“I guess that’s part of reaping what you sow.” Drake thought about the previous snares, still feeling a twinge of guilt at not being able to help the merc.
“Let’s move.” Smyth was with them again. “And quit being such pansy-ass pussies.”
The door opened into cool night air. Drake went first, gun up, checking every direction, squinting again in the harsh glare of artificial light. It took a moment for his vision to adjust.
“There,” he said.
They headed toward something that gleamed in the dark, the only thing Drake could see that didn’t quite fit. As they approached, a heavy motor coughed into life and rotors began to whir. A chopper rose, its cockpit blacked out, another shadow in the dark. Now Drake saw other choppers, maybe as many as five, most of which were redundant now so many mercs hadn’t made it. As they approached the rising bird cops and other forces streamed around the side of the building, yelling for all and sundry to “eat the fucking dirt and lace their hands together over their heads!” Drake knew there was no point arguing. He lowered his weapon.
The chopper banked as it rose, audaciously passing over the running cops. Then Drake saw why.
“Get down!” he cried. “Down! Now!”
Leaning out of one of the doors was a man holding a chain gun. Heavy caliber rounds thunked into the ground and the building, causing mini explosions wherever they hit. Mercifully the rounds all passed between the cops but the message was abundantly clear.
Stay the fuck down.
The chopper ascended and then took off to the north. Drake watched it go with a sense of unfinished business ricocheting around his mind.
“Your time will come,” he said under his breath. “And soon.”
CHAPTER NINE
In the aftermath they sat and stood around the SUV, taking stock of what potentially had been stolen.
Hayden stood washing her hands free of blood, using water she poured out of a small Evian bottle. “We have no idea what they took. Engineers are going over everything right now. Hopefully it will be glaringly obvious.”
Drake harbored doubts and said so. “Any news from the guys deciphering our own Z-box yet?”
“Not a squeak.”
Dahl nodded toward the overwhelmed facility. “I feel like we both won and lost here today. The amount of mercs we took down put a dent in their resources, but they still managed to escape with what they came for.”
“We lost,” Smyth said pessimistically.
“And remember, Beauregard told us three substations will be hit,” Dahl said. “Any clues as to which is next?”
Again Hayden shook her head, upending the rest of the bottle over her face. “The investigation is underway.”
She indicated Karin inside the rear SUV, already tapping away at a laptop with Lauren seated beside her. “It’s time to move ahead.”
Drake chewed his lower lip. “Do you think? Splitting our forces in the light of what we just saw? Is that wise?”
Hayden shrugged. “Like we said before: Grabbing a Pythian might end this entire fiasco. It’ll get us several steps closer, for sure. And right now we know where at least one of them is. We also have to cover this ghost ship angle in case it turns out to be even worse than the friggin’ Z-boxes. We can’t allow them to just take anything they find.”
Drake saw her logic. “Okay, agreed. So I guess we’re headed to Arizona.” He glanced at Dahl. “You be okay without a hand to hold?”
The Swede grimaced. “Would you like a hug before you go?”
Drake raised both eyebrows, his expression deadly serious. “Considering the specter of where we’re going, the spookiness of what we’re chasing, and all those ghost stories and apparitions I think a hug might be good about now.”
He moved in. Dahl almost tripped over his feet in an effort to escape. Subdued smiles flickered across all their faces.
None of them wanted to split the family up right now.
CHAPTER TEN
Yuma was a city in the southwestern corner of Arizona, first settled by Native Americans whose reservations still exist in parts of the state. Expeditions later saw the trade and living opportunities offered by the narrowing of the Colorado River at this point, and during the California Gold Rush the Yuma Crossing became known as the gateway to California.
Drake found himself pacing the hotel lobby wondering where the hell the rest of the crew had gotten to before realizing this was it. This was all — the extent of his current team — Lauren, Smyth and Karin.
The decision had been made to arrive low key. There was no telling who the Pythians had enlisted or paid off, no guessing how many spies they had dug in around the area. Thus, the four-strong group were vacationers, stowing what military gear they may need in oversized backpacks. Once their rooms had been allocated they trooped into the elevators, all heading for Karin’s room.
Drake voiced everyone’s thought. “So give us a clue. Where do we start?”
Lauren spoke up. “Where did Nicholas Bell start? With stories, I guess. So short of flying over all of Arizona and California with a spotting scope we’d best put our resident genius to work.” She patted Karin’s shoulder.
Karin grunted, still far away. Drake wondered for the thousandth time if she should even be here. But then, where else? Grieving alone? Therapy? There were far worse places to be than following lost treasure.
Just ask Alicia.
Drake again found himself thinking about the Englishwoman and her endless march forward. It was at times like this that a separation of weeks felt more like years.
Karin silently plonked a laptop onto the room’s only table and logged onto the free Wi-Fi. The width of the room prevented the rest of the team from standing too close so Lauren offered to make a coffee run and Smyth elected to go with her. Drake found himself suddenly alone with Ben Blake’s sister, Komodo’s girlfriend.
“Anything,” he said. “Anything I can do to help just name it. Even if it means putting a gag on my stupid mouth.”
Surprisingly, Karin turned around to stare at him. “I’m starting to believe there may be something you can do,” she said. “But I’ll let you know.”
Drake nodded, a little taken aback. She was working through stuff and needed to ponder. He watched her pound the keys for a while and then stepped away. Lauren and Smyth returned, comfortable at each other’s side, and offered strong black coffee all round. Drake liked the new Smyth; the man seemed more at ease, though the old irascibility still hovered just underneath the surface. As the group perched awkwardly on the side of the bed, Karin began to speak.
“Ghost ships of Arizona,” she said. “It’s no more than a bunch of legends passed down from old Red Indian days. Scary campfire stories or lost treasure mythologies — your choice. The main story,” she breathed, “centers on an old Spanish galleon.”
Smyth leaned forward. “Was it haunted?”
Karin continued without an acknowledgement. “Stories started springing up after the great Colorado flood, sightings put it forty miles north of Yuma. Of course, that was back in the 1860s…”
Drake wasn’t sure whether to smile or knit his brows. Was she suggesting it might — somehow — have moved?
“These places back then had various names — Indian Springs, Soda Springs, Bitter Springs. The Salton Sea is another popular place for myths since this grew out of an even larger inland sea over the centuries. There were and are many myths that said this galleon was none other than Sir Thomas Cavendish’s Content, filled with pirate booty. Now we’re talking — a pirate ghost ship.”