Drake watched the man head for the fridge, expecting him to pull out a beer, but was surprised to see a bottle of juice. He leaned toward Alicia. “Are we in the right place?”
“Headquarters of a vicious cult, hell-bent on protecting some ancient dude’s secrets without caring who gets killed in the crossfire?” The blonde studied the kitchen. “Who knows?”
“Are you… surprised to see us?” Hayden asked carefully.
The Arab took a swig before answering. “It’s all good,” he said. “Grape juice is right there. Fruit on the patio outside. They’re preparing boats for later.”
He headed for the door. At that moment two more men wandered through, stared at the newcomers, and offered greetings. Drake saw no signs of drug or alcohol abuse, heard no party noises, and tried to accept their graceful, languid attitude.
“How many are there of you?” Hayden asked, forcing a laugh.
“A couple of dozen. Every day is different,” the same man said. “C’mon. You’ll enjoy.”
Drake trod very carefully, wary beyond expression as he followed three languorous Arabs into the strangest, dreamiest nest of vipers he’d ever seen.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Beyond the kitchen a pearlescent-walled hallway gave onto four more rooms. Their euphoric guide led them into another room where a huge picture window looked out onto a deck, a pool and a private beach that led to the glistening sea. The room was highly populated, both Arabs and Europeans lounging on plush sofas and drinking water or juice whilst chatting to their neighbors. Drake managed to keep his mouth from falling open, but only just. He turned purposely toward Hayden.
“This has to be the wrong place.”
“This address was verified by three different mercs in three separate rooms and at different times. Same address.” She watched everything. “This is the place.”
“Or what they wanted the mercs to believe.” Beau leaned in.
Alicia picked from a golden platter heaped with fruit. “Can’t say it’s been a wasted effort though. These strawberries are amazing.”
Drake studied faces for the one that they might know. The merc closest to the cult’s leadership had provided them with a sketch of a distinctive looking man with a well-trimmed beard and piecing blue eyes. Their last piece of information was his name: Amari.
Drake tapped a young woman on the arm and spoke the name. Her face lit up and she pointed at the picture window. “By the pool. Say hi for me.”
The team made ready, still distracted by the spaced-out ambiance. It was rare to see villains living it up so carefree and unprotected; even rarer to see those around them so content and trusting. Drake felt confident with Mai and Alicia at his back, but couldn’t help turning to check they were okay. This environment wasn’t right, and made him disbelieve most of what he was seeing.
They approached the picture window. A double set of open patio doors gave onto an elevated, concrete deck. Tiered pools lay to the right and an eating area to the left, and straight ahead steps led straight onto the beach. Tanned bodies swam and lounged and walked this way and that, taking in the beautiful day. Drake made his way poolside.
“Make ready,” Hayden breathed.
Scrutinizing the faces, he saw a man surface, water spilling down his face. After the man wiped it away, blinked and then locked eyes, Drake knew they were in the right place.
“Amari? That you?”
“Join us.” The Arab slipped into a comfortable backstroke. “We have spare bathing suits, even for the women.”
Alicia frowned. “What does he mean by that?”
Drake skirted the pool, watchful as Amari glided toward the pool steps. No threatening moves were made, but he was also mindful that half a dozen other Arabs were stroking for different exit points. And the laughter had stopped.
Amari climbed out, curtains of water sluicing down his tanned body. “Would you like to join the party?” he asked as politely as a man could.
“Not my style,” Drake said. “I’m a bangers and burgers on the barbie kinda guy to be fair.”
A blank expression said it all.
“Answer’s no,” Alicia translated. “But we do need to talk.”
For a few more seconds Amari studied them, considering, perhaps dissecting their intentions. Drake was aware of the six other men climbing out of the pool, all empty handed but none less threatening.
Nobody moved, nor spoke. Drake found himself in the middle of yet one more perplexing situation. No threats had been made, no peril was obvious. This could still be a mistake. What was the answer?
Alicia found it in just two words.
“Saint Germain.”
It electrified the entire area so much Drake thought a lightning bolt might have struck. Amari went rigid, blue eyes blazing and the six onlookers gasped as if in chorus.
“You are not my guests!” Amari cried, looking inexperienced, raw and strangely shocked to the core.
“What the hell are you people?” Hayden drawled. “You don’t come across like… terrorists.”
Amari’s mouth fell open. “We protect. We preserve. We defend.”
“And, mate, I’d love to hear the one about the rich Arab who fell in love with the long-dead Transylvanian count.” Drake grinned.
Amari surprised him with a bit of venom. “The Ascended Master is not dead. And one day, he will reward us.”
The Arab spun and ran, bare feet slapping the mosaic tiles. Drake went one way around the pool as Beau went the other. They reached the point where the top pool stepped down to the next amid a little waterfall. Amari bent down to rustle among shrubbery.
Warning bells grew to claxon quality in Drake’s mind. This may be the oddest leader of the oddest terror cult he’d ever come across, but one bad guy was just the same as another. As Amari turned with the handgun in his hand, Drake was already leaping aside and shouting out a warning.
Beau flipped out of sight, clearing the top of the pool and landing amid sun-loungers. Hayden, Alicia and Mai fell away, scrambling for cover. Drake found the bushes as Amari’s trembling arm swayed from left to right.
“Stay away,” he cried. “We are not fighters, but we can fight. We will fight. To protect the Master.”
Drake now guessed these people handed down attack orders through a phone connection, insulated and oblivious to the terror they caused; uncaring, happy in their bright fantasy world. Fanatical in one way, utterly green in the other.
“Put the gun down,” he called. “We can talk about all this.”
“No, no! You will hurt the Master. You are questing the world for his treasures just like that other American! You have no idea, not even the faintest inkling, of the supreme power you are up against.” The next phrase came out as four separate words. “He. Is. A. God.”
A living man become a god? Drake thought. Where did these freaks come from?
Without further idiosyncrasies, Amari pounced down the steps. His six acolytes flowed with him, saying nothing, but seemingly attracted to the magnet that was their leader. Alicia’s head popped up from behind a low wall, and then Mai’s.
All seemed surprised there had been no gunshots.
“We’re dealing with a different kind of animal,” Drake said. “But no less dangerous.”
The team sprang in pursuit. Around the top pool and down to the lower one, then circumventing its kidney shape. A straight dash toward the steps that led to the beach and a glance in the direction that Amari was running.
Brushed sand led all the way to the sea, a sparkle and a shimmer dancing atop the playful waves that ran between the mind-warping fronds. A small dock had been built into the water, where half a dozen small speedboats were moored. Amari raced toward the furthest.