The Matt Drake Boxset 6

by David Leadbeater

  “Used to be,” Smyth said. “Don’t forget we’re skating lightly now.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Alicia said. “And here’s another—let’s all fuck off to bed ’cause tomorrow’s a bitch and to ride her properly, we’re gonna need every ounce of energy.” She turned away. “Night all.”

  Drake stared at the floor. “I have to sleep with that.”

  Alicia looked back. “We could always stick Yorgi down the middle.”

  The Russian looked terrified and quickly left the room. Drake fought to come to terms with the change of environment and the mounting pressure surrounding tomorrow night. Just like that, in an instant, they had to be at the top of their game.

  This team, now more than ever, needed each other. Mentally as well as physically. In truth, he saw the upcoming gala as an interesting distraction provided they could fathom a foolproof escape. The team would gel, work for each other; they always did.

  He watched Hayden and Kinimaka skirting around each other; Dahl and Kenzie strangely at odds whilst clicking; Smyth more worried and irascible than ever; Mai looking lonely as she wandered toward the stairs, cellphone in hand; Alicia still looking back at him and then surveying the room too.

  “We’ll be all right,” she said. “All of us.”

  “I know that,” Drake said quickly. “I know that.”

  He wished he felt as sure as he sounded.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Drake had been interested to see how the Egyptians would pull this off—a glitzy, high-profile show originating from a tomb with its contents in-situ, fortunately not too far from Cairo and the Giza plateau. It reminded him of the initial Odin show that the city of York had hosted, back when he was between careers. It reminded him of the danger-laden, ever-winding path his life had taken since.

  The tomb entrance had been draped with enormous, velvet-red curtains, a stage erected outside and five steps constructed to lead up to that stage. A band played to one side, dressed in their finest suits, and high-profile glamorous guests mingled to the other, all pretending that the spotlights following their every move didn’t exist. At the base of the stage stood rows of cameras and then a roped-off enclosure where members of the press and public were allowed to stand. A red carpet led straight through the middle.

  Around the outside, the desert surroundings were untouched, dark and vast, but the television cameras wouldn’t be focusing there. Behind the curtains, Drake saw nothing. The big unveiling was still a while away.

  The team were hardly recognizable in their fashionable outfits. From suits in gray, black and deep blue for the men that fitted well and felt intensely uncomfortable, to gowns for the women that fitted even better but offered little freedom of movement. Crouch had begged them all to fit in with the general vogue tonight so as not to blow the op, but the sacrifices were large, as Alicia constantly reminded him.

  They used the time before the event to vet the area and the gathering, splitting up into several groups to appear less conspicuous and achieve a better lay of the land. Drake and Alicia followed Dahl and Kenzie for a time, listening to the banter between them and wondering where the two were really at. For the Swede especially, the course of his life hung in the balance. Kenzie had already adjusted immensely, and tried harder every day. The dynamic between them was fluid and incredibly charged.

  Hayden grabbed Kinimaka, much to the Hawaiian’s surprise, and led the big man into the extravagant throng. Smyth, Mai and Yorgi took the outskirts, scanning for unwanted surprises.

  “I’m seeing all the usual suspects,” Alicia said to Drake. The team weren’t using comms tonight for obvious reasons. “I see mercs, squeezed into their tight little jackets—” she paused for a second “—and trousers. Hello! A bit inappropriate, don’t you think . . .”

  Drake tried not to look. “C’mon, Alicia. Let’s keep it professional.”

  Alicia gave him an innocent look. “When did we start that then?”

  Just ahead, Kenzie and Dahl were having a similar conversation. “Three mercs right there,” the Israeli said.

  “Don’t stare too hard,” Dahl said.

  “Why not? They’ll assume I want to join them for ten minutes behind my boyfriend’s back. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? Why would you think that?” Dahl hadn’t even considered the option.

  Kenzie laughed. “Because they’re mercs, dummy.”

  “Ah, yes. I see now. Good point.”

  “I know them well. Their aspirations; goals; needs.”

  Dahl remembered Kenzie had commanded her own group of mercenaries for many years. “All the same?”

  “No,” Kenzie said. “Most wanted money, power and carnage but a few . . . there were a few that were different. Others just wanted to be led.”

  Dahl looked over. “And you were good at that?”

  “Sure. I have no problems making a man do what I want.”

  Dahl lowered his voice. “See ahead? Definitely CIA. Undercover.”

  “Yeah, I was just about to say. Two more over there.”

  Dahl sought Crouch in the crowd. “I wonder what Michael would say to that? Perhaps this splinter group have sent people too.”

  “Luther?” Kenzie asked.

  “No. Judging from what I’ve heard Luther would simply surround and then assault this place with Howitzers.”

  “And the mercs?”

  “Well, clearly Crouch isn’t the only one in the know. I guess a third of the people here are government agents in some way.”

  “Unlike us,” Kenzie said, then added: “Kinda sexy, huh?”

  “What? What is?”

  “Being disavowed. Hunted. Marked. I like it.”

  “Kenzie, you and I have very different perceptions of the word sexy.”

  “Really?” Kenzie moved closer so their hips came together. “I guess we could explore that later.”

  Dahl didn’t move away, but didn’t press forward either. The conflict battered him, making him lose focus for a moment. Then they came to the end of the stage and turned back, refusing yet another glass of champagne offered on a silver platter by a white-gloved waiter.

  Drake and Alicia were a few steps behind.

  “Looking at all the scattered Intelligence in here,” the Yorkshireman said. “You can guarantee our location will be made known by the end of tonight.”

  “Worth the risk,” Alicia came back. “If we do find the first seal.”

  Drake made a sound. “Depends on if we get caught, love.”

  She growled. “Listen to bloody Eeyore, here. If we weren’t in this star-studded crowd I’d kick your arse off it.”

  “Star studded?” Drake whipped his head around. “Where?”

  “Well, I saw someone who looked like that guy from Hawaii-Five-O earlier. Does that count?”

  Drake frowned. “I was thinking more of the female variety.”

  “Oh, then no, just princesses and state wives I’m afraid.”

  “Bollocks.”

  “Check out the guards,” Alicia said.

  They veered away as they approached the curtain-covered entrance to the tomb of Amenhotep. Two guards were standing to either side, carrying semi-automatic weapons and looking distinctly unimpressed. To the side of the stage stood a larger contingent, similarly armed and equipped for anything. Egypt itself was not the most stable country of late, and it seemed the Egyptians were prepared for the worst.

  The time of the unveiling approached and the team came randomly together and gathered amidst the crowd as it grouped. An official stood before them, asking for quiet and then turning to face a particular set of cameras. He launched into a speech, explaining all about the tomb and how local archaeologists had discovered it. Excitement infused the air. Drake saw many guests almost hopping with glee at the thought of being allowed to enter a barely excavated, ‘in-situ’ tomb. The official went on to reassure them all that all they had done was to make it safe. They were the explorers, the archaeologists, the Howard
Carters of today, and he asked for their cooperation in sharing any insights they might have.

  Then, the curtains were thrown apart and the entrance revealed.

  Drake saw exactly what he’d expected—a jagged entranceway bordered by hastily polished rocks and titivated with colorful embellishments. The entrance was lit by bright lamps and completely blocked any view of what was inside.

  The official called forth the first batch of forty visitors. With help from Crouch’s connections they were part of it and would be allowed twenty minutes inside before giving way to the next group. The tomb was large, it was whispered, and the way down narrow, so they wouldn’t have too long to search.

  Drake fell in line with Alicia like all the good civilians, making two rows behind four tour guides and more guards. Drake noted a couple of the mercenaries behind them and also several spies that had to be working for various undercover agencies.

  “A regular convention,” he whispered to Crouch. “Maybe make it a yearly meet.”

  “With all this attention,” Crouch spoke the last word meaningfully. “No one will be able to keep the findings secret.”

  “Unless they find and then destroy them . . .” Hayden put in ominously. “Keep your wits about you, guys.”

  Mai led their little group, paired with Yorgi. Drake came fourth in line and stared at the floor as the bright entrance lights filled their vision. He wanted as little adjustment time as possible. Happy chatter filled his ears, attesting that at least half of the first consignment were genuine civilians. Thank the Lord for small mercies, he thought. The spies he’d noted so far were good at their job, unnoticeable except to a highly trained eye. Many were in couples. The mercs, on the other hand, stood out like donkeys at a horse pageant, big and uncomfortable, sweating, smoking, not even pretending to listen to the historical sermon offered by their hosts, first by mouth and now as they moved into the top part of the tomb, by recorded voice.

  “The tomb of the famous Amenhotep, thought lost to time, was recently discovered after a cave-in was triggered by archaeologists searching for something very different . . .”

  Drake tuned it out as the passage came into focus. The walls were closer than he’d imagined, dusty, white and roughly hewn out of bare rock. Strings of lamps had been set up at their apex with the ceiling and these now led downward at a sharp angle.

  “Step carefully,” one of their guides said in English. “There is plenty of room to both sides so no need to worry about your cherished attire. Those with high heels should remove them, of course. Carry-bags are provided.”

  Drake bit his lip, unused to the pampering. Alicia checked to see if Yorgi was wearing heels. The small group moved down, a step at a time, taking care as some of the risers were uneven. Two minutes of shuffling passed and then they emerged onto a flat floor. Drake immediately felt the cloying, close atmosphere of the staircase fall away.

  “How long have we got?” Hayden checked her watch.

  The lead tour guide turned around and prepared to flick a switch.

  “Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to the tomb of Amenhotep!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  With a plan already in place, as soon as the light came up, the team split and pretended to appear immensely impressed with the tomb. Drake did take a few moments to view the spectacle, taken aback by the sight. He’d seen his fair share of tombs before, but the Egyptians never failed to impress.

  High, arched walls were adorned by multicoloured murals and stretched a few hundred feet back, where a slightly smaller arched door led to another part of the tomb. The lighting down here was better, provided by spotlights. Drake dropped several steps down into the tomb and started studying wall space.

  The murals were large and plentiful, well-detailed, ranging from life-sized Egyptian figures in full regalia to smaller depictions of scarabs and animals. A murmur sprang up among the crowd, echoing loudly inside what was essentially a tunnel with a single exit. Drake saw the others split up and then followed what he thought were a pair of CIA spies to the left-hand side. Alicia pulled him along gently; the drawings were large here, but Drake wondered if the capstone—if it was here at all—might be disguised within the pattern of a sleeve or the design across a cup.

  “Roped off area,” Alicia muttered, nodding ahead. “Suspicious.”

  “If the Egyptians knew about the seal,” Drake said, “we wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Unless they already removed it,” Alicia said.

  “I guess that’s possible.” Drake saw no signs of tampering so far, though the wall decorations were already starting to confuse his eyes. He blinked and stepped back.

  Dahl, behind them, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Need your reading glasses?”

  “Funny man.” Drake sighed. “Try to keep your eyes on the walls and off your bird for five minutes, eh?”

  “My bird?” The Swede struggled for a moment. “Oh, come on—”

  Alicia grunted. “You’d have more luck asking his bitch to stop swinging swords around.”

  “She’s not my bi—”

  “Kids,” Crouch hissed from a few feet away. “Focus.”

  Alicia stared at Drake. “Yes, Dad.” But they returned their attention to the walls, noting the potential CIA spies had moved ahead and were now studying the ceiling in earnest. All around the tomb, people were gazing at pictures and the tour guides answered questions up ahead. The SPEAR team cruised slowly down the length of the passage, taking everything in.

  When they reached the end, Crouch turned, eyes expectant.

  “Nothing,” Hayden spoke for them all.

  Crouch almost looked happy. “For once, finding nothing is a good thing.”

  Mai motioned toward the next door. “We haven’t finished yet.”

  “I know, I know. Just feeling hopeful.”

  The Japanese woman inclined her head. “It’s not easy,” she acknowledged. “Always running, chasing, stopping bad things from happening to good people. But Michael, we’ve just endured almost a week of retirement. Believe me, that’s harder.”

  “For some.” Crouch nodded. “For others, it’s a breath of fresh air.”

  He turned toward the next door as Alicia vocalized the incredulity that she might agree with Mai for once. Kenzie joined in and Drake envisioned a group hug occurring before they suddenly remembered where they were. Others were gathering at the next entrance and the tour guide was ready to move on. Through they went, a few at a time. Drake studied the doorway carefully as he stepped past but it was unadorned, nothing but crumbly white rock, stark under the bright lights. The dust drifting through the air caused him to sneeze and he heard an older man complaining to his wife in an undertone that he’d simply have to throw the suit away at the end of the night. Even their housemaid wouldn’t be able to adequately remove all the dust.

  The spies were three paces in front, along with another potential couple. No mercs were among them though, so Drake breathed easier. The next part of the tomb was slightly smaller and narrower, also containing a door, this time set into the right wall. Drake saw a sarcophagus, set low to the ground, roped off at this time. He moved to study the hieroglyphics upon its surface and those on the wall behind. Maybe one of those represented a capstone.

  The strange search continued. Drake knew the spies and mercs above were probably unaware of SPEAR, and used that knowledge to remain highly visible, taking in every inch of the place. He smiled when he saw Kinimaka giving the sarcophagus plenty of space as he walked past. Knowing the Hawaiian, he’d brush against it and trigger an ancient trap, entombing everyone inside. The party split now, some entering the door set in the right wall and then another after that. A guide shouted that they had only eight minutes left. Drake saw dozens of murals and pictures, and tried to study each and every one, but saw nothing like the symbol he was looking for. He kept an eye on the spies too, noting them disappearing into the far part of the tomb.

  “Three minutes,” the helpful tou
r guide said.

  Drake dragged Alicia through the final door, anxious to check the entire place before they whisked themselves off back into hiding again. It hadn’t escaped their attention that television or press cameras might capture their faces, but as soon as they were clear they intended to leave Egypt far behind in the proverbial dust.

  The final room was small, square and bare apart from more wall art. One of the tour guides told them that the lack of objects was due to ancient grave robbers, prevalent in their time, though one or two items had been ‘liberated’ and would soon be on display. Drake scanned the walls. Alicia glared up at the ceiling.

  “Birds, beetles,” she said. “Queens, slaves. There’s even a bloody monkey up there.”

  “But no capstone,” Drake murmured under his breath. “For once, I think, we’ve caught a lucky break.”

  “You really think so?” Crouch walked up to them, nodding at the far corner of the far wall. “Check down there.”

  Drake closed his eyes momentarily. “You’re taking the piss, right?”

  “Just look. You tell me.”

  They drifted over, aware that the tour guides were already ushering people out. The mural that adorned the far wall was dark, composed of dusky golds, browns and blacks. It depicted two tall figures with Egyptian headdresses, staring at each other; one holding a club and the other a spear. They were seated on low stools and, as Drake bent down to get a better look, a tour guide patted him on the back.

  “Sir? Time to leave and allow the next party down.”

  Drake stared from him to Alicia, trying to communicate silently.

  “What?” the Englishwoman said. “You want me to distract him.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Shit,” Drake spluttered. “No. I—”

  “Happy to take one for the team,” Alicia smiled brightly at the tour guide. “Now tell me. What’s the Egyptian version of the Kama Sutra?”

  Drake rose fast, put an arm around her shoulders, and whisked her away from an embarrassed looking escort. “Wait,” Alicia protested. “Don’t you need a look at the thingy?”