Raiders

CHAPTER TWO

The two sports cars were neck and neck as they raced along the road below him. From up here on the ridge, out in the Arizona desert, the man in the sunglasses was able to track them easily with the naked eye but now he wanted to get closer to the action. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead and lifted an old pair of army binoculars to his eyes.

He watched the cars with approval as they fought for supremacy along the desert highway. The Bugatti Veyron was in the lead, but the Lamborghini Aventador was closing fast and as they approached, the hot wind carried the sound of their powerful engines to his ears.

Behind them was a Honda, a family hatchback.

He grinned and shook his head.

Crazy kid…

A shallow bend raced up to meet the speeding cars and the Aventador made a break for it. Up on the ridge, the man smiled; it was a textbook move: the Lambo took the inside line in a hurry, drew level with the Veyron in the braking zone and then floored the throttle, overtaking into the lead and beating the more powerful Bugatti to the apex.

The Bugatti fought back, taking advantage of another long straight, but then the inevitable happened, and the little Honda ripped past both the Veyron and the Aventador and streaked toward the horizon until it merged with the shimmering mirage.

The man on the ridge laughed. He imagined neither Caleb Jackson nor Virgil Lehman were too happy about the kid getting the better of them on the bend, but the race wasn’t over yet and now they were on another straight, heading back in his direction. He tossed the binoculars into his hired Ford, fired up the engine and drove down the winding track that would lead to the finishing line — the old ranch Caleb called home.

The drive was short. He could see the ranch after the first bend and two minutes later he was parked up in the front yard and leaning on the hood. He heard the two sports cars revving wildly as they approached the property, and wondered if Caleb or Virgil had managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and humiliation.

When the Bugatti appeared first, he saw that the older man had won after all, and that meant the kid would have to try again another day.

The Veyron’s eight litre, quad-turbocharged engine growled like an angry monster as it pulled up outside the garage and then a moment later the Aventador swerved in behind it. Both drivers killed their engines at the same time and then climbed out of their cars into the silence of the desert.

Caleb Jackson shook his head as he walked over to the man in the shades and raised a beefy, tattooed arm to remove his own pair of Wiley’s sunglasses.

“Fuck me, if it isn’t Jed Mason…”

Mason pulled off his shades and returned the smile. “In that case I’m glad to say it is Jed Mason.”

Caleb laughed, but the smile quickly faded. “Been too long, Jed.”

Mason nodded.

Virgil and Mason shook hands. “I was glad when you called, Jed.”

“How’s Amy?” Mason asked.

“Like any six week-old girl,” Virgil said, beaming with pride. “She keeps me and Jen up nights but she’s cute as a button. But hey — what’s this all about?”

Mason said, “Wait till Mr Risk and his Honda arrive and I’ll let you know.”

The highly-tuned Honda turned into the property at last, steam pouring from its radiator grille. Milo Risk climbed out, ran a hand over his hair and joined them.

“How’s it going, all?” Milo said.

Caleb raised a hand. “Howdy, Milo. What the hell are you doing here? I couldn’t believe it when I saw you in the mirror.”

“He asked me to meet him here,” the young IT specialist said, jutting a smooth, untanned chin at Mason. “All cool, V?”

“Just dandy,” Virgil said. “Saw your little problem back there on the road. Too bad.”

Milo managed a stoic shrug. “I saw you two are still measuring each other’s dicks with these cars of yours. You deserved the humiliation.”

“He has a point,” Mason said. “The car thing is bordering on an obsession, Cal.”

The kid had a wide grin on his young face. “Oh, man… your faces when I hit the gas on the Honda.”

“Sleeper car,” Caleb rumbled. “The last refuge of the scoundrel.”

“The techno-geek, more like,” Virgil said.

Milo laughed. “You know what they say, Virgil — better a techno-geek than a library nerd.”

Virgil looked confused. “I’m a polymath, anyway — do they say that?”

Caleb broke things up. “Why are you here, Jed?”

“You know why.”

Caleb looked up at the sky before locking his eyes back on Mason. “I thought we agreed no more jobs?”

“We did.”

Milo looked at Mason. “Big?”

“Bigger than anything we ever did before.”

Caleb sighed. “I’ve heard it all before, besides — I have another job on the horizon.”

Mason cocked his head. “Another job?”

“Sure — is it so hard to believe that someone other than the great Jed Mason might want to employ me?”

“Not at all. Who’s the idiot?”

“Old friend of mine who used to work for the NSA.”

“Used to?”

Caleb kicked a stone across the yard, put his hands in his jeans pockets and scratched a line in the dirt with his boot heel. “You might say he’s trying to set up on his own.”

“And when is this job?”

“I’m expecting a call any minute now.”

Mason sighed. “Come on, Cal. Just for old times’ sake? If we pull this off we’re all set for life — and our kids too. That’s presuming you can find a woman stupid enough to hook up with you.”

“That big, huh?”

Mason nodded. “What about you, Milo?”

“I never turn down a pay check.”

“Virgil?”

“I don’t know… I have Jen and Amy to think about now.”

“Nice Lamborghini,” Mason said. “You buy it with money you made with my team, or money you made pissing about with poker?”

Virgil looked down at his dusty boots.

Caleb crossed his arms and tried to look casual. “What’s the job?”

“Asset extraction.”

“The best damned asset recovery crew in the world,” Virgil said, briefly looking up from the ground before returning his eyes to his boots again. “So I kinda worked that out already, Jed,” he said. “That’s sort of what RAIDERS is: Rapid and Incognito Deployment, Extraction and Rescue Service. I need some detail. What are we talking about here — stolen jewels, kidnapped royalty?”

“One of the most famous objects in the world has been stolen, but no more details until you’re on board. You know the way I roll.”

“Come to think of it,” Caleb said, a broad white smile spreading on his tanned face. “I am kinda bored racing cars.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Mason said. “Virgil?”

Virgil looked up from his boots. “If you’re putting the team back together, does that mean she will also be joining us?”

Mason nodded. “Sure.”

Caleb laughed.

Milo sighed.

Virgil pretended to cry.

She leaped over the temple’s ridge tile, twisting in mid-air as she somersaulted down to the gable roof. Landing like a panther, the setting sun flashed in her eyes as she regained her balance and scanned for the enemy. High above the temple, the Japanese mountains rose up into a salmon-pink sky.

From up here on the roof of the Hall of Buddha she could see nearly the entire monastery, from the sōmon gate in the west to the sōbō where the monks lived. She scanned the entire site and then she saw one, scuttling along the roofed portico passage which connected the Zen rock garden with the Dharma hall. It looked like it could be Shen, or maybe Shintaro. It didn’t matter: whoever it was had let his guard slip and now she had found him.

She climbed down the pagoda roof, one tier at a time until she was close enough to lower herself onto a lower sloping roof belonging to the belfry, and then shimmied down a drain pipe until she was on the ground. She could see it was definitely Shintaro now, and he was weaving in and out of some pine trees, diligently cloud-pruned by her very own hands.

She ran with the grace and speed of a leopard in pursuit of the fleeing monk. With the thrill of the hunt electrifying her blood, she pounded after the man, determined to bring him down and improve her personal best. He was heading toward the karakado, a gate in the west of the temple compound with an arched roof.

She paused for breath. Darker now, and the sun was sinking into the cypress forest to the west of the temple. She sprinted again, feeling the warm air rushing into her lungs as she hunted down her prey. She was almost on him when the head priest, or Jushoku, swung the wooden bell hammer in his right hand and struck the enormous suspended gong. The sound rippled out over the compound and everyone froze where they stood.

The hunt was over.

Zara Dietrich walked over to the Jushoku and bowed. “Why have you stopped the games?” she said in perfect Japanese.

The Jushoku returned the bow but said nothing. Instead, he pointed his chin over her shoulder. She turned around to see nothing less than three ghosts.

With her guard dropped, one of the monks lunged toward her, but the Jushoku clapped his hands together. “Stop!” he said in stern Japanese. The man froze on the spot, gave a shallow bow and took a step back. The other monks followed his lead and backed away from the American woman dressed in black robes.

Now, Zara walked over to the ghosts, shaking her head gently in disbelief.

One of the ghosts spoke. “Zara Dietrich,” he said. He was still leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “Fancy meeting you here…”

Zara wiped the sweat from her forehead and walked closer to him.

He pushed off the wall to meet her. Caleb and Milo stayed back.

Zara slapped his face so hard the sound of the smack sent a number of Pacific swallows flying into the air for safety. “You have some nerve, Jedediah Mason.”

Mason didn’t flinch, but he felt the pain vibrating away from his cheek and over his ear. The slap was meant to hurt, and it did, but it hadn’t meant to harm. “I deserved that.”

“Sure did,” Caleb called over.

“If I was her, I’d have slapped both sides of your face at the same time,” Milo said.

Zara gave him a sharp look. “You’re not me, Milo, so keep it zipped.”

Milo gave a sloppy two-fingered salute and said, “Sir, yes sir!”

Zara rolled her eyes and then looked back at Mason. “Seriously, Jed — how could you walk back into my life after what happened?”

“We can talk about that later,” Mason said. “Right now I have a job, a big job, and I need to know if you’re in or out.”

“Where’s Virgil?”

“New York. Saying goodbye to Jen and Amy. He’s meeting us at the job. Are you in?”

She shook her head and gave a smile that said: I just cannot believe you’re asking me this. “No.”

“At least think about it,” he said. “This is the gig to end all gigs.”

The Jushoku spoke in Japanese. “Should we stay?”

“No, Jushoku,” Zara said, knowing none of the ghosts would understand a word. “I can deal with this.”

The monks faded away into the darkness, leaving Zara alone with the three men and a cool, rising wind ushered in by the night. “Don’t talk to me about gigs, Jed. My father died chasing the gig to end all gigs.”

“And what would Jimmy do?” Caleb said. His low voice was heavy in the silent yard.

Zara lowered her voice. “Do not bring him into it.”

“You brought him into it,” Milo said.

She let Milo’s words hang in the air for a long time as she studied the way the last rays of the sun were striking the pagoda roof above her head. “The gig to end all gigs, huh?”

The film crew following Ella Makepeace along the London sidewalk was small — Gus, the director was doubling as the soundman and then there was Sandy with the HD broadcast camera on his right shoulder.

Mason, Caleb and Milo leaned up against a wall and crossed their arms as they watched Ella do her thing and astonish the crowd. Zara walked over from a café with some green tea and joined them. “Has she wowed them all yet?”

“Not yet, you’re just in time,” Milo said. “Check out the bird she’s with now.”

“You mean woman, right?”

Milo glanced at Zara and smiled. “Sure, that’s what I said — check out the woman she’s with now.”

Zara watched Ella carefully as she misdirected the young woman with a series of deft movements and gentle commands. “There goes the watch,” she said.

“And now she’s got her mobile phone out of her bag too,” said Milo.

“And next up,” Caleb said, “is her pashmina.”

“Woah,” Zara said. “That’s crazy.”

“It’s just common or garden variety sleight of hand and misdirection,” Mason said.

“I meant Caleb knows that thing’s called a pashmina,” she said with a wink. “I’d have thought you’d call it a massive handkerchief.”

“Hey,” Caleb growled. “I have my feminine side like anyone else.”

“Caleb?” Zara said.

“What?”

“You’re about as feminine as a GMC Sierra with spike lug nuts and bull bars.”

“That’s two miracles today,” Milo said. “Not only does the legendary Caleb Jackson know that enormous scarf is called a pashmina, but the even more legendary Zara Dietrich knows of the existence of spike lug nuts.”

“I’ll spike your lug nuts in a minute,” Zara said. “I grew up on the road, Gomer.”

“Nice,” Caleb said, and he and Zara shared a high five. “Wait a minute — why is Zara even more legendary than me?”

“Her dad was Jimmy Dietrich, Cal. He toured with Aerosmith, Guns and Roses and about a million other bands. When you throw in the fact she’s a Silat guru, well… this shit adds up, you know?”

“Heads up,” Mason interrupted. “Looks like she’s finished filming this segment.”

Mason approached Ella and when she saw him, her eyes lit up and the world-famous smile appeared on her face. She recognized him at once, but she wasn’t letting on for the camera. “What about you, sir?” she said casually. “Will you take part in our TV show?”

Mason took off his shades and cleared his throat. “Why not?” He cast an uncertain eye at the camera on Sandy’s shoulder.

“Try not to look at the camera,” Gus said. “We’ll just have to cut it out in edit.”

“You might be able to fool these guys,” Mason said, locking his eyes on Ella. “But you’re not going to get one over on me.”

“No?”

“No.”

“In that case, why do I already have your Rolex and wallet?”

She waved them at the camera and the crowd applauded.

Mason laughed. “Dammit, Makepeace. How do you do that?”

“Tricks of the trade, Jed. Tricks of the trade.” She and Gus decided to call it a day and Sandy pulled the camera off his shoulder with weary sigh.

“So why are you here?” she said.

“Job.”

She gave him a knowing smile. “What sort of job?”

“He wants you to put on a production of Purcell’s Dioclesian,” Milo called out. “We’re retrieving a mystery item — stolen apparently. What do you think?”

“Jesus, Milo,” Zara said. “Why don’t you just put an ad in the New York Times?”

“Sorry.”

Mason took his shades off and looked into Ella’s bright green eyes. “Well? Just for old times’ sake?”

“I want a fair cut, Jed. None of this you get fifty and we split the rest bullshit.”

“When did I ever do that?”

“Two years ago in Moscow.”

“Ah.”

“V?”

“With his family. Meeting us in Istanbul.”

“Istanbul, eh?”

A nod.

“I don’t know, I have Ben now.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Maybe. And what about the seventh member of our team?” she said, peering over his shoulder.

“She’s on site already, getting some transport sorted.”

“And we’re splitting the money evenly?”

“We are.”

She smiled. “So we have a deal, then?”

“As long as you don’t do some crazy hypnotist shit on me and make me give you my split of the cash, then yes.”

“Great,” she said. “And thanks for giving me that idea, by the way.”