Alicia leaned against the bar, using the interminable wait for service to get a better feel for the place. Flashing lights shone overhead and were set into the walls. The small exterior dance floors were packed, people only managing to stay on the small squares by hanging onto the floor-to-ceiling dance poles. Two heavy, golden curtains covered a door at the end of the bar, and two more across the far side. Several nondescript doors marked Private were also dotted around.
“Help you?”
Alicia turned to see a friendly faced bartender staring at her. “Champagne,” she said. “All round.”
She hated the stuff but didn’t intend to drink it.
The mission parameters centered on the safe, not Mattheus, so the women drifted over toward the door that led to the criminal’s inner sanctum, glasses in hand. If the informant was correct, there would be men directly behind the door with another three or four sets positioned after that—guards for several rooms used in various nefarious operations, and then a comparatively snug, dingy office at the far end.
Of course, they weren’t here to deal with the safe.
They were here for Mattheus.
Strolling past the first door, they approached the golden curtain with its thick, overlapping folds. Two men stood in front of it, guns holstered but in clear view, watching the people on the dance floors and all those milling around. Their eyes were blank, like a shark’s; their faces could have been chiseled out of solid stone.
Alicia peered between them. “What’s in there?”
“Private room,” one grumbled. “Move on.”
Kenzie widened her eyes. “Oh, and how do we get an invite?”
“You don’t. Now get the fuck out of here.”
“I can be very persuasive . . .”
The man on the left gave her a hard stare whilst the man on the right moved a hand down to his gun. Mai dragged the women away, laughing.
“Take it easy,” she told them under the musical blast. “Just take it easy.”
Alicia found a corner and turned on Kenzie. “Jesus, girl. I can be very persuasive,” she mimicked. “What the fuck?”
To her credit, Kenzie hung her head. “It just came out. Total blooper.”
Mai checked her watch. “We have to think of something fast. The guys are gonna be knocking at the door in a few minutes.”
Alicia glance at the guards. “Plan B,” she said.
“Which is?” Mai looked blank and resigned to a new plan.
“Well, if my name were Kenzie it’d be to approach them naked.”
The Israeli scowled. “Do not tar me with that brush.”
“Why? Would you rather I used whipped cream?”
“Stop it,” Mai said. “Just get on with it.”
“It’s not hard to figure,” Alicia said, ignoring an obvious comment from Kenzie as she continued. “We wait for the boys to knock. In the commotion we grab Mattheus, or at least the part of him that we need.”
Mai took another glance down at her watch. “Four minutes,” she said.
“Best get ready to fight then.” Alicia couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
*
Drake drove the slate gray transit van through the dark streets of Thessaloniki, seeking out the quietest routes. They weren’t in danger, but wanted the route of the van to be as inconspicuous as possible. Getting the gear they needed hadn’t been easy. The van was stolen from Mattheus’s own cache of vehicles; the winch borrowed from a store downtown. The bolt gun came from a shop, bought and paid for, and as for the rest? Well, Cambridge certainly had to pull the most resourceful of strings down here and use up all the British government’s favors.
“Approaching Mattheus’s rear,” Luther said.
Drake shook his head. The American really needed to work on his delivery. The side street was pitch black, unpopulated and dotted with piles of rubbish that showed up in the van’s headlights. Even narrower, darker streets branched off to the sides as they crept along. Soon, Drake found the marker they’d placed earlier which denoted the place where Mattheus’s small office should be along the outer wall, according to the informant.
He pulled the van over to the curb and turned to Luther. “You’re up.”
“Keep your eyes peeled.”
Drake nodded, mostly listening as Luther set up their offensive. The big American muttered to himself as he worked, first checking the bolts that held the winch to the floor hadn’t shifted during the journey, and then the winch’s winding mechanism. Both were approved and then Luther jumped out, bald head gleaming from the lights that shone from Drake’s instrument cluster. With a powerful flashlight he measured back from the edge of the building and then marked out an oblong vertical shape on the wall with tape. Working fast, he’d finished by the time Drake checked his watch two minutes later.
“Wait,” Drake said.
“I haven’t set the charges yet, boy.”
Drake cringed at the moniker, but accepted it because he knew Luther wasn’t being disparaging. This was just the warrior’s personality taking over and, supposedly, part of his charm. Drake was on the fence about that one, but waited until Luther had set all of the specially shaped charges.
“Forty seconds,” he said.
“All good here. Just need the detonator.”
“Get around to the other side of the van.”
“Yeah, yeah, Ma, give me a second.”
“You don’t have a second.”
“It can’t go off whilst I’m holding it,” Luther hissed back, then added: “Said the vicar to the choirboy.”
He stomped around the side. Drake squeezed his eyes shut and wondered how he’d ended up here. His watch flashed and he called a “go,” but Luther was already on it, pressing the detonator button. There was a loud, but not booming explosion, and the side of the van was showered with rubble. Drake slithered over to the passenger seat as Luther came around the van, flashlight in hand, to view their handiwork.
“Not bad,” Luther said. “I’ve seen worse.”
Drake thought it was shoddy work, but didn’t comment. The brick wall that formed the back of Mattheus’s nightclub, and his office, now included a vertical four-foot-high hole. Bricks jutted here and there, still clinging on to the main wall, and mortar rained down. A pile of debris lay on the sidewalk. Luther cleared the excess away and then returned to the van. Drake jumped out with a fresh Smith and Wesson handgun at the ready. The van was still running, the lights switched off.
He imagined the chaos inside the nightclub. No matter the sound-deadening qualities of their explosive, the minute quantity of it or the way the charges had been shaped—an explosion was an explosion and easy to recognize.
Staying low, he scanned the street both ways and the buildings above. All lay in darkness. Nothing moved. Perhaps Luther had done a better job than he’d first thought.
“Fastening the chain.” Luther breathed heavily.
Drake stayed on watch but hissed back: “You okay? Need a sit down?”
“Fuck you, man.”
Luther took up the slack in the chain and carried it inside Mattheus’s office. A guard was dead inside and another on his knees, staring at the floor. Luther finished him quickly and propped the only chair left intact behind the inner door, securing it for a short while. It would have to do and they didn’t need long. Quickly, he looped the chain around the short safe and shackled it, then moved back to the truck and started the winch.
A grinding began that made Drake wince. The iron safe scraped across broken brick and mortar, shoving it out into the street as it came. Its edges collided with the wall, loosening even more bricks, but came through as the winch started to strain. Luther jumped out and straightened the safe, seeing it though the gap.
“I hear noises inside,” he told Drake. “They’ll be through the door soon.”
The safe was dragged frustratingly slowly but inexorably toward the van.
Drake jumped into the hole it had just passed through and fired three sh
ots into the heavy wooden door that led back toward the nightclub and Mattheus’s other rooms. A scream attested to his accuracy or his luck—it didn’t matter which at this point. The hammering sounds stilled and Drake put his back into helping the safe across the sidewalk and down onto the road.
Luther positioned flat metal ramps that ran from the lip of the van to the road. The safe scraped like a ship running aground as it bumped down onto the tarmac and then began a slow incline up the ramps.
“Still need a few minutes,” Luther said.
Drake watched the door and the street, alternating between the two. This was one of those moments when he wished more than half the team weren’t in America. Usually they had strength in numbers. Not so today.
“Hurry the fuck up,” he hissed apprehensively at the safe. “We’re about to get bludgeoned by the might of a Greek crime boss here.”
*
When the deep rumble shook the nightclub not everybody noticed. Alicia detected it, as did Mai and Kenzie. The guards noticed. Most of the guests partied on, but some pulled away and cocked their heads with sudden worry.
Alicia saw the curtains twitch before several guards hurried out. Already, their weapons were drawn which started a panic in those that saw them. Screams broke out and panic spread quickly, but the guards couldn’t care less. They headed for a door marked Private.
Alicia dashed back to the curtain, face distraught.
“Oh, please. What’s going on? Should we leave?”
Both guards drew their guns just as Mai and Kenzie stepped around Alicia to disarm them. The process benefited from being a surprise and took far less time than ordering a drink at the bar. The guards collapsed as the two armed women stepped around Alicia and drew back the curtain.
A wide passage led to yet another door. No guards stood before it, although Alicia guessed they probably had before the explosion. A few seconds later and they were at the door, peering through the vision panel. A room lay beyond, sumptuous, replete with gilt-edged paintings and golden light-stands, a dazzling chandelier and a full-size poker table. Three seats were occupied, two by barely clad females and the other by Mattheus himself. Alicia recognized him from the pictures they’d looked at.
Pushing through, Mai and Kenzie ran with their heads down, guns out. Three guards were standing inconspicuously around the edge of the room. Mai shot one and Kenzie another. The third dived to the floor, but Kenzie leapt atop the poker table and shot him before he could react.
Mattheus, if anything, allowed the edges of his mouth to curl in amusement. “Do you know who I am?”
“Go.” Alicia waved at both women. “Get out of here.”
Mai grabbed hold of Mattheus’s seat and spun it so that the crime boss was facing her. Kenzie ran over to watch the door and Alicia picked up a discarded weapon.
“I will not talk.” Mattheus laughed. “You will get nothing from me.”
Mai smiled, then jabbed her knuckles right between his eyes. “Stop talking, idiot. Now, give me your finger.”
“Wh . . . what?” Mattheus’s eyes leaked tears and his chest heaved.
“Steady on, Mai,” Alicia said.
Mai took hold of Mattheus’s wrist with an iron grip and planted it down on the table. Then she squeezed it around a fresh glass, making sure she got a good set of prints. By the time Mattheus knew what had happened the deed was done.
“I will kill you all for this.”
Mai handed Alicia the glass with care and watched as it was wrapped inside several black napkins with the name Mattheus emblazoned across the surface.
“We good?” Kenzie called from the door.
“We’re good,” Alicia said.
Mai punched Mattheus twice more and then watched him slither unceremoniously under the poker table.
“After you, girls.”
*
Drake waited impatiently for the safe to be loaded onto the van, then grew irritated and started pushing it from the back. Luther dragged it from the front. Drake fired three more shots into the wrecked office. Finally, the safe crossed the threshold and Luther slammed the sliding door closed.
“Go!”
Drake jumped back behind the wheel, switched on the lights and gunned the engine. The road ahead illuminated brightly, blinding him for a second and also the lone guard that was running toward them. Drake winged him with the van, ducking as a shot was fired, and heard a side window smash. Luther yelled at the back, still trying to get the safe secured to the floor bolts so that it wasn’t rattling all around the metal floor.
Drake drove up the narrow street, then switched the lights off as he reached the main road. Easing out, he turned right and drove away from the nightclub, sending Luther a look that was a mix of elation and worry.
“Just waiting for the women to call now.”
“Yeah,” the soldier said. “I sure hope Mai’s okay.”
“Alicia too,” Drake said. “Even Kenzie?”
“Yeah, yeah, them too.”
Drake proceeded toward the rendezvous point, conscious that the women should already be waiting. Four minutes later, when he pulled up, the area was entirely devoid of people.
“Shit.” He looked back toward the city streets. “I think they could be in trouble.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Alicia led the way, edging the curtain aside and peering into the nightclub’s interior. Amazingly, many figures were still dancing, although the herd had thinned. Lights continued to flash to the beat and the bar served drinks to the hardy and the foolhardy.
Alicia wiped sweat from her brow. “Idiots,” she said. “Don’t they have anywhere better to be after a shooting?”
“Guards?” Mai asked demandingly.
“Yep. Two at the right, two at the left, one by the bar. All with their fingers in their ears. It’s a bull pit of confusion right now, but pretty soon they’re gonna catch on.”
“The explosion has distracted them,” Mai surmised. “And probably fear of their boss which, perversely, is working against him right now.”
“Nobody wants to report the bad news,” Kenzie said. “I remember it well.”
“Clock’s ticking,” Mai said. “Move.”
They slid carefully out onto the dance floor, edging their way to the right where the mini-stages were set. Sparsely occupied now, Alicia could see the sweat glistening on the silver poles, spattering the floor and a whole gallery of different brand bottles lying around—lipstick encrusted, peeled, some even broken with jagged edges sticking straight up.
Several men and women danced to their left, moving with more abandon now they had more room. The bar staff stood around looking bored. Only a bouncer, stationed close to the exit, saw them approach.
“We gotta get outta here,” Alicia drawled, trying her best to appear nine-tenths drunk. “It’s been a long night.”
“You came out of the back room?” The man was broad chested, with heavily muscled arms. For now, he was ignoring his earpiece.
“Yeah, everyone had too many alcopops, mate.”
“The Man usually calls to say you can go,” the bouncer grunted. “Wait there.”
Alicia’s eyes flashed. “To say we can go? What the hell does that mean?”
The bouncer held up a finger, which drew Alicia like a moth to a flame. Flexing muscles, she was about to explain her physical point of view to the man when Mai put a hand on her shoulder.
She whispered, “Let’s see what he says.”
Alicia held back with an effort. The man soon finished and then unhooked a two-way radio from his belt. “Figures approaching outside,” he said. “Not cops. Check it out.”
Alicia wondered if it might be Drake and Luther, but didn’t have time to think it through. The bouncer acknowledged them once again.
“You will have to stay inside,” he said, offering no other explanation because, in this nightclub, he didn’t have to.
Alicia knew they had to take their chances. “I don’t think so, mate.”
<
br /> The bouncer frowned. “I said—”
“Go on,” Alicia leaned into his personal space, “I dare you. Raise that finger one more time and see where it ends up.”
Mai and Kenzie backed her, stepping to each side. This would be easy. The bouncer stared at all three of them and then beyond them, eyes widening.
Alicia sensed it was coming before she heard it.
Mattheus’s voice: “Stop those bitches! Stop them now!”
Alicia kicked out, stunning the bouncer who folded quickly. Kenzie pushed him further to the floor. Alicia yanked the exit door open. Mai was right by her side.
A gunshot rang out and a bullet struck the frame above their heads.
“Do not move any further. Or at least one of you will die.”
Alicia weighed the odds. She could make it; probably Mai too. But Kenzie was at the back and would get shot first.
This was no joke. Alicia halted and raised her hands, turning back to the dance floor. To her right Mai did the same. Kenzie was already facing Mattheus. Across the dance floor the black-haired man stood, face bruised where Mai had punched him and nose red with encrusted blood. By now, the remaining revelers had gotten the message too and were clustered around the outer walls, trying to appear as unobtrusive as possible. Alicia saw guards at every side and more emerging from the back, where Drake and Luther had relieved Mattheus of an entire safe.
The crime boss waved at them. “What has been going on in my club?”
“A burglary, boss,” one said. “We have men searching for them now.”
“What did they take?” Mattheus’s voice rose an octave, making several guards flinch.
“The . . . safe,” came the quiet answer.
Mattheus glared in disbelief at first, but then, quickly, his face grew intensely red. “You call that a burglary? My entire safe? Missing? You should shoot yourself quickly, idiot, and save me the trouble.”
Weapons of the Gods (Matt Drake Book 18) Page 12