The Last Bazaar

by David Leadbeater

  “Jump,” Dahl growled. “Or die.”

  The man chose the former, and maybe the latter too depending on his luck. Dahl jumped on the throttle and increased the engine’s revs at the same time as assessing the state of his teammates.

  “We all okay?”

  Drake rubbed bruises and Alicia flicked away blood. Mai traced the new scar mostly healed on her face, a new chapter to her story, and one she hadn’t yet told Drake. The speedboats again closed together as Ramses’ pilot hit even worse traffic.

  “See that?” Drake pointed out the jam ahead. “Like York at bloody rush hour. Nothing’s going nowhere.”

  Alicia raised her own gun. “And for once—that’s our gain.”

  Akatash was trying to load another rocket, but then came under increased fire. Seeing the crush of vessels ahead, Ramses yelled into a handheld radio.

  Almost immediately the hovering chopper banked and zoomed overhead, settling above Ramses’ position. Two rappel lines flickered down, harnesses strapped to ends that brushed the deck.

  Dahl glared at Drake and Alicia. “What are you waiting for? Shoot!”

  The Yorkshireman fired, but then Akatash ordered his own men to lay down some cover. Bullets impacted dangerously close and Dahl spun the wheel in an evasive maneuver. Then, both Ramses and Akatash secured the harnesses around them and began to be hauled up toward the chopper. The bird itself rose fast as they came up, escaping the river and any danger.

  Drake stayed low. “There,” he said. “Go there.”

  Dahl wrenched the wheel in the direction of Beauregard and the chopper that had put down earlier. “Your boyfriend,” he said to Alicia, “must work on some kind of telepathic link. Either that or he’s an android, programmed to think laterally.”

  “He’s not my boyf—” Alicia began.

  Drake interrupted. “You really think he anticipated this?” He gazed up at the escaping Ramses as they approached the muddy bank.

  Dahl shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now, because one thing’s for sure—that Prince of Terror is about to meet his match.”

  Drake paused as their radio crackled to life. “You all okay?”

  Hayden shouted down the line. “We have Price. Do you have Ramses and Webb?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Not really? What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means it’s a work in progress.” Drake flashed on the fact that when he’d seen Beauregard running along the riverbank the man had most definitely been alone. Maybe he’s stashed Webb in a tree or something? A baboon’s den, hopefully.

  “Drake,” Hayden asked. “Where do we stand?”

  He explained quickly as they approached the waiting chopper. Dahl, Mai and Alicia ran ahead to help Beauregard mop up the remaining terrorists. “We’re about to set off in pursuit,” he said. “Can you grab some transport?”

  Back along the docks, he remembered, two separate choppers out of many remained untouched, as their owners fought and died alongside them or became caught up in the conflagration, searching for another way out.

  “Damn right we can,” Hayden snarled. “Get that bird up in the air now, Drake, and chase Ramses down. If he escapes the world will pay. Once we’re airborne I’m going to have to speak to the President.”

  Drake clambered aboard the commandeered helicopter. “We’re on our way.”

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Hayden settled back as Smyth piloted the chopper into the skies. Still not safe, a missile arced up toward them but mercifully fell short. Gunfire clattered off their underside. The chopper was top-heavy, but it was sturdy and new and bore the extra weight without complaint. Through the cockpit window she saw Drake’s chopper rise fast, an enemy combatant clinging to the landing skids until he lost his grip and fell away. Mai leaned out of an open door and picked off would-be snipers on the ground below. Hayden looked over the expanding scene—shocked and saddened by what she saw.

  Raging fires littered the forest floor and climbed trees. Branches sizzled as the flames passed from tree to tree. Figures ran to and fro, groups and individuals seeking refuge or trying to escape. Several four-wheel drive trucks sped down various trails, bouncing and flinging around their occupants in their haste. The snake of the river was a battle zone, almost blocked out by plumes of black smoke, cluttered with sailing craft and warring parties. Hayden realized that some of the locals might have helped ignite the fuse down there, but it was a massacre nevertheless. The site of the last bazaar was now a searing ruin, all of its structures destroyed and its tents ablaze.

  Hayden turned to her sat-phone, aware innocents might still be hiding down there. Slaves from all walks of life had been bartered for and traded at this travesty, some might have been in servitude for a while but others had almost certainly been recently kidnapped. Local vermin might soon move in so Hayden called the authorities who could aid them first, reeling off coordinates as fast as she could.

  Smyth chased two helicopters above the jungle canopy. An excess of blue skies stabbed at her eyes.

  Hayden keyed in another number. Three minutes later she was on the line to the President of the United States.

  “Sir,” she said with fear, with trepidation, but mostly with regret. “I have some terrible news.”

  “Is it Price? Did you get the bastard?”

  “We did, sir. He’s here now. But that’s not the bad news.”

  “All right. Go on.”

  Hayden closed her eyes, trying to tear her mind’s-eye away from the horrific scenario she was about to describe.

  “The last Pythian, Julian Marsh, purchased a suitcase nuke at the bazaar. He’s on his way to New York with it, he thinks as a means of blackmail. Ramses has ordered all of his terrorist sleeper cells to find Marsh once the bomb is inside the city—and set it off.”

  Coburn didn’t respond for almost a minute. Hayden didn’t question it, she knew why. There was no easy way to digest this information.

  “Does he have the capabilities to smuggle the weapon in?”

  “We’re talking the Pythians, sir. Look what they have done so far.”

  “What’s the timescale?”

  “Sir,” Hayden sighed. “It may already be there.”

  “Oh, good God.”

  “But nothing will happen without Ramses’ say so. And we’re in pursuit right now. We’ll deal with him, sir, and then head straight to New York.”

  Coburn sighed loudly. “I’ll make sure we’re prepared at this end. Where are you headed now, Jaye?”

  Hayden glanced at the instruments. “On a course for the coast, sir. Probably Peru.”

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  Drake sat beside Beauregard as he piloted the chopper in pursuit of Ramses. Behind them, Hayden had been concentrating solely on starting some kind of mobilization among the US government rather than their quarry. Perfectly understandable since the nuke remained an unknown and they had Ramses in their sights. An endless canopy of green terrain passed beneath, trees as far as the eye could see. Beau informed them that they were flying in a straight line toward the Peruvian coast, but beyond that they had no clear idea where they were headed. The team took the time to relax and reload, though their stores of ammunition were starting to dwindle.

  An hour passed, and then Hayden came back on the line, explaining that she’d done all she could to protect New York. They simply had to bag Ramses and then hightail it immediately to America’s east coast to aid in the hunt. She also told them she’d contact the nearest friendly airbase and arrange whatever backup she could to help them deal with Ramses.

  Hayden began to sign off, but then stopped. “Oh, and Drake? One day you’ll have to explain Kenzie’s story to me and why she chose to run with me rather than you.”

  “She’s still with you?” Drake was shocked.

  “Umm, yeah. Is there a reason she shouldn’t be?”

  “Just be careful,” Drake said. “Watch her.”

  The jagged shadows of mountains appeared ahead and
Ramses’ chopper started to descend.

  “We’re in business,” Drake told Hayden. “He’s headed down.”

  “And he knows we’re here. Be careful, no heroics.”

  Dahl tapped Drake on the shoulder. “Was that directed at you? Or me?”

  “Both. Why?”

  “Well, it’s my normal state. Does she really want me to change this?” He stared at his own figure in the window’s reflection.

  Alicia was gazing at Mai. “That’s a helluva scar you have there, Sprite. What did you do—lose a battle with your shaver?”

  “Is that a way of intimating that I have facial hair?”

  Alicia shrugged. “It’s not a criticism.”

  “Well that would be a first, coming from you.”

  The team quieted as Ramses’ chopper suddenly swooped toward the oncoming peaks. Winds buffeted them, attacking from both sides and shrieking like Valkyries. Beauregard weaved between peaks, following Ramses’ line to perfection. Drake experienced a little nausea as the close proximity of the mountains revealed just how high they were much more theatrically than flying across a roof of green leaves.

  The lead chopper dived hard and then leveled out, still falling down the side of a vertical cliff face. Peering hard, Drake finally saw their terminus, a sprawling gray structure that sat upon a lower peak, overlooking the valley below.

  “A castle,” Drake said. “The man’s full of surprises.”

  Beauregard sent their own chopper hot on the heels of the first. As the castle walls grew clearer and the highest tower approached Drake saw men positioned along the battlements.

  “Evade!” he shouted. “Now!”

  Legionnaires fired up from below, automatic weapons chattering as Ramses landed in the small courtyard. Beau pulled hard on the cyclic stick, wrenching the chopper aside, but the combined force of gravity and heavy shells sent the helicopter into free fall. Drake gripped the sides of his seat and braced his entire body. Dahl breathed heavily. Another flurry of fire and holes appeared in the metalwork. Beau worked hard to haul up the controls, trying to bring the nose up. The engine suddenly cut out and a terrible silence filled the cockpit, accompanied by the whine of free fall.

  Beau’s last movement was a shuddering heave on the cyclic stick.

  Drake grimaced as the rock came up fast and the chopper crashed against the walls of the castle.

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  Drake held his body as firmly as he could when the impact came. Against Hayden’s original wish, Beau had done a heroic job—practically leveling the chopper off as it crash landed. Its underside struck the castle walls, shattering them, rubble raining down inside and outside the structure. A new hole appeared right next to the front gates and the drawbridge that spanned a house-sized ravine. Everything juddered as they broke through the walls, then shook and bounced as the helo wobbled and vibrated its way down and into Ramses’ inner courtyard.

  Drake stayed still as the world spun. Then, steeling himself, he launched into action, checking the others for wounds.

  “Sound off.”

  Affirmatives rose very quickly and clearly, the best sign that nobody was injured. Drake pushed at the door, cracking it open a little before it wedged. Beau shoved at his side, creating a gap large enough for them to squeeze through. The Frenchman went first, drawing his weapon, then Dahl and Mai. The chopper wheezed and coughed around them, glass trickling to the floor and metal shrieking as its weight shifted. Alicia paused a moment to grab more ammo and Drake gave her a shove.

  “Hurry, the others are clear.”

  “You’ll thank me later. And quit poking me, it’s friggin’ freezing out here.”

  “It would be. You’ve just spent days in the Amazon.” Drake spoke before feeling the chill draught of the mountain air roll into the cabin. Alicia was right, it was actually “friggin’ freezing”, but at least they were well below the snow line.

  Drake compressed his frame to fit through the small gap, gasping a little. Bacon butties, he thought, will be the bloody death of me. The sound of gunfire erupted from somewhere, shots being fired at his comrades. Drake looked up to see a swarm of legionnaires bearing down on them from the inner courtyard and more scrambling down the wreckage of the walls. Ramses stood in the center of it all, directing men, and Drake could hear the deep timbre of his voice.

  “Bring me any memento you like. But make sure they’re dead.”

  A price on our heads? No change there then.

  Dahl had topped the rubble pile and was now scrambling over it, heading away from the castle and toward a stand of trees some way off. Mai and Beau quickly followed. Drake urged Alicia along as legionnaires bore down on them from three sides.

  “We good?” Drake heard Dahl call.

  “Go, go, go!” Alicia cried back, running so fast her legs, slipping on the shifting rubble, suddenly went out from beneath her.

  Drake caught her under the shoulder, spun and rammed a fist into the first attacker. He lifted Alicia. The blonde fired instantly, two men dropping to their knees. Together, they attacked the rubble pile again, nearing the top, but they had already fallen far behind.

  A whistle, and the sound of a streaking missile made his heart skip a beat. Are they firing RPGs at us? No, he decided a second later, they’re firing at the rubble pile!

  The rocket hit and exploded, shifting heaps of mortar, stone and rock, a percussive blast ringing around the mountains. The large mass relocated, swelling and rippling and becoming as unstable as melting ice. Drake tried to catch Alicia as she fell, but failed, for he was already tumbling himself.

  Back down into the courtyard the two soldiers fell. Back down toward Ramses.

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  Drake struggled as the bonds bit hard.

  Surprisingly, they had been well treated so far. They were seated on a deep, plush red sofa, hands tied behind their backs and feet strapped together. The sofa faced a picture window that stared out over towering peaks and down into the valley. A meandering lane led from the gates of the castle, over crumbling hills, through both thick and sparse stands of trees that eventually led to a rolling, grassy floor, many hundreds of feet below. Drake guessed they had been waiting there for an hour before a door opened.

  Ramses stood behind them, out of sight.

  “I could use assets like you,” he was saying. “Somebody willing to take a risk, put themselves on the line to make a difference. For me. Yes, I have many already but I could use people with brains. With instinct. With initiative. You would be very well reimbursed for your efforts.”

  Alicia shuffled. “Untie me first. Then we will talk.”

  “You would be willing to switch sides?”

  “I’ve done it before.”

  Ramses walked into view, standing like a mountain himself before the picture window. His frame blocked out all but a little light. “Then we shall talk.” He nodded behind Drake.

  A gun barrel pressed against his temple. Akatash, he thought. The swift, silent assassin. Alicia blinked in shock, not having sensed the bodyguard’s presence.

  “He’s good, isn’t he?” Ramses said. “I am good too. I used to believe I could take care of myself, against any opponent.” He sighed. “Then I met Akatash.”

  Drake winced as the barrel pressed deeper.

  Ramses studied Alicia. “You want to kill me. You want to be free. You hope your friends will come to save you. It is understandable. Well, none of that will happen. First, we will talk.”

  “Torture will get you nowhere,” Alicia snapped. “You will never break us.”

  Ramses looked affronted. “Torture? That is not what I do. I am a prince, madam. No, we will talk between ourselves and then, when dawn arrives, we will throw you from the battlements. That is all.”

  “That’s all?” Drake repeated. “Easy for you to say.”

  Alicia was shaking her head. “Madam? I thought you said you wouldn’t torture me?”

  Ramses let out a deep booming laugh that
fairly rattled the windows. A moment later a servant arrived, dressed in white, carrying a silver platter. Ramses chose three separate hors d’oeuvres and a proffered napkin. He waited whilst the servant poured him a chilled glass of white wine.

  “Conti Montrachet,” he breathed, savoring the taste. “A vice, I am afraid.”

  “Oh, wow,” Alicia retorted. “We’re so alike.”

  Drake winced at that. If they had until morning to fashion an escape there was hope. But a pissed off terrorist prince might very quickly change his mind.

  “So,” he stepped in fast. “What do you and Tyler Webb have in common?”

  “Webb?” Ramses chewed slowly, contemplatively. “The Pythians were his brainchild, his new cabal. The man is a psychopath, deranged, unhinged, and was always meant to fail. He is alone now, searching for something he will never find. A myth. A fable. He will not last long.”

  “But he is alive?” Drake pressed.

  Ramses hollered out a laugh. “Of course. He escaped the Amazon as did I. There were many fail-safes around that camp and Webb, I’m afraid, insisted on knowing all of them.”

  “Can I ask,” Alicia put in, “why the hell you’re still here? You know the rest of our team are out there, probably calling on the Peruvian Special Forces for help.” She squinted. “If they have one. But nevertheless, they’re coming for you, big boy.”

  Ramses frowned a little. “I think you will find I own most of Peru’s authorities, along with Brazil’s. Nobody is coming for me. And as for your friends—let them come.” More laughter.

  Drake enjoyed the bullishness, but not the underlying confidence. “What is Webb searching for?”

  “Truly, I have no idea. Saint Germain or some such. Perhaps he wants to grind bones to make his bread. The man is a true monster.”

  “How can you say that?” Alicia sat up. “Having ordered a nuclear detonation.”

  “Our definitions differ.” Ramses stared right into her eyes. “But I see you are going to be of no use to me. This conversation will now end and enable me to turn to more pressing matters.”