Crusader's Gold

TWENTY ONE

Despite the mind-bending chaos, Crouch found himself drifting a little once the plane had reached altitude. Life as head of the Ninth Division had been peace and harmony compared to this madness. Perhaps it was the rigidity, the directness of military leadership, but since he’d returned to ‘the field’ nothing was written solely in stone. It was fluid, shocking, awash with decisions that were always second-guessed. It was living and thinking on your feet until your soles burned.

Ah, for the simple life.

Dreaming, thinking like a treasure hunter for all those years, hadn’t prepared him for this. The world had changed since he’d been a boy. Black and white, and even grey, were dead ghosts from a misplaced youth. The heroes of his boyhood would never succeed in the world of today. Imagining an old Corgi toy, an ancient Hornby train set, just a poster stuck to the wall with its edges curling up, he wondered how they stacked up to the toys of 2015. Life moved on, but not just life. Technology surged but at the same time it seemed — morality shrank. Somebody, somewhere, was always getting away with pushing the boundaries. How much further could they be pushed?

Nostalgia pricked him. He studied his colleagues, thanking his lucky stars for those such as Alicia Myles and Rob Russo. They did understand today. They knew how the world had changed and what it meant to stay alive. They knew what it took to keep the world safe — even if the people they saved never knew or even cared. At the end of the day, they were the best at what they did and knew little else. Though they craved peace and love and normality, could they ever live with it?

Crouch reflected on his home back in London. He owned a flat in Hammersmith, just off the A4 that eventually led past Harrods and Hyde Park Corner. The flat was locked, silent now, a dark shrine to things that he thought he loved — Matchbox die-cast cars, fantasy books and magazines he’d found in the old Forbidden Planet store on Denmark Street, material unavailable in the UK — that kind of spine-tingling treasure hunt in old bookstores was lost forever now after the advent of the Internet. Some said it was easier, less frustrating; he thought it took away the magic of discovering hidden treasures. But wasn’t that a boyhood thrill?

No. Even jaded adults like me love a gripping yarn. Once you pass a certain age your escapism comes through books or movies, not through real life.

He caught himself nodding, felt the crick in his neck, and came awake. The drone of the plane’s engines was enough to soothe anyone. Even Alicia had her eyes closed — though Crouch suspected she might still be watching him. Alicia Myles had been the first woman accepted by the SAS and — apart from Mai Kitano perhaps — remained the most dangerous and capable woman he’d ever met. Her fire, her passion, came from seeking the next challenge, the continuing adventure. What would happen if she ever stopped?

Armageddon?

He shrugged unconsciously. There was only one man alive who could stop Alicia from self-imploding and that man was not here.

His thoughts turned to the dilemma at hand, and to the man who presented the greatest threat — Daniel Riley. Crouch had learned a valuable lesson the day Riley bought explosives and detonated a bomb in India. Never let your guard down. Of course, a valuable lesson sometimes had to be learned more than once but the fundamentals were there. After India, Crouch had become much more introverted, a quality that had later helped him become a leader. All that experience though, all those later encounters, never helped him understand what the hell had happened to Daniel Riley.

Life, he thought. It was what happened to us all.

And now… Kenzie. He shouldn’t underestimate her as he once had Riley. She had already proved her willingness to do brutality, her lack of morality. She was down there with the parasites that fed off sewer scum as far as he was concerned. But two enemies? Two utterly ruthless, well-equipped and proficient enemies?

They needed help.

Crouch called a number and listened to the accent. “Hello?”

“It’s me again. Did you figure out a way?”

“Oui. I can leave here for a few days. But no more.”

“Good. I think we need you.”

“And she? Does she need me?”

“We all do.”

“Then that is good. Where she is involved I will always help.”

“Oh, thanks for that,” Crouch said a little drily.

“You are welcome, Michael. Where do you want me?”

Crouch moved to the furthest part of the plane and proceeded to convey everything he knew about Bridget McKenzie and the barest details about Daniel Riley. After a few minutes he paused.

“Is that it?”

“Yes. Now, are you sure the Pythians won’t miss you?”

“I’m sure it can be done, mon ami. The downside is that I can only spare a few days. I will be in Paris when you are.”

“Excellent. And you’re not here to, um, make contact. Do you understand?”

Laughter emanated across the airwaves. “She will not even know I am there.”

“Good. Perhaps we can find a few hours to debrief. It has been a while.”

“We should. I have completed many undercover jobs for you before, Michael, but this… this one is the hardest.”

Crouch was genuinely surprised. He had never heard Beauregard talk this way before. “In terms of?”

“In terms of craziness. I truly believe these rich fools want to blow up the world. Especially their leader. This Webb, if he can’t get what he wants he will go nuclear. And he has the means.”

“The Z-boxes?”

“Yes. And more.”

“Okay, I’ll find a way to pass the information on to Drake. We shall speak soon.”

The line disconnected. Crouch watched Alicia and the others, pretty confident they hadn’t heard any part of the conversation. Nevertheless, it had been imperative. Beauregard Alain was the world’s master assassin. In theory, he could take Kenzie and her entire crew out in one night. The only problem with Beauregard was his penchant for powerful women — the Frenchman just couldn’t help himself.

Crouch wondered if he should explain it all to Alicia. How Beauregard Alain had been a Ninth Division asset all along. How Crouch had recognized early the threat of the upcoming Pythian cabal and ordered him to go dark, to go rogue and get inside. Even Shelly Cohen — revealed later to be Coyote — had not known about Beauregard. Indeed it was she who had invited him to the Last Man Standing tournament and brought him to the attention of the Pythians. A masterstroke.

The rest was history.

Crouch sighed deeply and felt the stirring of an acidic stomach. Telling Alicia wouldn’t be easy. He’d let her sleep. Yeah, that would be best.

Let sleeping Amazonians, um… sleep.