by Stephen Cole
‘He thinks it’s the password for Kabacra’s computer. Seems the other guard has hacked in before now, looking for scraps of information to sell.’
‘Why use an English password if you’re Spanish?’
‘To make it harder for others to crack?’ She shrugged. ‘How should I know? Just thought I should ask. I doubt there’s a hard-copy of the client list.’
Con stopped outside a hefty wooden door carved with skulls, swords and shields. Two large locks were crafted into the design.
‘Bollocks,’ said Patch. ‘Got us a pair of tubulars.’
‘They’re hard to pick?’
‘God, yeah. The pins are placed all the way round the edge of the cylinder plug.’
‘I love our little talks, Patch.’
He lifted up his eyepatch, teased out the glass ball inside and unscrewed it at the middle. Inside nestled a collection of extendible picks and a telescopic tension wrench. He grabbed the wrench, selected a pick and got to work. ‘Easy, now …’ He listened to the soft click of the pins as he probed with the pick, analysing them, trying to predict the way they should rise and fall.
There was a loud click as the first bolt gave way, and Patch beamed at her. ‘How’s that, then?’
‘Not bad.’ Con smiled back, put her hands on her hips. ‘Crack the second one inside twenty seconds and I’ll show you my bra.’
‘Deal!’ Patch pounced on the next lock, let the tools in his fingers twist and cajole and lightly spring until … ‘Yes!’ he hissed, as with a satisfying clunk the second bolt eased back. Patch opened the door and they both pushed inside a small, drab office. Con raced over to an intricately carved desk and started rifling through the drawers while Patch stood guard.
‘Come on, then,’ he said, looking back at her over his shoulder. ‘That was loads less than twenty seconds. What about the bra!’
She smiled like an angel. ‘I’m not wearing a bra today, Patch.’
With a tortured sigh, Patch turned back to the chink in the door and kept his eye on the empty landing while Con started up Kabacra’s computer. ‘If Scarface comes out of that room and finds we’ve gone,’ he whispered, ‘do you realise how dead we are? Why’d you think Coldhardt even wants this sword so much?’
‘It must be worth a fortune.’
‘I reckon it’s more than that. It’s like he needs it for something. Something we don’t know about.’ Her fingers clicked over the computer keyboard – then she swore. ‘There’s only room for eight characters in the password field. “We tie you up” is ten characters, doesn’t fit. The guard must have heard wrong.’
Patch joined her by the computer keyboard. He’d never understood why they didn’t put all the letters in alphabetical order. A-B-C made a lot more sense than Q-W-E-R …
‘Qwertyuiop,’ Patch read the top line of keys aloud, and some of the letters leaped out at him. ‘Wer Ty. Where Tye?’ He sighed. It was a good question, even if the spelling was bad.
Hang on a sec …
‘Wer Ty U Iop.’ Patch stared at Con. ‘That’s almost the password, innit?’
‘What?’
‘The guards ain’t English, right?’ Patch hissed. ‘So what if the password’s just letters from the top line of keys, and they’re saying it as it sounds!’
‘Kabacra’s being funny, you mean?’ Con typed in W-E-T-Y-U-U-P and hit return.
INVALID PASSWORD.
Patch sighed. ‘Stick to lock-breaking, shall I?’
‘Wait.’ Con tried again, but this time changed U-P to O-P. ‘That way it’s spelled with all different letters but still in sequence along the line of keys, yes?’
‘You sound like Jonah.’
‘Pity you don’t look like him.’ She smiled sweetly and hit return.
And this time, they were in.
‘Yes!’ breathed Con, eyes glittering.
‘You can snog me to say thanks if you want,’ said Patch, before flinching at the look she gave him. ‘How’re you gonna find the client list?’
‘I’m not,’ she said, removing two memory sticks from the chunky buckle of her leather belt. ‘We have five gigabytes of storage on each of these. I’m going to copy his hard drive across so we can go through it later.’
The minutes crawled by as she copied the files and changed sticks. Patch chewed his lip and checked his watch.
‘Done.’ Con yanked out the second memory stick, tucked it with the other one back behind her belt buckle and shut down the computer. ‘We must leave everything just as we found it. And you must lock the door again.’
‘Tell you what, extra incentive. If I do it in less than a minute, you have to show me your pants.’
Con raised one eyebrow coyly.
Patch almost whimpered. ‘No pants either?’
‘You should get out more, Patch,’ Con mused, striding primly to the door. ‘No?’
Back in the entrance hall, Con told the guard to forget everything that had happened since he’d been ordered to watch them, and to continue as normal. Like any good guard he did exactly as he was told, and covered them with both his gun and his glare until his boss re-emerged from the living room with Coldhardt, almost thirty minutes later.
Coldhardt looked enquiringly at Con, and she nodded discreetly. ‘I’m afraid that Señor Kabacra will still not tell me how we may contact Sixth Sun. Not for any price.’ Coldhardt’s affable smile belied the ice in his tone. ‘Interesting behaviour for a mercenary who values his independence so highly.’
‘I think perhaps you may thank me for keeping quiet some day, Coldhardt.’ Kabacra gave a bark of cheerless laughter. ‘Now, because I have so enjoyed your visit, my men will escort you to your vehicle and you may leave.’ But then he grabbed Patch by the back of his scrawny neck, making him yelp. ‘That is, of course, once you have told me the location of my other swords.’
Con bit her lip as both guards aimed their weapons at Coldhardt’s head.
‘You’ll find them in the penthouse suite of the Stanley Hotel in Livingston,’ he said. ‘They are in a holdall beneath the four-poster bed.’
‘That is most illuminating. Thank you.’ Kabacra grinned through his criss-cross of scars, tightening his grip on Patch’s neck. ‘But you know, I find myself wondering – why should I not kill you now? If you are telling the truth, I have no further use for you. And if you are lying, you and your young “associates” deserve to die in any case.’
Con cleared her throat. ‘You’ll let us go free, Kabacra. Because if we do not return to our colleagues this evening, your little hideaway here will be made public.’ She fought to keep the tremor from her voice. ‘To the FBI, Interpol, the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service –’
‘The suite at the Stanley is paid for till the end of the week,’ Coldhardt interrupted. ‘Why not stay there with my blessing? The tortillas and eggs at breakfast are particularly good.’
Kabacra’s scarred top lip curled slowly like paper in a fire. ‘Leave, then,’ he hissed. ‘But should you be foolish enough to tell others of this place, or to seek audience with me again …’
Patch pulled himself free of the man’s grip, almost falling over as he raced to reach the front door.
Con set off after him, keeping close to Coldhardt. As Patch threw open the front door and they walked outside, she had never been so glad to feel the sun on her skin.
The chauffeur started the Range Rover, and the guard covering him looked to Kabacra for confirmation they were free to go. He must have received it, since he stepped away from the vehicle and allowed them inside.
‘We did it,’ Con murmured. ‘We actually did it!’
‘We ain’t out of here yet,’ Patch warned her.
Coldhardt said nothing until the pale chauffeur had turned the car around and burned some serious rubber in his haste to get away. ‘What do we have?’ he demanded.
‘Everything on Kabacra’s hard drive,’ Con told him.
‘Excellent,’ said Coldhardt, steepling his fingers. ‘Well done,
both of you.’
Patch remained miserable. ‘What are we gonna do now? We can’t go back to the hotel, Kabacra will send someone round to do us.’
‘We’re heading straight for the airstrip and a flight to New Mexico,’ said Coldhardt. ‘I’ve had our things sent on. Except for the swords beneath the bed, of course.’
Con frowned. ‘You’re really giving them to Kabacra?’
‘It will keep him off our backs. With the reasons for Tye’s abduction still unclear, I don’t need any further distractions.’
‘Maybe Jonah and Motti have found out where she is by now,’ said Patch, forcing a little brightness into the car. ‘Yeah, I’ll bet they have. Then we can get her out, wherever she is.’
Coldhardt nodded vaguely. Then to Con’s secret delight, he leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘That was nice improvisation back there.’
She glowed at his words of praise, and did her best to imagine his touch had been warm and paternal on her shoulder; not the careless afterthought of a man already lost in dark, unknowable thoughts.
Chapter Six
‘Help me!’ Tye croaked. She couldn’t move. The heat of the sun was like a solid thing, pinning her down. Her mouth felt claggy and dry, and her head was pounding; every thought was a thistle prickling her mind as she waited for the next inevitable wave of nausea to hit.
Cracking open that second bottle of tequila had been a bad, bad idea.
Unsurprisingly, both the bottle and the idea had belonged to Ramez.
‘I said, “Help me!”’ she moaned, shifting on the sunlounger and smoothing out her camisole top. ‘I can’t reach my water. Pass me it.’
‘See you ain’t learned no manners since you left Haiti,’ said Ramez. He was sitting by the pool, waving his feet through the clear blue water.
‘Please.’ With an enormous effort, Tye propped herself up on one elbow. The view of Santa Fe from the penthouse roof was incredible, but her smile was just for him. ‘Pretty please?’
‘Better.’ He got up stiffly and splashed over the decking to pass her the drink. Oh, Ramez, Ramez, Ramez. The boy was looking fine; his olive skin taut and toned, hair razored, smiling back at her. The years in jail had mellowed his prettyboy looks, but hadn’t taken any of his charms away; she guessed he’d never been good at letting things go.
‘Thanks,’ she said, as another wave of nausea made her shut her eyes. He hadn’t looked so hot when they’d parted company four years ago. Weird how she’d only been thinking of him just the day before, high over Guatemala. She’d been thirteen and crazy in love, he’d been sixteen, the big shot wannabe. He’d promised her so much – then tried to grab it all for himself by ripping off Haitian drug-dealers. Tye shuddered at the memory of the beating they’d given him; they’d blown off one of his kneecaps right in front of her, and it was only the arrival of the river police that stopped them putting a bullet in his brain. She remembered hiding in the shadows, rocking with silent tears as his bloodied body was dragged away by police. Remembered the way he’d cried and screamed.
Not for her. For the money he’d hoped to steal.
She opened her eyes again, watched the distant smile playing round Ramez’s lips. No more tears and shouting. He clearly had the money now, and lots of it. And now he’d come back for her. Just as she’d used to dream he would.
‘Penny for your thoughts, sugar-girl,’ he said.
She looked away. ‘A penny, with the kind of cash you must have? I don’t think so.’
He started caressing the top of her arm. It felt way too nice. She’d been little more than a kid when they’d first got together; surely she should have outgrown those old feelings? But then she’d been smuggling for two years by then. She’d done so much growing up already.
He tried again. ‘Hangover not shifting, huh?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Never used to have a problem holding your drink.’
She pursed her lips. ‘Maybe it’s a bad reaction to the chloroform your friends used on me.’
Ramez took his hand away. ‘Would you have left there quietly with armed intruders?’ The question was so dumb she didn’t bother to reply. ‘Exactly. Remember, we didn’t know if this Coldhardt guy was keeping you prisoner, if he had guards or what. The guys had to get in and get you out nice and quick, no arguments.’ Ramez shook his head. ‘They’re the best. If we’d known there was just that one little kid with you –’
‘His name is Jonah.’ Tye closed her eyes. ‘And you’re sure those guys didn’t hurt him, right?’
‘Sure I’m sure. He’s fine.’ Ramez’s cool act seemed to waver for a moment. ‘I wasn’t busting anything up between you guys?’
‘No,’ she said, probably just a fraction too quickly. ‘It’s just the idea of me needing to be rescued from Coldhardt!’
‘The guy’s got no file, no ID, no official existence, Tye. For all I knew, the guy coulda been using you for all kinds of bad shit.’ Ramez shrugged. ‘And since I couldn’t go in myself with my shot leg, I figured the guys should just take you out of there. That we’d deal with your questions later.’
Tye settled back against the mattress and sipped from her drink. ‘You haven’t really dealt with any of them. I still don’t know how you got off life in jail, or how you can afford to rent a penthouse in Santa Fe just so you could keep tabs on Coldhardt more easily …’
‘You always had to question stuff,’ he said, a trace of disappointment on his face. ‘And you’re still doing it. Why is that?’
She shrugged. ‘I just would like to know –’
‘I had to get to you, sugar-girl. ’Sides, I’m only renting this place a while.’ He laughed softly, but she caught some sadness in his deep brown eyes. ‘I told you, I made friends inside. We fixed a deal, we got an arrangement.’
‘What kind of arrangement?’
‘You could call it … an inheritance.’ He shrugged, smiled. ‘Now they look out for me. The way I wanna look out for you.’
Tye could tell from his body language that he wasn’t lying. Though it had taken some time – and tequila – she was satisfied that whatever else Ramez might be up to, he wasn’t trying to trick her. But he was clearly holding back one hell of a lot.
She sipped her drink. ‘When I went to see you in jail, you sent me away. You said you never wanted to see me again.’
He looked downcast at the memory. ‘You’d wasted enough of your life waiting on me.’
Tye looked away. ‘So when you were screaming at me that I was a slut and going with any guy who might look at me, that was you driving me away to be kind, right?’
‘Maybe. I dunno, I just …’ He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t hang on to dreams of you back then. It was easier to push you away.’
You never did find that so hard, Tye recalled unhappily. Always pushing me away. ‘So what’s changed?’
‘Me.’
‘Right. Sure.’ What were the chances of the first boy she’d ever really cared about, the crush of her life, escaping the pit of a Belize prison, getting rich, and then taking time out from living the high life to chase her to the ends of the Earth?
‘No chance at all,’ she murmured distantly.
‘Huh?’
‘Forget it.’ This was just way too good to be true. Since she’d got here last night she hadn’t wanted for anything – his bodyguards were ready to go out and get whatever he asked for, any time of the day or night. This was apparently the way he’d been living for almost a year now, but how come he’d wound up smelling of roses instead of what roses grew in?
Tye knew that she should press him further, find out exactly what was going down here. But a big part of her simply didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to spoil the fantasy. Not after last night …
‘I’ve spent so long trying to find you, girl,’ Ramez said suddenly, taking her hand. ‘Wasted so much time. But the time we’ve got left together, well …’ His fingers strayed down to stroke above her hip. ‘I want it to be sp
ecial. When I heard you’d got caught up with this big-league criminal guy –’
She brushed his hand away. ‘I haven’t got “caught up” in anything, Ramez. I’m not thirteen any more. And your sugar-girl has managed to get by without you for four years.’ She slumped back on the sunlounger. ‘D’you really think I’d stay anywhere unless I wanted to?’
He gave her that drop-dead gorgeous smile. ‘I notice you ain’t tried escaping here yet.’
‘Maybe I just like your pool.’
‘Tye …’ Ramez looked away almost shyly. ‘If it helps you chill, why not speak to Coldhardt? Let him know you’re OK?’
‘I left a message for him at the hotel in Guatemala already.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s cool.’ She sounded so casual; secretly Tye was longing to call Coldhardt and the others properly. But she couldn’t take the chance of calling on their private numbers. She was glad her mobile was back at the base. She knew that whatever she wanted to believe, this had all the hallmarks of a king-sized set up; that Ramez’s friends might have her down for an easy mark. If she called in on a tapped phone, they could use her to get right to the core of Coldhardt’s operation. No, the message she’d left for him and the others at the Stanley – brief and bland, like she suspected nothing – would have to do for now.
‘I guess the old bastard’s gonna want you back?’ Ramez said.
‘If he doesn’t I’m gonna go kick his ass.’
‘You really want to go back to that life?’
She stared at him. ‘For God’s sake, Ramez! What did you think? That you could show up after four years like nothing had ever happened and I would just drop everything?’
‘Not for ever,’ he told her, his eyes clouding. ‘Just for now.’
Tye felt a tingle go up her. The words were simple, but there was something about the way he’d said them …
‘Ramez,’ she said quietly, ‘are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here?’
‘Nothing to tell. This is the rest of my life – luxury all the way. And I want you to share it with me.’ He smiled. ‘Now, where d’you wanna go for dinner tonight?’
