A CIA agent flung himself at the boss, displaying great instinct, just as Hayden pulled her trigger. Both men went flying across the rutted ground. All the other agents now turned and began to lay down cover fire. The SPEAR team scattered.
Lethal, tiny missiles crisscrossed the clearing, thudding against ancient bark and clanging off rusting metal. Hayden popped her head up and kept firing, sure that Price would be ordering the agents to keep moving. There was nowhere for him to go anymore but forward for the rest of his life.
Agents scrambled back as they fired, kicking up dirt and leaves, their faces made even harsher by the black designer sunglasses they wore. Kinimaka crawled away to the left, looking to flank Price’s position, but then their quarry started running again, away from Kenzie’s camp.
“Where are they going?” Hayden asked the black-haired woman.
“Don’t know and don’t really care.” Kenzie looked bored.
“Well, how did you get to here?”
“Jeeps.” Kenzie nodded at the ruined trucks. “Which your Drake kindly blew up.”
Hayden once more wondered how on earth she’d somehow saddled this pony. Drake had to be laughing up his sleeve.
“Okay guys. Move.”
They took off again, hampered by the dangerous forest floor. Ruts, knotted trees and waterlogged earth lay everywhere. As they ran, the single remaining guard turned and hurled an object at them, something he’d no doubt purloined from the bazaar.
“Grenade!” Smyth shouted.
Into the undergrowth they leapt, head first. A great tree stump offered protection. Scrambling around it they sought cover, and the metallic bomb exploded. Fragments shredded the vegetation, ripping through the jungle and shredding all in their path. Hayden held her breath as the blast went past then, feeling no wounds, rose to her feet.
“We okay? All right, c’mon. That bastard’s still running.”
As they closed in on Price’s group they reloaded and regrouped, forming a tight position. Even Kenzie stuck with it, seeing the best chance of success. Price himself continued to glance over his shoulder, eyes wild and rolling. Hayden nodded with grim satisfaction. This is what justice looks like.
Then they passed a high rock cluster, a trickling waterfall and leapt over a wide stream. As Price was practically carried around a smooth rock the man abruptly vanished. Then the next CIA agent performed the same disappearing act and finally the guard. Hayden pulled up short and approached the area with caution.
“An entrance,” she said as they crouched among the trees. “See? Behind that rock.”
Kenzie let out a low whistle. “Before I came here, on receiving the invite, I researched this area, as you know. Something I am very good at. There were whispers of a hidden CIA station, a cave system where they’re stashing an incredible cache from weapons to drugs and stolen works of art. Even I doubted it was real. But this…” she tailed off.
“Cave system?” Smyth eyed the hole dubiously. “Any idea where it goes?”
“Down,” Kenzie said. “Definitely down.”
“Wiseass. So c’mon, what are we waiting for?”
Hayden eyed the seemingly unguarded entrance. “Relax, Smyth, and let’s take this steady. I’ve seen one too many traps on this trip already.”
Kenzie now rounded on the ex-CIA agent, a challenge in her face. “That reminds me. How did you people end up getting caught? The Alicia bitch didn’t look too happy about it and Drake and the beautiful Swede seemed mighty upset.”
Hayden hefted her rifle and cinched tight her belt. “Communications surveillance,” she said quietly. “It’s superior to what we imagined. I placed a call to DC — they traced the call back to me.”
“It’s everywhere these days,” Kenzie agreed. “Imagine my dilemma, having to smuggle stolen artifacts around the world.”
“That’s what you do?” Lauren asked, then shrugged. “Nice.”
Yorgi stared at her. “I’m quite sure I have heard of you,” he said. “Didn’t you cross the Samoan Cartel once? And they’re still looking for you?”
“Ha. The Samoan Cartel couldn’t find their way out of Mexico if they found a map to Tijuana. They’re old school.”
“But stone cold killers.”
Kenzie shrugged it off.
“We underestimated these people and we paid the price,” Hayden said. “Maybe the CIA were involved in monitoring the airways and reporting to Ramses. From what we’ve seen so far, it wouldn’t be a stretch.”
Kinimaka rose carefully, a great shadow and now a legend of the rainforest. “I can’t see jack inside that entrance. We’re losing valuable time here, guys.”
Hayden walked ahead. “Don’t worry. One way or another Robert Price and all his cronies are gonna be on a plane to DC tonight. Whether it’s in cuffs or a black bag is entirely up to him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Drake loped along in pursuit of Tyler Webb and Ramses, colleagues at his side. The RPG had whistled harmlessly by, exploding against a cluster of trees. Dahl looked like he was out for a Sunday morning jog, tongue lolling happily. Alicia and Mai ran shoulder to shoulder, just like old times. Beau trailed them carefully, a deadly, inscrutable panther.
The river ran to their left, wide at this point and scattered with barges. Early afternoon sunshine dappled the water, an image that utterly belied the intensity of the crazed human torrent that streamed toward it. Drake was not only at the heart of a mad rush for the barges, but a furious sprint for the air transport and an annoyed race toward ground vehicles, and thus unable to make much progress toward Webb.
Human fury seethed all around them. On the plus side, Webb ran alone and scared, out of his comfort zone, with no bodyguard and no obvious route of escape. Drake struggled to keep the man in his sights, knocking people aside at every twist and turn. Dahl formed the point of their wedge, happy to plow the human fields. There was even a surreal moment when the Swede spotted a vile foe he’d first encountered ten years before, caught him in a headlock on the hoof, and snapped his neck. Dahl had never looked happier.
Drake fought hard to lock away his new rush of feelings for Mai. Less of a rush, he thought, more a chaos. Questions bombarded him like missiles, and he was sure Alicia would feel the same, but for now the old training was all that he could utilize — focus on the battle and lock everything else away. He watched the surge of people empty out into a large clearing like a stream flowing into a wide ocean, most of the flood heading toward the narrow, makeshift dock. Caimans and other predators started showing an interest on the far banks. Webb ran headlong for a few seconds, head spinning so wildly Drake wondered if he might be experiencing an Exorcist moment, then pulled up short. Drug kings and arms smugglers poured around him. Webb clutched the satchel held at his side.
“Ramses!” he screamed. “Ramses! You owe me! You owe me now!”
Drake made out the terrorist leader, the man so mythical they didn’t even know which or how many organizations he ran, as all seven feet of him turned and stared at the Pythian king. Whatever he said couldn’t have been particularly nice, for Webb turned white and then backed away.
“A dozen legionnaires,” Drake heard through the tumult. “That’s all I can spare you.”