Then Healey cried out in pain. Alicia looked back. The young soldier was being forced up against a window by a merc with a meaty paw around his throat. Healey was off the ground, kicking wildly, disadvantaged by his position and unable to squeeze free. Alicia bounded over and smashed into the merc with a flying kick, sending him head over heels into the first carriage. Healey fell and choked. Caitlyn dispatched the merc with a pained grimace.
Alicia dragged Healey to his feet. “C’mon, Zacky boy. No one wants to die a virgin.”
“I’m not a—”
Then Kenzie was upon them. A slice of her blade passed over Alicia’s head and carved right through an upright pole, leaving the two ends sagging. A return chop missed Alicia’s arm and thudded off the carpet, sending fibers into the air. Alicia smashed her boot into Kenzie’s exposed midriff, sending her staggering into the seat and across the aisle.
In a second, Alicia was on her, straddling her lap, gripping the sword arm tight in one hand and punching hard with the other. Kenzie fought back the same way, trying to block Alicia’s punches and jerk her other arm free. They traded punches as the train whisked them through the darkness.
Then Crouch began to slow. Alicia felt the deceleration and struck even faster with her free hand. The blows began to get through, bruising Kenzie’s cheek, her forehead and then blacking an eye. Kenzie bucked wildly, trying to throw Alicia off but the Englishwoman only rode the waves.
“Yeehaw, bronco!” she cried, adrenalin pumping. “You’re not much of a ride, Bridget!”
Kenzie rolled, finally realizing that to make any headway she would have to release her weapon. The blade thudded to the carpet. Kenzie swiped up with a free hand, catching Alicia by surprise. The constant bucking gave her some wriggle room. Then Russo collided with Alicia and the mercenary leader was free.
Alicia landed on the discarded sword, wincing, but luckily it was lying flat.
“Get the fuck off me, Russo!”
“My bloody pleasure.”
Russo rolled just as the merc he was fighting punched downward. The blow struck Alicia on the bridge of the nose, making her see stars.
“Whoops.” Russo tried not to smirk. “My apologies for that.”
He heaved the merc away. Alicia rolled, seeing a new attacker tackled by Healey before he could reach her. Standing up, she gripped an upright pole for balance. It took a moment for the stars to subside. By then, Crouch was slowing fast and the momentum of the train had ceased. All of a sudden the darkness that pressed down on the windows cleared and they shot into the light, emerging onto another platform. Alicia could see by the bricked-up tunnel ahead that they had reached the end of the line.
“Of course!” Crouch exclaimed loudly from the driver’s carriage. Then he came crashing through the door. “What’s in a direct line from the Wellington Arch straight up Piccadilly?”
“Michael, I’m a little busy right now.” Alicia took a merc’s head under her arm and squeezed him into submission.
“You know it!” Crouch shouted in his enthusiasm. “You saw it before. A playground for the privileged.”
Alicia saw the doors that led to the platform sliding open. An archway stood off to the left and stairs beyond that. Double doors that might be an elevator. Benches coated in pure white leather, studded and decorated with bespoke carvings. A closed mini bar constructed in the finest dark woods.
An inconspicuous sign above the archway revealed all.
To The Ritz.
THIRTY SIX
Alicia jumped from the train before it had entirely stopped, dragging a merc along with her. She let him collapse to the floor and picked up his superfluous gun, then spun and took aim at the melee.
Another window shattered, but this time it was Russo lunging out of the way of Kenzie’s sword. Both Crouch and Caitlyn advanced up the aisle, guns raised and firing when they saw a clean shot. A merc jumped out of the other carriage door and stared at her.
“Get down,” she said with a warning in her voice.
Predictably, he came at her. She fired two shots into his vest and then rendered him unconscious. Kenzie attacked Russo on the train with the sword. Alicia saw it thrust through the shattered window. She ran to the door.
“Get your fat ass out here, Bridget! We have something to settle.”
Enraged, Kenzie swung away from Russo and clambered toward Alicia. Backing away, she gave herself space out on the platform, probably a bad idea because it gave her opponent room to swing.
And maybe not.
Fighters who relied too much on a single move or a preferred weapon never understood that in addition to it being their great strength, it was also their Achilles heel.
Alicia allowed Kenzie a few practice swings, eyeing her all the while, both women circling. She threw her gun to the floor. She smiled into Kenzie’s eyes.
“They’re gonna love you in prison, Bridge.”
Kenzie stepped and sliced the katana downward in shallow thrusts, again and again, each one aimed at Alicia’s shoulders. There was no full swing, only stabs. Alicia danced aside, backing toward the archway and the stairs beyond in case she needed to reduce Kenzie’s space. The tip of the blade sliced across the top of her chest, just tearing the jacket slightly. Kenzie changed the backswing into a sharp lunge.
Alicia didn’t try to dodge, just judged and stepped back a little. The edge of the katana drove into her vest, penetrating hard but only so far. Alicia’s perceptiveness was perfect. The blade stuck for a moment, throwing Kenzie off balance, its tip not quite reaching Alicia’s bare skin.
Swatting the katana aside, she struck with devastating skill and speed. A heel into Kenzie’s knee, the front of a boot to her sternum. Stepping in, she deployed missile-like strikes to more weak spots, making Kenzie’s ears bleed as she slammed fists into them. A groan escaped the Israeli rebel. On her knees she tried to lunge for Alicia’s discarded gun.
“Desperate to the end.”
Alicia stood on the fingers, though careful not to break them. She was no sadist. Kenzie withdrew her arm quickly. Russo suddenly came lumbering up.
“You okay?”
“Oh, now you ask? When the crazy sword wielder’s kneeling at my feet.”
Russo skimmed the train with his eyes. “Just mopping up in there. So this is the end of the line, huh? The Ritz?”
“Who knows?” Alicia wondered where the staircase might lead. “Could be an old passage. The owners might not even know of its existence.”
Crouch joined them. “Everyone okay, I see. Let’s grab this piece of crap and head on up. And see what we can see.”
Alicia reached down and, with Russo’s help, took her time restraining Kenzie. At first, threat was simply not enough. The feisty Israeli gave as good as she got. Alicia saw a little of herself in the woman’s eyes. Shit, I need to bury that thought as far down as it will go! Russo took a blow to the thigh; Alicia two to the head. In the end it was the gun that calmed Kenzie down, along with the mad glint in Alicia’s eyes.
Calm the fuck down or I will shoot you.
The threat was clear between gazes. Clear as crystal.
Healey came up panting, Caitlyn alongside. The black-haired girl didn’t realize she was spattered with blood and Alicia wasn’t about to point it out to her. Little steps, she thought. Taken one by one.
Crouch passed through the archway, ignoring the elevator. Even now they might be on some kind of covert CCTV but the rising car would surely announce their arrival. The stairs were the better choice. He rose steadily, followed by his team. At the top the staircase opened onto a half-circle landing, constructed of stone and overlaid with Italian marble. The surface was slippery.
Before them stood a cage door like an old elevator, and beyond that a set of high double doors, clad again in Italian marble. Crouch paused. “This wasn’t just built for the Hercules,” he said. “I imagine the route between here and Hyde Park has existed for longer than we thought.”
“Do you think the Duke ut
ilized it this way?” Caitlyn asked.
Crouch pulled a face. “It’s possible, but I’m doubtful,” he said. “More like a secret group possibly even with connections to Napoleon and ancestors who viewed the Hercules back when Constantinople was of consequence. But I do believe he looked upon it. And that leads us to another point . . .” he glanced around at Kenzie. “How did you find it?”
“A door inside the Wellington Arch,” she whispered. “Don’t look so shocked. I know everything about you. Do you remember when your unit was destroyed?”
Crouch clenched his fists. “Of course. The Ninth Division was ambushed, usurped.”
“Save it. Because one man survived. One you left for dead.”
Both Russo and Healy ducked forward now, having believed they were the only survivors. “Who?”
“I want a deal.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Alicia pushed Kenzie toward the cage door. “You and your deals. Take a walk.”
“One man knows all your contacts, all your moves. We knew what you knew almost as you knew it. Paris, London. The congress and the poem. You really need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”
Crouch had almost stopped her, but now realized Kenzie would be better dealt with later. They waited for Russo to break through the lock and then pulled the cage doors apart. The high doors beyond had but a single lock near a single handle. Alicia pushed hard at the tiny gap.
The doors didn’t budge.
“We may have a problem.”
Crouch and Caitlyn cast around but found no way of opening the door.
Russo clicked his fingers. “One of the mercs was carrying a shotgun,” he said. “I’ll nip back and grab it.”
“Cool,” Alicia said. “And if it doesn’t work we’ll use Kenzie’s ass to mow it into rubble.”
Kenzie hissed at the Englishwoman. Russo moved off to a final call from Alicia: “Hope you don’t get scared on your own, Robbie!” to which Crouch ordered Healey to follow in case any of the mercs had been faking.
Minutes passed. Alicia passed the time bating Kenzie and strapping the woman’s sword to Caitlyn’s back. At last Russo returned with the shotgun and angled it at the small lock.
“Take cover.”
The boom resounded in their eardrums. The doors shattered apart. Alicia passed through the ruins very carefully, to find herself in an abandoned ballroom, emerging from behind the stage. They looked to the walls and saw no windows.
“Basement.” Crouch nodded. “As expected.” He studied the destroyed set of doors at their back. “Looks like it was concealed behind a hanging mural like the walls of the rest of the room.”
How many other secret passageways lay concealed around them?
They trooped on, climbing more stairs and finally emerging at the end of a long corridor. The Ritz was extensive, one of the world’s most prestigious and famous hotels. An icon for high society and extravagance it was well known during the war as a place where secret meetings were held.
Now, the team passed along a rich and sumptuously appointed carpet, following a winding corridor that appeared to be somewhere near the back of the establishment. A tour up a winding staircase and another two corridors and they began to hear the sound of hushed conversation and chinking of fine tableware. A waiter passed them by, at first confused but then quickly accepting, and then two more. Alicia whistled at the high chandeliers, the ornate trimmings and lavish flower arrangements.
Crouch stopped. “This is the Palm Court.” He stood at the entrance to a luxurious restaurant. Cream-colored walls, gilded armchairs and gilt bronze mirrors greeted them. The clientele all spoke quietly, leaning over their tables or delicately prodding their veal sweetbreads and fruit soufflés. Alicia saw a path toward the exit.
“Shall we make a run for it?”
“I think so and quickly,” Crouch responded. “All this excess is about to make me ill.”
Kenzie leaned in close to Alicia’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t you prefer to linger? Maybe grab some quail?”
It was so incongruous that it made Alicia hesitate. What the hell . . .
Then her gaze fell upon the table to their right. Somebody waved. Alicia made out the face of Daniel Riley.
Crouch stiffened.
Next to Riley sat Beauregard Alain.
THIRTY SEVEN
Riley rose and waved them over, greeting the team like old friends. Alicia realized they stood out like cocks at a hen party and not in a good way. Patrons of The Ritz were already eyeing them with distaste. Any other day she would make them wear their côte de boeuf but the presence of Beauregard had discombobulated her.
Crouch edged toward Riley, clearly expecting hostility. As they came closer Riley insisted that they take their seats. Beauregard sat in silence, staring down at the table.
Alicia made sure she sidled in beside him.
Riley showed them the napkin that rested on the table, and on top of the deadly Model M&P Smith & Wesson Bodyguard 380 handgun. Double action, it was a .380 auto and held six-plus-one rounds. Matt black in color, it lay like a predator waiting to pounce.
Riley grimaced at Crouch. “Thought you’d beat me didn’t you? Well, maybe you did but I don’t die so easily. And when Kenzie here told me where you were and all about this man—” he indicated Beauregard a little warily, hand hovering above the napkin. “We concocted a little backup plan.”
The team were staring between Beauregard and Crouch. “You know him?” Caitlyn asked quietly. “What am I missing?”
Riley waved it away. “Doesn’t matter now. You’re probably going to be dead in a few minutes anyway.” He pushed his half-eaten meal toward her. “Fancy some ravioli?”
Crouch banged the table hard enough to make the cutlery bounce. “What do you want?”
“Calm down, Michael. You’ll get us all thrown out. Either you or that bloody sword strapped to Caitlyn’s back. Now, we all know how badly you wronged me. And we all know how badly I wish this tasty ravioli was your still-dripping liver. But this treasure? It calls to me, Michael. Like a mermaid riding a wave I’d just love to bone, it calls to me, singing in the sweetest of voices. The gold. It needs me.”
Crouch cocked his head, struggling to follow. “Are you offering me Beauregard for the Hercules?”
“Oh well, if you want to put it that way.” Riley stroked the topside of the napkin suggestively. “I want her too.”
Kenzie actually looked a little unsure. “Yeah.”
Alicia used their exchanges to send an inquisitive frown directly at Beau. In answer he raised cuffed hands, hidden beneath another napkin.
Riley caught Beau? I don’t believe it. Nobody could catch Beau, not even the SPEAR team.
“You’re wondering how I caught him aren’t you?” Riley inclined his head. “Clever ole Beauregard Alain, the world’s greatest assassin. Caught by Daniel Riley, the world’s greatest—”
“Twat?” Alicia suggested quickly. “Bell end?”
“Careful, Myles. I could kill you all.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Try me.”
The world went silent. Riley stroked the napkin slowly. Alicia stared into his unblinking eyes. The truth was, he could certainly kill some of them. She could not save them all. The only modification here would be the passage of time. Something always came along to change the playing field.
She bobbed her chin. “How do you want to play this?”
“First, free me,” Kenzie said.
“You’re not tied, you dumb bitch. You’re here because we have sights on you.”
“I’m here because I want to be, bitch. You think a part of this wasn’t my plan?”
Healey stared at Crouch. “Doesn’t Beau work for the Pythians?”
“I’ll explain later,” Crouch told him. “But he works for me. Always has.”
Riley surveyed the restaurant, happy that all its patrons had returned to their meals. “Y’know,” he said. “I love leading people on. Baiting them. Danglin
g the carrot and then using the stick.” His face broke into a smile that could not reach his eyes.
“Kenzie,” he said. “You brought all this to me. Gave me this chance. For that I thank you and hope taking the first bullet between the eyes is just reward.”
The napkin lifted, the gun waiting. Kenzie’s eyes filled with fear. Riley’s hand moved fast. Alicia and Beauregard worked in silent partnership, heaving at the table from below and tipping it toward Riley. The gun slid backward and the man fell from his chair.
Screams rang out.
The restaurant exploded into chaos.
Alicia scrambled over the still tipping table top, balancing along its rim as carefully as she ever had in her life, and rose above the fallen Daniel Riley. Her problem was she’d located the Smith & Wesson and it was now aimed toward her.
Altering her flight she twisted away. The gun rang out, the bullet passing by. Alicia fell out of Riley’s line of sight and then Crouch was crashing into him, knees taking him in the chest. Kenzie backhanded Caitlyn and kicked Healey between the legs, stunning them both. Russo raced to Crouch’s aid.
Riley rose, grabbed a gilded Louis XVI armchair and smashed the oval back across Russo’s oncoming bulk. The soldier covered up, going down. Crouch wrestled for the gun. It went off for a second time, the bullet entering the carpet and leaving only five remaining. Alicia pushed the handcuffed Beau behind her and struck at Riley.
Outnumbered, the terrorist backed off, still trying to fling Crouch away. A thump to the ear helped. Crouch staggered, flailing at thin air. The gun aimed right at him and the shot went off.
Alicia hit at the very last moment, redirecting Riley’s arm so that the bullet shattered a portion of fine trellis work. The gun spun off across the floor, skidding under a table. Riley stood alone for one moment.
Crouch squared up to him.
“Remember India!” Riley screamed. “Remember the worst of your fucking past, old man!”
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