Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (21 page)

The plane journey was a study in the extremes of the surreal dream and the hard-hitting nightmare. The Fortress—aka Reece Carrera—proved to be a charming, muscle-bound, witty distraction. Even Alicia, not a woman to dally with the famous or associate herself with the trappings of fame, found herself drawn to the handsome, larger-than-life movie star. There were no airs and graces, no false self-importance, just a man that loved living and took from life the best of what it had granted him. To Alicia, Carrera epitomized the true vision of the sharp-dressed man.

Crouch drew the team around whilst Carrera cooked for them in the luxurious kitchen. “I have Argento on the line. He’s already found Solomon’s compound, a ranch several miles east of Joburg, toward the coast. Trouble is, Solomon isn’t heading for his ranch. He’s heading here—” Crouch jabbed at an image he’d brought up on a computer tablet. “The eastern cape. And in particular the Isidenge Forest.”

“How can you tell?” Caitlyn peered at the screen.

“Argento has the flight plan. Not only that, but Solomon owns a huge tract of land out there.”

“Reasons?” Russo wondered. “More easily defensible. Quieter. No authorities.”

“And isolation,” Alicia added. “He’ll be able to do whatever he wants out there.”

Crouch nodded. “I see this as a bit of a break for us.”

Alicia grinned. “I know exactly what you mean.”

At that point Carrera slipped his bulk around a kitchen unit, into the main cabin. “So you guys like red meat, huh? Black beans? Spices? Tequila?”

“You got me on all four,” Alicia said quickly. Caitlyn giggled. Crouch signaled that they’d be with him in a few minutes.

He turned back to the screen. “Our three-man team, with Caitlyn doing what she does best—the surveillance part using all that high-end software—should be able to get in and out of there very quickly. The approach is through forest, almost jungle. See all the ravines and streams? A massive amount of cover. The escape is obviously the same. We stay clear of the road. Solomon’s compound is protected by a chain-link fence,” Crouch couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Shit, I’ve seen ole Carrera back there do this a hundred times.”

Alicia saw that Crouch was trying to buoy the troops, so didn’t mention that Carrera was more than a little removed from real life in work and play, despite all his efforts to prove otherwise. Solomon’s compound would be crawling with guards and surveillance equipment, most of it lethal since nobody was around to complain. A crime lord of his caliber would have every angle covered.

“Not a three-man team,” she said.

Crouch frowned. “What?”

“It should be a two-man team. Caitlyn stays out of harm’s way, agreed. But so do you. Russo and I are the best field soldiers on this team. We will know Healey’s exact position thanks to his tracker. And less bodies on the ground means less chance of being spotted. This is a two-man operation.”

Crouch looked ready to argue, but appeared to weigh Alicia’s talent and tactical skills against his own. “I guess I would serve the team better by overseeing the op,” he consented. “But that means we’ll have to be relatively close by. In case of difficulty.”

Alicia accepted the compromise. “Fine.”

Caitlyn brought up a detailed map of the area and pointed out an e-mail that had just landed direct from Interpol—Argento’s brief on the man and monster, Philip Solomon.

“Everything is as we expected. Solomon’s your archetypal villain. Coker was right when he told us he built his empire through underground gambling activities. If there’s illegal money to be wagered somewhere around the world you can bet Solomon’s in the thick of it. Of more interest to us, he’s also had his hand in more than a dozen antiquity thefts, though none can be linked to him. Indirectly, he owns an export shop in Berkeley Square, London, that deals in all manner of ancient artefacts.”

“On the level?” Russo asked.

“Yes, perfectly legit. Except—” Caitlyn panned down through the statistics. “The shop has never made a profit.”

“A front then. Maybe for stolen art. Artefacts.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Crouch said. “We’re inbound to save Healey. The treasure is ours and will soon belong to the world if the US government doesn’t dig its bloody heels in. Either way, we have finder’s rights and permits. Let’s go eat this bastard for breakfast.”

Carrera stuck his enormous head around the corner. “Breakfast? Did I hear correctly? I’ve been cooking dinner for an hour.”

Alicia gave him her best smile. “Well, well, Mr. Fortress,” she said, rising to her feet. “Let’s see if your cooking is as tasty and entertaining as your physique.”

Alicia and Russo made it to the Isidenge Forest area with a day to spare. Realizing they had an abundance of time the team had ditched Carrera and his luxurious aircraft at Adelaide airport and rented a car to take them through Fort Beaufort and on up the A352 toward Keiskammahoek, a small rural town and the location of the Cata Lodge, the only nearby lodging area that offered all the amenities they would need. Crouch rented out chalets and both Caitlyn and he set up whilst Alicia and Russo started on the fourteen mile hike to the Isidenge. Thanks to Caitlyn’s cutting edge tracking system she would be able to relate Healey’s location in relation to theirs, but was able to offer nothing better. Access to the technology she needed just wasn’t possible out here.

Alicia and Russo hiked in silence for many miles, eventually recognizing the forest through satellite pictures taken on the plane, the trusty compasses in their hands and Caitlyn’s assurances through their headsets.

Alicia dropped to her stomach. “I guess this is it then.”

Caitlyn came through loud and clear. “The Isidenge is a sprawling, sometimes flat sometimes mountainous area. You’ve still a long way to go. As with most state or national parks in Africa the degree of protection therein is questionable and can vary on a daily basis. Hence Solomon’s occupation. Fighting was reported there at least as recently as 2013.”

Alicia and Russo rose and hiked some more before dropping out of sight again at Caitlyn’s request.

“You’re three miles away, due north of your target.”

Alicia turned her head toward Russo. “Here’s where it gets harder. You ready, big man?”

Russo was already scrambling forward. “Let’s go bring Zack home.”

Alicia crept along for a while, then stopped in mid-crawl. “This is South Africa, right?”

“Well done for catching up. Yes, it is.”

“I’m thinking—spiders. I once saw a sand spider in Babylon. Sacred me half to friggin’ death.”

“Babylon? Shit, how old are you?”

“Oh, har har. Russo cracks a funny. Dude, you started off being a bit of a wanker but now I’m actually starting to like you.”

“Oh, thanks. So long as you don’t try to shag me we’ll be all right.”

Alicia filled her sigh with disappointment. “Okay then.”

An hour passed. The two-person team worked their way in slowly, mindful for traps and observers. The Isidenge River put in an appearance to the left, a narrow waterway at this point overhung by low branches and plants, but offering some shade. With sweat stinging their eyes, the sun blazing down almost directly above and insects flitting about their extremities they finally reached the area Caitlyn designated as hyper-sensitive.

“Outskirts,” Russo said unnecessarily.

Alicia moved to follow in the man’s wake, reasoning that one track was better than two. Through the trees ahead the pair finally saw the glint of steel—Solomon’s chain link fence and the boundary of his compound.

“We’re here,” Alicia whispered.

Crouch’s voice answered immediately. “Any sign of surveillance? Guards?”

“Nothing so far.”

“I don’t get it. All this is entirely too blasé for a criminal overlord. What are we missing?”

“Only this,” Alicia said. “A guard tower inside the compound every ten feet. One hundred yards of no-man’s land, possibly mined. Rolls of razor wire after that with only . . . one clear path that I can see. Past that, sentries on constant patrol. And more cameras than a Hollywood movie.”

“Ah.”

Alicia looked at Russo, then clicked the comms. “Ah? Is that all you can say?”

“Wait. Can you get a sense for the size of the compound?”

Alicia scrutinized the fence as far as she could see. “It’s bigger than Harrods. Does that help?”

Crouch sniffed. “You can bet your life on one thing. Once you’re in it’ll be easier to get out of than Harrods. Hold for a while.”

The comms went dead. Alicia nodded at Russo. “Screw that. Russo, you scan the perimeter in that direction; I’ll go this way. We’ll meet on the other side and get a better picture of the place.”

Russo nodded, already mobile. Alicia took her time, staying low enough to scrape her chin along the ground. The border scan was arduous but necessary and it took them almost two hours to complete the circuit.

Alicia went first. “I have a front entrance, obviously heavily guarded, to the east. Road in leads past the guard towers to a row of parked jeeps, all unmarked. At the north side I saw a long, round-topped building that I’m guessing is the soldiers’ quarters.”

Russo pursed his lips. “To the west and northwest lies nothing but a large, block built office building in the corner. Two stories and with a roof lookout post and helipad, I believe. You can see a pair of rotor blades up there with two satellite dishes and other paraphernalia. I visibly counted twelve guards.”

Alicia let out a breath. “And I counted eight, not including the towers. Michael, what do you have?”

Crouch answered as if his reconnaissance team hadn’t just disobeyed an order. “Your only way in is to scale the office building. Out here, Solomon might not employ the sensors he would in the middle of a big city. Now, Healey is positioned at the northern end of the guard’s quarters, quite close to your current position actually. I’m guessing there’s some sort of holding cell area inside.”

“Any communication from Solomon yet?”

“No. We still have three hours left according to the message he sent with proof of life. That’s almost sundown.”

“Distractions?”

“These are trained military men. With Healey’s presence they’ll be on hyperalert and will suspect some kind of distraction. It’ll only draw attention.”

“So it’s stealth all the way.” Alicia flicked her eyes over Russo. “And I chose to team up with an African elephant. Fantastic.”

Russo gave her a hurt gaze. “Have I concerned you yet?”

“What concerns me is how the hell we’re going to scale that two-story building before sundown and without the proper gear. Mr. Crouch, sir, it’s time to do what you do best and come up with a plan.”

“Already done,” Crouch said a little haughtily. “I had plenty of time to think it through whilst you two kids were pissing about on your bellies.”

Alicia flicked dirt from the back of her hand. “Do tell.”

*

Buildering, also known as urban climbing, counted on being able to climb walls, often vertical, finding the right handholds to complement the correct body positioning. Whilst achievable on some modern buildings their evenness and uniform surfaces made it a lethal, illegal sport though several daredevils still tried it. Once Alicia had surveyed Solomon’s HQ a little more closely and despite its lack of drainpipes, she determined the weathered, dried and crumbled nature of the block construction offered sufficient handholds for Russo and her to climb it. Positioned as it was, close to the northeastern side of the compound, they agreed that it was also the most screened position. Of course, not every angle could be foreseen, but they had already determined that Solomon employed no forest-mounted CCTV, no motion sensors outside the compound and no traps. To assume the same for the interior would be foolhardy, but Alicia and Russo were at the top of their game—the situation demanded a little risk.

With no more time to waste, less than an hour to Solomon’s deadline, and the bright sun beginning to dip toward the west and now no longer visible above the treetops, Alicia and Russo found the best hand- and footholds at the base of the concrete block wall. As her fingers gripped the crumbly rock, Alicia got a feel for the sharp edges and unreliable cavities and voids. She scraped rubble out of a crack before testing it with her weight.

“Ready?”

“Just go, Catwoman. I’ll be right behind you.”

Alicia took her time. Falling now would have the same effect as being captured—it would scupper their plan. The handholds were regular but most didn’t offer enough of a grip or crumbled away to dust. Russo followed her every move, figuring that if she could do it he could do it. A warm breeze turned Alicia’s sweat cool. At one point her left foot slipped, unhinging the right and she hung by her fingertips. Russo guided her boots back to safety.

“What I want to know,” he said. “Is who saves me?”

“Maybe a fucking baboon will recognize you as part of the family and lend a hand.”

Alicia inched up the wall, her vision consisting of nothing but concrete, forty feet high now and still several feet from the top. The forest made noises all around her, hoots and growls and catcalls. Light slipped from the skies. She would let Crouch play for time his own way. This mission was now do or die. At last she reached the top and paused, allowing her forehead and eyes to rise over the apex of the wall.

A rough square flat roof met her eyes, the larger part of which was occupied by a helipad and chopper, with a high, triangular-roofed, guard tower at the far side. Alicia saw movement there. The guard was smoking hard, his gaze lost far out across the tops of the forest trees. With a quick heave she slipped over the top and fell to the tarmacked floor, rolling and scuttling underneath the chopper. When she looked back Russo was in her place, watching the guard.

Two minutes later he lay at her side.

“Phase one complete,” Alicia radioed in.

Crouch came back immediately. “Christ, is that all? Get a bloody move on. I’ve arranged to meet with Solomon in forty five minutes.”

So much for playing for time.

“Where?” Russo clicked his mic. “Here?”

“Yes. He knows that we know where he is. There’s simply no point pretending.”

“I’m just thinking that might make the job of extracting Healey harder.”

“Like I said, get a bloody move on.”

Alicia rolled out from under the chopper, moved to the guard’s blind side and made some noise. When his head popped out into the open she was more than ready, aiming and squeezing her silenced trigger in less than a heartbeat. After that all that remained was his cigarette, floating down through the air.

Russo ran past her. “Cameras?”

“Not up here. Clearly privacy is maintained for the type of person that might visit.”

Russo shrugged. “Who cares? It’s time to fight.”

Alicia vehemently agreed. Together they half-slid, half-climbed down the guard’s ladder, all the way to the floor of the compound. Two men saw them and drifted over, unsure. Alicia taught them to be more careful with bullets to the head. Now inside, the pair could afford to plant one or two distractions. Alicia unpacked blocks of C4 and jammed them into various niches before arming a simple transmit and receive device. Russo disabled two Jeeps and readied another before she beckoned him.

Together, they made it to the side of the guards’ quarters, crouching low in the shade but now in full view of the southward facing towers. It was only a matter of time . . .

“There!” The cry went up. “Stop!”

Alicia instantly blew the C4 which was set on a delayed timer, starting the mayhem. Russo ran forward, spraying the tops of the towers with bullets. From out of the HQ emerged a score of men, hardened faces beset with fury. Another blast of C4 went off, sending soil and wreckage among them, blasting most off their feet. Guns flew high into the air. The HQ shuddered as its windows blasted in, the catalyst to even more shrieks of pain.

Closer by, Alicia set off a third blast, this one placed against the wall of the guards’ quarters and as far removed from Healey’s last known position as was possible. She waited for the debris blast to pass then ran instantly into the hole she’d created, even as more rubble rained down.

The interior was high, hot and disorderly. Cots sat all around the edges of the room, most unmade and with boots and jackets slung atop the covers. Pitted tables ran up the center, covered with unwashed plates and decks of cards, newspapers and magazines. A sink sat in the far corner and a tall refrigerator next to it. Ten years ago they might have been white. At the far end of the building Alicia spied a row of cells, simply bars that had been hammered into the concrete floor to segregate prisoners from the guards. Maybe the guards themselves were sometimes disciplined there.

In any case a face she recognized pressed through one of the bars. “Hey!”

Healey!

Alicia and Russo took off at a sprint, but the view was suddenly obscured as men came in from all sides of the building; those who had been snoozing, off-shift or malingering.

Most were unarmed. Alicia dodged blows and spun as she ran, grabbing the arm of an assailant and flinging him full circle without breaking pace, using his body as a battering ram to fling at the crowd ahead. Bodies flew left and right. She leaped onto another’s back, springing off and high into the air, kicking two in the face as she came down to land and digging her elbow into the skull of a third. Russo was the deadly weapon at her side, shooting without let-up, a gun in each hand. Alicia saw two men converging from two directions in front of her, dropped and slid on her knees beneath their combined lunges. Still in her slide, she spun around and fired her own guns, blasting at their bodies.

She holstered her weapons as the knee-spin reached full-circle, rising to her feet and racing hard at Healey’s cell. Another man came in fast from behind and this time she leaped above his attack, saw him slide by below and came down hard on his exposed neck. The movement unbalanced her and she fell, rolling hard into the metal bars.