Raiders

CHAPTER FIVE

Moments earlier, and looking to her right, Ella Makepeace saw the broad grin on Caleb Jackson’s face and was glad he was in the van with them today. Urban climbing up the side of the Istanbul Sapphire might be Jed Mason’s idea of a good time but he could keep it. Ella’s idea of a good time usually involved a sun lounger, a large tumbler full of gin and tonic and enough ice to sink an aircraft carrier.

“You think he’s nuts, don’t you?” Caleb said.

Virgil chuckled. “I think he’s crazier than a soup sandwich.”

“Me too,” Milo said, passing the Sunagor binoculars to Virgil. “Mad as a box of frogs.”

Ella shrugged her shoulders and leaned forward in the front seat. The cheap vinyl squeaked as she peered up through the windshield and took in the sight of a very tiny Jed Mason in the luxury penthouse. He had made his way up the western side of the eight hundred-foot skyscraper posing as maintenance on a suspended scaffold. It had looked fragile enough when it was on the ground, but now it was dangling off the top of the skyscraper it looked like a toy. She watched it swaying in the hot Turkish breeze and hoped he knew what he was doing.

“Yes,” she said almost in a whisper. “I think he’s totally nuts.”

Zara looked at her. “Why is he nuts?”

Ella and Caleb both turned to Zara at the same time but Ella answered. “Because he risked his life on that stupid contraption, for one thing.”

“How long was he planning this?” Zara said, and then before anyone in the van could answer she said, “Weeks! That’s how long. This job is a big fuckin’ deal to him, Ella — to us all. If that means Jed goes up the Sapphire then he goes up the Sapphire, for fuck’s sake. Besides — he likes playing spiderman.”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Virgil said. “He’s never screwed up a job yet and he’s not going to start today so everyone just chill out.”

“Virgil’s right,” said Caleb.

“As always,” Virgil said. “And not just about Jed either. I’m also right about the Lambo.”

The smile dropped from Caleb’s face. “Like hell, you are!”

Zara looked confused. “Huh?”

“Oh, the V-Man here is advancing an argument that the Aventador has more cajones under the hood than the Veyron.”

Now Ella looked confused. “What?”

“They’re talking about cars,” Milo said.

Zara turned up the aircon. “And Virgil couldn’t be more wrong.”

Virgil put his binoculars on his lap and spun around in his seat. “Hey!”

Caleb raised two palms in a peacemaking gesture but his smile said it all. “It’s just the way it is. My car is faster than Virgil’s…”

“But not my tuned Honda,” Milo said with a smug smile. “As you were.”

Caleb sighed. “As I was saying, my car is faster than Virgil’s and he doesn’t like it because it makes him feel inadequate in the pants department.” He leaned forward and placed his two heavy hands on the young man’s shoulders. “Virgil? Would you like a ride in my Veyron?”

“Fuck off, Caleb.”

Ella Makepeace was enjoying the banter. She was the black sheep of the Raiders, only joining them on occasional jobs when the circumstances demanded it. She had studied psychology and law at Cambridge and was headed for a career in counselling, but all that ended sharply one night when she went to a late night show in the Comedy Store and saw Zack Marvin.

Marvin was a stage hypnotist and conjuror who dabbled in mesmerism, and after a few short minutes, Ella was hooked for life. She spoke with Marvin backstage and a year later she was on the stage, amazing audiences with her own act. Not long after that Zack Marvin’s agent arranged a meeting for her with a television production company called Magikal Productions. Her first TV show was a national success, and the second series went international. Ella Makepeace was a household name.

When she was filming the third series, her old friend Milo Risk got in touch.

He had a favor to ask, and when he told her about it she couldn’t wait to help.

An American-Greek millionaire had fled the United States with his son after losing a custody battle with his wife. The job was simple: get the son back to New York and make a quarter of a million dollars each. Her skills proved invaluable, and she became an unofficial Raider.

Her memory was broken by Zara. “It’s not even that big a deal,” she said. “I could get in that penthouse with my head up my ass.”

Caleb laughed. “But I thought Buddhist monks were suppose to be good?”

“I’m not a Buddhist monk, gunslinger,” she said.

“No?”

“No. And the term is bhikkhuni. I am a woman, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh… I’d noticed.”

This time she turned to face him. “Do you need your ass kicking again?”

At five-foot nothing, a threat like Zara would have made Caleb Jackson roar with laughter, he was, after all, a six-foot-two former US Army Ranger, but Zara Dietrich was a Silat guru. Silat was Malaysia’s martial art and considered one of the most lethal in the world. Like most people who met Zara, Caleb had found out about Silat the hard way.

Virgil turned in his seat. “I’d pay to see you kicking Cal’s ass.”

“Get those binoculars back on the building, nimrod,” Zara said.

Virgil turned back and trained the binoculars on the penthouse. “Shit, they’re approaching the door!” he said.

“You think he can make it?” Ella said.

Caleb, Milo and Zara all answered at the same time: “Yes.”

Virgil continued to train the powerful binoculars up at the penthouse. “Shit, they’re opening the damn door!”