Matt Drake 14 - The Treasures of Saint Germain

by David Leadbeater

  They came out into a street, to their left a wide, scenic view of the mighty Mississippi River.

  “That can’t be good,” Mai said.

  Webb and Beau were approaching the water, close enough to still make out the packets clutched in Webb’s hand.

  To their right a massive contingent of mercenaries poured out of a church doorway, giving chase. Bullets began to form a latticework in the air.

  Amari.

  Drake said: “Well at least this packs all the zealot parties together. Won’t end well though.”

  “Nah,” Alicia said. “It’s gonna end bloody. Very bloody.”

  Dahl included the whole team with one look. “Stay safe, my friends. And pray we all make it through this one.”

  Drake ran hard, not liking the sudden, unexpected silence all around.

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  Upon the Moonwalk—the well-lit path that ran along the side of the Mississippi at the edge of the French Quarter, affording great views, questionable odors and steady, romantic strolls—a new version of madness erupted.

  Beau shepherded Webb to the railings, then turned and flung several unseen objects that took running mercs in the skull and neck and sent them cartwheeling with the force, straight into their colleagues. Drake noted that every bullet fired at Webb went high, and logically deduced that Amari must now know everything.

  The Arab was aware that Webb had cracked every clue, collected every ingredient and was closer than anyone in history to concocting a dose of Magnum Opus—the elixir of life. Now, Drake thought. Amari wants it for himself!

  The theory was moot. Webb leapt high, seemingly straight into the muddy waters. Beau swiveled, revolved and rotated in impossible fashion, taking out several mercs before slipping over the railing, still facing the mercs and with arms outstretched, throwing projectiles even as he fell toward the waters.

  Drake and the team closed in on the mercs. Amari saw them and screamed out an order.

  “Break!”

  Drake soon saw what he meant. The mercs didn’t turn and trade fire. What they did was to shift as a group to the right and toward a gap in the railings where a narrow dock stretched like a wooden runway toward the Mississippi. Amari ran among them, plus the people Drake remembered as his six acolytes. The whole gang was here. Good. That makes it all easier.

  A powerful engine started up as Drake reached the railings. Over the top rail he saw Webb and Beau seated in a bright yellow powerboat, the Frenchman pulling at the throttle and the nose lifting into the air. Spray plumed toward him, leaving him sightless as Webb’s transport pulled away.

  “Always a plan,” Smyth growled. “What next?”

  “Where’s he going?” Mai worried. “Remember the ‘all and every resource’ line? We haven’t seen anything near that yet.”

  “But now we know how Amari got here,” Dahl said, nodding toward the slipway.

  A bobbing mass of boats was moored there, crowded together and tapping at each other’s sides. Even now mercenaries were clambering from boat to boat, using them as a walkway to get to their own, starting them up and roaring the engines, readying guns and rifles.

  Hayden called the authorities. “Police boats,” Drake heard her say. “As many as . . . shit, that ain’t enough.”

  “Choppers!” Alicia cried so loudly Drake almost laughed before realizing what she meant. “Yeah,” Hayden shouted as she ran ahead. “Bring all yer choppers too.”

  They hurried onto the dock, grappling with and throwing off the rearguard of mercs. Shots were fired. One man went down with a thigh wound, another with a smashed shoulder. Smyth took a round to the vest. Yorgi almost broke a thumb, wrestling a rifle away from a much larger man.

  In the end, when Kenzie approached the dock and slowly unsheathed her sword, the trailing merc contingent turned tail and ran. Alicia, Mai and Kinimaka nipped at their heels, guessing the right way was to introduce them to the Mississippi, preferably head first.

  Weapons disappeared and focus was lost. Nobody died. Drake noted that boats were moored to the left and to the right, and the loss of mercs was clearing space among them.

  “Stay with the mission.” He tapped open his comms. “We’re chasing Webb.”

  To the right they broke and copied the earlier antics of the mercs; walking from bobbing craft to craft, heading fast for the outer vessels. Each was moored to the next so that when Drake found a useable vessel all he had to do was untie a short length of rope.

  They occupied four speedboats, started them up and pulled away from the dock. Drake saw a SWAT team scrambling toward more boats and another ranging along the Moonwalk, shouting at Amari and the mercs as if that might put them off. In an act of uncharacteristic intelligence, the mercs didn’t fire upon the running SWAT men and began to pull further out into the center of the river.

  Webb was already speeding through the murky, rolling waters, passing by a huge white river boat called the Delta Queen. As one, about ten of Amari’s boats took off in hot pursuit, engines screaming and water parting around them. The mercs held their guns high or over their shoulders, unmasked and uncaring as the bright, hot sun blazed down.

  Drake opened the throttle and held on tight, Alicia gripping the windshield as she fixed eyes on their quarry. Three other boats suddenly surrounded him, blasting along at his side, trying to close the gap. Spray and walls of water gave him the best shower he’d had in days.

  Alicia’s face dripped. “I hate this bloody boat. It’s pink, Drake. Fucking pink!”

  The Yorkshireman kept a stoic face. “Didn’t notice.”

  “ ’Course you did.” Alicia blew water away by flapping her lips. “Probably picked it on purpose.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?” Drake maneuvered into the center of the waterway, powering hard just ten meters away from the trailing Amari boat.

  “I dunno. Does it remind you of Sprite?”

  Drake spluttered. “For fu—”

  “As usual,” Hayden’s voice interrupted them, “comms are wide open. Thought you would have learned by now.”

  Alicia shrugged, shedding a waterfall. “Don’t care.”

  “Maybe you should.” Drake bent lower, steadied the wheel with one hand and prepped his gun with the other. It was a Heckler & Koch UMP, the lighter, cheaper successor to the MP5. Embraced by various agencies including Border Patrol, it was the easiest weapon for the traveling SPEAR team to lay their hands on at short notice. Still, it provided more stopping power, larger cartridges and was easier to carry. Disadvantages were less accuracy at range and a slower firing rate, but Drake had thought these less important.

  Until he jumped on a speedboat, powered down the wide Mississippi, chasing over a dozen other boats loaded with mercs and lunatics, surrounded by his colleagues in a similar position.

  Can’t plan for everything.

  Webb could be seen ahead, laying on the power; Beau watching the chasing teams. Drake teased every ounce of power out of his pink speedboat, glancing across at Dahl who stood at the helm of a lime green craft.

  The corners of the Swede’s mouth turned up just a little. “If you’re nice to them maybe they’ll let you borrow the boat at weekends,” he purred over the comms.

  “Oh, you’re so bloody funny I’m gonna crash.” Drake looked past the Swede to the other vessels. Hayden and Mai rode a mostly yellow one and appeared cramped with Crowe and two bodyguards installed. Kinimaka, Smyth, Lauren and Yorgi were packed into an orange boat, the Russian piloting whilst the soldiers made ready with H&Ks. Drake’s eyes came to rest on the vision of Kenzie, standing upright in the sleek, bouncing boat, arms crossed, the pommel of her sword jutting up over her shoulders.

  “Crap, that can’t be good,” Alicia’s voice jerked him back to reality.

  Two of Amari’s boats had peeled off and were now arcing back around toward the pursuers. Alicia steadied her rifle and Drake made more of a gap between his boat and Dahl’s. The last thing they needed was an evasive maneuver resulti
ng in a crash. The first of Amari’s boats headed straight for Drake, mercs already firing. The bullets shot wide or skipped into the Mississippi. Alicia lined up her sights.

  Both boats sped toward each other at a combined speed of over 80 mph. Smashing against a heavy swell, both boats took flight, their pilots struggling at the wheels, and came bouncing back up for more.

  “Drake . . .” Alicia began.

  “They ain’t stopping, pal.” Dahl’s voice.

  Drake held steady, breathing deeply through his mouth. “Fuck ’em,” he said.

  The enemy boat was now a gray wedge blocking out the horizon. It was only when Drake saw the fear in the eyes of the mercs most forward and the determined set of the pilot’s visage that he realized what was really happening.

  “Kamikaze,” he cried to warn the others, then wrenched hard at the wheel. Alicia lurched to the side, smashing her shoulder and her head. The stern veered around, skimming off a waterfall, the prow shuddered and struggled to make headway. Drake goosed the throttle. The enemy boat loomed. In another vital moment, Dahl managed to sight his weapon whilst steering, aim, and take out the pilot. The boat skated off course.

  And then exploded.

  Drake was already low; Alicia knocked to the footwell. Terrible fragments struck their boat and arrowed overhead or flew straight up into the air. Drake had guessed the pilot was wearing a vest, but the action was still shocking.

  Dead man’s trigger.

  The merc boat lay dead in the water, wreckage still crashing down. Drake jumped up and without ceremony opened the throttle. Again, their battered boat raced down the center of the Mississippi.

  Amari’s second boat aimed for their third in line, coincidentally the yellow one carrying Hayden, Mai and the Secretary of Defense. It was hard for Drake to envision a United States’ official of such stature putting herself so deeply in harm’s way but then, when she made the light decision to travel to New Orleans and meet the SPEAR team mid-mission, could she really have foreseen what would happen? Even the chase through the French Quarter didn’t set a person up for a powerboat battle along the third biggest watershed in the world.

  This time the enemy pilot lived as Mai sent their boat curving wide one way and then back around. Drake could see mercs screaming at the man who held the wheel, then tearing his jacket apart and flinching, shocked to see the dynamite strapped to his chest. Some headed overboard at that point but the pilot blew himself up anyway, sending the shattered boat into the air and then reeling back down.

  “Amari has his fanatics with him,” Drake said soberly. “That’s our warning.”

  Kinimaka’s boat was closing in on Amari’s last in line, close enough to exchange fire. The Hawaiian’s boat skipped skew-whiff on an errant wave but he managed to manhandle it back into place. Smyth fired carefully, each bullet a pop at timed intervals. Mercs fell, gouting blood. Return fire sent Lauren and Yorgi to the floor, the thief losing his grip on his new Glock. Kinimaka plowed on and Smyth managed to take out the pilot. Mercs fell all around and some plunged overboard as the craft lost momentum.

  Kinimaka powered past. They couldn’t afford to lose a single second. Webb raced ahead with no obstructions, though Amari in the lead boat might be slowly catching him. The Arabs did this every day back home, it seemed, giving them a slight advantage, though never on a river as mighty as this.

  “Still no sign of Webb’s resources,” Drake muttered.

  “No, but ours are on their way,” Hayden shouted back over engine and water roar.

  Drake looked up and back, saw choppers pounding at the skies and a veritable flotilla of new vessels shooting along behind.

  “If Webb thought this was an escape route, it seems the asshole was a little mistaken.”

  “But Webb’s nowhere to be seen.” Lauren was using field glasses. “Beau is driving the boat.”

  Drake squinted. Indeed, only one man could be seen aboard the lead boat. Hayden voiced her opinion. “He’s so desperate he’s already making the potion,” she said. “That’s my bet, guys. Whatever he believes it will infuse within him, I don’t know, but that’s what he’s doing.”

  “Immortality?” Lauren offered. “Invisibility?”

  “Ooh, I’d love me some of that.” Alicia rubbed the side of her head. “Bloody Sprite wouldn’t know what hit her. And Samurai Sheila.” She stared at Kenzie, then affected a fake expression of shock. “Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud? Over the comms?”

  Mai gave nothing in return. Kenzie glanced over with speculative eyes. “So nothing has changed, eh Alicia? Maybe, just maybe, one day, you will need me to help save your life.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Then . . . we shall see who mocks who.”

  “I will never—”

  Drake shut it down. “On mission,” he grated. “We have world security threats to deal with.”

  Kinimaka’s and Dahl’s boats were now darting amongst the mercs’. The Swede broadsided one, sending it veering into a third, glass fiber and steel falling away. Kinimaka slammed into the rear third of another, making the front end spin around and sending three mercs flying, akimbo, into the river’s hungry belly.

  An enemy vessel swung around and came at Dahl hard. Drake was close now, almost touching the Swede’s stern. A head-on crash was looking likely. More sacrifices by Amari, though this pilot was clearly a regular merc.

  Dahl braced and Kenzie slipped down into her seat. Mercs cried out frantically and Drake slowed. Hayden appeared to the right, running broadside. As the vessels almost came together, Hayden’s yellow boat collided with the back of the mercs’, physically wrenching it aside. Dahl’s boat shot through the clear water and Hayden swung a long right to rejoin the chase, her prow tattered but holding up.

  The mercs were dead in the water, capable only of waiting to be picked up.

  Drake closed in on the rear of the next boat as Alicia fired her H&K. Smyth let loose his Glock, and Mai picked mercs off one by one. Above, choppers had started to crowd the skies and motor boats pounded the waves in pursuit. Ahead, Amari led the charge after Webb with the set face and shouted threats of a fanatic.

  And Webb himself, crouched low, was already mixing together the first component of the alchemical mixture that the Scroll of Leopold and Saint Germain’s strict roster of clues revealed was the only true way to prepare the greatest treasure ever imagined—the elixir of life.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The great swell of the Mississippi River had never seen nor heard the like of it. As soldiers, Drake and the SPEAR team stood often at death’s door. Most of the time they cheated it. But there were no illusions in Drake’s mind. Nobody cheated death forever.

  Nobody.

  A final chapter was coming, maybe not this year but soon enough, when they would all stand and die together. He did not fear it. A man or woman couldn’t live this life forever and he just couldn’t see himself willingly resigning. So what was the alternative?

  Skipping now from swell to swell, he counted off the boats. Webb’s, and then six of Amari’s and four of their own. All battered. The waters were vicious and deadly. Amari’s mercenaries swept wide every now and then to squeeze off several submachine gun rounds, spiking the air with lead. Kinimaka and Dahl swept with them, picking off the odd body but making very little headway.

  The mighty river curved gracefully to the right and then the left, a vast curvature of undulating water bordered by grass banks and levees, docks and busy yards. Its enormous width spanned their horizons, its murk growing only darker as the sun passed its zenith. Drake studied the skylines ahead and to the sides, always conscious that Webb had a plan and potential reinforcements.

  How does he intend to escape?

  Rotors chopped above and motorboats raced behind, all loaded with different versions of law enforcement. One of the mercs tried lobbing a grenade at Dahl’s boat but it fell short and succeeded only in soaking the Swede and the Israeli. Dahl shot the man through the shoulder and nobody tried it
again.

  “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?” Alicia complained. “We’ll be on here all day at this rate.”

  “Oh sure,” Drake said. “I’ll just flip the switch on the nitrous.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Shit, one day we’re gonna have to get you down for a Fast and Furious fest.”

  “Isn’t that what we do every night? Sometimes twice?”

  Drake shook his head slowly. Alicia gripped his shoulder tight. To their right the boat containing Hayden, Mai and the Secretary of Defense skimmed the surface of the Mississippi. Drake saw Kimberly Crowe crouched down low, her two bodyguards around her. Yes, she had somehow managed to insert herself into the midst of all this mess, but he couldn’t knock her courage.

  “Can you transfer the Secretary out?” he asked Hayden through the comms.

  “Maybe,” came the reply. “But I’m loathe to start the maneuver when we’re blind as to what comes next.”

  “Send the choppers in,” Dahl said. “Blast ’em all out of the water.”

  Drake saw Hayden nod. “I think it’s coming to that.”

  Another one of Amari’s boats broke away, this one bowing to the left and coming right around. It sped hard at Drake’s boat, its arrow-shaped prow aiming to cut him in half, but at an order from Hayden one of the SWAT choppers swooped low and opened fire. The boat exploded into detonating fragments, still coasting forward as it shattered. A plume of fire and smoke marked its death.

  Drake didn’t give it a second glance. Webb was turning.

  “Wait. What’s he doing?”

  Beyond Amari, the lead boat appeared to have left it extremely late to turn, so sharp was the angle Beau made it achieve. The whole vessel canted sideways, the spray curling out from underneath.