Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (20 page)

Zack Healey felt more alone than at any time since being the youngest member of a family consisting of two brothers, a sister, a father and a mother. He’d quit on the family at age seventeen, sixteen years after they’d quit on him. Their father had never been interested, their mother absorbed by her own friends and tea parties; his brothers only ever beat and humiliated him, and his sister found it better to keep a low profile. Only on Christmas Day did they come together, and even then it was a spartan, forced, loveless affair.

A high-school dropout, a video-game freak, Healey needed not only a team but also a father figure to succeed. The luck of his life had been to cross paths with Crouch in the second year of his stint in the Army.

Now, even trained and battle-hardened as he was, the sense of separation he felt on being left behind heightened his feeling of insecurity. Once the team departed all he could do was stare fixedly from left to right for ten whole minutes, the numbness overcoming him. Never had he been left alone before; even on missions through enemy territory the team had always stuck together.

Was Crouch testing him?

When a security guard gave him the eye, Healey progressed to slotting a few coins into a nearby machine. The sound of the elevator doors gliding open refocused his mind.

Coker’s vicious boss was here at the Venetian. Upstairs somewhere on one of the top two floors. Speculation would say the penthouse suite but then Healey had never been one to presume. To him life was black and white, not gray. For instance, he didn’t just like Caitlyn and want to dart around her for several weeks, he wanted to take her out to dinner, flirt and see if they might have a solid future together. He was only waiting for the operation to end before he broached the subject.

The slot machine sang out. Healey won four dollars. Alicia’s suggestions finally came back to him and he figured she might have given him the most legitimate way to scope out the upper floors. He drifted over to the check-in desk and managed to secure one of the more expensive rooms on a low-thirty floor using the team’s AmEx card, that was registered to Redway Enterprises. Taking only his shopping bag, Healey marched toward the elevators and punched a button. Rising fast, he fingered the smooth key card, trying to decide on a plan.

The room was vast and lavish, gleaming and clean. He threw his bag on the bed and plonked down in an armchair. After a moment, feeling more tranquil, he decided that this just wouldn’t do. His colleagues were in harm’s way, fighting Coker. Besides, he should start walking the halls to determine which door his target was lurking behind.

Outside, the halls were quiet and sumptuous, the carpets patterned and colorful. From door to door he walked, excuses on the tip of his tongue in case he were caught, but this game of chance didn’t sit well with him.

Despite his surroundings.

He mulled it over. Even if one of the South African’s goons did put in an appearance how the hell would he even know? Surely most of the type of people that rented rooms up here, wealthy men and women, had an array of bodyguards—that, once squeezed into a suit, all pretty much looked the same.

Case in point. A door opened ahead and a bald head jutted out, catching the corridor’s lights. On seeing Healey, the man frowned, but Healey smiled and sauntered past. A quick glance inside revealed none of the inner room, but confirmed that the man was a bodyguard and carried a gun.

Still didn’t tell him anything.

Twenty minutes after leaving the room, Healey was beginning to feel a little incompetent. Already on his second surveillance loop he was thinking the hotel security might be watching him. It wouldn’t do to get to the point where they came into his room and found the shopping bag.

He picked up the pace, thinking of Crouch, Russo and Caitlyn, chasing the treasure through the busy, benighted Vegas streets, and he envied them. The thrill was out there. His eyes glazed over as he felt the excitement rise, taking his focus away. A soldier for long enough to know better, but still young enough to be naïve, Healey smiled to himself as he imagined taking down Coker and regaining the Wheel of Gold.

Lucky bastards.

Outside his room, he paused. The sound of heavy footfalls signified at least three men coming along the corridor behind him. Could be nothing. A sudden thought hit him as he stared at the security cameras dotted at intervals along the ceiling.

What had Russo said?
If we had time we’d juice up one of the security team to help out . . .

“Oh shit.”

It hadn’t occurred to him until now that the opposite could also be true.

The door opened inward. A gun was thrust into his face.

“Don’t move, asshole.” The guttural South African intonation made him flinch. “Or I will blow your fucking head off.”

Crouch flung his body straight at Coker, risking a bullet to save the man from himself. Crouch impacted hard, knocking Coker to the ground, but the trigger was squeezed and the gun went off with a resounding explosion.

The bullet flew over Coker’s head, slamming into a tree three feet to Caitlyn’s left. The shock on her face was clear, the evasion much too late. Crouch wrestled with Coker across the sidewalk, the two men rolling down the high curb and into the road.

“Leave . . . leave me,” Coker choked out.

“Tell me.” Crouch fought for the gun hand. “Tell me how we can help.”

“If I die—” Coker grated. “My family will live.”

“No.” Crouch brought all his weight to bear on the gun and took a punch to his exposed ribs. “They won’t. A man like that will kill them anyway for his own pleasure. For revenge. Either that or he’ll enslave them.”

Coker’s eyes, glazed with pain, suddenly cleared and fixed hard onto Crouch’s. “What?”

“You know him, Greg. What do you think?”

Coker relaxed, letting the gun drop to the floor. Alicia kicked it away with her foot and drew the men’s attention to the sound of approaching sirens.

“Your call, Crouch,” she said. “Run or explain. To the cops. But I’ll say this—dead mercs, guns, knives, British operatives and lost treasure ain’t gonna explain itself overnight. So unless you have some mega-influential suit we don’t know about . . .”

Crouch pulled Coker to his feet. “I do as a matter of fact. One of the biggest suits in the world. But I only have one favor due and this situation doesn’t warrant calling it in just yet.”

“Wow.” Alicia blinked. “Must be some favor.”

“Oh, he’s some guy.”

Lex was groaning as Cruz dragged him to his feet. The sirens grew ever closer. Caitlyn and Cruz ran to the backpacks, both of them struggling to heave one onto their backs, while Russo heaved the suitcase up. Lex steadied himself against the palm tree, staring forlornly at the dented bike.

“We ready?” Crouch scanned the area.

“Where we headed?” Russo asked.

“Back toward the Strip,” Crouch said. “We’ll lose ourselves in the crowds.”

Alicia wiped blood from her face. “Is that wise? Doesn’t Vegas have more cameras than Canon?”

“It’s not the cameras that’ll track us, it’s the men behind them. And we’re better than them. Also, somebody clearly got to the authorities earlier today. So handing over all this treasure—that worries me most of all.”

Alicia accepted their boss’s judgment. Lex stared wistfully at the Kawasaki. With the backpacks secure and the team’s weapons retrieved, Crouch grabbed Coker and urged him into the foliage. “Everyone, move.”

“You have to let me go,” Coker groaned. “I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to them. If I’m caught—”

“We’ll send men to protect your family. My next call’s to the FBI.”

“But I could work for you from the inside.”

“Greg, you’re not thinking this through. By now, your South African crime lord—Solomon was his name I believe—knows you failed. The delivery team had to have had protocols and at least one of those would have covered transfer of the treasures to the white van. If you go back to him he will kill you.”

“And so will his men,” Alicia added.

Coker forced his eyes closed and put his head back. “Jesus, I just can’t stand the idea of them being watched. One time, I received a video tape of my daughter searching for her favorite pair of boots. One day later I found them sat outside my apartment, a thousand miles away, with a note reading: ‘do as we say or next time it will be her head’. They have up-to-date pictures, video, recordings. It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. How the hell do you guard against something like that?”

“Normal people can’t. Even normal soldiers can’t. Fortunately, we’re now in a position to take their surveillance apart. Maybe we’ll get something on this Solomon in the process.”

“One thing escapes me,” Caitlyn put in as they double-timed it back up Buccaneer. By the sound of it the cops were already approaching the battle site. To her right Lex hadn’t wasted time in grabbing the green bike and was now wheeling it along rather gently. “Why did they choose you? I mean. One man out of thousands. Why you?”

Coker made a face of resignation. “Solomon is nothing if he’s not a bottom feeder. The man thrives off people’s weaknesses. Mine—gambling. I ran up a bad debt when I was over working in SA, couldn’t get out from under it. Solomon bought the debt and suddenly I was working for him. You name it he’s into it. Anything that involves gambling with humans or animals. Dog racing and fighting. Underground drag racing. Mixed martial arts where they battle to the death. Word has it that he even staged his own mini-Olympics once where the top two teams received money and mansions and the bottom three were executed. He sells the recordings through an underground network. I think he fancies himself as a modern style Roman emperor.”

Alicia whistled. “Screwball.”

“And that’s not the half of it.”

Crouch’s phone rang. A brief glance at the screen showed him it was Healey. “Oh good,” he said, answering. “I was just about to call you. We’re—”

“Boss,” Healey said in a quiet voice.

Crouch stopped in mid-stride. The stress in Healey’s voice bled through the connection as clearly as if it throbbed through a vital vein.

“They’ve got me, sir. The damn bastards got me.”

Crouch gripped the handset hard. “Explain yourself. What the hell do you mean—”

Another voice came on the line, its tones throaty and deep, its inflection murderous. “What he
means
is that he’s now a guest of mine. And will remain so until my treasures are returned.”

Crouch held his breath. “He better not be harmed, Solomon.”

By now the rest of the team were crowding around, Russo and Caitlyn drip white and Alicia gritting her teeth.

“Everything’s intact, more or less. For now. Your next move will determine if he stays that way.”

Crouch held the handset away from his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut until they hurt. As if dozens of cops, dead mercenaries, and stolen treasure wasn’t enough. How could an operation that had started out so simple end up consisting of so many complications?

“All, right,” he said, seeing a way out of it. “We know you’re at the Venetian Hotel. How about the lobby in ten minutes?”

Solomon laughed. “Do you think I am so stupid?”

Caitlyn had recovered from her shock enough to unzip her backpack and take out the team’s master tracking device. She switched it on.

Crouch took his time. “So where would you like to make the exchange, Mr. Solomon?”

“South Africaaaaa.” Solomon drew out the last letter with a guttural slur. “Two days. You find us. I’m sure you have the means. Oh, and be sure to inform Mr. Coker that his wife and daughter will be dead within the hour.”

Crouch cursed as the line died. Coker gripped his arm. “Dammit, Michael! Call the FBI!”

Caitlyn held out the tracking device. “They’re already in the air.” Tears fell off the ragged edges of every syllable.

Crouch looked back toward the road. Flashing lights could be seen through the trees. “Bollocks,” he said. “It looks like I’m going to have to call in that special favor after all.”

“And Healey?” Russo demanded. “What happens to Zack?”

“What the hell do you think?” Alicia growled. “We go save the youngster’s ass and kill the assholes that dared to take him.”

“Now,” Crouch said, finishing up his special call. “Everything changes.”

The team waited expectantly. Alicia was mindful of the cops a few hundred feet beyond their position. Even now any gung-ho marshal could throw a spanner into their plans.

“What’s the plan?”

Crouch took a deep breath. “All right. One thing at a time. First—Lex. Pack him onto that Kawasaki and set him going. He’ll be of no further use to us for the rest of this mission.”

Alicia winced and opened her mouth to protest. After all, hadn’t Lex just saved them a whole lot of hurt back there? Then she remembered who she was talking to—Crouch would have a very good reason.

Russo and Cruz were already helping the tender, complaining biker onto the green machine. Truth be told, by Lex’s standard he barely offered any protest. Alicia saw he was more injured than he was letting on. Before she could say a word, the moment Lex’s hands touched the handlebars, his eyes lit up, his head went back and he was creeping away, heading toward the Strip.

Alicia grunted. “Put him on a bike and he loses all sense of where he is. All thought—gone.”

Crouch nodded. “I thought that might be the case.”

“He’s probably chasing after Kate.”

“Lex can’t help us with this next mission. We’ll be going dark and into serious, deadly resistance. So the same goes for you, Mr. Cruz. You will be staying here to liaise with the new team Argento is helping to put together. I want you to oversee the removal and cataloguing of the treasure. It will all start today.”

Cruz’s face shone with pride and relief. “I won’t let you down.”

“Now, Greg.” Crouch stared at the ground. “The FBI should be with your family by now. And New Orleans is a fair distance by car, so why the hell are you still here?”

Coker stared open-mouthed at Crouch as if he might want to kiss him. “Are you winding me up, Michael? Don’t do that.”

“To my mind a man protects his family at all costs, puts their welfare above everything else. That’s the only crime you’re guilty of, Greg. Protecting your family. Only next time, tell me sooner.”

Coker turned away, clearly finding it hard to speak. Caitlyn laid a hand on his arm. “Go to your family,” she said. “Shelter them. Mine was destroyed, murdered a few months ago. There’s no coming back from something like that.”

Coker nodded and began to run. Alicia evaluated Caitlyn with a piercing stare. She knew for a fact that Caitlyn’s mother had died of a heart attack recently and that her father was very much alive and well. What was the girl up to?

Then Crouch eyed Russo, Caitlyn and Alicia. “That leaves us on a plane to South Africa.”

Russo nodded, eager to get going. “What I don’t get is why this asshole has to drag us halfway around the world to make the exchange. We’re all here now, and so is the treasure.”

Caitlyn glanced at Crouch who nodded. “My take is that since he’s a South African kingpin he can’t operate here as he’s accustomed to. In the US he has a huge protection detail, a small army, an extravagant lifestyle. But we can still get to him. Doesn’t matter how many men he has or where we meet, we could arrange to take him down anywhere. If he’s back home, on his own turf, he can control what happens even as far as paying off the authorities. Those who matter.”

“Exactly right,” Crouch said. “Now we have to go. If the US government knew we were carrying this gold in their country we’d never see the light of day again.”

Alicia narrowed her eyes. “Your ‘special’ friend isn’t an official?”

Crouch snorted. “Are you kidding? Could you name any politician or bureaucrat who wouldn’t take advantage of our situation?”

“Dare I ask then?” Alicia ventured.

“Movie star,” Crouch said in an offhand manner. “Known as—The Fortress. Big health advocate, gym god and all-round nice guy. He has access to the fastest private jet in the world and a new movie for which he’s now setting off on a promotional world tour.”

“Shit,” Caitlyn breathed. “The Fortress? Do we get to meet him?”

Crouch laughed. “Yeah, and he might even cook for you if he’s feeling good. But stay focused. By the time we land in Joburg we need a foolproof plan.”

Caitlyn blushed a little as if realizing she’d lost sight of Healey’s peril. By now the team were back among the crowds on Las Vegas Boulevard, staring up at the $40 million fountains of Bellagio. Waters swayed and twisted and swirled in their dramatic, bewitching manner, sometimes shooting over four hundred feet into the air. As they watched the show, the team paused for a moment as if relishing the last stunning vision they might ever see.

“Remember the last time you were in South Africa?” Crouch suddenly said to Alicia.

“Yeah. The Ninth Division. It’s where I met Matt Drake.”

“Try not to blow the damn place up again.”