Matt Drake 14 - The Treasures of Saint Germain (21 page)

“They’re heading outside,” he guessed. “Guys like these. Locals. Wouldn’t surprise me if they had vehicles all over the bloody place.”

Again they slowed as the vast lobby approached, and their vigilance paid off. A marble statue beside Mai exploded into pieces as a bullet zinged into it, the pieces momentarily masking her surprised, scarred face. Another bullet hammered into the filigree-work overhead, showering them with plaster. Drake jumped aside, casting eyes behind to make sure no inquisitive guests were following.

“By now, you’d have thought these guys would realize we ain’t got no guns,” Hayden said.

“They’re not thinking that way,” Drake said. “Because they’re not trained to do so. We’re dealing with wealthy sheltered citizens who have no real grasp of the consequences of their actions.”

“Doesn’t make them any less deadly,” Mai said, flicking marble off her clothes. “Or answerable.”

Drake crept backward to get a better angle into the lobby. Screaming filled the area and the shrieks of police sirens could be heard in the distance. He spied a security guard heading over toward Amari and knew they had to act quickly.

To his right and left were an array of small potted plants. He hurled them inside one after the other, distracting Amari and catching the guard’s eye. He waved the man back. More shots filled the area, then the sound of running.

Alicia sprinted into the open.

“Whoa.” He took off after her, and slipped in the residue spilled from the plant pots.

Alicia entered the lobby as Amari fled. Check-in desks stood to her left, concierge and information straight ahead. An enormous ceiling-height object filled the center of the lobby, something that looked like blown glass. As Alicia approached, two of Amari’s acolytes stepped around it and pointed weapons at her.

“Look out!” Drake’s call.

She sighed in exasperation, then stepped in and batted one of the guns aside. The other wavered as the man squeezed the trigger, but Alicia was nowhere near it, ducking to the right and driving a palm up against the man’s elbow. A scream and an airborne gun attested to the fact that he certainly felt the blow. The first man adjusted, but Alicia slipped behind him, wrenched at the wrist and disarmed him. As she sought to twist them against each other, tying them together, she sensed rather than saw another attacker at her back.

She spun. Too late. The butt of a gun came down on her nose, making her see stars and blood. But none of that mattered. Alicia pushed through it, focusing on the deadly weapon rather than the man. It wasn’t in play at the moment; held and used more like a rock than a lump of deadly metal. Nonetheless, as blood dripped down her chin, she spun into the third man, gripped the arm and twisted, making the gun fall to the floor.

Three disarmed.

Facing Drake she saw him pound toward her, the team at his side. Then all three cultists turned on her and the blood got in her eyes, stinging. A few punches that barely registered struck her forehead and stomach. Then one of the men thought to trip her and she collapsed onto one knee.

All three men turned tail and ran hard, following Amari toward the big exit doors.

Drake slid in next to Alicia. “You okay?”

“Of course I’m fucking okay. Go get ’em, you idiot!”

Mai stopped and held out a hand. “Guess with your broken nose and my scar we’re a pair now, hey Taz?”

Alicia ignored the offer. “Nose isn’t broken.” She rose to her feet.

“Sure you don’t need a little help keeping your feet?”

“Touch me and I’ll bite your arm off.” Alicia saw Drake, Hayden and Beau converging on the exit door and struggled along to join them. The exit narrowed and then gave way to a sprawling, sloping parking area, extensive gardens and a taxi rank. Numerous vehicles were parked to the left, some bright and expensive, others dull rentals. Alicia tore her gaze away from the myriad hiding places and watched the others.

Drake barged through the doors, sensing his quarry was close and panicking. Amari was dead ahead, flying down the slope and across the hotel’s winding drive at breakneck pace. Beyond that, the hotel gave way to a road and then the final breakwater that formed Atlantis’s island, then the endless, glittering waves stretching as far as he could see.

Amari’s route couldn’t be aimless. Drake believed that even a wealthy, tranquil owner of a coveted Jumeirah Palm address had to have come up with some kind of escape plan. These guys were fit though, able to stay ahead of the SPEAR team. Money could certainly buy fitness, if not perfect happiness.

“I will cut them off.” Beau angled left, predicting they might cut across the gardens toward a larger side-parking area.

Drake pounded in pursuit. The sunglasses came loose, fell down his nose and needed scooping back up again. A busload of tourists gaped down through their windows, chattering away. Busboys and limo drivers scurried out of the way, one caught by Alicia and sent sprawling as she barged through with little ceremony. The SPEAR team were plagued with the added burden of ensuring they always had somewhere to hide in case Amari turned to fire, and constantly shouted at people to take cover. In the next moment all of the acolytes who still had guns turned and fired. Drake backed off.

Hayden caught his shoulder. “Too many civilians around.”

“Agreed. The bastards are desperate.”

“No,” Mai said as she caught up. “They’re just the same, and making a little extra room for their next move. Look.”

Amari pounded out of the hotel grounds without slowing, hurdled a decorative wall, and then sped straight across a busy road. Cars swerved and collided. Fenders caught rear ends and one SUV slammed straight into the hotel wall. Amari’s acolytes used the chaos to skip between or slide right over the massed vehicles. Drake, Hayden, Mai and Alicia hurried straight for the heart of it all.

As they neared the confusion—now made worse by more arriving vehicles and approaching flashing lights—they were stopped dead in their tracks by Amari’s antics. The cult leader jumped atop the wall that separated land from sea, a breakwater from rolling waves. Glancing back, he nodded toward his acolytes and flashed a brilliant, white-toothed smile.

Drake read his lips.

“The Ascended Master will need us more than ever now.”

He jumped. His six followers rushed up and followed suit, bodies filling the air and the horizon, leaping over the wall and down toward the dazzling blue brine. Hayden held up a hand so the team slowed.

“Split up,” she hissed. “Check it out, then melt away. Get back to the city any way you can. We can’t be arrested here.”

Her instructions were part fuelled by the arrival of police vehicles, the gathering of people along the wall to check out what had happened, and the influx of hotel guests. The team scattered and then pressed against the high wall, peering down to the seas below.

Drake swore. Amari clearly had more than six close friends. The drop was little more than ten feet, straight into deep water, and floating close to shore was a large, fast looking speedboat. Amari was already inside, with his friends fast approaching.

Drake put his hands on the wall, thankful the cultists hadn’t simply leapt to their glorious deaths. He was ready to jump into the fray. Then he paused and glanced across at Hayden. Beau was ready too, staring his way.

Hayden struggled with it. Drake cursed silently. There was only one way this was going to go. The cops were scrambling out of their cars. Mai was already drifting away at the edge of a pack of tourists. Alicia was crouching down with a local, examining the damage to his car and making comforting noises. If they continued the pursuit they would end up packed into a Dubai prison, and as much as Drake would like to get a look inside a cell where the cop cars were Ferraris and Lamborghinis he didn’t want to end up taking an extended vacation there. Not whilst Webb was still on the loose.

Maybe next time.

A tourist standing and watching the speedboat, turned away and Drake latched onto him, asking what was happening. They engaged in conversation and wandered back into the hotel. Several glances back confirmed the cops were still catching up, trying to make sense of what had happened and probably assuming all the perpetrators were on the boat.

He saw the signs for the monorail that led from the hotel to the edge of Dubai city and paid for a ticket. Amari’s escape was bad, a major setback to their cause. The previously oblivious man would be in full crazy mode now. Drake wondered how that might affect Tyler Webb and his efforts to find the treasures of Saint Germain.

Badly, he hoped. But now they had two primary enemies to track down.

He wondered how Dahl was doing.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Dahl led the painstakingly slow, watchful and meticulous raid on the house in the snow-covered mountains around Zurich. Following his sighting of Webb, they had mapped the house, guessed at the layout and number of guards and tried to get in touch with Sabrina Balboni. Not surprisingly, the super-thief didn’t answer their calls, so Dahl had decided to take the initiative. Webb was in their grasp. They had weapons, the element of surprise, and three well-trained soldiers. Four, since sometimes Dahl counted the Mad Swede part of himself as an extra person.

The six of them crept out of hiding, careful not to shake the trees, and scuttled through soft snow. Yorgi led the way, his watchful prowess coming into play now. Kinimaka came in the center, hoping his bulk wouldn’t get them seen. The truth was, despite very careful observation they could find no sign of an outer guard. Dahl couldn’t wait. Webb might be in there for hours, or days. This was an isolated spot with little chance of escaping unnoticed. Chance was in their favor.

They pulled up against another set of three lonely trees, halfway to the house and with a white-covered garden spread out before them. The garden was a hodgepodge of replica vehicles, statues and collectible items, all seemingly errant as if an eccentric might be hoarding them. Dahl leaned in to Yorgi. “As soon as we reach the door you fall back.”

The Russian nodded. “Dah.”

Kinimaka’s phone rang. He’d forgotten to mute the sound and the tone rang out clear in the wintery stillness. The Hawaiian’s eyes went huge as he rummaged through thick, zippered clothing for the black rectangle.

“Crap, crap, crap . . .”

Dahl studied the house, the windows, the doors. Nothing moved. Nothing changed.

Kinimaka jabbed at the phone without checking the caller ID. “Hi. Can I help?”

Smyth rolled his eyes.

Dahl listened in, recognizing the dulcet tones that belonged to Sabrina Balboni filtering through the tiny speaker.

“You must stop calling me. You put me in danger.”

“You’re our asset,” Kinimaka breathed. “We needed you.”

“I said that I would call you when I was safe. That time is now. I have news.”

Kinimaka waved them all to stand down. He held the phone out but didn’t turn on the speakerphone. “Go ahead.”

“Webb has come here, an old haunt of Saint Germain’s, to learn the secret of the next treasure. The idea, the conception, of Freemasonry was born here, in this place. A High Master lives here now, safeguarding it as a sanctuary, offering assistance only to those who can prove their worthiness. Webb was beside himself with pride, telling me this. The disgusting worm. He sweats when he’s excited, you know.”

Lauren made a face. “I know the type.”

Dahl listened carefully.

“This High Master will tell Webb all he needs to know so that every Freemason in the world will be answerable to him. Doors previously locked even to him will be thrown open. The world will be his playing field. This is in addition to all he has already learned about alchemy and the mastery of languages. And this Webb—he was already crazy.”

Kinimaka endorsed her with a grunt. “The lust for power drives him like nothing else. But it is all a perversion. He perverts all he sees and touches.”

“Well, Freemasonry was envisioned in this house and lives here still. I am not allowed into their discussions, but will quiz Webb when he comes out. He is stupid. Can’t wait to tell me all and show what a big man he is becoming. We must make him regret it. We must.”

“We’re close,” Dahl said. “Any advice?”

“How close?”

“Come to the window. I’ll wave.”

“Oh, that is good. The guards are all wearing robes. They have swords. They have knives and ninja stars. They number almost one hundred. The High Master is a true adept of everything you can imagine, a being seeking ascendance. The house is devoid of technically advanced controls. It does not need them. There are a few old-school defenses in the grounds. I hope you brought the Swiss Army.”

“No,” Dahl muttered. “Just the knife, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Did you think assaulting a potential ascendant’s house a formality? Did you assume an attack on the very bricks and mortar of Freemasonry would be easy? I thought you people were at the top of your game?”

“We didn’t know,” Dahl said. “And we’re short staffed.”

Sabrina didn’t deign to reply.

“You did say ground defenses,” Yorgi put in, his accent toned down. “I see only ornamental objects. A statue. A pair of Aztec pillars. A rusted tank from one of the wars. A birdcage. And a bright red UK phone box. Good touch, that.”

Sabrina came across as confused. “It was one of Webb’s remarks. Listen. I am locked in my room but they will come soon. I have to go. So I have one more item to give you.”

Dahl glanced around the hungry pack. “All right. Let’s have it.”

“Upon our arrival, as we drove into here, I quizzed Webb as to our next destination. I figured it would be good to know, to prepare. For you.”

“Clever,” Dahl said. “What did he say?”

“He waited until we were inside, behind the locked door for security I think, and then blabbed it all out like an old woman. We go to London, he said. The Haymarket.”

“The what?” Kinimaka looked blank. “What’s a haymarket?”

“Somewhere Saint Germain spent time,” Sabrina said. “Research it.”