“They’re not giving up.”
The crowd spilled out onto the concrete path outside the museum, still running, still raucous. Alicia and her team ran with them. When they reached the roadside more paths opened up and the mass started to dissipate. A horde swarmed across the road, stopping traffic and causing even more noise and chaos. Alicia turned back.
“I don’t see why we’re still running.”
Their adversaries, eight-strong, plowed into them, bloody and bruised but eager for more. Crouch stepped back again, searching around. He was looking for a reason, a motive, a face he might recognize. So far, nothing presented itself.
Alicia wanted to end this fast. A throat punch and a kick to the groin took two permanently out of the fight. Twisting off the back of that she stiff-armed a third in the face, breaking his nose. Blood spurted. The piglike squeal was muted as he hit the ground hard on his back, all the breath smashed out of him. Russo lifted a man, slamming him down onto the front of a parked car. The next attacker he grabbed around the waist and flung into the road. Healey sought to be more clinical, trading swift punches and strikes before neutralizing his target with a blow to a nerve cluster. Laid Back Lex, though slow to start, soon warmed up to his task and began smashing heads together.
Crouch moved away as sirens sounded down the street. “Finish it,” he told them. “Time to go.”
But their attackers, though lacking skills, were certainly tenacious. No sooner did one go down, groaning, than another got back up. Alicia felled yet another, certain that it was the third time she’d put him down.
“No guns,” she said again, reminding the boss. “Takes more time this way.”
Russo glanced over at her. “They are unarmed,” he said. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Fair?” she repeated, taking an ineffective punch as she turned to stare. “Who said it should be bloody fair?”
“Get in the damn car!” Crouch shouted as they backed up to where the limo was still parked. “Let’s get out of here.”
Crouch held the door open as Healey slid in. Russo was there next, gesturing that Crouch should go first. The boss just grimaced and shoved the big man ahead, then signaled Alicia. “Hurry!”
The sirens were almost on top of them.
The engine roared. Alicia slipped past Crouch and jumped inside, ending up on Russo’s lap which caused the big man to let out an animal-like squeal. Crouch dealt easily with Alicia’s two pursuers, tripping and pushing them into a tangle as he took one last look around.
And saw a face . . .
“There,” he muttered. “Son of a bloody bitch.”
Crouch slid into his seat. Alicia untangled herself from Russo, slamming the man’s left bicep as she went for good measure. Didn’t hurt to let the new guy know you could injure him when you chose to.
The limo raced away from the curb, swerving into traffic amidst a noisy flurry of honking horns. One of their adversaries rather ambitiously threw himself onto the car, didn’t get a grip on the windshield, and went bouncing across the remainder of the carriageway, narrowly missing a braking bus. Crouch shook his head at the display of idiocy.
Alicia grimaced. “He’s just gotta know he ain’t that good. There’s people I’ve worked with are that good. Drake. Mai. Dahl. I mean, the whole damn team. But these guys? Talk about amateur hour.”
“And now I know why,” Crouch said. “Greg Coker.”
“An old friend of yours?” Alicia wondered. “What’s he doing here?”
But before Crouch could even open his mouth the sound of squealing tires shattered the peaceful cocoon around them, and three black shapes swerved in close.
“You gotta be kidding!” Russo cried. “We just kicked their asses twice and they’re still coming?”
Alicia surveyed their surroundings. Three black Nissan Qashqais were running alongside and behind them. “Christ,” she said. “Even their cars are slow.”
As if in retaliation for the slur the nearest Qashqai veered toward them, connecting with a solid impact of metal. For a moment both cars ran side by side, connected. Alicia glared into the crazed eyes of the guy she’d already decked three times. The Qashqai leaned in hard, trying to force the limo into a line of parked cars, but their driver was no slouch. Accelerating and twisting the wheel at the same time, he swung in front of the other car, leaving it to sway under its own momentum. The limo surged ahead, instantly blocked by another black Nissan.
Crouch turned to look through the back window. “What on earth is Coker doing here?”
Russo also turned around. “Greg Coker. I’ve heard the name. Can’t place the man.”
“A heavy rival, all my life in the Army. Coker and I used to work together—” Crouch let out a lengthy sigh. “Such a long time ago I can barely remember the dates. Jesus. He was always a competitive one, but sly about it. Pleasant on top, a cauldron of rivalry underneath. Not deceitful, just contentious. Funny thing was, he didn’t mean to be so challenging. He just couldn’t help himself. Like a small child, Coker always had to come out on top. Anyway, after a few years he left the service, became privately employed. We kind of lost touch after that, but—”
“But!” Lex blurted, unable to keep a lid on his impatience.
“The name keeps cropping up. Time after time. This job, that job, another job. Coker always on my tail or just in front. It always felt a little strange, but I put it down to the job and the tight circles we all run in. You know the score. Sooner or later, we all come across the same bunch of men and names time and time again.”
“But Coker was different?” Healey asked as the next Qashqai decelerated in front of them.
“Hard to say,” Crouch mused. “I’m wondering now if he hasn’t been flying along on my shirttails the whole time.”
The limo narrowly missed ramming the lead Nissan, but the evasive maneuver allowed the other two cars to catch up. Boxed in on three sides they had nowhere to go. Alicia decided enough was enough. She grabbed hold of the front headrest and pulled herself forward. “Hey, driver, this is Mexico City. Don’t you carry a gun in the glovebox?”
The driver didn’t look back. “No guns. I do have a riot stick.”
Alicia narrowed her eyes. “That’ll do the trick. Pass it here. Time to end this fiasco.”
She climbed across Healey who blushed, then Russo who gave her a stony stare, and jammed her finger on the electric window button. As soon as it lowered sufficiently she leaned out and up so that her face practically pressed against the other car’s rear window.
“How ya doing’ shitheels?”
Surprised faces glared at her, lips forming big ‘O’s. But that was nothing compared to what came next. Alicia brought the riot stick around with great force, shattering the glass, sending splintered shards spinning across the rear interior of the Qashqai. Her knees were braced and she was all ready to leap through the new gap, but at the last moment the Nissan swung away and entered the oncoming flow of traffic, slewing broadside.
“Next!” Alicia cried, waving the baton feverishly.
Again the driver stamped on the gas, making the limo lurch forward. Within seconds they were coming up alongside the next Nissan. Crouch shouted that he could see Coker in the front passenger seat.
“Get alongside him,” Crouch cried. “Alicia, wait!”
The Englishwoman grunted. “Hmm. That sounded suspiciously like Alicia, heel!”
Healey sniggered. Even Russo grunted. “Move over, big guy,” she said. “You’ve got twenty seconds, boss.”
Crouch waved frantically as the limo pulled alongside the lead Nissan. Coker’s face was already turned toward them, stony, forehead a creased canvas of worry lines and eyes as deep as ancient mysteries. Crouch gestured for the man to lower his window.
“Greg! What the hell’s going on?”
In answer, Coker spun toward his driver. Their car instantly changed direction to smash into the limo’s front end, sending it swerving into a parked car. The impact jolted everybo
dy and left their side mirror lying on the road.
Alicia coughed loudly. “That went well.”
Russo glanced back. “No sign of the cops.”
“Won’t be long,” Crouch said. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”
“Ya think?” Alicia pointed ahead. Coker’s car had pulled away, pulling off some dangerous maneuvers to melt into the traffic ahead. Only one Qashqai now remained and it was practically glued to their rear.
“On my shout,” Alicia addressed the driver, “swing sharp left.”
“Shiiiiiit,” Lex said. “Girl’s gone mad.”
Alicia half-turned. “Says who? You?”
The following Qashqai nudged their rear, its occupants laughing. Slower cars flashed by to the left and right. A crazy motorcycle delivery driver tried to squeeze by them both and lost his pizzas in the crush. Alicia leaned out as far as she dared, which meant only her knees held by Russo remained in the car, and held up the riot stick.
“Hold on to yer balls, guys!”
She flung it hard, end over end, straight at the windshield and though the glass didn’t shatter this time it did crack at the impact point and cause the driver to react instantly. The Qashqai squealed to a sudden halt.
Alicia grabbed hold of the door handle. “Stop the fucking car. Let’s go!”
The limo ground to a halt as the black car shuddered in place. Alicia was first out, hitting the ground at a run just as the Nissan’s doors were flung open. She grabbed the first man around the neck and hurled him into decelerating traffic. Cars, vans and buses braked all around, and the high-pitched sound of stressed metal stung the air. Passersby lined the sidewalk, some scrabbling for cellphones. Alicia flung the next man onto the Qashqai’s front end, holding his shoulders in a vice-like grip to stop him falling off.
“What the hell do you want with us, asshole?”
“Just checkin’ your passports, love,” the man said in a decidedly British accent.
“Funny.” Alicia saw two more men exiting the car but sensed Russo and Healey coming around her flanks. She gripped her prisoner around the throat. “Maybe you should rethink that answer.”
The sun blazed down. Pedestrians screamed or watched excitedly. Angry motorists shouted from safe distances. Coming closer now, Alicia heard the approaching whine of the local constabulary.
“Damn it.”
Time for one last squeeze. One final connection. “Tell me or you won’t talk for a week.”
The guy spluttered, flailing weakly. “Dunno, love. Really I don’t. I’m just a relocated local. Coker spread the pesos around and told us to rough you lot up. Give you a few black eyes.”
Alicia snorted. “Didn’t really work out for you, did it? What’s he want with that kind of intimidation?”
“Lady, the man’s our boss. Tells us eff all. Only thing I know is he’s working for somebody else and he’s scared.” The guy’s eyes widened. “Very scared.”
Alicia let him fall to the ground and shouted at Russo and Healey to get back in the car. Crouch, who’d been listening from a few paces away, also climbed back in.
“Go,” he said to the driver once they were inside. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah,” Alicia murmured. “Like getting us some goddamn guns.”
“And . . .” Crouch deliberated. “This episode has taught me one thing if nothing else. It seems we need a pair of eyes and ears beyond our team. Somebody to watch from afar and help. We need one more.”
SIX
Once they were safely ensconced, Crouch started putting his connection machine into gear. Through Interpol he acquired a new associate in Texas that had a good friend in the Mexican police. So far it was easy for him, friends helping friends, working on goodwill. The Mexican policeman knew various unsavory sorts and agreed to send out several feelers to identify the team Coker had been working with. The understanding from Alicia was that at least some of them had to be local.
Alicia took a shower, then returned to the main room. Their accommodation was spacious and clean and by the time she’d tuned back into Crouch’s cajoling phone conversations she understood he was close to securing a new member of their team.
“She’s English too? She sounds perfect, Armand. An ex-MI6 operative would work for us and I trust your judgment. Put her in touch directly if you would, and thanks for reaching out.”
Alicia stalked over. “Thank God she’s a woman, but ex-MI6?”
Crouch shrugged. “Wouldn’t do to poach their serving staff now, would it?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I realize that and you’ll have to trust Armand and me. Now, whilst we’re waiting for the Mexicans, I’ll have to get hold of Rolland and rustle up some clever technology.”
Alicia drifted away. If a young MI6 operative no longer worked for MI6 but was still available for intelligence work then it usually meant they’d burned out or hit an insurmountable personal problem. Either way they were damaged.
But then aren’t we all? Alicia shrugged it off, padding over to the window.
“So what’s the plan?” Russo asked of her, somewhat challengingly. In reality, he had to know it would all depend on the worth of what the Mexicans came back with.
Alicia kept her eyes on the view outside. “Gold’s still out there, Russo. Goons or not. If we have to, we’ll go straight through ‘em.”
“Isn’t that always your style?”
“Yeah. I don’t fuck around. That’s for pussies. Are you a pussy, Russo?” Now she turned, throwing down the gauntlet.
The big man rose to his feet, simply because this wasn’t a moment to be the only one sitting down. “I’m a team player, Myles, and if I have to I’ll lay it all on the line for my men.”
Alicia nodded. “Then quit yer whining and buckle up. This ride’s gonna get a hell of a lot bumpier before we reach the end. I’m guessing the guy pulling Coker’s strings ain’t just offering us a guided tour.”
Russo turned reflective. “Yeah, I wonder what’s going on with Coker, and how the hell they found us.”
At that moment Crouch put the phone down from Rolland Sadler. “All right. We have computer tech and surveillance equipment en route. Some if it mobile, tweeters and comms and such, most of it fixed for hard-wiring, so now we’ll need to scout a secure HQ set-up wherever we go.”
“If that means mobile transport,” Lex spoke up. “I can drive anything with wheels. And most things without.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
Alicia took the quiet time to carefully assess her new team. Settling in took time, she understood that, but already several concerns were playing ping-pong in her head. Crouch himself was highly skilled but, lost in the excitement of living his dream, appeared not to have thought all the logistics through. If he’d missed one angle maybe he’d missed another. She didn’t want to be ass-up in a gunfight when she found out. Moving on, Russo was belligerent and Healey was green, but the action they’d just shared had proven that both were dependable and possessed potential. Lex, her own little addition, hadn’t stepped up yet but Alicia knew it was within him to do so. Despite what she said, if she hadn’t already seen a latent ability within him she’d have cut loose back in DC. Crouch’s benefactor, Sadler, was an unknown quantity, and Alicia didn’t like to judge a man she’d never met. Hopefully, the guy was in it for all the good reasons.
As her mind wandered Crouch turned toward his laptop screen. A new message had flashed up, catching his attention. As he reached out to open it Alicia moved closer. The message read: Contact made with locals. Have asked them to have leader call you.
Crouch raised an eyebrow and turned toward Alicia. “Fast work.”
“I don’t doubt that the Mexican authorities have their contacts.”
“Down here, the currency is money, drugs and people. My concern is how much of that currency exchanged hands to facilitate this phone call.”
Alicia grimaced. “Maybe it’s best not to think too ha
rd on that one.”
“Yeah, that’s what the cops say.”
Before Alicia could respond, Crouch’s cell rang. He held the screen up. The word Unknown flashed in red letters. Alicia stepped back.
“Crouch here.” The ex-Ninth Division boss hit the speaker button.
“Michael,” a deep, self-assured tone drawled. “Didn’t hurt your head back there, I hope? I noticed you stayed clear of the action.”
Crouch wasn’t one to be bated into an argument. “What’s going on, Coker? What do you want with us?”
“If you hadn’t run away so fast you would know by now.”
Crouch looked genuinely puzzled. “Greg.” He said. “Last time I checked we were friends. Rivals, yes, but gracious ones. What changed?”
Crouch covered the speaker and, looking to Alicia, mouthed, “I used to like this guy.”
A silence stretched on the other end. When he ended it, Coker did so with resignation in his voice. “Needs must, Michael. Needs must. I’m in a jam. Lately, the world has worked in ways not often to my liking.”
Crouch hesitated. “It does and always has. It always will. That doesn’t mean burning bridges.”
“Ah, is that what I’m doing? Well, I highlight an earlier comment. Needs must.”
Crouch knitted his eyebrows in thought. Was Coker trying to tell him something? He tried a different tack. “What are you looking for?”
“Oh, gold. Treasure. Tombs. The usual. I’d say Quetzalcoatl, but hasn’t he been found already?”
“Then why attack us?” To Crouch, the attack meant only one thing. It was a sign that Greg Coker was being cruelly controlled by someone. An operative like Coker would never ordinarily draw attention to himself unless the opportunity was textbook or desperate. The museum debacle had been neither and it had been senseless, especially if, as Crouch suspected, Coker was attempting to fly along on their shirttails in the hope of pipping them at the post when the treasure was located.
Coker again took his time to formulate an answer. “It’s complicated, I’m afraid. Very fucking complicated. But look, please carry on. I’ve no doubt our paths will cross again soon.”
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