“I went to school. Didn’t you?”
“Actually, no. Not really.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Child thief and all that. Well, I also know that the line ‘atishoo, atishoo’ was in fact originally ‘ashes, ashes’. A reference to plague-ridden corpses being burned. Then again,” he smiled grimly, “it might just be a happy singing game.”
“Okay, so maybe I could draft Susie in to help?” Susie Brewster was Silk’s new cop girlfriend.
“Oh yeah, the more I see of Susie the better my day becomes.” Radford said, then realized his gigolo days were over and blushed. “ ‘Cause she’s a good cop,” he added lamely.
“Maybe your wife could help too,” Silk hit back. “Since she’s slept with the majority of LA’s elite.”
“Hey, that was mostly movie and music stars,” Radford protested.
“So that’s acceptable now?” Collins wondered. “I realize some couples have a laminated card with ‘approved’ celebs on it but Amanda’s would have to be the size of a billboard.”
The room fell into laughter, Radford taking the ribbing good-naturedly because he knew his own slept-with list was just as long, but then Trent rose to his feet, no hint of a smile on his lips.
“Whilst we talk, our enemies grow stronger,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”
Collins saw her phone light up and clicked the ‘accept’ button. “Yeah?”
“Are you ready for this?” a voice asked. It was Armand Argento, their Italian Interpol contact.
“Ready for what?”
Collins saw every eye swivel toward her, sensing trouble.
“You should sit down. It is not good. Oh, no it is not so good.”
“Armand! Just spit it out!”
“Am I on speakerphone? I don’t want to have to say this twice, amico mio.”
Collins pressed the button. “Shoot.”
“Word has just come in of a terrible development that concerns you.” Argento said. “Oh, I am sorry. So sorry. The word is — that the Moose is working for the Pythians.”
Not a breath was taken, not a hair stirred.
At last, Trent spoke. “Are you sure, Armand?”
“As sure as an Italian man can be. No we are not without our failings but we do find it hard to recall them.”
“The Moose?” Radford recalled every moment of horror from their recent contact with one of the world’s greatest contract killers. “Then this is personal.”
Trent’s face was like carved granite. “It’ll never be more so.”
The Moose had recently kidnapped Trent’s young son, aided in the murder of his wife and tried to blow up Radford and Amanda. The killer had been contracted to Blanka Davic for a ridiculous sum of money, and had sent Trent on a terrifying chase across Los Angeles. After Davic fell, the Moose disappeared. Most had thought to retire — never to be heard from again.
Collins thanked Argento and then got to work. Her first call was to Hayden. “How close are you to London?”
The CIA agent’s voice was tense. “Just coming in to land. London’s sitting on a knife-edge now. We’ll be…”
“… in touch soon.” Hayden stared out the window as she spoke, admiring the city’s shimmering lights. All seemed calm down there, made more so by the manifestation of a faint early morning mist, but she knew it was anything but.
Cops and secret agents, terrorists and mercenaries roamed the streets. The public had no idea of the secret war about to erupt all around them.
Airplane tires squealed against tarmac.
“Here we go.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Armed with crucial new information the SPEAR team hit the quiet streets of London. A pair of extra-large taxis whisked them from Heathrow toward the city center at 3:30 a.m., finally stopping behind a tactical mobile HQ. The team’s chief combatants were outfitted with weaponry, to the surprise of most of the assembled Brits, many not knowing of the deal agreed between the British Prime Minister — James Ronson — and the American Secretary of Defense. In these beleaguered times no sane country would decline an offer of such vital, multitalented help as the SPEAR team could provide. Not only that, their members consisted of ex-SAS and Swedish Special Forces, and Michael Crouch, their other benefactor, possessed influential contacts within the British government on a par with the country’s leader.
Kitted out, wired up, they made their way over to Marble Arch, eleven stalwarts stalking what was left of the night. The first they saw of Marble Arch was the large green sign pointing their way ahead to the ring road, A4 and A3 and with Notting Hill Gate to the right. Beyond that they saw the Odeon cinema and then yellow and green trees emerged from the slowly dissipating mists. Drake caught just a glimpse of the famous white pillars and the great arch itself before Dahl turned their seven-seat Ford S-MAX off the four-lane road onto a relatively narrow side street.
“Eyes peeled,” Dahl said.
“For what?” Drake joked. “Men wearing Pythian-monikered bomber jackets?”
“A few hours ago the exchanges between mercs known to be working for our new worst public enemy rose by 800 percent. Here,” he waved his arms, “in hotels situated around Marble Arch.”
“I know that. I also know they pinned it down to an area consisting of fourteen hotels.”
Hayden tapped the comms unit attached to her right ear. “Latest is they’ve narrowed it down to two,” she said. “Take a right up ahead.”
Drake felt a surge of enthusiasm. “Two? Now that’s more bloody well like it.”
Dahl slowed as he turned the wheel. Cars were parked on both sides of the street, the entrances to hotels set back from the road. Underground car parks could be accessed down steep slopes, but most were gated off for the night. Small bakeries and eateries stood around, lights out in all but the hardiest.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Kinimaka said, rubbing at his window. “A closed Starbucks.”
Dahl idled along the ill-lit street, taking his time as their second vehicle closed up to the rear. Smyth was driving, his grumpy face hanging over the wheel and scrunched as if with road rage, no doubt being ignored by his vehicle’s passengers — Karin, Komodo and Lauren. Drake adjusted the body armor he wore and glanced into the back seat.
“All ready?”
Affirmations came back, all except Mai. Drake suddenly longed for Alicia’s return — at least the feisty warrioress could get something out of Mai, even if it was only uncontrolled anger.
“I think we should stop,” Dahl said. “And scout out these hotels on foot. Get the lay of the land.”
Within minutes the group were treading the quiet, gloomy streets after pulling voluminous black single-layer jackets over their combat gear. The first hotel was an upmarket, classy affair, made all the more apparent by having a Ferrari and an Aston Martin parked outside. Drake could also make out the front end of an orange Lamborghini through the lower car park bars.
“Just be a minute, guys.”
Dahl clucked at him. “Leave it alone. They’re just cars.”
“Oh good God, you sound like Alicia. And they’re not just cars. They’re exquisitely designed masterworks of engineering.”
“Can we focus?” Hayden drawled. “For just a second?”
The hotel reared up by the side of the road, a sweeping double-door entrance the only obvious way in. A service road ran down the left-hand side. As they watched, a car park attendant came to the open lower entrance as if in query. Drake waved him away. The hotel, though clearly staffed and operating through the night, was calm.
“I feel a little conspicuous,” Kinimaka said.
Hayden gave him a knowing grin. “So what’s new? But in all seriousness, I’m happy to be spotted out here. It’ll spook the bastards into action.”