Galleon's Gold

by David Leadbeater

  “I understand. Where is this freak?”

  Crouch rattled off an address, ending with: “Watch him. Computers and exercise pacify him, but if he’s not behind a keyboard or at a gym he’s liable to potentially lethal mood swings.”

  Alicia toweled herself dry, dressed and checked her weapon cache. She had a Glock and four mags and a small military knife. Not much to close a mission with but at least this Phantom appeared to work alone.

  Twenty minutes later she reached his gym. It was early afternoon and, she thought, a good time for a homicidal blackmailer to be working out. She studied the photo Crouch texted her and then entered the gym, looking around. A member of staff asked her if she’d like a tour and she grinned, giving him the once over. He enjoyed it and led her deeper into the establishment, giving her the opportunity to see the entire place.

  Phantom wasn’t here.

  Bollocks. What now?

  “Do you wanna... go upstairs?” the crew member, whose name, according to his white badge was Brian, asked.

  “What’s upstairs?”

  “Umm... storage.”

  Alicia couldn’t help but smile. “You work fucking fast, Brian. My kind of man, to be honest. But I have—” And then another thought struck her.

  Phantom was a man of unknown disorders, happy only in the gym or behind a computer. Would he live far from here?

  “Upstairs belongs to the gym? Have you been up there?”

  “Yes, and often.” Brian grinned, looking proud.

  “You notice any homicidal maniacs tapping their keyboards whilst you were showing the ladies a good time?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “How about a basement? Does this place rent out a basement? Somewhere you aren’t allowed to go?”

  Brian’s face changed. “Yeah,” he said, suddenly unsure. “Basement access was closed off two years ago. Manager said they’d rented it out to some guy.”

  Alicia knew it wasn’t concrete, but it wasn’t bad either. She quizzed Brian for a few more minutes, gaining information on the neighbors too, just in case the Phantom didn’t live below. She prepared to leave with three possibilities.

  “How about that storage room?” Brian was persistent in an unthreatening way.

  “Mate, I don’t care how many cleans you’ve jerked or machines you’ve worked, if you’ve never stared certain death in the eye and beaten that motherfucker senseless, you’ll never be man enough for me.”

  She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him with an open mouth and a look of longing.

  Outside the gym, she found a staircase that descended to the basement level. A locked gate barred it from the sidewalk. Alicia vaulted that and leapt down the stairs, arriving at a steel door. Assuming it would be locked, she smashed out the window beside it and lifted herself inside. She was aware of the passage of time, of what might be happening to Duggan with every second that eked by.

  She landed boots-first on a worktop and leapt to the ground. She ran for a door and saw a white blur beyond it. The Phantom? She really hoped so. She ran into the room, desperate to catch her quarry.

  A man stood in the corner of the room, beside a tall, narrow bookcase. It was an eerie spectacle. The man was dressed in a white bodysuit like a CSI might wear. The bookcase and wall behind him was contrasting dark oak. The man wore a white hood. His face was pale, lined with crevices, his eyes a pale blue. His fists were clenched into knuckles.

  “Are you the Phantom?” she said quickly. “I haven’t come here to hurt you. Or to stop you. Just give me some information and you can go back to your...” she glanced at the array of computers and laptops that covered every flat surface of the room. “Gaming?”

  “You shouldn’t talk to me.” The figure’s voice was quiet, whispery and spooky, like a curtain’s rustling late at night when there’s no breeze around to move it.

  “You don’t like to talk,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “It makes me want to... hurt people. To wring their necks and rip out their eyes.”

  “Fuck, you’re crazier than a sack of rabid bats, mate.”

  The Phantom growled at her, teeth baring. Alicia imagined she should be scared but she’d gotten over that emotion the first time she saw her father strike her mother. Now, she stood up for herself and put down anyone that tried to hurt her or her soldierly family.

  “We talk,” she said simply. “Ten minutes max. And then I’m gone.”

  The Phantom looked to be making a huge effort. Every vein in his face, hands and wrists bulged. Alicia readied herself to take him down. A whole minute passed until Alicia thought the guy might explode. She’d never seen anyone look so enraged and pumped up at the same time. Also, weirdly, he did not move the entire time.

  Finally, he opened his mouth. “What do you want with me?”

  Alicia explained it to him, presenting it as an opportunity to get rid of Elyse, a potential rival. “So what do you think?”

  “I have zero rivals.”

  “Maybe, but when she’s gone you’ll never again have to fight for the title of ‘best ever leverager.’”

  “I am the master. I own a famous movie star in Malibu. A businessman in Singapore. A banker in Italy. And three police chiefs in America. My information could destroy Hollywood, Asia and two European governments. It is also stored on a separate server. If I don’t remotely enter a password every two hours, it will dump to news agencies around the world.”

  Alicia stared. “Damn, you’re crazier than I thought. But I still think you want to get rid of Elyse.”

  There were several moments where it was touch and go. Alicia never relaxed for a second and neither did the Phantom. In that time, she noticed his white leather slippers and woolly socks, his ragged, bloody fingernails. If this man attacked her, she would take him out fast and mercilessly.

  “I know of Elyse,” he said finally. “She’s out on the lake.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Yes, that was what you asked for.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “I have eyes and ears because of what I do. When I saw that Elyse moved into my town, I put eyes and ears upon her. They are imperfect. She is good. She often avoids them, even though they show no animosity toward her. They only watch. But, today, she took a speedboat out onto the lake.”

  Alicia felt a burst of adrenalin flood through her. “Which part?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Rob Russo faced a task the size of a mountain, the very emotion most of his enemies experienced when they came up against him. In Europe, somewhere, there was this guy called John Marco, the leader of a four-strong gang of clever criminals, an adrenaline junkie trained in the art of hiding out, whom Russo had to track down in the next few hours.

  Hmmm...

  Russo had developed young, always the big guy in the schoolyard. Conversely, this also made him a big target, the smaller, tougher boys always seeking him out. Russo grew up hard with little money and alcoholic parents. Most nights, he was left to fend for himself. The Army provided discipline and direction though he remained largely aloof, and didn’t participate overly much in group activities. About five years ago he came to the attention of Michael Crouch.

  Now, Russo didn’t make any immediate moves. He made use of Crouch’s own contacts, recognizing how hard it would be to track down Marco, an ex-SAS special infiltrator.

  But it was the SAS connection that came through.

  One of Crouch’s trusted contacts knew and had worked with John Marco back when Marco was a straight-talking, highly dependable soldier. Back then, he had been developing an appetite for activities that promised high adrenalin rushes and had raved endlessly about a specialized company’s wide offering of bespoke, breath-taking adventures. That company was based in the Italian Alps and, Marco said, was his ‘go-to’ spot to ‘get his head straight.’ It made perfect sense that Marco would head there—not too far from Elyse and not too close. Easy to keep in contact with each oth
er. Plus, there was no way Akhon and his band of goons would have access to SAS past-Intel, so they’d never find him without a terrible dose of bad luck on Marco’s part.

  “You want me to jet off to the Italian alps?” Russo double-checked the vibe he was getting from Crouch, because he was more used to and happy with the mundane jobs.

  “Right now.”

  “With nothing but the clothes on my back? I don’t have Alicia’s ‘go-anywhere’ identification.”

  “Rob, there’s a high probability Marco is there. Alicia still hasn’t managed to track Elyse down. Get on the plane and improvise.”

  Russo used his phone to locate and book the first flight out of Gatwick. Ninety minutes later he was landing at Milan airport, flying through customs as fast as he could before seeking out a hire car. Thirty minutes later he was on the road, seated behind the wheel of a comfortable but bland SUV. Russo didn’t care about bland. To the outer world, Russo was bland and that was how he liked it. He didn’t exactly class himself as an introvert, but he was on the borderline.

  As fast as he dared on the wet, slippery roads, he headed for the stunning, world-famous town of St. Moritz. Associated with the jet set and rich money, St. Moritz was nonetheless a beautiful and friendly resort with a picturesque chain of lakes, Olympic-rated ski slopes, sledge runs and ice-skating rinks. Russo hunkered down at the wheel, not just because he wanted to focus but also to remain in isolation inside the car as the roads slowed and pedestrians crowded the sidewalks.

  Once through St. Moritz, the going got easier.

  Several stunning mountain passes later, Russo was approaching a far smaller resort. Liviad was a small hotel, family run, that sat opposite a horseshoe lake and two dangerous-looking ski slopes. It was close to one of the world’s highest double-decker cable cars and also boasted of a short runway on top of a mountain. Russo parked up and sauntered right through the front door, trying his best to look non-threatening.

  “Hey,” he called to the lady behind the desk. “You ever heard of the Gefahr?”

  Her eyes locked on to him. She was tall and slim, with long black hair that hung over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. She wore a tight wool jumper and a white baseball cap set at a jaunty angle. She watched Russo as if expecting more.

  “Jasper Scholtes sent me,” Russo said.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed but her face softened. “Wait,” she said. “Let me check.”

  Russo watched her leave and readied himself. Mentioning Marco’s old regiment captain’s name was a dangerous risk, and ordinarily Russo would have preferred to take several days getting to know a new group.

  But the clock was ticking, and Duggan’s life was getting shorter with each passing second.

  Russo had been told that Scholtes had introduced Marco to this place over a decade ago. That was his gamble. It should stand that Scholtes would pass the same information on to others. Russo had to be careful Marco didn’t see himself as the target.

  The woman returned, walking gracefully until she stopped just a few feet from Russo. All the time her eyes never left his, yet he remained acutely aware of his surroundings and every sound.

  “Around the back.” She jerked her head. “Parking lot.”

  Russo wasn’t at all sure what that meant but thought it better not to question her. With a nod he followed her directions down a narrow corridor. He glanced back once and caught her watching him with interest and turned away, embarrassed. He descended a dilapidated stone stairwell outside into the bright afternoon light.

  Four men stood in the parking lot. When Russo appeared, all heads turned toward him.

  He saw Marco straight away. His heart leapt but he remained outwardly calm. He had no weapons, no comms, no backup. Marco wore a black padded suit and carried a helmet, whilst the other men all wore an assortment of colors.

  “You asked for Gefahr?” Marco called out.

  Russo reached the foot of the stairwell and stepped out into the parking lot. The sun was in his eyes, possibly a ploy by the men. Around him were high, gray brick walls and ahead, the slopes of the nearest mountain rose hundreds of feet high.

  “I hear it’s a special club.”

  “Jasper Scholtes tell you that?” Marco stepped closer.

  “He did.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and describe him to me.”

  Russo had expected this. Ex-soldiers never trusted strangers, no matter what their credentials were. And ex-SAS never revealed who they once were without extensive checks and proof of loyalty.

  Russo rattled off a fast description of the man he’d never met. Marco seemed satisfied. “That Jasper—” he laughed “—always watching the old black and white Hammer horror movies.”

  “Maybe we have the wrong Jasper,” Russo said evenly. “Mine hated horror movies. Said if you’d seen war first-hand, you’d never wish to be scared again. Mine enjoys rom coms.”

  Marco cocked his head slightly, studying Russo. “What’s your name?”

  “Rob Russo.” That would be enough. Marco would check online later but Russo knew his credentials were accurate and true.

  “You want Gefahr?” one of the other men asked with a laugh.

  Russo didn’t. Not one bit. “Love it,” he said.

  “Can’t get enough?” another asked.

  Russo nodded his agreement. Adrenalin junkies thought of living on the edge as a lifestyle. If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room, as the saying went.

  But Marco wasn’t done, and Russo could understand that. Marco wasn’t here for fun. He was on the run from a vicious criminal organization and had stolen a half-billion load of treasure. Russo got that the man was edgy.

  “Are you a friend of Scholtes?”

  Russo expected that Marco was hoping he would betray the old trust—the one that said you never mentioned the SAS among strangers.

  “Not exactly. More of an occasional acquaintance.”

  The other men were showing signs of restlessness.

  “What’s with the interrogation, Marc?” one asked, moving from one foot to the other.

  “Yeah, plane leaves in thirty,” another piped up. “Don’t wanna miss it.”

  “We’re the only passengers,” Marco said. “It won’t leave without us.”

  Russo now recognized that they were wearing jumpsuits and saw four packs arrayed around the front wheel of a bright yellow jeep to the right.

  “You’re going sky diving now?”

  “Yeah, wanna join?” a man with straggly blond hair asked.

  Russo assumed only Marco was ex-SAS. These other men had joined Gefahr, which was a no-holds-barred, thrill-seeking clique that required recommendation for admission. Marco wasn’t in charge here.

  “Might be a bit early for me. I just got here.” Russo eyed the clear blue skies.

  “Come if you want, man.” Two men turned away and walked toward the jeep.

  “Haven’t got a chute,” Russo pointed out.

  The blond man helpfully kicked a spare pack over in Russo’s direction. The sight of his parachute bouncing along the ground and landing at his feet made him wince.

  Marco stepped closer so that they were face to face as the other men climbed into the car.

  “If you’re genuine you’ll understand that I don’t trust you. That I’m watching you. You come too close or look at me the wrong way I’ll put out your lights without warning.”

  Russo was a soldier at the end of the day and had faced all manner of deadly enemies and terrible situations. He deserved respect.

  “Fuck you,” he grated into Marco’s face. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

  Marco nodded and backed away, his eyes showing that he wasn’t ready to believe Russo just yet.

  Russo picked up the parachute and headed for the jeep. It was going to be one interesting dive.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Alicia rented a fast boat and headed out onto Lake Lucerne. Yes, she could send
the police out there. Yes, she could swamp the place with agents. But this had to be done low key and she didn’t trust anyone she didn’t know to help. If Elyse escaped now, Duggan had a 50 percent chance of dying.

  Russo hadn’t found Marco yet.

  So Alicia used a high-level police drone to pinpoint Elyse and then dressed down, wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts at least a size too small. She slipped into sandals and threw a bright red ‘lifeguard’ hat on her head after she’d tied her blond hair up. She concealed her gun in the boat and borrowed a pair of sunglasses from a helpful, young policeman.

  “Cheers mate,” she said, walking away.

  There was no answer, presumably because he was dumbstruck. Alicia jumped into her boat, started the engine, and sped off. The boat lifted at the front, its bow coming out of the water to point at the distant mountains. A froth of spray flew to either side. Alicia felt the wind on her face and drank in the peaceful, sparkling blue waters of the spectacular lake that rolled all around her.

  The peace wouldn’t last. It was all about to change.

  She aimed for the center of the part of the lake that stretched outside her hotel window. That was where Elyse had been spotted. Alicia knew the color and make of her speedboat and what she was wearing. Coincidentally, it was an outfit very similar to Alicia’s. Of course, she would probably have a gun too.

  The job required no finesse, which was good because Alicia didn’t have any. She arrowed her boat directly at Elyse’s, slowing only when she saw the distant figure sit up and take note. Alicia let the boat drift off target then, standing and shading her eyes as if gazing at the distant vistas. She’d hoped her outfit would give Elyse that false sense of security.

  Still, she was on course to pass within twenty feet of Elyse’s boat.

  Elyse soon sat down and put her feet back up. Alicia saw flippers sticking out. Elyse had been diving, rather ironically. Probably keeping her hand in for future missions. Alicia nudged her boat a little more off course to keep up the pretence. The lake was huge, wide and energizing. The waters rippled, their tiny waves caught by the midday sun. A sense of ancient, deepest calm lay over the waters—the same kind of perception she’d experienced when staring out over the Grand Canyon or Hawaii’s Waimea Canyon. Some of the best feelings of her life had arisen in unexpected situations, whilst racing toward some kind of danger. This was one of them. She basked in it for as long as she was able.