“Not now.”
“Not now?” He watched her. “Or not ever?”
“I don’t know. Damn, being normal is so complicated. I’m trying to be different, a new person, and I won’t lose my way in that stuff anymore. Does that make any sense to you?”
“I am not sure. All I offer is hot, sweaty sex.”
Alicia gulped. “Stop it. I need more than that. Longer lasting emotions and some kind of commitment. Is that what you’re offering too?”
Beau turned away, torn, as Webb wound his conversation up with Ramses. Or had he averted his eyes because of Alicia’s question? His next words illuminated her. “I can’t offer that. I don’t think so anyway.”
“Well, make your mind up fast. Because one day, I’ll be gone.”
The Englishwoman slipped away, already thinking about their targets and New York and how to get a message to Hayden on the boat. People had to be made aware. How long had Marsh been on the road anyway?
He might already be there.
Drake stared at her when she returned, reminding her of Beau’s own expression as she left. Mixed feelings plagued every nerve in her body.
“What happened?” Drake asked.
“Yes, he tried to kiss me,” Alicia blurted. “Yes, he succeeded. No, we didn’t slip off for a short interlude. Not that anything’s ever short where Beau’s concerned, if you get my meaning. Yes, he wants me and yes, I have no idea what to do about it.”
Dahl touched her. “We meant — what does Beau know?”
Alicia patted the gun holstered at her waist, and then explained everything she knew. “All I know,” she finished, “is that we need to roll the credits on this shameful bazaar and get our beautiful butts en route to New York.”
Her comrades were still reeling from the shock. Alicia held her hand sup. “Don’t worry, we have time. Ramses is still here, yes? And he wants to be the orchestrator of New York’s final symphony.”
The team gathered a little closer, sensing a new and terrible severity to their already challenging mission.
“We’re on the edge,” Drake said. “If that bomb goes off…” He shook his head. “We’re on the edge of Armageddon.”
A shout brought their heads up fast. Ramses had taken to the podium again and was calling for attention. Guards moved up behind the small structure, partially hidden, and Alicia strained to see why. They had caught some prisoners, it seemed. Maybe they had captured drug runners in the surrounding jungle and were about to execute them as a final gesture.
Ramses’ eyes swept the crowd. “Some of our guests, it seems, are imposters.”
The crowd went deadly silent. Alicia felt Drake stiffen and saw Dahl’s face turn to white granite.
“But how do we find out who they are?” Ramses made a show of clicking his tongue in thought.
Alicia saw Beau turn, his face appalled. Then she watched in horror as the prisoners were dragged into view — Smyth, Lauren and Hayden were escorted around the side of the podium, hands tied and pushed along by a dozen men.
“If you want my input,” Ramses grinned, “I say we feed their friends to the caimans and see what shakes out.”
He laughed uproariously.
“To the pit!”
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Drake forced his limbs to stop working, wanting to charge forward with all guns blazing. He reached out to both Kinimaka and Dahl too, steadying them.
“Timing,” he said.
Hayden, Smyth and Lauren looked a little beat up. Bruises stood out on their foreheads and blood trickled from their lips. Their bonds were tight, painfully so, causing them to grimace in pain with every movement. But thank God they were still alive and Ramses enjoyed his awful spectacles. This entire situation was about to explode big time. Drake checked his guns, his knives, his spare ammo. He checked the positions of Ramses, of Webb and of Robert Price. He fixed Kenzie with a momentary stare, wondering how she might take advantage of such an unforeseen dilemma.
All the while, their three teammates were herded amid a gaggle of squawking guards ever closer to the stinking caiman pit. One ran ahead and started working on the padlock that allowed entry. Ramses walked behind them, an extremely attentive Akatash at his side. The two men now sported AK47s, borrowed from guards. All of a sudden the strangely cheery atmosphere of the bazaar had turned very deadly indeed.
Drake and his colleagues drifted ever closer, using the crowd for cover and remaining as placid as they could. This outcome was all about surprise, made harder by the clear fact that everyone was expecting something to happen.
Hayden stumbled. Smyth bent down to steady her and received a rifle-butt to the back of the neck. He didn’t go sprawling, but took it with a glare of anger, making sure Hayden was stable before staggering to his own feet. Drake dogged the guards now, still amid the crowd, and was surprised when Kenzie put an arm around him.
“You might be surprised, soldier boy, but this shocks even me. What they’re about to do.”
“They’re terrorists,” he mumbled. “What did you expect?”
“Professionalism. Restraint. This is a public forum despite its secrecy.”
“These are the people you chose to run with.”
“I take my own path. I am not like them. I can’t help what they do in private or among themselves but this, feeding humans to animals… this is beyond reprehensible.”
Drake nodded. Maybe this woman did have some heart after all, buried beneath all those layers of hardiness, hatred and dreams of vengeance.
“I will help you,” Kenzie said. “Until they are free or we’re dead.”
“And then?”
“Don’t get in my way.”
Drake grimaced inside. Somehow, he believed she might help them and then try to kill them. With this woman it made sense, and at least she was open about it. The guards reached the edge of the pit and halted, waiting patiently for Ramses to pick his way through them as their captives continued to struggle. At length, the Prince of Terrorists stared down into the hidden depths of the deep hole.
“Ahh, my friends, you do look hungry down there!”
Spontaneous laughter broke out. Hayden stood upright, no fear on her face as she eyeballed Ramses. Smyth moved next to Lauren as if his body might shield hers from harm. Drake wondered briefly how the angry soldier might have been surprised, then decided it didn’t matter. Tension settled over the crowd as most of them watched each other, waiting for some kind of reaction. Hands hovered over weapons. Hammers clicked back on dozens of guns as the tension rose high enough to trigger lightning.
Ramses was ready.
“Throw them into hell!”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Drake stood as close as he dared without arousing suspicions. It was whilst he scanned a dozen different positions and possibilities, the guards’ faces and stances, that he noticed the red flash among the nearby trees.
For the second time.
One moment it was there, the next it was gone. The distraction cost him though — as the guards pushed their bound prisoners to the edge of the pit and only then slit their bonds. Smyth immediately lashed out, as did Lauren and Hayden, but their feet were already slipping over the edge, dirt and vegetation crumbling beneath them, the hands of the guards driving them, the unstoppable force of sheer momentum thwarting them.
Time slowed, stretching out like elastic. Everyone moved. Everything changed. Drake raised a rifle in one hand, a Glock in the other and charged the guards. Dahl battered men aside and raced headlong toward his falling friends.
Caimans writhed and churned, their mouths agape, slashing.
Alicia helped Dahl’s charge by encumbering the enemy. Ramses looked surprised, recognizing them from the jungle, then began to grin. All distances were halved even as Hayden, Smyth and Lauren scrambled to stay at the rim of the pit, and as the guards kicked at their chests, sending them tumbling helplessly head-over-heels straight down.