“It begs the question,” Dahl grunted. “Who on earth are the mercs working for?”
“Someone with the capability to pull the guards away,” Hayden said.
Drake watched all five bikes, their helmeted riders and passengers using the machines to a great degree of their potential, approach the base of the ramp. Quickly, they slowed. Civilians dashed to and fro, desperate to get away from the area. Their screams were almost enough to drown out the roar of the Kawasaki Ninja that Drake had his eye on, but not quite.
“Let’s make ’em pay for this.”
He stepped out of the shade, around a column, and one of the bikers saw him. Shouts went up and helmet visors were raised. One man gunned the engine of a Honda Fireblade, the other opened the throttle of the Ninja. Both bikes spurted toward him.
The SPEAR team spread out around the far side of the bottom level of Hatshepsut’s temple, stood in the heat and beneath the cloudless blue sky, weapons ready, studying the terrain and the scene. Civilians were beyond the oncoming bikes and nobody would risk a stray bullet at this stage.
The fifth bike in the procession — Drake recognized it as an Aprilia RSV — also veered off the path and darted across the dried-out desert, closing the gap at rapid pace. Two bikes remained near the ramp, their occupants staring over at Drake and the team through black visors, surrounded now by angry, mystified people. The bikers ignored everything; they just stared.
Drake and the others had no choice; as the bikes powered closer, engines roaring, they raised weapons. Still no sign of the cops. What the hell is going on?
He sighted the Ninja’s rider, the very center of his pitch-black helmet. What were they up to? Something smelled decidedly off about the entire attack.
“I have a feeling we’ve been outthought,” Dahl said.
Then the Ninja’s rider held up a hand, slowing before Drake and Dahl. He stopped and then waited a moment, dust swirling around him. The other bikes pulled up too, all six riders holding gloved hands in the air.
The first rider climbed off his bike. Alicia held up her own right hand. “What the fuck is going on, CHiPs?”
The man took a moment to remove his helmet. A hard, Eastern European face presented itself, pockmarked and forever bereft of smiles. This man had grown up hard and had only known hardship.
“Who is your leader?” The accent was thick, the English perplexing at best.
“I am.” Hayden stepped forward.
At the same time, Drake said: “Me.”
And Crouch coughed. “Well, I guess you could say—”
“Stop!” the biker snarled. His colleagues were in the process of dismounting and gathering threateningly at his back.
“We’re an unconventional crew.” Mai smiled.
“It does not matter!” the man shouted.
“Then why did you ask?” Alicia said innocently. “C’mon, Barry Sheene, it’s too hot out here for foreplay. Give it to me right between the eyes.”
“You come with us.” The man took a breath and wiped his streaming brow. “You all come with us now.”
Drake stared. “I don’t think so, pal.”
“Then you will cause the death of all these people.” The merc couldn’t keep a vicious smile from lighting his eyes. “I do not care either way.”
Drake and Dahl indicated their gun hands. “You’re the one standing in the sights.”
“Maybe.” The merc pulled out a phone and turned the screen toward the SPEAR team. “Watch.”
Drake squinted as the rest crowded around. Slowly, the potential scenario became clear and Drake felt an ice-cold torrent of horror drop straight through his body.
“No,” he breathed. “You… you can’t do that.”
The merc smiled nastily.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Drake couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen.
It showed the final two bikes, the ones that had remained near the ramp. The riders remained in place but their passengers had climbed down. Now, a man was taking a live video of those passengers and the bombs that were strapped to their waists underneath their thick jackets.
“Choice is yours,” the merc said. “But make it quick.”
Drake restrained a desire to lash out. Alicia couldn’t. She moved fast, but Dahl was ready. His right arm came out as she moved, encircling the top of her chest and holding her back.
“Don’t.”
Alicia fought, but Dahl held on. Smyth was also walking forward, hatred and hellfire plastered across his face. Mai stepped in front of him, pushed him backward, and caught a swipe of his arm. She twisted it back, stopping the soldier in his tracks. Kinimaka was red-faced, puffing, but unable to say a single word.
Crouch caught the merc’s attention. “Just stay calm. There’s no need for violence. What exactly do you want from us?”
“You come now. All of you. Right now. No more talking. Or the first bomber goes in.”
Drake let his Glock fall, dangling below his hand. Dahl did the same. The team stood down. Perhaps it was all a bluff, but the probability was that it wasn’t. Better Intel would have been great, but for now they were flying blind.
“You looked like tourists once. Do it again. Walk with us.”
Under the intense heat the SPEAR team walked alongside the bikes. Soon they joined the others, passenger-less now since they had joined the crowd. The initial appearance of the bikers seemed to have been taken as a prank. Tourists were laughing again and taking pictures, though Drake saw no evidence of locals.
“What’s this about? Who are you?”
“No questions. No answers. You will find out what they want when we get there.”
Drake glanced at Dahl. What they want?
“They’re mercs,” Dahl said. “Basically slaves.”
Drake nodded. He hated that they’d been forced into capitulation by a horrific but ingenious plan of attack. Nobody hurt, not even close. But the bombers were still back there, and the authorities, judging by distant sirens, seemed to have their hands full with something else.
Presently they reached the parking area and were joined by all the bikes, minus the two bombers. Drake cast his eyes over the powerful machines, ticking in the heat. A gray van was indicated and its rear doors thrown open.
“Get in,” the leader said.
“You’re really gonna regret this,” Kenzie said.
“Crap,” Alicia said between gritted teeth. “I normally don’t get into the back of a van like this. Not without first being treated to a glass of Lambrusco.”
The team climbed up and sat around the dirty, gritty floor. A moment before the rear doors were slammed shut the lead merc made another appearance.
“So you know, bombers will remain in place until we reach destination. Understand?”
Drake nodded. The doors closed.
“Shit,” Alicia said. “It’s like a bloody oven in here.”
“Don’t worry,” Drake patted her leg, “we can treat this as a reconnaissance mission. Let’s get some valuable info.”
“Don’t touch me.” Alicia swatted his hand away. “You’re all sweaty.”
“I thought you liked that.”
“Not this kind of sweat.”
“Oh, there are different kinds?”
“Damn right there are.”
Drake stared around. The others all sat in repose, resting, conserving their energy and wondering where they’d end up, and who might confront them. It wouldn’t be Luther, Drake was sure. But another player. A big player.
“Well,” Kinimaka said to make conversation. “I guess this is the first team sauna.”
Drake found it interesting that they hadn’t been stripped of weapons or even searched. The threat of a man wearing a bomb-suit was enough. They were free to talk, plan, execute.