The Last Bazaar

by David Leadbeater

The trails parted for a moment, looping apart before coming back together. Alicia heard footsteps at her back and knew the team were close.

  “Seriously though. If you get a few spare minutes later I could teach you how to put that body to much better use.”

  Akatash swung his head around, slowing. Alicia knew this approach could have gone one of two ways—and still might. But all was well as her team and Ramses crashed past.

  “I do not have time for games,” Akatash said in a thin voice, an accent she couldn’t place. “This is your warning. Do not push me, married woman.”

  Alicia held out both hands as she slowed even more, making Akatash slow right along with her. “Hey, people have fought over this body.”

  “But I am a man of the strangest tastes and, I fear, not even a whore like yourself could survive my attentions.”

  Akatash ran off as Alicia sputtered and searched for a reply. A small part of her held back though. She had seen that feral light, the presence of something broken and vicious, an inner fury that could never be sated. She had seen it and wanted no part of it.

  Allowing the bodyguard to leap away she followed carefully, hoping she had gained the team enough of a lead.

  *

  Drake recognized Alicia’s ploy and led the entire team, barring Dahl, slightly away from the trail their prey was leaving. His plan was based on Ramses’ inability to track, his reliance on Akatash, and it bore fruit. Ramses joined them on their trail, smiling broadly, an inharmonious giant in the rainforest.

  Drake ducked a low bough, skirted a fallen tree and then leaned over as he sprinted around a long bend; water, mulch and tree sap dogging his every step. Twice, his boots slipped but he caught the slide. Once, he heard a booming gunshot echo through the jungle. Another half minute and he caught sight of the six-man team crossing their path, arrow-straight and unfortunately heading in the right direction. He made a show of pointing out their “mistake”, and received more than a few puzzled looks and comments for his troubles.

  “Guy’s lost it. Trail’s clearly this way.”

  “Idiot’s lost it. Ignore them.”

  “Hey, what if they know something we don’t? Ramses is with them.”

  Drake was passed by that time and still following the rough track. Outwardly he had shown no signs of concern for Dahl’s plan, but inwardly something acidic burned his stomach.

  *

  Dahl bounded after the man dressed in pastel, knowing that the hounds of hell would soon be snapping at his heels. Before long he was reminded that the combatants they had thus far seen weren’t the only ones vested in this chase as he came alongside two Americans arguing about which way to go. Both sported double-barrel shotguns bored out for the sport of it all. When Dahl passed they followed and he let out a silent curse.

  No helping it. I’m too close to the victim to lead them astray.

  He slowed, whirled and threw a hammer blow into the face of the first. The man fell, poleaxed, as if he’d sprinted headlong into a stationary elephant. The second slowed more quickly, brought his double-barrels down and fired without thought.

  Dahl was already moving, anticipating it. The heavy shot slammed into the fork of a tree, sending twigs, branches and foliage scattering in all directions. Dahl bent low and came up like a charging beast, ramming the American at mid-chest level and lifting him off his feet. There was a gasp of pain, a painful smashing together of teeth and the shotgun arced away. Dahl plowed on, keeping the advantage and driving his opponent into the nearest tree. Staggered, smashed from two sides, the hunter wavered in place for a moment. Dahl finished the job with a pounding to the ears.

  Without pause he raced off again, picking up the quarry’s trail and closing the gap. Quiet as a snake gliding on ice he approached the man’s blind side and then stopped him by scooping him up in a bear hug.

  Screams ensued. Dahl clamped a large hand over the man’s mouth and met his eyes. “Quiet,” he breathed. “I’m here to save you not hurt you.”

  Confusion and disbelief followed, but Dahl let go, holstered his gun and took a breath. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll take you to safety.”

  More crashing resounded from the undergrowth and Dahl saw the six-man team approaching through a nebulous pattern of trees. His face urged Ramses’ prey to action.

  “Okay, help me. Please.”

  Dahl herded him into dense jungle, squeezing through branches for almost a minute before finding another trail and pausing to reset his bearings. He remembered the small stream from earlier and, for the first time, wished for a heavy downpour. Of course, when required nothing happened so the Swede set to a more reliable means of escape. Treading lightly they both crept among towering trees, avoiding all paths until the Swede’s sense of direction brought them back to the stream. Stepping straight up to their knees in it they increased the pace, now following the rushing water toward the big river.

  Dahl stopped as the high banks came into view.

  “Now we swim,” he said. “And hope anything with teeth, suckers or abilities to swim up a urethra are fast asleep. You ready?”

  “To be honest I’m ready to drop.”

  “Never give in,” Dahl said. “Or admit defeat. Hold out, my friend. Hold out until your very last breath.”

  *

  Drake stumbled at the head of the pack, seeing the sloping banks of the river ahead and hoping to gain the Swede a few more precious moment of time. They were downriver from where he would be, but still dangerously close. Alicia and Akatash had caught up to them a moment ago and they had also managed to incorporate the six-man team. One look back at Ramses’ dour face and Drake knew the Arab was starting to regret this imperfectly organized hunt.

  He caught himself by placing a hand to the ground, ran up the slight incline and then came to a sudden, abrupt halt at a gap in the overgrowth that bedecked the muddy bank.

  “Oh shit. No!”

  He turned fast but Alicia, in her eagerness, was trying to catch up with him and couldn’t stop herself. Next came Kinimaka, never one to avoid a mishap; his solid impact sent the three of them tumbling down the slope, right into a writhing mass of black caimans.

  Drake heard shouts from above, saw two members of the following six-man team also rolling down the bank and Ramses standing watching with interest, and then his world was a splashing, seething mass of scales and teeth. He needed purchase, and to help save both Alicia and Kinimaka. His fingers scraped across hard scales. Water splashed into his eyes as his sunglasses dislodged, dark and fetid, and he spat leaves from his mouth. The river’s sloping side gave purchase to his feet and he rolled. A dragon-like tail flashed across his vision. A caiman lay immediately to his left, terrible eyes unblinking, making no movement as limbs flailed all around it. Maybe it was wondering who the hell ordered such noisy takeout, but its brethren were another matter. Drake’s vision filled with teeth as a caiman squirmed up the bank toward him, teeth bared and already mere inches from his feet. Again he rolled, slamming into one of the strangers, grabbing his vest and using sheer adrenalin to hurl him in the direction of the approaching beast.

  “Oh, ha, ha, ha!” boomed Ramses’ voice. “Look at it chasing down that bone!”

  Drake felt revulsion at himself and at the terrorist, but that feeling soon passed as the second of the strangers confronted him. An elbow, its impact lessened by a heavy jacket, smashed into his cheek, sending him onto his back.

  Alicia scrambled across them both, the encrusted nose of a predator at her heels, its mouth closing fast close enough to make her squeal. The caiman turned its attention to an easier prey—Drake and his opponent. Drake saw it first and struggled up the bank using his elbows to get purchase. The caiman brushed up against the other man with its heavy snout, sending droplets of water flying. If that wasn’t enough, Mano Kinimaka then came into view, standing upright, bellowing and holding a caiman close to his chest, its belly exposed and its vicious mouth snapping at the Hawaiian’s face.

  “Now this i
s what I call a little friend!” he roared.

  Drake focused on his own caiman, but then saw yet another sliding over this one’s body as the two marauders battled for the right to kill. This new threat clamped down viciously onto the stranger’s exposed leg, inducing a terrifying, bloodcurdling scream.

  A gunshot rang out. Yorgi stood halfway down the bank, Glock clutched unsteadily in one hand. The slug came closer to Drake than his attackers and sent Ramses into almost uncontrollable guffaws. Drake gasped then as Kinimaka body-slammed his own caiman right down on top of the other two, shocking all three beasts who had never known such impudence.

  As one, they writhed. Drake saw a chance.

  Kicking the stranger in the face he crawled backwards and then twisted around as he managed to grab a thick branch. Alicia slogged beside him, and Kinimaka leapt over the mass of bodies. Drake never took his eyes from the scene below so wasn’t entirely surprised to see the stranger they’d left draw a pistol of his own.

  What did surprise him was that it was deliberately pointed straight at him.

  “Are you joking? Your friends aren’t about to save you, asshole.”

  The gun wavered. The caiman bit deeper and started to move, trying to drag its victim into the water. One of the other nightmarish monsters clambered across the man in an effort to latch onto his upper torso. Drake’s gaze never wavered.

  Sharing in the terror of the man with the gun. That bullet is your only escape.

  Drake gained the top of the bank, helping Alicia with one hand. Kinimaka stumbled past them, dripping and covered in rotted vegetation. Now, the lowest of their number was Yorgi, who still held the Glock sighted below.

  “Sir,” Drake had no clue how Kinimaka managed to stay in character but was glad he managed it. “He’s not worth saving. He tried to kill us.”

  “They’re all worth—” Yorgi began, and then stopped and turned his head, staring with dread at Ramses. The stare then turned to cold stone and a shrug as he reverted to character. “Maybe you’re right. Really, I don’t care.”

  Ramses eyed him closely. “And that’s the first time I’ve seen the superior risking himself to save the subordinates,” he said. “Why would you do that?”

  The Russian shrugged indifferently. “They are my guard,” he said shortly. “And for my wife. The answer is obvious.”

  “Maybe,” Ramses mused aloud. “Maybe.”

  A gunshot interrupted them. Drake winced as the man caught below chose to blow his own head off. The caimans squirmed and twisted, smelling blood and tearing at flesh. Drake winced again and turned away.

  “Shall we go?”

  “In a moment,” Ramses insisted. “I want to see this.”

  “Your beachcomber will escape. Don’t you want to . . . catch him?”

  “I think he is gone and the jungle will take care of him. Or maybe one of the others had better luck? Your missing friend perhaps?”

  Drake screened his reaction. He was hoping they wouldn’t notice the missing Swede. Yorgi shrugged and said nothing.

  Finally Ramses turned away from the grisly scene. “Well, what a pleasant diversion. Shall we return to the bazaar and the delights I have planned for this evening?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  A half hour later and they were free of Ramses, alone in their tent and fishing around hastily for replacement clothes. It took them a while to remember where they were and what type of stalls were scattered all around.

  “We’re dumbasses.” Kinimaka hung his head.

  “Not really,” Alicia said. “We’re just not used to shopping at designer boutiques inside a war zone.”

  At that moment the tent flap opened and Dahl stepped through. He took one look at the state of their clothes and then shook his head.

  “Couldn’t manage without me, huh?”

  Drake apprised him of all the details, bemused at the Swede’s reaction and knowing he shouldn’t be.

  “Caimans!” Dahl shouted. “You fought caimans and I missed it?” He sounded truly crushed. “Hell, Mano and I could have started a new sport. Caiman tossing.”

  Alicia looked up. “Any way you view that comment—it’s dangerous.”

  Dahl scowled. “Best part of the bloody mission, and I’m babysitting a surfer.”

  Drake then mentioned how their chase had finally ended. Dahl winced and quickly sobered. “This Ramses then, and Akatash—they’re the real deal? Cunning as car salesmen, crooked as Wall Street and crazier than your resident Swedish pin-up boy?”

  “Not that I’d agree with some of that,” Drake said. “But yes.”

  “Then who’s the priority?”

  “What did Hayden say?”

  “Shit, I barely spoke to them. I wanted to get back. Hayden’s chomping at the bit, wants in on the fight. Lauren’s tired of guarding our tame terrorists and Smyth’s, well . . . grumpy.”

  “Can we pause this?” Alicia complained. “We really need to change these underclothes. I’m heading to the shops.”

  Drake hung his head. “I really don’t like this new you.”

  “Just sit on yer damn man bench and complain. I’ll grab you a nice tight pair of undies.”

  In the end they all shopped and were back at the tent within ten minutes, stripping down and changing with professionalism and maturity, all of them knowing there was a time for ribaldry and a time for gravity.

  “Plan?” Kinimaka said when they were finished.

  “Pinpoint the main players,” Drake said. “Follow them and keep tabs. When we have all three in our sights we end this corrupt jumble sale.”

  Outside, the post-lunch shower had just arrived, mercifully light and brief this time. Still, the humidity rose fast and the ground steamed in protest as Drake and his colleagues set forth with their eyes peeled and intentions clear-cut. Past the boutiques and the slavers’ tent, the private viewing areas and the caiman pit they walked. Groups wandered to and fro, some silent, others laughing or joking drunkenly. Sellers hawked their wares. Drake scanned every nook and cranny. At his side, Alicia pretended tiredness as she peered intently into all the bazaar’s darker places. The leafy canopy waved overhead, spangled with sunlight. Drake was momentarily distracted as a woman dressed like a princess walked by, head and shoulders held regally and gown wrapped around her svelte body in such a complex fashion she might never escape its many folds. The Yorkshireman shook his head sadly. These people were about as out of touch as a London-based politician. The incredulity level rose even more when another princess strode by, her three-foot train held aloft by two servant girls. Drake looked at Alicia and found her, for once, at a loss for words.

  “Amazing,” he said. “Even my favorite gobshite is dumbstruck.”

  But Alicia hadn’t even seen the princesses. “As endearing as that statement is—alluding to my penchant for adverse commentary—I have to say that I am truly flabbergasted and don’t know what the hell to do.”

  Drake followed her gaze. “What is it? Who’s that?”

  “Oh fuck. What is she doing here? Guys, stop. This is big trouble. See that woman over there? Her name is Kenzie and she’s an artifact and arms smuggler. I came up against her recently during the crusader gold jaunt, and she almost killed us all.”

  Drake stared. Dahl stared. Nobody had heard such respect in Alicia’s voice before.

  “When you talk about me,” the Swede said, “to others. Do you feel a similar reverence?”

  “Shut yer mouth, bitch boy. Listen, Kenzie is an extremist. Lost her family to government mismanagement and went rogue. Turned on them. Now she’s as hard and ruthless as they come.”

  “Looks can be mightily deceiving then.” Dahl measured her.

  “She wields a katana.”

  “Fuuuuuuck.” If the men’s tongues could have bounced off the forest floor that was the moment. Drake tried to reel his back in. “So . . . um, I mean what’s your plan? Mark her as another target when we have three already? Is she that dangerous?”

  “
I wouldn’t know whether to kiss her or kill her,” Alicia said. “Maybe I’d do both.”

  “Just to distract her, right?” Drake wondered.

  “Decision is out of our hands now,” Alicia breathed. “She just saw me.”

  Drake reached for his guns.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Birdcall echoed across the clearing. Groups of men huddled and emitted a muted chorus of whispering. Heavy animal movements crashed through the rainforest.

  Drake scrutinized Kenzie and her seven bodyguards, wondering who was the most lethal. For their part the other team appeared just as surprised to hear what Kenzie had to say. The artifact smuggler turned a frosty glare on Alicia to convey what was about to happen.

  “Move!” Dahl snapped. “We don’t yet have eyes on our three principals. The bazaar must stay in play, for now.”

  Knowing he was right, Drake made a run straight at Kenzie as the others fanned out around him. They gambled that Kenzie would choose not to draw attention and might yet have business to finalize. The woman tested them, waiting as long as she dared before whirling and melting into the compact jungle. Alicia crashed in seconds later, as headlong as a deer running for its life. Drake had no time to check who noticed their aggressive departure, but hoped everyone would remain as aloof as they had been to proceedings all along. The chase was on; Kenzie’s men didn’t defend their rear this close to the bazaar which told Drake all he needed to know. The woman was here on business and couldn’t risk shutting this thing down.

  The mass of the jungle enveloped them almost immediately as they plowed deeper in. Dahl and Alicia ran alongside as best they could with Kinimaka and Yorgi bringing up the rear, the Russian thief hampered by his fancy clothes. Drake tried to recall the last time he’d seen Alicia spooked, and couldn’t. Maybe it had something to do with this change she was undergoing.

  Maybe not. Just trust her.

  Of course he did. Drake shook the misgivings from his mind. His closest quarry was only two or three meters away but might as well have been a hundred due to the thick undergrowth and necessity to not use a gun. Kenzie blazed a new trail somewhere ahead, following a route only she knew.