“In a moment,” Ramses insisted. “I want to see this.”
“Your beachcomber will escape. Don’t you want to… catch him?”
“I think he is gone and the jungle will take care of him. Or maybe one of the others had better luck? Your missing friend perhaps?”
Drake screened his reaction. He was hoping they wouldn’t notice the missing Swede. Yorgi shrugged and said nothing.
Finally Ramses turned away from the grisly scene. “Well, what a pleasant diversion. Shall we return to the bazaar and the delights I have planned for this evening?”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
A half hour later and they were free of Ramses, alone in their tent and fishing around hastily for replacement clothes. It took them a while to remember where they were and what type of stalls were scattered all around.
“We’re dumbasses.” Kinimaka hung his head.
“Not really,” Alicia said. “We’re just not used to shopping at designer boutiques inside a war zone.”
At that moment the tent flap opened and Dahl stepped through. He took one look at the state of their clothes and then shook his head.
“Couldn’t manage without me, huh?”
Drake apprised him of all the details, bemused at the Swede’s reaction and knowing he shouldn’t be.
“Caimans!” Dahl shouted. “You fought caimans and I missed it?” He sounded truly crushed. “Hell, Mano and I could have started a new sport. Caiman tossing.”
Alicia looked up. “Any way you view that comment — it’s dangerous.”
Dahl scowled. “Best part of the bloody mission, and I’m babysitting a surfer.”
Drake then mentioned how their chase had finally ended. Dahl winced and quickly sobered. “This Ramses then, and Akatash — they’re the real deal? Cunning as car salesmen, crooked as Wall Street and crazier than your resident Swedish pin-up boy?”
“Not that I’d agree with some of that,” Drake said. “But yes.”
“Then who’s the priority?”
“What did Hayden say?”
“Shit, I barely spoke to them. I wanted to get back. Hayden’s chomping at the bit, wants in on the fight. Lauren’s tired of guarding our tame terrorists and Smyth’s, well… grumpy.”
“Can we pause this?” Alicia complained. “We really need to change these underclothes. I’m heading to the shops.”
Drake hung his head. “I really don’t like this new you.”
“Just sit on yer damn man bench and complain. I’ll grab you a nice tight pair of undies.”
In the end they all shopped and were back at the tent within ten minutes, stripping down and changing with professionalism and maturity, all of them knowing there was a time for ribaldry and a time for gravity.
“Plan?” Kinimaka said when they were finished.
“Pinpoint the main players,” Drake said. “Follow them and keep tabs. When we have all three in our sights we end this corrupt jumble sale.”
Outside, the post-lunch shower had just arrived, mercifully light and brief this time. Still, the humidity rose fast and the ground steamed in protest as Drake and his colleagues set forth with their eyes peeled and intentions clear-cut. Past the boutiques and the slavers’ tent, the private viewing areas and the caiman pit they walked. Groups wandered to and fro, some silent, others laughing or joking drunkenly. Sellers hawked their wares. Drake scanned every nook and cranny. At his side, Alicia pretended tiredness as she peered intently into all the bazaar’s darker places. The leafy canopy waved overhead, spangled with sunlight. Drake was momentarily distracted as a woman dressed like a princess walked by, head and shoulders held regally and gown wrapped around her svelte body in such a complex fashion she might never escape its many folds. The Yorkshireman shook his head sadly. These people were about as out of touch as a London-based politician. The incredulity level rose even more when another princess strode by, her three-foot train held aloft by two servant girls. Drake looked at Alicia and found her, for once, at a loss for words.
“Amazing,” he said. “Even my favorite gobshite is dumbstruck.”
But Alicia hadn’t even seen the princesses. “As endearing as that statement is — alluding to my penchant for adverse commentary — I have to say that I am truly flabbergasted and don’t know what the hell to do.”
Drake followed her gaze. “What is it? Who’s that?”
“Oh fuck. What is she doing here? Guys, stop. This is big trouble. See that woman over there? Her name is Kenzie and she’s an artifact and arms smuggler. I came up against her recently during the crusader gold jaunt, and she almost killed us all.”
Drake stared. Dahl stared. Nobody had heard such respect in Alicia’s voice before.
“When you talk about me,” the Swede said, “to others. Do you feel a similar reverence?”
“Shut yer mouth, bitch boy. Listen, Kenzie is an extremist. Lost her family to government mismanagement and went rogue. Turned on them. Now she’s as hard and ruthless as they come.”
“Looks can be mightily deceiving then.” Dahl measured her.
“She wields a katana.”
“Fuuuuuuck.” If the men’s tongues could have bounced off the forest floor that was the moment. Drake tried to reel his back in. “So… um, I mean what’s your plan? Mark her as another target when we have three already? Is she that dangerous?”
“I wouldn’t know whether to kiss her or kill her,” Alicia said. “Maybe I’d do both.”
“Just to distract her, right?” Drake wondered.
“Decision is out of our hands now,” Alicia breathed. “She just saw me.”
Drake reached for his guns.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Birdcall echoed across the clearing. Groups of men huddled and emitted a muted chorus of whispering. Heavy animal movements crashed through the rainforest.
Drake scrutinized Kenzie and her seven bodyguards, wondering who was the most lethal. For their part the other team appeared just as surprised to hear what Kenzie had to say. The artifact smuggler turned a frosty glare on Alicia to convey what was about to happen.
“Move!” Dahl snapped. “We don’t yet have eyes on our three principals. The bazaar must stay in play, for now.”
Knowing he was right, Drake made a run straight at Kenzie as the others fanned out around him. They gambled that Kenzie would choose not to draw attention and might yet have business to finalize. The woman tested them, waiting as long as she dared before whirling and melting into the compact jungle. Alicia crashed in seconds later, as headlong as a deer running for its life. Drake had no time to check who noticed their aggressive departure, but hoped everyone would remain as aloof as they had been to proceedings all along. The chase was on; Kenzie’s men didn’t defend their rear this close to the bazaar which told Drake all he needed to know. The woman was here on business and couldn’t risk shutting this thing down.
The mass of the jungle enveloped them almost immediately as they plowed deeper in. Dahl and Alicia ran alongside as best they could with Kinimaka and Yorgi bringing up the rear, the Russian thief hampered by his fancy clothes. Drake tried to recall the last time he’d seen Alicia spooked, and couldn’t. Maybe it had something to do with this change she was undergoing.
Maybe not. Just trust her.
Of course he did. Drake shook the misgivings from his mind. His closest quarry was only two or three meters away but might as well have been a hundred due to the thick undergrowth and necessity to not use a gun. Kenzie blazed a new trail somewhere ahead, following a route only she knew.
Drake thrust branches aside and leapt across clusters of fallen branches, vaulted ankle-hungry ditches and squeezed between boughs. The trailing mercenary then turned and risked a glance, saw Dahl only a meter from his heels and withdrew a knife. Drawing a hand back to throw he stumbled into an unseen channel and crashed among the fallen vegetation. A scream was muffled by the jungle. Dahl fell on him with gusto, pent up from all the sneaking around and necessities to make nice to evil men. Drake forged further ahead, closing in on the next merc.