Inca Kings (Matt Drake Book 15)

by David Leadbeater

  Kenzie opened the other door and popped her head inside. “Aren’t we all?”

  The man, eyes already wide, noticed the katana and leapt past Dahl, leaving the driver’s seat open. “Cheers, mate,” the Swede called and jumped in.

  Kenzie seated herself in the passenger side. “Nice of him.”

  “Fasten your seat belt.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  A dirty, deep growl came from the exhausts as Dahl trod on the accelerator, returned to the barricade so Kenzie could hop over and retrieve the Inca vase from their old car’s trunk, spun the car around and sent it shooting down the hill toward Monaco. Kenzie guessed they had about twenty minutes to reach the casino.

  “Best step on it,” she said. “See what a GranSport can really do.”

  Another tunnel stood ahead. Dahl floored the gas pedal all the way through, breaching the redline of the rev counter, seeing the kph climb past one hundred and fifty, and feeling his mouth fall open as the animalistic roar of the tailpipes resounded between concrete walls.

  “That’s a great friggin’ sound,” he breathed.

  Kenzie took the time to prep their weapons. The road dipped and plunged, sending them through two more tunnels and along a palm-tree lined road with the blue Mediterranean sparkling out to the right. The Maserati blasted past slower cars, its speed and power making a dangerous passing maneuver safe and easy, whipping past the great scenery on its way down to Monte Carlo. The mountain road twisted and turned, dangerous drops to the right one minute, incredible dwellings the next. Cliff faces rose above, dotted with expensive homes. The glittering bay sprawled below, a shimmering accompaniment to the star-studded streets, casinos and hotels it bordered.

  Dahl blasted past the outskirts of the city.

  “You know where the casino is?”

  “It’s on the Grand Prix circuit.”

  Kenzie scowled. That wasn’t really an answer, but she guessed to his mind it said everything. The Maserati growled past the bay, shops lining the left-hand side of the road where markings for the F1 starting grid covered the asphalt. Then the road began to climb steeply, first straight and then to the left. Dahl followed it around, slowing as they reached the top and nodding to the right.

  “Casino’s behind those bloody hoardings. Looks like workmen have blocked the main entrance off.”

  They followed the route around and drove past a pair of policemen to get to the casino’s other entrance. Kenzie laid eyes on the famous venue for the first time. The casino occupied the short end of a long rectangle; the Hotel de Paris one of the long sides. The facades were stunning blocks of intricate architecture, the entrance to the casino made dark by a jutting overhang. Cars were arranged in front of the entrance, all facing outward in a semi-circle. Crowds milled all around; tourists seated with cameras as if camped there for the day.

  Dahl dumped the Maserati next to a blacked-out AC Cobra. “Balls, if we had time I’d snap a picture just to piss Drake off.”

  Kenzie stashed the katana, figuring the casino staff might have issues on sighting the trusty blade. The pair then locked their handguns and the vase in the glovebox and got lucky by finding that the owner of the car kept his key in the center console. Along with the tracker device. Not clever, but useful for now. Dahl grabbed the key and they left the car cooling, heading for the casino steps.

  “Four minutes,” Kenzie said.

  “Perfect.”

  Inside, they crossed a wide inner sanctum, surrounded by dark wood paneling and golden fittings, to a small, barred booth where they purchased tickets to enter the casino. Past a security check and they were inside a wide room filled with blackjack and roulette tables and lined by two restaurants. Kenzie sauntered over to one, looking for all the world as if she were inspecting the menu, whilst scouring the room for their enemy.

  Treacle sat alone at a roulette table, a pile of chips before him.

  “Finally,” Kenzie sighed. “He’s getting serious.”

  She wandered over, counting the men around the room that were probably part of his entourage. Twelve. Fuck it then. She’d faced worse odds with Dahl.

  “Ah, don’t sit, darlin’,” Treacle said. “Pretty ass like that should always be seen.”

  “One more sexist comment from you and the odds of landing on red on this table will suddenly be incredibly improved.”

  She seated herself next to the slime ball. “Talk.”

  “You did good. Real good. Now, Tweacle, listen up ’cause I will say this only once.” He opened his mouth to speak, then took a proper look at her. The oily gaze then switched to Dahl.

  “Where’s the vase?”

  She desperately wanted to say “In the jam jar, Tweacle”, but kept the comment to herself. “Outside. In the car.”

  “Understood. Bags are searched an’ all that. Awight, listen up. Seller’s been at this caper for a decade. Sellin’ this, that and the other. All Inca shit, y’know? An’ when I say shit, I mean only the fuckin’ best. Real trophy pieces. I got ’em all, one way or another. Comes from that Gold Room stash, an’ I been tryin’ to track this mother down but I got zilch. Nothing.”

  Kenzie followed as best she could, understanding the general gist of it. Dahl was close enough to listen too, watching over Kenzie’s shoulder.

  “Seller’s a clever bastard. Goes by the name Dantanion. Lives in some chateau somewhere with his pets.”

  Kenzie envisioned kittens. “His pets?”

  “Don’t ask me, Tweacle. Some kinda cult. Has an army, by all accounts. That’s why he needs the dosh regular. Shit, girl, it took me five years to strip away all this info, little bit by little bit. Better be worth it.”

  “Oh, I’ll personally make it worth your while.”

  “Grrr. Awight then. Cusco in Peru is where all the cover up gets done. It’s as close as I came to the treasure, girl.” Treacle shook his head and gambled on black. “Fifty-fifty chance, eh? So, I got names.” He reeled off more than half-a-dozen names which Dahl, efficient as ever, jotted into a small notebook. “We’re talkin’ major officials there. A judge. Top cops. Ex-cops. A physician. Property developer. Knights of the realm, all.”

  “Says the Queen of Egypt,” Dahl commented drily.

  “Whatever, dude. I got some major info on that bird too, ever you want it?”

  Kenzie blinked despite herself. “Say again.”

  “You don’t know? Thought you were a relic smuggler? Shit, it’s about to go down hard all around the world, starting in Egypt. Nasty bastards from all over the world are headed there. Small armies being shipped in, they say.” He shook his head, the blond mane shaking wildly.

  “Why the hell—” Dahl began, then clammed up quickly.

  “Why? You never heard of the earth’s four corners?? The horsemen? Ancient warriors? Seems it’s the biggest thing yet, mate.”

  Kenzie brought the odd tangent to an end. “You gave us the chain? And you say these objects are part of the Gold Room?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief nor excitement out of her voice. She knew the Inca legend off by heart.

  “Ah, yeah, now you’re getting hot for me. Or Atahualpa’s gold. But you’d best take a cold shower, baby. This Dantanion’s a clever bastard. Once he gets wind you’re on to him, he’ll switch. Move it all elsewhere.”

  Kenzie nodded. “Then why are you telling us so easily?”

  Treacle smiled from ear to ear. “ ’Cause I’ll end up with it all anyway. One way or another.” He flicked his last chip onto the table, leaving it where it landed. “And I’m a major twat. I enjoy conflict.”

  Kenzie thought they might be the truest words ever to leave Treacle’s mouth. She followed his original statement to its cleanest outcome. “You think the Peruvian government will end up with the artifacts and you’ll be able to acquire them?”

  “Better that than all this cloak and dagger, one piece per month bullshit.”

  To a criminal it made sense. Kenzie saw the logic. She figured they’d rinsed all they could from Tr
eacle’s dirty laundry, at least on this subject, and pushed the chair back. “You done here?”

  “Ready for my reward.”

  Kenzie moved away from the table, knowing exactly how Treacle would react and how he would follow her, and felt a jab of relief when Dahl gallantly and purposefully pushed in right behind her. Not that the criminal’s comments particularly bothered her, but it meant she could properly concentrate on what happened next.

  Outside the casino.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  Sunlight, gleaming cars and swarms of bystanders greeted her eyes as she left the Casino de Monte Carlo. A true assault on the senses. To the right, hundreds of people were seated outside the Café de Paris, whiling the day away. The blue Maserati still sat behind the black AC Cobra, a couple of young photographers angling for the best picture of the two together.

  Treacle pressed beside them, uncomfortably close. “Point the way, Tweacle.”

  Kenzie saw bad choices everywhere. Bad outcomes. But she walked toward the car and sent a glance over at Dahl.

  What to do?

  The Swede always stepped up and today was no different. Kenzie knew he’d be factoring the crowd of people nearby and all around. Treacle’s goons walked close by, ignoring everything except what their boss wanted—expendable robots. Kenzie imagined all the options flashing through the Swede’s mind, as they were flashing through hers. The training always stood at the forefront of your mind—didn’t matter how many years had passed since you used it for good. She might be a dirty-faced, broken-down, trod-upon angel, but she was still an angel.

  In the end, she saw only one outcome. Dahl walked to the blue Maserati, took out the key and used it to remotely open the passenger door. Dahl reached inside and stared at Treacle.

  “I give you this, you walk away. Agreed?”

  “ ’Course, Tweacle. ’Course we will.”

  Kenzie had never disbelieved someone so much in her entire life. She stopped at the passenger door, which was also unlocked.

  Dahl lifted the bag with the vase inside, unzipped it and took the Inca relic out in the street. Treacle swallowed hungrily, eyes alight.

  “That’s it. We’re good. Now hand it over.”

  Dahl allowed the vase to fall from his hand, watched as it fell toward the concrete and Treacle’s expression changed from greed to terror.

  “Noooo!”

  Dahl caught the vase on the top of his boot, holding it in place with expert balance. Treacle’s mouth dropped open so that his jaw almost hit the ground.

  “For fu . . . don’t you know what that is? Stop it, Twea . . . stop it!”

  Dahl reached out, caught hold of Treacle’s chin and tilted his face upward. “If you cause trouble. If you try to hurt us or anyone else, I will hunt you down and break you down. Into dust. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Tweacle. Now for fuc—”

  Dahl squeezed until the jawbone creaked. “Do you understand?”

  A big goon then muscled his way in right next to Dahl. The three men stared hard at each other, unspoken comments flashing between them. Dahl kept his hold on Treacle, then flicked the vase high into the air.

  “Kenzie.”

  Acting fast, she sprang around the car, eyes on the revolving relic. Dahl threw Treacle into the small space between the front of the Maserati and the back of the AC Cobra, then took hold of the big goon and threw him down there too. Out of sight they fought and struggled.

  Kenzie pushed a bodyguard aside, never once taking her eyes off the priceless possession. As it tumbled down toward her outstretched hands she had to slide across the front of the sports car, gliding across the paintwork, to catch the object and then slid down the other side onto two feet.

  The vase was intact. Dahl had an arm around the big man’s throat and was bearing down on Treacle, keeping both of them pinned. Cords stood out in his muscles. Kenzie showed the vase to the rest of the goon squad.

  “Don’t move.”

  Hidden from almost all prying eyes, Dahl smashed the big bodyguard’s face into the Cobra’s stainless steel exhaust, giving him an impression to be proud of, then rolled him underneath the car. He dragged Treacle upright with a grip around the neck. Pain lit the criminal’s eyes. Sweat rolled down his face.

  “We’re leaving now,” Dahl whispered venomously. “Don’t forget what I said.”

  He jumped into the driver’s side as Kenzie ran around the car and opened the passenger side.

  “The vase!” Treacle wailed, and trigger-fingers became clearly itchy.

  “I’ll leave it by the curb.” Kenzie pointed to the other side of the square. “Best be quick.”

  Dahl gunned the engine, sending the Maserati drifting around the arc directly in front of the casino and then slowing for Kenzie to place the vase in the road. Then they blasted away, heading for another hill and another street lined by designer boutiques.

  “Where to?” Kenzie shouted, trying to catch her breath.

  “Well, we’re done,” Dahl said, watching the road ahead and the rearview for signs of pursuit. “We have all the information we’re gonna get. I guess it’s time to rejoin the team.”

  Kenzie felt a surge of disappointment. She’d never say it aloud, but had enjoyed the last few days with the Swede, working together and building their bond. She’d privately hoped it might last a bit longer.

  “You sure? We could try to find another buyer.”

  “Peru is clearly the place to go,” Dahl said. “And the team are there already. No doubt taking it easy in the mountains. Playing soccer with the villagers. Dantanion is out there somewhere, and the Gold Room. It’s time to learn about the Inca treasure and seek out this cult. The action’s only just begun, Kenzie.”

  Ah, so he was thinking she was worried life might become boring.

  “Great,” she said, sitting back. “Good to hear it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  In darkness, they waited.

  Drake stared at the mountains, purple and huge and stained by drifting shadows. Breezes played across his face with icy fingers. No flickering lights met his gaze, no shaded insanity loomed large, but he knew—knew in his soul—that the monsters were coming.

  Dantanion the Mountain Demon would send them.

  He crouched atop a low roof, watching the ways into Kimbiri. Alicia crouched by his side.

  “This has to be the creepiest op we’ve ever been on,” she said softly.

  “They’re just people,” Drake said. “Nothing more or less.”

  “You’re kidding? They’re bloody cannibals.”

  “Well, yes, I guess. It’s not something you come across every day.”

  Alicia shifted. “Now that’s one stupid statement, Drakey. I thought cannibalism died out years ago.”

  “The Incas used to practice it. Aztecs too. It’s not like we’re in the wrong place.”

  “I’d really like to be in the wrong place. Just this once.”

  Kinimaka occupied the same roof as them. “This is for the people that live in Kimbiri,” he said. “We could head up to the mountains, camp there. Reccy for days. But who would help the villagers then?”

  “Same people who’ve been helping them all along,” Alicia muttered. “No-bloody-one.”

  “If they come, they’ll be better prepared this time,” Drake pointed out.

  “Oh, that helps.” Alicia shook her head, patting her H&K for the eighth time. “Man, do I hate spiders.”

  “They’re not—”

  “Whatever. Just glad I got me this can of Raid.”

  She held up a blue can she’d bought in Cusco earlier that day.

  Drake laughed as he had when she’d purchased it. “So it’s a spray or shoot situation?”

  “Later maybe. Let’s get the fighting over with first.”

  Shadows deepened. A crescent moon rose over a far peak, casting a silvery glow. The trio shivered up on the roof. Directly across they saw figures move: Hayden and Smyth. Another roof conceale
d Mai and Yorgi. They could not be more ready for an attack.

  Villagers manned other vantage points. Those that couldn’t fight were tucked away safely in the only basement in town. Kimbiri was ready.

  Drake saw movement first, just a huddle of shapes flowing over a rise in the distance. At first he thought his eyes might be deceiving him, but Kinimaka spoke out too.

  “They’re coming.”

  Alicia petted her rifle. “If I see pointy teeth I’m gonna scream.”

  Drake smiled to himself, unable to imagine Alicia Myles being scared of anything. But then everyone had a skeleton or two in their closet—and the SPEAR team more than that if Webb’s statement was anything to go by. They hadn’t had time to sit down and discuss it yet, and nobody had been forthcoming. Was there worse to come? Quite possibly depending on Smyth and the murder of Joshua.

  He switched the distractions off. Good news was better to dwell on anyway. They’d received a message today from the Mad Swede. Both he and Kenzie were on their way to Peru with information. Drake looked forward to seeing the big idiot again, but only because it gave him someone to take the piss out of.

  His earpiece crackled. “Enemy sighted about a mile off.”

  “Got ’em,” he said. “Remember, we don’t know what to expect this time.”

  Flickering torches illuminated the outskirts of the village. It had been weeks since the power died here; and nobody came to help. Villagers had tried in vain to locate the problem, but it seemed something more fundamental might have happened. Someone in Cusco wanted Kimbiri forgotten.

  Drake saw the first shadows slink into the light like creeping wolves, a limb stretching at a time, bodies low to the ground. Nothing appeared to have changed—black clothing stretched over all flesh including the skull. Limbs moved awkwardly as if each was about to break. The spidery movements gave every watcher an involuntary shiver.

  “God help us,” Mai said over the comms.

  Drake watched closely. The team stood at the center of a moral dilemma. No shots had been fired. No proof was evident. An individual had tried to carry off a villager last time—but that didn’t give a soldier free rein to fire upon the group. So far, all they were guilty of doing was a bit of crooked crawling. And looking shifty, he thought. Behind the main large group which had paused as it approached the flickering lights, a line of black-cloaked individuals walked normally. These carried the lights, and probably illuminated the way down the mountain passes. Of course, their faces could not be seen inside the cowls—which were mere black holes that could lead to a new kind of insanity. The line they made was twenty strong, and they did not move.