“Was wondering why you just didn’t shoot the cock-end.”
“I needed the practice,” Russo whined. “Haven’t been in a knife fight for months. And who the hell are you calling fat boy, you dumb bitch?”
“Ooh, Robster. You really need to work on those insults. And loosen up. I’m just pulling your leg. If you haven’t figured that out by now, boy, you surely never will.”
“I’ve known a few bit—”
But Alicia was no longer listening.
Her eyes had fixed on Caitlyn Nash and her distraught face. And then on Crouch’s which was fixed in an expression of utter agony.
And then she knew.
CHAPTER FORTY
For Alicia there was no hilltop, no weather, no hot sun and no grass. There was no lofty, malformed tree. There were no surroundings, no thought, not even a single ounce of breath. Everything in her world encompassed a single solitary figure.
Zack Healey.
The youngest of them all, the one with the most promise. Healey loved Caitlyn. And Healey had thrown himself in front of her when the pirate leader opened fire. They all assumed because Caitlyn was fine the pirate had shot wide, and then they went instantly into action. They never thought Healey had taken the bullets.
Alicia fell at his side now, tears streaming down her face. Caitlyn leaned over the dead man’s body, heaving, her breaths as ragged as a serrated blade. Crouch stared at Healey’s ashen face in horror, every feature frozen.
Alicia reached out a hand, watched as her fingers trembled.
“Zack?”
Russo, the big, gruff hard man, fell alongside his friend and sobbed, moans wracking his entire body. He placed a huge arm across Healey’s shoulders and buried his face into the ground. Caitlyn crawled closer and held on so tight she might never move again.
The sun waned in the western skies. No sound existed save for the team’s misery and the seeping of blood into the hard ground. Not from one but from over a hundred men.
In the end it was the helicopters that moved them. They might have stayed there the rest of the day and all night, into the next dawn, but the blood-red sunset heralded the choppers filled with police and agencies that Crouch knew, and made them sit back, stare up into the skies—see the clouds and the glorious sunset and the yellow sunshine that their colleague would never see again—and consider all they had lost.
It was true that you didn’t value what you had until you realized that someone close to you would never see it again. From the most wondrous trip to the swings in your garden. From the greatest, free feeling to the picture of your children on your mantelpiece. One day, there every day, taken for granted—the next something you just can’t grasp anymore and wished you’d given more of yourself to.
I will see it all for you. Alicia rose from Healey’s body, face red and streaked. And I will never say no to or push aside the people I love ever again.
Crouch looked up into the crimson sunset. “I . . . I don’t know what to do next.”
Caitlyn rose with him, slowly, shakily, her own face turned upward. “We finish what we all started. We finish this as a team.”
Alicia turned away, eyes brimming anew.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
The flight to Wales was long and subdued, the team at first all lying back, trying to come to terms with Healey’s death and their own feelings, not to mention their own weariness after such a long, intense battle. Those that could, ate. Those that wanted to, consumed alcohol. Others downed sugary drinks because they knew sleep was days away. At first the jet slipped through the clouds in silence, each member of the Gold Team lost in their own reveries, but then Caitlyn crept next to Crouch and Russo came over to Alicia. Soon, they were whispering and then meeting each other’s eyes. Then they were feeling a little comforted as they saw the shared grief in faces like mirror images.
As the journey stretched from painful to insufferable, Caitlyn eased its passing by reading out everything she could find about Henry Morgan’s hometown. “Since he was known as the greatest of all the ‘brethren of the coast’, Wales and its storytellers appear to have embraced Morgan’s tale. He was born at Llanrumney Hall on his father’s farm in 1635. It’s in Monmouthshire. And of course he died, Sir Henry Morgan, having been knighted for his . . . actions all along the Spanish Main. Interestingly, Monmouthshire borders both part of the South Wales coast and England, making it easy to slip into and out of.”
“And Llanrumney Hall?” Crouch asked. “His home. Does it still stand?”
Caitlyn hesitated, a far-away look hitting her eyes and a tear starting to form. Crouch reached out to touch her hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Alicia felt Russo wilt a little beside her, reached out and put an arm around the big man’s shoulders. She had never offered so much of herself emotionally to anyone except one man. Russo smiled as best he could.
“It may still stand,” Caitlyn finished after an unknown time. “Llanrumney Hall was turned into a pub long ago. It’s still there.”
“So we end all of this in a pub?” Alicia said. “That’ll do. I hope to God it has lodgings too, ’cause I’ll be drinking the place dry.”
“Won’t help,” Crouch said.
“For an hour or two it will,” Alicia said. “And I’ll deal with the rest head on.”
“We all will. Together,” Russo said.
“Wonder if it sells rum?” Alicia said, then added, “I thought Healey might have said that.”
It brought the slightest relief to all their faces. “That he would,” Crouch said and Caitlyn nodded.
The plane flew fast through the night, chartered by the team’s benefactor and totally private. It was a fast jet, since they had lost many hours with Healey and then the cops, giving Jensen the chance to find a way to Britain if he chose to do so. Indeed, a later check of one of his aliases showed he had done just that.
And the location of Morgan’s home wasn’t exactly private knowledge.
Alicia counted the hours down, flicked her mind through what she knew of Healey’s past and tried to be a comfort to Russo and the others. Very soon she would have to return to her primary unit. The toll of this mission was going to make everything harder—every problem she would have to deal with back there and every outcome.
“This is the last location for me,” Alicia told them whilst she had the chance. “If all this leads to is another note, or letter, I can’t promise I’ll tag along.”
Crouch looked hurt. “Not running away?” he asked, an unnecessarily hurtful charge.
“No,” she said simply, easily. “Going home. If you can, maybe you guys should too. At least for a short while.”
She thought about their pasts and then grimaced. Caitlyn had no remaining family and neither did Crouch. She didn’t know about Russo, but Alicia considered her team her family so maybe they should actually stick together.
“Actually, scratch that last comment,” she said. “Who the hell am I to be handing out advice? Not a rebel without a cause—more a lost girl without a clue.”
Russo finally managed a smile. “Never a truer word came out of your mouth.”
“Thanks, Rob. I really needed that.”
“Huh? No jaunty nickname?”
“I’m all out of nicknames, Rob. I’m just with my friends right now.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Wales lies at the western side of the United Kingdom, a rugged country composed largely of mountains and coastline. They ordered the jet to land at Cardiff Airport and then rented a car to travel the last leg of their journey to Llanrumney Hall. The roads were blacked out as it passed the witching hour, snaking, hedge-lined byways lit only by the stark crescent moon. The team sat together in the Range Rover, an acute feeling for the one person missing cutting each one of them as deep as a razor.
Alicia stared out the window at a darkness that threatened to engulf them all, the only relief the odd pool of light offered by a random streetlamp or the distant lights shed by a solitary house or f
arm. Crouch drove by the directions offered by the satnav, following one twisting route after the other and passing only a single car coming in the opposite direction. They could have been the only people left alive in the world, traveling the lonely, unsociable darkness forever and a day.
Alicia fought off a feeling that this was all wrong. Bouncing from Jamaica and Haiti and Panama to a small Welsh tavern didn’t fit—it didn’t fit with Henry Morgan and it didn’t fit with the tales of his storied treasure hoard. But then, maybe that’s why it was never found.
A night in Wales on his way to England. Who would know? Only those that helped, and they would only be well-trusted and well-paid men, able to strike off alone to live out their days in luxury. Either that or Morgan murdered them all in Llanrumney Hall. Either story could be true.
The car crunched slowly up a gravel drive and approached a wall of trees. Darkness was now a palpable thing, pressing down amidst all the wilds of the Welsh countryside. And then came a totally unexpected thing.
Llanrumney Hall, an enormous pub out in the middle of nowhere, known and visited by all but still a kept secret. Alicia wondered if there were many that knew this once belonged to the Morgan estate as she marveled at the size of it. White-walled, three-storied and with a flat roof, it had been built in the fifteenth century. All the more surprising because it fitted in at the end of an unremarkable tree-lined lane, the pub stood dimly lit now, its windows dark save for the odd lit lamp, its doors closed and barred against the ungodly hour.
After all, brigands rode the night didn’t they? Especially in Wales, the home of the greatest of them all.
Alicia studied the great pub and its surrounds. A smaller structure lay to the left and other houses beyond a fence. To the right an open field, also bordered by a fence. Crouch crunched into the car park and found a space, left the engine running.
“Ideas?”
Caitlyn never stopped thinking. “They turned this place into a pub in 1951. Before that it was a residence, presumably much unchanged from the original structure. It’s a Grade I listed building.”
“Some things will have changed,” Crouch insisted.
“Agreed. But where, logically, would a pirate not leave his treasure?”
Crouch studied the pub. “Bedrooms,” he said. “Loft. Anything above the ground floor. He would want it safe, dry, and unlikely to be found accidentally. That leaves the grounds—” he studied what he could see “—which are nothing more than flat earth. Possibly a hidden trapdoor?” He shrugged. “Or the house itself. Shall we see?”
Alicia hesitated. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Perfect,” Crouch said. “We have reason to do this. We’re in the UK, my stomping ground. We’re checking no unsavory sorts have come before us.” He looked over at Alicia. “Want me to continue?”
“Not even a little bit.” She reached for the door handle. “Let’s do this.”
The team exited the Range Rover and assumed a formation. Hands hovered near weapons they had brought with them from Jamaica. Crouch’s contacts and Alicia’s Special Agency ID had their uses, after all. Dark patches away from the house moved slowly, causing Russo to hiss for silence. Slowly, he crouched, staring at the dark.
“Careful.” He put a hand up as Alicia walked by.
“It’s just sheep,” she told him. “Wales is full of ’em. Is it the big furry ones that scare you, or the bare, shaven skinny ones?”
“Shit.” Russo rose and faced the house without a hint of acknowledgement. Crouch headed for the rear and the back door, moving carefully and hugging the side of the building. Alicia followed, eyes flitting and trying to penetrate the black shroud. Noises came from the far field, animals moving, and the call of night creatures. Around the back of the pub they found an extensive patio area with benches, seating and a huge barbecue. Outdoor heaters stood around every table, chained to the floor.
Crouch hugged the wall. Alicia looked up and to the side, leaving nothing to chance. They moved soundlessly, and the chill Welsh night pressed around them. Alicia saw breath stealing from Crouch’s mouth as he walked, a wild contrast to where they had come from. Her fingers were cold on the trigger.
Crouch stopped. Alicia glanced around his body.
“That’s not a good sign.”
The pub’s rear door had been forced, the frame broken. Light flooded out from the room beyond but no alarm had been tripped. Alicia could only assume Jensen had managed to find a local thief to do the job, unless he’d somehow learned burglary skills during his many travels. Possible.
“It could be unrelated,” Caitlyn said.
Alicia didn’t believe in such coincidence, but kept her silence. She pushed ahead of Crouch and beckoned Russo over. “Be ready.”
Inch by inch, she used her left hand to push the door open, revealing an interior hallway. Narrow and lit at the far end it was cluttered with a vast array of items in boxes and plastic containers. The door at the far end was closed.
She inched along, allowing the team to form behind her. The far door opened with a faint click and then they were inside a softly illuminated kitchen area. Alicia went first and then the others spread out. Pots and pans hung at head height and a large industrial fridge-freezer filled one corner. A central worktop bench almost cut the room in half and a double sink sat near the exit door. The whole area was quiet, the lights dim but still enough to ensure they were totally alone. Russo crouched down to the floor and hissed for attention.
Without a sound he pointed at three sets of dusty footprints overlaying the pristine floor. A set of trainers, a pair of boots and a smaller set of trainers. Alicia felt a rush of fear not for herself but for the men, women and children lodging here. No telling what Jensen might do. Carefully, she placed a hand on Crouch’s shoulder.
“Shouldn’t we get everyone out?”
“Probably.” The boss sent a longing glance after Russo. “But I’d like to know where we’re going first before we warn Jensen.”
Alicia considered it. The truth was, the footsteps might not be Jensen at all. Another truth was, this could be yet another wild goose chase.
It felt right though. Validation ran right through the bricks and mortar of this place, from its fifteenth-century foundations to its connection to Morgan and the subterfuge surrounding his last voyage. A man knowing he was going to his death wouldn’t take his spoils all the way to the government’s front door now would he?
She nodded. “Ten minutes.”
They crept through the kitchen and entered a large, mahogany paneled room with a pool table at the center. Chairs lined the walls and a darts- and chalkboard too. Some kind of function room. Russo pointed to the bare floor and retreated, soon silently padding into another room with high, curtained windows, tables and several armchairs scattered about. Darkness was their nemesis here, drowning out their small flashlights as they looked around. Again, nothing appeared out of place and no footprints lined the floor. Russo led the way through two more rooms as the minutes ticked away.
“Boss, we gotta do this right,” Alicia said finally. “Lights on. People out. We’re blind here.”
They switched around and headed back to the kitchen. Crouch turned on the lights as the others leaned against worktops. Alicia got a better look at the dusty prints and noted that they never actually left the room.
Crouch clucked and smiled. “Look at this, guys.”
Alicia was talking to Caitlyn. “Any chance you can use that magic of yours to find an old blueprint of this place? We need to separate the old from the new.”
“Not a chance, I’m afraid. Info regarding Llanrumney Hall is pretty sparse around the Net and Google Maps can’t penetrate through walls.” She shrugged and added: “Yet.”
“That we know of,” Crouch pointed out and then caught their attention. “How about this?”
Alicia looked across to see a small, red fire alarm button. Russo frowned. “You think it’ll open a secret door?”
“No. But I do thi
nk it will clear the place out.”
“Ah, yeah. Good idea.”
Crouch pressed the button and listened to the klaxon sound of alarm bells. Lights started to go on and, after a few minutes, the sound of feet descending the stairs and sleepy voices could be heard. Someone was trying to calm the residents down and a man’s voice stated that he was “off back to bed”. The team saw more and more illumination as they watched through the open kitchen door.
Crouch was wasting no time though. As soon as he had pressed the alarm he enlisted Russo’s help and started moving units. Alicia took a different stance on the matter, checking the floor for scuff marks. Caitlyn examined the walls and inside cupboards. It stood to reason that the kitchen would be the oldest room in the house, but after five minutes they had found nothing. Alicia took another careful look at the footprints as they watched people start to walk toward the front doors.
“They do actually leave the kitchen area,” she said. “Look.”
Outside, the residents and landlord of the pub noticed people standing in the kitchen. Some started drifting over. The bulk of them milled around as many started to question the fire’s authenticity. Alicia shook her head. “If it were a real fire some of these people would wait to go crispy duck before they started to run.”
They followed the prints again, ending at a dark-wood paneled wall in which was set a six-foot high door. Crouch reached out to push it open.
As it moved inward a red wire stretched, a fuse exploded and an incendiary device went off. The door had been booby trapped from the inside. The entire house plunged into darkness.
“Damn, he’s prepared for us.”
Screams sounded out from behind. Men yelled for someone to get the doors open. In utter darkness, the house and the countryside took on a more menacing aspect. As Alicia watched a man fell over, struck his head on a table and didn’t get up. A woman screamed. “He’s dead! He’s dead! He just fell. Oh God, there’s a killer among us!”
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