Detour Paris: Complete Series (Detour Paris Series Book 4)

by Dancer, Jack

  As these images appeared across her 60-inch wide screen, the Raven went apoplectic, but when she caught some of the sidelong glances, her henchmen were making behind her back, she became a little more subdued.

  The topper for the evening though, was when the lasers began painting Julia's face alongside her mother's and adding another five million euro reward, also Dead or Alive.”

  “Oh, Tucker, look,” Nanette says pointing.

  “Looks like they got it in after all. I was wondering about that one.”

  “I can't believe you've got Pau's face up there and with a five million euro reward too? How'd you do it?” she asks stunned.

  “I can hardly believe it myself. I wasn't at all sure Speed could pull it off at the last minute, past the last minute actually. Well, good for him,” I start applauding proudly then pull out my iPhone and FaceTime Speed, so he could see the festivities first hand.

  “You're a god, Speed. Look what you pulled off halfway across the globe?” I say panning the FaceTime camera across the sky.

  “Holy shit, they did it, huh? Righteous, man. It's totally awesome. So, how many people turned out?”

  “They're saying well over a million.”

  “Wow. Maybe I should have had those guys sign my name to the laser messages, you know, get a little attribution.”

  “Not sure you'd really want to do that. The authorities are already going nuts with the illegal skywriting and all the paper we dropped. They'll have an international manhunt together for the guilty parties when all's said and done, you can bet on it. You might like it better being the anonymous artist.”

  “Felony littering is probably big, huh? Least there's no evidence left behind from the skywriting.”

  “True.”

  “Take plenty of video Bluesman 'cause that's all you'll have to show from all the bucks you dropped to do this stuff. Not that money really counts for much, since you're about to be the richest dude I'll probably ever know, but with all the law breaking these vendors had to do, costs shot up ten times more than normal you know.”

  “Yeah, well that's the way it goes. Just pray that this lottery ticket is the real deal, otherwise, I'll have to be so far underground that even I won’t be able to find me.”

  “Don't say that and jinx it man. The ticket'll be good. Just think positive thoughts. Meanwhile, I'll keep plugging away on the book and movie, so we've got a backup.”

  “You do that brother. But keep my name out of it. I've got enough frame-ups hanging on me I could do a one-man art show hands down."

  "More like hands up, dude."

  "Don't remind me. If I don't nail this Drusilla Libica bitch with her Green Dragons and Fairies and this flight crew bunch of scammers, I could end up spending the rest of my days in hiding, exiled in some cave with one of your maharishi buddies high in the Himalayas."

  "High in the Himalayas would be a whole lot better than in some low down Spanish dungeon. Besides, Raj yogi would be one happy Hindi to have you, Bluesman. Should I go ahead and give him a heads-up, ya think, reserve you a man-cave?"

  "Don't jump the gun yet, Speed. You are my complicit cohort in all things. Should I end up bunking with Raj Yogi, don't think you won't be yanked out of your little ether-world into his harem too."

  "Then it's ether-world to reefer-world. Don't sound all that bad to me, Bluesman."

  "Well, let's just see if we can't make our little play up at the Castello Llivia tonight one that’ll correct all these vacation assaults I’ve had on this trip, so we won't have to impose on ole Maharishi Raj Yogi and his man-cave space."

  "And exit this performance with some well-earned riches cause we're gonna have a lot of bills to pay."

  "Got that right."

  “The great and Speedy Oz is always watching your back, Bluesman. Do not fear I am here. This is the Speedster signing out.”

  ***

  “I have to say, Tucker, you've done one heck of a job destroying these two women, from a distance, especially Drusilla. But now it's gonna be . . .”

  “Up close and personal?” I finish her thought.

  “. . . a lot harder, I was going to say.”

  “I like mine better,” I say.

  “Of course you do,” she says, "but now we'll be on her turf."

  "Yeah, but we've got the element of surprise; which reminds me, we need to get going if we're going to get there before daybreak."

  “Don't you think that after all that's transpired tonight, they'll be on alert like meth heads on crack?”

  God, she's startin' to sound like me, I’m thinking. Scary.

  "Maybe. But with our new uniforms we should have some advantage blending in. I also think Drusilla's probably already having a time of it with her own people. On top of all I've put into play starting with yesterday and up through tonight, I also had Speed send text messages to the families of her men encouraging them to turn on her and collect the reward. I'll bet those guys have been beaten up all day with phone calls and text messages from their wives. I wouldn't be surprised if someone in their camp hasn't already neutralized the good doctor and maybe even Pau too and if that's the case, we might go up there and find an empty castle waiting for us. Wouldn't that be great?"

  "Sure would. I'm not too crazy about up close and personal, really. I'm not. It scares me, Tucker.”

  “Hey, I'm scared too.”

  “You don't seem scared.”

  “I'm faking it."

  sixty-five

  00:00 Hours, Friday, 12 September.

  The El Raval Apartment.

  Back at the apartment we put on our newly altered uniforms for a night in the woods and load our gear into the backup Mini Cooper, that Dick has waiting for us. The guy truly is amazing as I'm sure his invoice will prove.

  The last drive to Castello Llivia took around two hours but tonight with all that's going on in Barcelona, the drive takes nearly four hours. Getting out of Barcelona alone takes two.

  When we finally arrive the little village is snoring away. Not even a loose dog on the street greets us. We take our previous turn around to the north side of castle hill and park in the same copse of trees. It's as dark as pitch, so we put on our night-vision goggles before securing our backpacks, then our helmets, and I show Nanette the bees net that's rolled up into the helmet.

  "You're not really are you?" she asks.

  "I dunno. Maybe. Depends. If we don't need 'em, but if I think we do, then, yeah, I'll set the little fly'n bombers free. You just be sure and have your net rolled down and secured with the Velcro. Got your wasp spray?"

  "Bloody right I've got it, and it's coming out the second you release those creatures."

  "Fair enough."

  I pull out the AR-70, assemble it, and load the CCI ultra-quiet .22 caliber long rifles. They're no louder than an air rifle and a lot deadlier. We both have Tasers holstered and ready to go.

  “Wow, these night-vision goggles are really cool. I can see everything, almost like its day,” says Nanette.

  "Green Day."

  "Don't start singing, Tucker."

  "Party pooper."

  "Alright. Ready? Keep your eyes peeled for anything, any movement. If you spot something tap me on the back, do not talk and watch your steps for any laser beams, we don't want any alarms going off and giving us away. Also, try not to step on sticks or branches. We gotta keep quiet.”

  "You want me to walk on air?"

  "Go for it."

  We make it into the tunnel entrance without a problem and walk another thirty yards to the Superglued door. I pull out the Benz-O-Matic torch, light it and with the torch in one hand and my other hand on the door lever, I aim the torch down at the locking mechanism where I squirted the Superglue and jiggle the door lever. After a few seconds or so the door lever drops and I'm able to swing it from the jamb, just a tad to keep it open, then I lean into Nanette's ear.

  “I'll go first. You follow as close behind me as you can so if anyone sees us; they'll see me and maybe
not you, at least to start.” I pull back and see she's got her Wham-O loaded and ready, and I've gotta laugh it's all so ridiculous. We're going to fight off a guerrilla army, Goliath, with a slingshot. Right.

  I pull the door open, slowly and peer around it, expecting to see the same two guys Nanette ran into last time but no one. Good. We walk into the room, and I motion to Nanette to close the door. No sense broadcasting to anyone walking by that the castle's been breached through a door that wasn't supposed to be working.

  Everything's pitch black, so we keep our night-vision goggles in place. I point to my left, look at Nanette, and she nods. We slink up the corridor and my heart's pounding loud enough to call up drums from a neighboring tribe. The corridor intersects with another, and we take a right. This one's dark too but a dim light barely illuminates at the far end. We flip our goggles up and vision returns to normal. It's dark, but we can see well enough to use the distant light as a guide. When we reach the end, the light's brightened. Another corridor, and it's down this one where the light originates. Peering around the corner I can see the light is coming from a place where a staircase leads upwards. I think there's more, but I've got to take another peek to be sure. I do and see stairs also leading down. A man's sitting between the two, with his legs crossed reading a newspaper. I can't see his face, but he's facing our direction. A rifle leans against the wall next to him.

  "Let's round the corner and quietly walk toward him. Maybe he won't look up and see us until we're on top of him.” She nods, okay.

  Moving in a low crouch, I have the AR-70 pointed right at him, and Nanette's to my left a couple of steps behind with her Wham-O ready. The guard doesn't move. We're not ten feet away and a whizzing passes my ear and the guard's newspaper explodes with a clean hole through it, but he doesn't move. I look to Nanette, and she's already got the Wham-O cocked and ready with another ball-bearing load. The guard still hasn't budged. Strange. Did she put the first shot through his head? Through his eyeball maybe and killed him? I hold my hand up to Nanette to hold off and take two quick crouching steps to the guard and tear away the newspaper.

  It's a decoy, a fake, a dummy sitting in the chair pretending to be a guard.

  I turn to Nanette and whisper, "What the hell?"

  “You think her guards have abandoned her, and she's put dummies in their place?” she asks.

  “I dunno, maybe,” I say. "We need to see what else we find. Which way to Monica?”

  Nanette points, "That way. Down the stairs and through the next corridor.” I go down first. Nanette follows. The steps are solid rock, built out of the wall, old and damp. The place smells dingy. When we reach bottom, we hear voices.

  “No cardboard dummies down here,” I whisper.

  “Let's hide, Tucker."

  I spot a room across the corridor. Looks empty, doors're open, so I make a dash across and inside with Nanette on me like a shadow.

  "I think they're walking this way. Listen up, maybe you can translate.” She moves closer to the open door and puts her ear to the crack between the door and jamb.

  “I can't tell. Two people. I think they're arguing about something; they're whispering loudly, but I can't make out the words.”

  I lean over and peek through the same crack. Two guys dressed in camo walk into view then stop and drop into a crouch and lean against a wall. They're both carrying automatic weapons.

  “They're talking about the Raven,” she says, "They don't know which way to her private quarters. They're guessing. One said he needed to collect on the reward. His wife's making his life miserable, and if he doesn't show up with it when he returns home, she'll castrate him, and he'll never find another woman that'll marry him," she says. "Looks like enticing the wives with the reward money worked, at least for these guys.

  “Wonder just how many others are hoping to collect,” she says.

  “Might be a lot of traffic.”

  “Could make it confusing too,” she says. "They might think we're the enemy and start shooting.”

  “Yeah. Wish I knew how we could get 'em out of the way.”

  Just as the words leave my lips, I hear a muffled POW. I look back through the crack and see the two men now slumped over each other with half of their heads missing. I turn back to Nanette.

  “Holy shit! Somebody just shot those guys. Go back into the corner, they might not see us if they come this way. If they stop and come in here, I'll shoot 'em.”

  A moment later, we hear voices, then footsteps.

  Nanette holds up two fingers, and it strikes me that this woman has done stuff like this before because I'm barely holding myself together, and she seems the model of calm.

  They stop in the doorway, and when the first takes a step into the room and I'm just about to pull the trigger, WHIZ POP. The guy's head's thrown back, and he falls into the guy behind him. Somebody starts shooting, and the guy left standing goes down. They've both dropped pistols.

  “Holy shit! Who shot that guy?"

  "You did fool-face," she says with serious reservations.

  "I knew that. Just testing," I quickly say. "Hey, hell of a shot on the first guy but next time, how 'bout givin' me a little warning."

  "How 'bout warning me when you're going trigger happy and don't even know it."

  I don't even bother acknowledging that one.

  “Sit tight while I pull these guys into the room.” I pick up their pistols and see they're fitted with silencers.

  I feel for pulses, nothing. "I think they're dead.”

  “Oh, shit, Tucker,” she whispers back.

  “It's okay. We're alive.” I hand her one of the pistols, "Here take this.”

  “You trust me now?”

  “Absolutely, but keep the Wham-O. We may still need it.”

  “I think I'm more comfortable with the slingshot now.”

  “Then put the pistol in your backpack. It might come in handy. Which way to Monica?”

  “Go to the two dead guys in the corridor and take a right.”

  We leave the room closing the creaking door behind us.

  “I hope that didn't wake everyone up,” I say.

  When we're to the intersection of the corridor where the two dead guerrilla guys lie, they're a bloody mess, and it's then I realize that, whichever one of those other guys shot these two, they did it with a single shot. Christ, I think, wouldn't they be pissed if they knew a woman with a slingshot had taken 'em down?

  Before turning the corner I signal to wait, and point to my ear to listen. Nothing. Nanette signals the same, so we get around the corner and move in a crouch along the corridor wall until I do hear something a little farther down. Sounds like men talking. We stop and listen, then move on until we come upon another room, a large one. There must be a least a couple of dozen men in there. One voice rises above the others, and the chatter reduces to a few low mumbles.

  “Can you hear?”

  Nanette nods, yes.

  "What're they saying?”

  “Someone's giving them instruction to take up positions around the castle.”

  The door into the room is wide open, and there're two metal loops - one on the door and another on the doorjamb. It's obvious they're used to lock the door from the outside by inserting a straight piece through both loops. I reach to my side and pull the Rothco Expandable Baton from its sheath.

  “Pull down your wasp net,” I whisper.

  “You're not going to do what I think?”

  “Yep, I'm gonna set these guys free, so they can enjoy the party too.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  We both pull down the wasp nets tucked into our helmets and cover our faces.

  “Turn around,” I say and check that her net is in place, completely covering her head front and back.

  “Check me.” I turn around slowly for Nanette's inspection. She tugs a little at the back of my neck.

  “You're good,” she whispers.

  From my backpack, I retrieve the jar containing the thirty Jap
anese Hornets.

  “Stay here and hold my rifle, be right back,” I whisper.

  "Be careful, Tucker," she whispers.

  "I don't have to be careful. I got a gun," I say pointing to the Smith & Wesson Airlite strapped to my side, "More important, I got these."

  Crouching, I more or less duck-walk my way toward the door holding the jar against me with one hand. When I get there I grab the edge of the door with my other hand, stand and step in the doorway (Jesus, there must be forty guys in here) and yell, "Have fun assholes and bugger off,” then toss the jar into the room where it smashes to pieces on the stone floor. I slam the heavy door shut, throw open the Rothco and shove it into the two metal loops.

  The door erupts from the inside with fists banging. There's a lot of yelling and chaos and cursing, then screaming, then a lot of screaming until you'd think a massacre has erupted. And it has. A horrible one too. Meanwhile, Nanette has slinked her way up and is standing beside me handing over the AR-70.

  “They were speaking Basque but do you think they’re Drusilla's men?” she asks.

  “I dunno.”

  “How many were in the room?”

  “Thirty, forty maybe,” I say.

  “Why would she have to stoop to using cardboard guards if she has that many men?” she asks.

  "Got me. Maybe those are ones who've decided it's more profitable to kill her than to protect her?”

  "Yeah, that's the real question," she says.

  The sound of boots coming from the direction we'd already been, catches our attention.

  "Which way?” I ask.

  "There,” she points to a heavy tapestry draping a wall, not twenty feet away.

  "The carpet?” I ask confused.

  "Follow me,” she says.

  Now more boots coming toward us from the other end of the corridor.

  "Quick,” she says running to the tapestry. She grabs one edge, flips it back, and disappears inside. I follow. It's a hidden room; pitch black and I can't tell if we're in another corridor or a broom closet.