Aztec Gold

THIRTY FOUR

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.”