“Fair enough then,” Dahl muttered.
Kenzie smiled to herself, then took in the view. They were parked in the hills above Monaco, having spent the best part of the last two days in the resplendent city of Monte Carlo. Just beyond the wheels of the car the cliff dropped away, rock and scrub and boulders littering the way down toward the topmost tier of the city. Below, the French Riviera’s most famous streets meandered through the main town, passing by casinos, restaurants and designer boutiques, with the sparkling jewel of the Mediterranean spreading as far as the eye could see.
“I could imagine being on one of those yachts,” she said, shading her eyes against the sun and the glare. “Lazing in the harbor.”
“Yeah.” Dahl paused for a moment to look. “Just a small one though. Nothing ostentatious.”
“Of course,” Kenzie acknowledged. “Nothing over ten mil.”
They both laughed and shared a look. Being alone and having to rely on each other these past days, spending the nights talking and imbibing, had created a strong bond between them. Kenzie would take it further, but Dahl continued to hold off for his marriage, and now she respected him even more for that. Despite all the shit they went through, time and again, some of these people still managed to hold down normal relationships.
Good fortune to them.
Kenzie did stare hard into those blue eyes though, enjoying the spark of friendship she saw there. “It’s been fun, Torst. Sharing this mission with you.”
The Swede smiled, and then turned serious. “Agreed. So let’s concentrate now, end it and go home in one piece.”
She continued to drink in the view. “You thought Cyrano and Patric were bad? This guy, Treacle—he’s pure evil.”
“I can’t accept that name.”
“He will try to kill us today.”
“Many have tried.” Dahl moved to her side. “Yet still we stand.”
“Love your faith. Maybe being with you will save me after all.”
“Always thought so.”
“I’m so glad we had this time alone.”
Dahl placed a hand on her arm. “You seem certain we’re about to die. I never saw that in you before. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“If I had known the almighty buyer of these Inca relics was Treacle I’d never have come,” Kenzie admitted. “Now we know he’s not only the buyer of almost every relic the seller has offered, he’s the buyer we double-crossed back in Nice when we killed Tremayne. And he knows that. If I’m being honest . . .” Kenzie’s brow creased in thought. “I would bet hard that Treacle ended up with every Inca treasure, even the ones he didn’t buy, if you get my drift.”
“I know you’re scared of this guy, and that’s not something I’ve seen in you before.”
Kenzie studied the view as if it might be the last thing she would ever see. “Time’s almost up.”
Their small lay-by, a parking area by the side of the road, might hold four cars if they were parked nose to ass. Dahl had purposely chosen the furthest space to allow a fast getaway. Directly before them now lay one of Monaco’s renowned tunnels, carved and cut out of the rock face and leading steadily down toward the bay.
“You think this Treacle person will reveal the line all the way to the seller?” Dahl asked. “Cops? Politicians? Generals? The whole lot just to possess an Inca vase?”
Kenzie cast an eye to the trunk where they had hidden the treasure. “Why not? He’s the only person on earth that will know. Plus, he holds most or all of the other pieces. If we’re to retrieve them we need him to trust us at least a little bit.”
“But you said he would try to kill us.”
“Yeah, for sure. Treacle has to do that for appearances’ sake. An evil reputation must be maintained.”
“Ah, of course. Never thought of it like that.”
Kenzie wiped her brow as the sun blazed down. Below, where the tunnel ended and the road swept down toward the town, she could see a toll station and three black SUVs inching through. Two came up fast, their engines roaring whilst the third rolled along at a relaxed pace as if taking in the sights. The first two approached, their engines loud through the tunnel, emerged and pulled off the road, parking behind Dahl, facing the other way. Blacked out windows revealed nothing.
“Keep it skin-tight,” Dahl said as the front doors of both vehicles cracked open simultaneously. “We take your lead.”
Kenzie loosened the katana at the same time as letting her right hand dangle over her concealed handgun. “I’m ready.”
“Surely they won’t cause a scene out here. It’s too public.”
Kenzie said nothing. Treacle was ruthless to the point of absolute ignorance and indifference. The fact was, it was more than a lack of morals, it was a total lack of giving a shit. In Treacle’s world, only Treacle ever mattered. All else was expendable dross.
Four men emerged from the two cars, all wearing cut-off T-shirts, sunglasses and baggy jeans. They carried weapons openly, grossly—not just small pistols but machine guns and rifles. One man bounced a hand grenade between both hands whilst smoking a cigarette. Another two bodyguards jumped out of the back and then the man himself appeared.
Blond, shaggy hair, tall, toned body. Late forties, and with a shit-eating grin. Just as she remembered him.
“Awwight, Tweacle?” he drawled smugly. “Lovellly day for it?”
“Still pretending you’re a Londoner?” Kenzie shifted only to gain a better vantage. “Have you forgotten you told me you were from Brooklyn?”
Treacle nodded. “Yeah, yeah, Tweacle, I remember. Did we fuck too?”
“If we did you would remember.”
“I dunno.” The blond head of hair shook. “I fuck a lot.”
Men spread out around the cars and the lay-by. Kenzie had noticed that the third vehicle still hadn’t emerged from the tunnel. Probably waiting on the other side as a precaution. Cars passed by slowly along the road, hopefully most of them missing the deadly exchange.
“You ready to deal?” she said.
“ ’Course I am. I’m a dealer aren’t I?”
“We have what you want. Do you have the information?”
“This Cyrano.” Treacle clearly wanted to slow it down. “Man’s a buyer too, yeah? Man found me, now thinks I owe him,” Laughter blasted from the offensive mouth. “Wanker . . . and why didn’t he want the vase?”
“He did. But we needed you.”
“ ’Course, ’course,” Treacle clearly knew he was important. “Makes sense. But why should I lower meself down to deal with a bint like you?”
“Because I have the relic.” Kenzie ignored the offensive word. She’d heard much worse. “And you want it.”
“I remember you.” Treacle moved closer, his men scrambling to move with him. “Right bitch you were. Angling to gazump me, you were. Bad all over and hot because of it. What happened?”
Kenzie shrugged.
Treacle included Dahl in his gaze for the first time. “Tweacle,” he acknowledged the Swede, then spoke to Kenzie. “This big boy bang the bad outta you?”
Not yet, Kenzie wanted to say. But I will keep trying. Instead she flexed her fingers and rolled a shoulder, drawing attention to the weapons. “We going to chat all day or deal? I have a roulette table just shouting my name out.”
“You and me both, Tweacle. You and me both. How ’bout you give us a flash? That’ll please the boys and speed things up.”
Kenzie drew her katana faster than a man could draw breath. “How about I chop their knackers into cutlets?”
Treacle coughed, wincing at the image. “Steady on, steady on. No need to be shirty. That’s a helluva a blade you got there, Tweacle. Makes me feel almost inadequate. Almost.” A sickly smile.
Kenzie made sure the tip of the sword pointed at the floor and was as shielded from passing traffic as was possible. “Who’s controlling the new thread of Inca artifacts? Where’s it coming from? Who’s involved? Now, or we walk.”
“You
kiddin’? I’d love to watch you walk away.”
Treacle’s men guffawed. Kenzie waited.
“Tell you what, Tweacle.” He held up a thick file and flapped it at her. “I’ll make you a deal. You live, you get the information. You die, I’ll strip and defile your still warm body. Meet me at the Casino de Monte Carlo in an hour.”
The buyer’s self-confident grin twisted into a leer of hate. Dahl was fastest of all, drawing a Smith and Wesson and firing into two midriffs. Men twisted, falling. Kenzie swung the katana toward Treacle’s arm, but the man was fleet and danced away. Her upswing took a bodyguard across the abdomen, sent the gun he held clattering into the dirt. She continued her swing, allowing the momentum to turn her body and become a mad dash. The car doors were open. A bullet skimmed past her ass. Treacle cheered. Kenzie dived into the front seat as Dahl crouched alongside the wheel and took several pot shots.
“Get in!” Kenzie shouted. “Bastard wants to play, I’ll show him how the Mossad fucking play!”
Treacle disappeared into the back seat of his SUV, guards following. Dahl came around and jumped behind the driver’s seat. “What the hell is going on?”
“Foreplay,” Kenzie muttered. “Now make this bastard squeal.”
Dahl gunned the engine. “Which way?”
“Into Monaco, of course.”
Dahl scowled. “Where there’s a cop on every corner.”
Their car squealed as its tires spun in the dirt, spitting gravel out the back straight into the close-parked SUV’s rear end. They could hear the pepper-shot clatter even above the engines.
“That’ll knock a coat of paint off his insurance,” Kenzie joked with a grin.
“Shit, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Kenzie stroked the pommel of her katana. “What’s not to like?”
“How about near death?” Dahl loosed the car and squealed out into the road, cutting a fine arc and leaving a trail of rubber in his wake.
“Made friends with that asshole a decade ago. He doesn’t scare me.”
The entrance to the tunnel yawned ahead. Kenzie remembered the third SUV and told Dahl. Behind them, the other two SUVs made a great show of turning around.
“Y’know,” Kenzie said as they raced into the tunnel, darkness and then interior light replacing the sun. “All of a sudden, this doesn’t feel right.”
It was a short tunnel. Already they could see the end.
“You think they’re waiting at the other end?”
“No. I think—”
The enormous sound of an explosion and cracks appearing along the roof of the tunnel, the fireball and the flames, told her she hadn’t been thinking along the right lines at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Kenzie slapped a hand to her mouth in shock. No way was this tunnel going to collapse, but the force of the detonation was sending rubble smashing down from the roof and rolling down the sides. Lights flickered and died, the only illumination intensely bright from the end of the tunnel. Heaps of debris already blocked the way and more was falling down. She saw boulders the size of her head bouncing into the pile, their edges jagged and deadly. She saw an oncoming car swerve to avoid the wreckage, smash into the sidewall and come to a sudden halt, the front end smashed in. She saw the third black SUV parked in a lay-by far ahead.
“There’s the asshole who did this,” Dahl said at the same time. “Must have rigged some dynamite or something.”
More cars were pulling up ahead, people climbing out of their cars and pulling out phones. Kenzie opened her door and started to move.
“Wait!” Dahl launched himself across the front seats, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back in. She felt the power, the sheer strength of the man and then ended up staring at his chest from less than an inch distant.
“What’s the issue?” she said in a muffled voice.
The sound of a hail of rocks smashing down onto the car roof and her door gave her a terrifying answer.
“Oh. It’s raining rocks. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Not part of Mossad training?” Dahl swung the door shut and climbed off her.
“Not whilst I was there.”
Another hail of rubble clattered down onto the roof. Kenzie saw the first indent appear—a V-shaped delve in the headliner.
“To be honest,” Dahl said mildly. “I was expecting more of a sexist comment.”
“Were you? From me? Well, Mr. Muscles, you’ll be happy to know I’ve decided to let you and Missus Muscles get back together. I guess you deserve another chance.”
Dahl took his eyes away from their dilemma for a moment. “This time . . . it will work.”
“I hope so. I’m no marriage breaker.”
A rock the size of her fist smashed against the windshield, causing the glass to give and a spider web tracery of cracks to race away from the epicenter.
Then she saw all four doors of the SUV open. Armed men wearing T-shirts jumped out, looking up at the shattered tunnel entrance. One of them spotted their car and pointed.
“We’re gonna have to risk it,” Dahl said. “These people up ahead are gonna get hurt.”
Kenzie kicked at her door, forcing a small pile of rubble to topple away. An errant stone fell from the roof and bounced off her shoulder, causing her to wince in pain. Just the shadow of what could have been. Dahl squeezed out the other side. Between them and the exit now stood a knee-height pile of rocks and a steadily pouring pebble-and-shale shower.
“Move!” Dahl shouted at the milling car drivers. “Get out of here!”
He ran hard for the exit and Kenzie followed, spurred on by his bold moves. The stony waterfall bounced off them, drawing blood here and there but not even slowing them down. The final obstacle was more serious. Dahl paused.
Raised his gun and fired. “Only way to get ’em all moving.”
“It works for Jessica Ennis and Usain Bolt.” Kenzie peered over an unsteady boulder.
Dahl turned to her. “You’re a sports fan?”
“Only my entire life.”
“And what are your thoughts on the Swedish football team?” He fired another shot as people raced for their cars or decided to duck behind them.
“Didn’t know they had one. In truth though, I’m more of an athletics girl.”
“Fencing?”
She watched the blatant enemy advance. “Get out of here. They poke each other with matchsticks.”
“I hear there’s some skill involved.”
“Yeah, probably when they glue them together to build a tower.”
With the coast clear, Kenzie used the rubble pile as a barricade and leaned over, gun in hand. Four enemies ran at her, machine pistols poised. She took the first shot, bullet blasting wide. The return came at once, lead stitching a line across the tunnel above her head. Running and firing wasn’t their strong suit then. Dahl took his time, kneeling and aiming; his first shot sent the lead man jerking to the side. Kenzie fired once more. Again her bullet found thin air instead of hot flesh.
“Not one for the clay pigeon event then?”
“Up close is where it’s at. Your wife will probably agree.”
She kicked herself for her bluntness, striving for a more agreeable manner. It was the damn Swede that was trying to bring on the change. He shouldn’t bear the brunt. A clatter of gunfire sent her beneath the barricade, with bits of stone spitting off the top. One bullet managed to blast right through the piled stone and shattered the front grille of their car, reaffirming just how fragile her grip on life remained. She saw Dahl fire once more and curse, then popped her head up.
Three gunmen still coming, guns switched to auto.
Instinct sent her ducking, covering, scrambling to the left to change position. A man jumped over the barricade, shooting down at the position she’d recently occupied. She rose fast, swung her shoulders and unleashed the katana.
The blade chopped down through his arm, parting him from the gun and sending a look of horror across his
features.
“What?”
“You tried to kill me first.” When the next man climbed over she wasted no time and no mercy shooting him in the head. She saw Dahl fall away from a man who jumped to the top of the entire barrier, gun blazing, then somehow manage to kick the rocks out from beneath him. The barrier shivered and then collapsed, the man falling among the stones.
Dahl finished him, then waved at Kenzie. Together, they flew over the rubble and charged the SUV. It saw them coming and turned to speed back down the hill. Dahl faltered. Kenzie stowed her weapons and took a wild look around.
“We have about thirty minutes,” she said. “Then we lose Treacle forever.”
Dahl grunted. “Oh, I love hearing those sentences we never expected to utter,” he said. “But they work better with kids. Put the dinosaur back in the conservatory.” He was casting around, searching for the bare bones of a plan as he spoke. “Granddad, Mum and Dad say we can’t talk about your fat belly anymore. Shit, I just trod on a crocodile . . .”
Kenzie took a moment to stare down the side of the nearest cliff, over Monaco. “Time’s ticking.”
“Yeah, and so is that beast.”
Dahl sounded so happy, Kenzie immediately whirled her head around. The Swede was galloping—no, more like frolicking—in the direction of a deep blue car with an imposing shape. Kenzie chased after him.
“So this makes you happy? A Maserati?”
Dahl’s head spun around so fast it almost turned three hundred and sixty degrees. “You like cars too?”
“I’ve sometimes been called a petrolhead.”
“I knew there was something about you. Who gives a fuck that you’re a trained killer? If we can talk about cars for an hour, we’re mates forever.”
Kenzie made a pained face as she caught up to him, not entirely sure she wanted to be the Swede’s “mate”. Not in the sense he meant anyway. Her father had been a car lover, and thus so had her brother, but good memories of them caused bad endings to re-emerge. Like predators, they were never far from the surface.
Dahl smiled at the man behind the wheel. “Sorry, mate. Need your car. I really will try to treat it well, but failing that, please know these things are happiest being driven hard.”
Inca Kings (Matt Drake Book 15) Page 13