“They don’t care,” Dahl said, nodding at the buyers. “It’s just another day on the road to them.”
Drake also whispered. “They buy and they buy and it funds more terror,” he said. “Many of them don’t see what they reap. These people are the money, not the zeal.”
Yorgi pretended some interest in a crate of missiles, pointing out the fact that they did possess the Albanian’s pre-paid credit card. More stalls offered knives, swords and military gear. More pavilions appeared ahead and, on quick inspection, presented every sort of deadly paraphernalia Drake could think of, and more besides. All in all, the bazaar was an extreme show of incredible excess, tailored toward the more mature lunatic and his doting wife.
Alicia spoke little as they walked, so far out of her comfort zone even she couldn’t poke fun at it. Banquets lay spread alfresco on tables covered in satin. Auctioneers sold men and women to left and right, so blatantly that the entire five-person team were forced to employ all of their self-restraint not to step in. By contrast the next cleared area along had been overlaid in some kind of thick fabric to allow men and women an area to dance slowly to quiet tunes.
The owner of a shooting range encouraged them to take a try, whispering that he would take any currency that they had. A quiet, domed tent required inspection by Yorgi and turned out to be a drugs boutique. Drake was surprised to see Italian and French designer stalls too, though who could say if the goods were genuine or fake? Certainly not him. None of this interested him too much, but what he did find noteworthy was that none of the guests spoke to or barely glanced at each other. He wasn’t sure if this was sheer snobbery or precautionary but, if pushed, would have bet on the former.
A small array of private tents passed and then they were nearing the end of the bazaar, a railed hole ahead. Drake briefly wondered what might lay inside when Dahl leaned in to Yorgi.
“Think we should buy something? For appearances sake?”
Drake took that one. “Let’s leave it tonight, it’s getting late. We’ve done the groundwork. Tomorrow the real work begins. We find Webb, Beau, and the bloody CIA. And whomever this main man may be.”
“And then Ramses,” Alicia breathed. “After all I’ve been through, I am so looking forward to putting that guy in his rightful place.”
“All you’ve been through?” Yorgi echoed, looking a little hurt. “Playing at being my wife, you mean?”
Alicia scowled. “You’re too young for me, Yogi. And too dainty.”
The thief’s expression was a study in hurt.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I like my men with a bit more meat on them. And more definition. Experience. Weathered. Been around the block a few times…”
Yorgi held up a hand. “Please don’t go on. I understand you.”
Drake still stared at the railing. “Not sure where you’re gonna find one of those around here, Princess.”
“Are you sure?”
Drake turned around to find Alicia considering him. Quickly, he coughed and gave Kinimaka a push. “C’mon, pal, let’s find our tents.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go to bed.” Alicia pouted. “The night is yet young.”
“Big day tomorrow. Huge day. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Nothing worth doing ever is,” Dahl said.
The group took a last look around the meandering throng, the sparkling tables with their gritty, dirty commodities and the attentive, well-spaced guards. The main players, it seemed, had all retired for the night.
Tomorrow would be madness, Drake thought. Without a plan, backup, or up-to-the-minute intel they somehow had to take down and capture what amounted to a village full of high-class terrorists, a splinter of the CIA and the Pythian leader, not to mention the revolutionary myth himself — Ramses.
Dahl caught his eye, clearly thinking the same thing. “Let the games begin.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The night was not yet over, Alicia saw to that. An intercom system linked to Wi-Fi had been installed inside their sumptuous tents and the Englishwoman made full use of the amenities. “After all,” she said. “You don’t stay in a five-star, all-inclusive hotel and not make use of the friggn’ facilities, do ya?”
So, Drake stood guard and watched as she snuggled in next to Yorgi and waited for the bottles to arrive. In keeping with the superior service of the place two waiters appeared within five minutes, immaculately tailored even down to their black Gucci rain boots, holding silver platters in white-gloved hands. The first knelt beside Alicia and poured red wine, the second set out a table full of cold cuts. Almost before they were gone Kinimaka was falling upon the food.
“Ah, ah,” Alicia clucked. “Prince and princesses only. You peasants can go catch a wild boar or something.”
The Hawaiian glanced at her, a slice of ham dangling from his mouth. “You’re kidding, right?”
Dahl grinned. “If I don’t get my steak I’m going to punch somebody in the face.”
Drake laughed and grabbed a handful for himself. Alicia toasted the team and then went down to a little more snuggling. “So, Yorki, how do you like being married to a treasure hunting, ball-busting chickadee?”
Yorgi, never totally comfortable in Alicia’s presence, inched away. The glass of wine in his hand was already half empty. “Umm, fine. I am good.”
“Good?” Alicia snorted. “I’ll show you good. We just need to ask the guards to leave,” she hesitated. “Unless… unless you’d preferred they stayed?”
Yorgi spluttered some more as Drake turned away, hiding a smile. One thing you could say for the inimitable Alicia Myles — she always livened up a room. Or a tent, to be more precise. With Kinimaka still filling up it had left Dahl to quickly check the perimeter and the Swede now returned.
“Quite a community,” he said. “I counted over thirty tents like this before I gave up and half a dozen more in a clearing fit for a king. Probably Ramses and his finer guests. Now what is Alicia doing to Yorgi?”
Drake walked to the tent flap. “Any guards around?”
“Bloody hundreds. Add all of these people’s personal minders to Ramses’ own security force and you have a genuine army.”
“So we stay covert.”
“Absolutely. Though with Mano’s appetite and Alicia’s antics I’d say we’re already on somebody’s radar.”
Drake perched on a footstool. “What are they gonna do? Call the front desk?”
“Out here,” Dahl said. “Nothing would surprise me.”
“Point taken.” Drake cleared his throat. “Umm, Alicia, be a good girl now and put Yorgi down.”
The blonde rounded on him. “Careful, Drakey.”
“You’re making too much noise.”
“Never been accused of that before. Okay, okay, whatever. Hey, I have an idea!” Alicia drained her glass and reached for a walkie-talkie. Drake rose to stop her but paused as she held up a hand.
“Hey,” she said when a voice answered. “Do you guys do dancers? Y’know, male dancers?” Her sly glance at Drake ensured he knew she was trying to provoke a reaction.
Drake nevertheless ended the communication for her, urging her to keep a little restraint. “It’s not One Night in Bangkok,” he reminded her. “It’s a terrorist arms exchange. And all the staff are slaves who either work or die, I’m betting. So stay focused.”
Alicia sobered at his words, finally relaxing her grip on Yorgi’s neck. The Russian headed over to the other side of the tent.
“So where are we supposed to sleep?” Kinimaka asked. “Us guards, I mean.”
“I guess we don’t,” Drake said. “We guard.”
“There’s always the jungle,” Alicia said a little petulantly.