Inca Kings

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Kenzie slapped a hand to her mouth in shock. No way was this tunnel going to collapse, but the force of the detonation was sending rubble smashing down from the roof and rolling down the sides. Lights flickered and died, the only illumination intensely bright from the end of the tunnel. Heaps of debris already blocked the way and more was falling down. She saw boulders the size of her head bouncing into the pile, their edges jagged and deadly. She saw an oncoming car swerve to avoid the wreckage, smash into the sidewall and come to a sudden halt, the front end smashed in. She saw the third black SUV parked in a lay-by far ahead.

“There’s the asshole who did this,” Dahl said at the same time. “Must have rigged some dynamite or something.”

More cars were pulling up ahead, people climbing out of their cars and pulling out phones. Kenzie opened her door and started to move.

“Wait!” Dahl launched himself across the front seats, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back in. She felt the power, the sheer strength of the man and then ended up staring at his chest from less than an inch distant.

“What’s the issue?” she said in a muffled voice.

The sound of a hail of rocks smashing down onto the car roof and her door gave her a terrifying answer.

“Oh. It’s raining rocks. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Not part of Mossad training?” Dahl swung the door shut and climbed off her.

“Not whilst I was there.”

Another hail of rubble clattered down onto the roof. Kenzie saw the first indent appear — a V-shaped delve in the headliner.

“To be honest,” Dahl said mildly. “I was expecting more of a sexist comment.”

“Were you? From me? Well, Mr. Muscles, you’ll be happy to know I’ve decided to let you and Missus Muscles get back together. I guess you deserve another chance.”

Dahl took his eyes away from their dilemma for a moment. “This time… it will work.”

“I hope so. I’m no marriage breaker.”

A rock the size of her fist smashed against the windshield, causing the glass to give and a spider web tracery of cracks to race away from the epicenter.

Then she saw all four doors of the SUV open. Armed men wearing T-shirts jumped out, looking up at the shattered tunnel entrance. One of them spotted their car and pointed.

“We’re gonna have to risk it,” Dahl said. “These people up ahead are gonna get hurt.”

Kenzie kicked at her door, forcing a small pile of rubble to topple away. An errant stone fell from the roof and bounced off her shoulder, causing her to wince in pain. Just the shadow of what could have been. Dahl squeezed out the other side. Between them and the exit now stood a knee-height pile of rocks and a steadily pouring pebble-and-shale shower.

“Move!” Dahl shouted at the milling car drivers. “Get out of here!”

He ran hard for the exit and Kenzie followed, spurred on by his bold moves. The stony waterfall bounced off them, drawing blood here and there but not even slowing them down. The final obstacle was more serious. Dahl paused.

Raised his gun and fired. “Only way to get ’em all moving.”

“It works for Jessica Ennis and Usain Bolt.” Kenzie peered over an unsteady boulder.

Dahl turned to her. “You’re a sports fan?”

“Only my entire life.”

“And what are your thoughts on the Swedish football team?” He fired another shot as people raced for their cars or decided to duck behind them.

“Didn’t know they had one. In truth though, I’m more of an athletics girl.”

“Fencing?”

She watched the blatant enemy advance. “Get out of here. They poke each other with matchsticks.”

“I hear there’s some skill involved.”

“Yeah, probably when they glue them together to build a tower.”

With the coast clear, Kenzie used the rubble pile as a barricade and leaned over, gun in hand. Four enemies ran at her, machine pistols poised. She took the first shot, bullet blasting wide. The return came at once, lead stitching a line across the tunnel above her head. Running and firing wasn’t their strong suit then. Dahl took his time, kneeling and aiming; his first shot sent the lead man jerking to the side. Kenzie fired once more. Again her bullet found thin air instead of hot flesh.

“Not one for the clay pigeon event then?”

“Up close is where it’s at. Your wife will probably agree.”

She kicked herself for her bluntness, striving for a more agreeable manner. It was the damn Swede that was trying to bring on the change. He shouldn’t bear the brunt. A clatter of gunfire sent her beneath the barricade, with bits of stone spitting off the top. One bullet managed to blast right through the piled stone and shattered the front grille of their car, reaffirming just how fragile her grip on life remained. She saw Dahl fire once more and curse, then popped her head up.

Three gunmen still coming, guns switched to auto.

Instinct sent her ducking, covering, scrambling to the left to change position. A man jumped over the barricade, shooting down at the position she’d recently occupied. She rose fast, swung her shoulders and unleashed the katana.

The blade chopped down through his arm, parting him from the gun and sending a look of horror across his features.

“What?”

“You tried to kill me first.” When the next man climbed over she wasted no time and no mercy shooting him in the head. She saw Dahl fall away from a man who jumped to the top of the entire barrier, gun blazing, then somehow manage to kick the rocks out from beneath him. The barrier shivered and then collapsed, the man falling among the stones.

Dahl finished him, then waved at Kenzie. Together, they flew over the rubble and charged the SUV. It saw them coming and turned to speed back down the hill. Dahl faltered. Kenzie stowed her weapons and took a wild look around.

“We have about thirty minutes,” she said. “Then we lose Treacle forever.”

Dahl grunted. “Oh, I love hearing those sentences we never expected to utter,” he said. “But they work better with kids. Put the dinosaur back in the conservatory.” He was casting around, searching for the bare bones of a plan as he spoke. “Granddad, Mum and Dad say we can’t talk about your fat belly anymore. Shit, I just trod on a crocodile…”

Kenzie took a moment to stare down the side of the nearest cliff, over Monaco. “Time’s ticking.”

“Yeah, and so is that beast.”

Dahl sounded so happy, Kenzie immediately whirled her head around. The Swede was galloping — no, more like frolicking — in the direction of a deep blue car with an imposing shape. Kenzie chased after him.

“So this makes you happy? A Maserati?”

Dahl’s head spun around so fast it almost turned three hundred and sixty degrees. “You like cars too?”

“I’ve sometimes been called a petrolhead.”

“I knew there was something about you. Who gives a fuck that you’re a trained killer? If we can talk about cars for an hour, we’re mates forever.”

Kenzie made a pained face as she caught up to him, not entirely sure she wanted to be the Swede’s “mate”. Not in the sense he meant anyway. Her father had been a car lover, and thus so had her brother, but good memories of them caused bad endings to re-emerge. Like predators, they were never far from the surface.

Dahl smiled at the man behind the wheel. “Sorry, mate. Need your car. I really will try to treat it well, but failing that, please know these things are happiest being driven hard.”

Kenzie opened the other door and popped her head inside. “Aren’t we all?”

The man, eyes already wide, noticed the katana and leapt past Dahl, leaving the driver’s seat open. “Cheers, mate,” the Swede called and jumped in.

Kenzie seated herself in the passenger side. “Nice of him.”

“Fasten your seat belt.”

“Yes, Dad.”

A dirty, deep growl came from the exhausts as Dahl trod on the accelerator, returned to the barricade so Kenzie could hop over and retrieve the Inca vase from their old car’s trunk, spun the car around and sent it shooting down the hill toward Monaco. Kenzie guessed they had about twenty minutes to reach the casino.

“Best step on it,” she said. “See what a GranSport can really do.”

Another tunnel stood ahead. Dahl floored the gas pedal all the way through, breaching the redline of the rev counter, seeing the kph climb past one hundred and fifty, and feeling his mouth fall open as the animalistic roar of the tailpipes resounded between concrete walls.

“That’s a great friggin’ sound,” he breathed.

Kenzie took the time to prep their weapons. The road dipped and plunged, sending them through two more tunnels and along a palm-tree lined road with the blue Mediterranean sparkling out to the right. The Maserati blasted past slower cars, its speed and power making a dangerous passing maneuver safe and easy, whipping past the great scenery on its way down to Monte Carlo. The mountain road twisted and turned, dangerous drops to the right one minute, incredible dwellings the next. Cliff faces rose above, dotted with expensive homes. The glittering bay sprawled below, a shimmering accompaniment to the star-studded streets, casinos and hotels it bordered.

Dahl blasted past the outskirts of the city.

“You know where the casino is?”

“It’s on the Grand Prix circuit.”

Kenzie scowled. That wasn’t really an answer, but she guessed to his mind it said everything. The Maserati growled past the bay, shops lining the left-hand side of the road where markings for the F1 starting grid covered the asphalt. Then the road began to climb steeply, first straight and then to the left. Dahl followed it around, slowing as they reached the top and nodding to the right.

“Casino’s behind those bloody hoardings. Looks like workmen have blocked the main entrance off.”

They followed the route around and drove past a pair of policemen to get to the casino’s other entrance. Kenzie laid eyes on the famous venue for the first time. The casino occupied the short end of a long rectangle; the Hotel de Paris one of the long sides. The facades were stunning blocks of intricate architecture, the entrance to the casino made dark by a jutting overhang. Cars were arranged in front of the entrance, all facing outward in a semi-circle. Crowds milled all around; tourists seated with cameras as if camped there for the day.

Dahl dumped the Maserati next to a blacked-out AC Cobra. “Balls, if we had time I’d snap a picture just to piss Drake off.”

Kenzie stashed the katana, figuring the casino staff might have issues on sighting the trusty blade. The pair then locked their handguns and the vase in the glovebox and got lucky by finding that the owner of the car kept his key in the center console. Along with the tracker device. Not clever, but useful for now. Dahl grabbed the key and they left the car cooling, heading for the casino steps.

“Four minutes,” Kenzie said.

“Perfect.”

Inside, they crossed a wide inner sanctum, surrounded by dark wood paneling and golden fittings, to a small, barred booth where they purchased tickets to enter the casino. Past a security check and they were inside a wide room filled with blackjack and roulette tables and lined by two restaurants. Kenzie sauntered over to one, looking for all the world as if she were inspecting the menu, whilst scouring the room for their enemy.

Treacle sat alone at a roulette table, a pile of chips before him.

“Finally,” Kenzie sighed. “He’s getting serious.”

She wandered over, counting the men around the room that were probably part of his entourage. Twelve. Fuck it then. She’d faced worse odds with Dahl.

“Ah, don’t sit, darlin’,” Treacle said. “Pretty ass like that should always be seen.”

“One more sexist comment from you and the odds of landing on red on this table will suddenly be incredibly improved.”

She seated herself next to the slime ball. “Talk.”

“You did good. Real good. Now, Tweacle, listen up ’cause I will say this only once.” He opened his mouth to speak, then took a proper look at her. The oily gaze then switched to Dahl.

“Where’s the vase?”

She desperately wanted to say “In the jam jar, Tweacle”, but kept the comment to herself. “Outside. In the car.”

“Understood. Bags are searched an’ all that. Awight, listen up. Seller’s been at this caper for a decade. Sellin’ this, that and the other. All Inca shit, y’know? An’ when I say shit, I mean only the fuckin’ best. Real trophy pieces. I got ’em all, one way or another. Comes from that Gold Room stash, an’ I been tryin’ to track this mother down but I got zilch. Nothing.”

Kenzie followed as best she could, understanding the general gist of it. Dahl was close enough to listen too, watching over Kenzie’s shoulder.

“Seller’s a clever bastard. Goes by the name Dantanion. Lives in some chateau somewhere with his pets.”

Kenzie envisioned kittens. “His pets?”

“Don’t ask me, Tweacle. Some kinda cult. Has an army, by all accounts. That’s why he needs the dosh regular. Shit, girl, it took me five years to strip away all this info, little bit by little bit. Better be worth it.”

“Oh, I’ll personally make it worth your while.”

“Grrr. Awight then. Cusco in Peru is where all the cover up gets done. It’s as close as I came to the treasure, girl.” Treacle shook his head and gambled on black. “Fifty-fifty chance, eh? So, I got names.” He reeled off more than half-a-dozen names which Dahl, efficient as ever, jotted into a small notebook. “We’re talkin’ major officials there. A judge. Top cops. Ex-cops. A physician. Property developer. Knights of the realm, all.”

“Says the Queen of Egypt,” Dahl commented drily.

“Whatever, dude. I got some major info on that bird too, ever you want it?”

Kenzie blinked despite herself. “Say again.”

“You don’t know? Thought you were a relic smuggler? Shit, it’s about to go down hard all around the world, starting in Egypt. Nasty bastards from all over the world are headed there. Small armies being shipped in, they say.” He shook his head, the blond mane shaking wildly.

“Why the hell—” Dahl began, then clammed up quickly.

“Why? You never heard of the earth’s four corners?? The horsemen? Ancient warriors? Seems it’s the biggest thing yet, mate.”

Kenzie brought the odd tangent to an end. “You gave us the chain? And you say these objects are part of the Gold Room?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief nor excitement out of her voice. She knew the Inca legend off by heart.

“Ah, yeah, now you’re getting hot for me. Or Atahualpa’s gold. But you’d best take a cold shower, baby. This Dantanion’s a clever bastard. Once he gets wind you’re on to him, he’ll switch. Move it all elsewhere.”

Kenzie nodded. “Then why are you telling us so easily?”

Treacle smiled from ear to ear. “ ’Cause I’ll end up with it all anyway. One way or another.” He flicked his last chip onto the table, leaving it where it landed. “And I’m a major twat. I enjoy conflict.”

Kenzie thought they might be the truest words ever to leave Treacle’s mouth. She followed his original statement to its cleanest outcome. “You think the Peruvian government will end up with the artifacts and you’ll be able to acquire them?”

“Better that than all this cloak and dagger, one piece per month bullshit.”

To a criminal it made sense. Kenzie saw the logic. She figured they’d rinsed all they could from Treacle’s dirty laundry, at least on this subject, and pushed the chair back. “You done here?”

“Ready for my reward.”

Kenzie moved away from the table, knowing exactly how Treacle would react and how he would follow her, and felt a jab of relief when Dahl gallantly and purposefully pushed in right behind her. Not that the criminal’s comments particularly bothered her, but it meant she could properly concentrate on what happened next.

Outside the casino.