said he had disturbing information for them about a major terror attack connected with the cult. Eden was on Elysium and had arranged for him to meet Hawke and Lea instead because they were in England, but so far there was no sign of him. Maybe Wade’s men had already silenced him.
“If you don’t order soon I’ll do it for you,” Hawke said, also glancing at his watch.
“You bloody won’t!”
“Never get between Lea and her lunch, Joe,” Ryan said with a smile. “Trust a man who knows.”
Hawke laughed at the joke but Lea saw that even now he wasn’t truly relaxed. His eyes were always scanning the crowd for trouble, always evaluating egress points. She wondered if he would ever be able to switch that mechanism off and unwind. Although he hadn’t told her where he had spent the last few days, she knew it was Scotland, and she knew what that meant.
She had seen the look in his eyes when he’d found out about Matheson’s retirement. Joe Hawke knew how to play the long game, and with a man like him revenge was just a matter of time. You could count on it. Any doubt in her mind about what had happened was cleared up when she’d glanced at her iPhone and read the headlines: JAMES MATHESON DIES PEACEFULLY IN HIS SLEEP. She doubted that was how it had panned out, but kept her views to herself. He would share it when he was ready.
It was tough that he wouldn’t let her into that part of his life — his first wife and her murder, and how he felt about it all, but that was the price she paid for being with a man like Hawke. One day, she knew, she would break his walls down and get to know the real man, but until then she had to give him the space he needed.
Beside her, Ryan and Maria laughed at a shared joke. Ryan knew he was getting in deep now — after so many months he had finally been able to move on from Sophie Durand — and a good part of the healing had come from Maria Kurikova.
“It’s natural that you still think of her,” Maria said when he mentioned her name.
“I know… but it’s time for me to move on now. I’m with you, and we’re happy together, right?”
She nodded and gave a sweet smile. He knew she kept secrets from him — she never spoke about her old life in the Russian Secret Service — but that smile told him how she really felt about him. Inwardly, he beamed with pleasure that life could be so good again.
“All right,” Lea said at last, but not taking her eyes off the menu. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Thank Crunchie for that,” Hawke said. He turned to catch the eye of a nearby waiter.
“I’m going to have the Pescado Tacos — they look absolutely, bloody fan… oh damn.”
“What?”
“They come with chipotle aioli and I’m not so keen on that.”
“You’re not so keen on chipotle aioli?”
She looked at him with earnest eyes. “Sure, why not? Do I have to like chipotle aioli?”
“Well no, it’s just that…” Hawke waved the waiter away with an apologetic shake of the head.
Lea looked in his eyes. “What?”
“We’re at a Tex-Mex restaurant. Most stuff probably has chipotle aioli with it.”
“No it doesn’t! Look here at the Chile en Nogada. There’s no chipotle aioli with that.”
“So get that then.”
“I think I just might,” she said smiling broadly.
Hawke caught the waiter’s eye once more.
Lea sighed. “Oh — wait.”
“What is it now?”
“It’s got walnut-almond sauce with it.”
“So what?”
“So, I don’t like the taste of walnuts.”
“Are you kidding?”
Ryan nodded as the memory returned. “No, she’s not kidding.”
Lea glared at him. “Why would I be kidding? Do I have to like the taste of walnuts?”
Hawke sighed and waved the waiter away a second time. “Well… no, but…”
“But what?”
“If it’s not walnut-almond sauce it’s chipotle aioli.”
“Stop saying chipotle aioli.”
“You stop saying it!”
“Oh I just cannot decide. Maybe we should have had Indian?”
Hawke narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Now you’re having a laugh, right?”
“I might be.”
“Lea?”
“What?”
“Order your sodding dinner.”
Lea folded the menu over and looked at Hawke. “Fine, in that case I’ll have the Salsa de la Casa for starters, the Enchilada Veracruz for the main with a side order of Arroz Verde and Flan de Vainilla for dessert.”
Hawke looked at her. “You memorized that?”
“I always eat the same thing at this restaurant. Rich and I come here a lot.”