The Last Bazaar (18 page)

Hayden chased after Robert Price and his CIA entourage, hatred and payback on her mind.

“Price!” she cried, as she neared the group. “I see you. You’re about to get yours, asshole!”

The Secretary of Defense swiveled his head as he ran, stumbling a little, but betrayed no emotion upon seeing her face. That had surely come when Ramses’ men had led her toward certain death in the caiman pit. Now, where would he go? They had seen his face.

“Be careful now,” Kinimaka said from behind. “Guy’s a snake. He’ll have a plan as slippery as himself.”

They followed the same small path as Price and the four men who shadowed him, their number now complemented by two of Ramses’ own guards. Hayden expected one of them to drop and start firing at any moment, but they continued arrow-straight on their path. After a few more minutes Kenzie spoke up.

“I know where they’re going. The same village I used as a base. Maybe they have some hidden transport around there.”

Smyth nodded. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but that makes sense. Out of interest, do
you
have any transport?”

“Fuck you, dude. That’d be telling.”

Smyth raised his eyebrows in surprise but said nothing. Hayden reflected that a heads-up from Drake or Alicia would have been nice, but understood events had happened much too fast. They would have to be careful with this Kenzie. It was somewhat telling that she’d chosen to run with the group that didn’t know her.

Hayden saw the trees thin out up ahead, and a pair of localized buildings appear. Two trucks and a ruined bus gave more insight into Kenzie’s camp. She raised her gun as Price and his sentinels ran straight through the middle of the wide clearing.

“Stop, I have a shot. Stop right there.”

Now, one of the guards did drop and turn, rifle already aimed. He squeezed off a bullet that whickered by Kinimaka’s girth, and disappeared into the forest. Smyth fired back on the run, bullets spraying the ground around the prone man. Rolling, he discharged another round, but this went awry, tearing toward the clouds. Smyth picked him off with two well-placed shots. Hayden lined up Price in her sights, deciding not to warn him again.

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.”

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.”

Men peeled away from Ramses, forming up around Webb as the terrorist prince walked away, not in the direction of the docks but following a narrow trail into the rainforest. Drake didn’t have to check to see what would happen next.

“Ram ’em,” Dahl breathed.

The four-person SPEAR team backed by Beauregard smashed hard into the wall that had formed up around Tyler Webb. Dahl head-butted his opponent and ducked under a fountain of blood. Drake dropped his shoulder as he rammed into his, then lifted the man over his back. The stock of a rifle slammed down onto his neck, sending a ripple of pain toward his brain. The man crashed to the ground but before Drake could turn to re-engage, Beauregard had already ended his life.

“Beauregard!” Webb’s piercing shout resounded. “What are you doing?”

Drake staggered as one of Ramses’ legionnaires came at him, a knife flashing from an open palm. The blade jammed into his stab-vest then fell away, but put Drake off guard. The whole team were suddenly dealing with two to three opponents at once, and the scene got ugly very fast. Mai danced through two as speedily as ever but the second managed to snag her ankle on the way down, unbalancing even her and sending her sprawling across a pile of organic matter. When she rolled, leaves coated her entire front. Alicia defeated her first man and then nearly choked as Mai came up.

“Beautiful,” she muttered as she returned to the fight. “Best Bigfoot disguise in a long while.”

Drake fell again, his opponent more than capable of using legs and arms. A small pistol appeared in the man’s hand but Drake slapped it aside. The terrain hampered everyone, brim-full of unseen dangers. Dahl fell hard against a tree and then almost cringed as several unsavory creatures fell all around him.

“Pussy,” Alicia said with a side grin.

Beyond the battle, Webb had retained two legionnaires and was making good his escape. As they left the dock area, Webb seemed to stop and start attempting manual labor. He began to throw leaves and fronds into the forest and shouted at both men to help.

Drake fought and kept an eye on the man who soon uncovered a sturdy four-wheel drive vehicle and jumped behind the wheel. Drake finally threw his man aside and looked to the others. Mai had successfully beaten hers and was trying to scrape away excess vegetation. Dahl lay on top of two men, trying to smother both at the same time. Alicia and Beau were dealing with two more in tandem, a sight that didn’t help Drake’s mood. Two more legionnaires turned to run.

“Hey, they’re legging it! Whoa!”

He gave pursuit, leaping from rut to rut and then finding a strip of flat land to help close the gap. Ahead, the two legionnaires stopped and then both surprisingly dropped their weapons to begin scraping branches away to reveal a second truck. Webb’s vehicle roared into life, gears grinding as he tried to ram the stick-shift. Drake attacked without mercy, thrusting with his knife again and again into the first man’s chest. The other whipped a small handgun from his belt and fired. Drake shifted the dead legionnaire into the line of fire, holding tight as bullets thudded into his hefty frame. At the same time he ran forward, closing the gap.

More bullets and then the shooter stepped around. Drake flung his shield as hard as his tiring muscles allowed, then followed the dead body’s bulk as it collided with the other man. The gun fell away. Both legionnaires fell. Drake withdrew his own pistol and ended the fight. Fifteen meters ahead now Webb was still struggling with the stick-shift. One of his men tried to help but Webb pushed him away—the Pythian’s egotistical nature unable to accept aid after he’d taken charge—and stamped on the gas pedal as if that might solve the problem.

Drake had a fast choice to make. Try to cover the distance, or start up the second truck. A quick check showed Alicia, Beau and Dahl heading his way, Mai lagging a bit behind. From the lead truck came a burst of gunfire. Bullets peppered Drake’s surrounds, most of them whizzing high above his head. He didn’t flinch but turned to give the shooter an icy stare.

In that moment Webb finally found success. The truck lurched forward, revving its engine loudly enough to scare local wildlife out of the trees. Both legionnaires fell into the rear of the vehicle, flung out of their seats. Webb bounced the truck onto the track in an enormous cloud of mulch.

Drake jumped into the second truck, locating the keys already hanging from the ignition for ultimate readiness. The engine roared to life just as Beau streaked past, a black panther at full pelt. Alicia panted in his wake and then climbed in behind Drake.

“Fuck that. I ain’t wearing my streamlined bodysuit today.”

“More’s the pity.” Drake smoothly engaged first gear.

“Hey.” Alicia slapped his scalp resoundingly. “None of that.”

Drake eased the truck onto the track. Dahl and Mai jumped in and then he floored the gas pedal in pursuit of Webb, the forest at last manageable. To his credit, Beauregard had already caught the lead vehicle—just as its legionnaires regained their seats. Several wild shots were fired. Webb eyed the Frenchman in the rearview mirror.

“Kill him! Blow that man’s head off!”

Beau zigzagged. Bullets tracked his movements. It was only a matter of moments before one would tag him. Drake urged the engine as violently as he could, speeding up behind Beau and Webb. Dahl, who had taken the passenger seat, rose and rested his rifle atop the frame of the windshield. One shot obliterated the glass in the front of the lead car, a second rattled off the framework. Beau made a leap for the rear of the vehicle, catching hold of the metal, but his feet jounced painfully from furrow to furrow. Drake rode up right behind the lead vehicle, almost touching its back end as Beau jarred and weaved to the left. Alicia craned her neck to stare at the tightly clad figure.

“Wow, it’s like a porn show.”

Drake ducked as one of the legionnaires fired. A bullet shattered their own windshield as Dahl let loose a volley, taking a man out. Webb urged his truck to go faster, but shouting wouldn’t cut it this time—guiding a Jeep at speed through the Amazon required skill. Alicia waved frantically at Beau.

“Climb in or get the hell off!” she cried. “We’ve got this.”

The Frenchman exhibited his unrivaled skill, slamming both feet on the floor as he hung off the truck and using the momentum to somersault his body right into the empty back bed. Drake then carefully pushed against the offside tail lights, forcing Webb to slew to the left. Putting his foot down, he impelled more impetus into the swerve and then Webb was heading for the trees.

Dahl pounded the framework. “C’mon Yorkie. Drive it like you fuckin’ stole it!”

Drake buried the gas pedal. Webb’s truck spun hard, broadsiding as it smashed into the jungle. Contact with a tree whipped it back around and the surviving legionnaire found out the hard way just how dangerous it could be to fly. His journey was ended abruptly by another tree and a resoundingly wet slap.

Drake jumped on the brakes, but at that moment their own truck hit a deep trough, bounding downward, then upward and to the side in the space of half a second. Everyone jolted to and fro, heads coming into contact with unyielding metal, and then the vehicle ground to a stomach-churning halt, tipping over onto two wheels.

Drake clung to the wheel as it crashed over onto one side. Dahl hugged his limbs, making sure they were inside the car. The windshield’s frame pushed hard down, ooze seeping over the top. Mai cursed in Japanese, once again covered in rotting leaves.

Alicia, now at the top of the overturned truck, fished around in her back pocket. “Wait, just wait,” she shouted at Mai. “I have to get a picture of this.”

Drake waited for Dahl to crawl through the broken windshield before unbuckling his seat belt and falling down into the passenger seat. It took only moments for all four members of the SPEAR team to crawl free and then meet at the back of Webb’s crashed Jeep. Drake immediately saw Beauregard, nursing a gashed forehead, and then hurried around the front.

“Bollocks,” he said.

The driver’s seat was empty, the churned-up ground offering no clues, and the surrounding forest was empty. Quiet.

“Flung out?” Dahl wondered.

“Maybe,” Drake said. “But this place is too big to start searching now. And we have Ramses to take care of.”

“Best be quick,” Alicia cocked her head at the sound of engines. “I think this party’s about terminated.”

Then Beauregard rose and jumped down from the bed of the truck. “I will hunt Webb,” he said. “You return to the bazaar and stop the others.”

Alicia frowned. “On your own?”

“It will be faster. And he is no warrior.”

“That’s an obvious point, pal,” Dahl said. “But we hardly know you. In fact, everything we have ever gained from you turned purple and then black and blue very quickly. I mean, we don’t know if you’re going to help that man escape.”

Beauregard’s face turned ugly. “Then
you
deal with that. This man—this Tyler Webb—he is the worst human being I have ever encountered. He is vile. He is evil. No morals, no conscience, just a container for devilry. I will make sure they never find his body.”

Drake turned away. “We don’t have time for this. Beau, do as you like. The rest of you, follow me. Ramses first, and then Price and New York.”

The team sped out.