The Blood King Conspiracy

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Key West was an outstanding anomaly. Full of seaside bustle and commercialism, it still managed to capture that feeling of American originality, wealth and old pirate secrets all wrapped up in a palm tree-enclosed, laid back paradise. Huge pelicans followed fishermen around as if on a leash and dived for the fish they might have caught with good-natured squawks. The balmy weather brought the tourists flocking and the main thoroughfare, Duval Street, was overrun with day-trippers and holiday-makers, and bustling with a carnival-like atmosphere.

The five most unlikely treasure-hunters of them all picked their way through the happy chaos, heading for the ocean. Already they could see the clear blue sea glistening at the bottom of Duval Street.

“One thing’s for sure,” Drake muttered. “Anyone following us down here sure won’t have to work too hard.”

Kinimama was examining every side street, every bar.

Kennedy said, “You’re trying too hard, big dude. Tone it down a bit. The bad guys’re gonna find it hard to miss you anyway.”

“Bad guys?” Kinimaka grunted. “I’m looking for the Hard Rock.”

Drake headed left, bypassing the path them led to the ocean overlook where the big ships were normally moored. He paused, pretending to take a breather against some railings, whilst Ben studied the map. Drake surveyed their flanks.

Nothing. Not a glimmer out of place nor a flicker to worry about. Should there be? It didn’t matter. He felt responsible for them all now. He would cover their backs and worry twice as much as he probably needed to.

He wondered briefly why Wells hadn’t called yet. Why Mai hadn’t been in touch. But then Ben pointed to the left and they began to thread through the tourists again. Music drifted from a nearby bar. Laughter rode the summer air like a blessing. These people didn’t need to know about a myth called the Blood King.

Five minutes later and they were standing outside the Museum of Art and History. Drake turned to Ben. “Tourists?”

Hayden clicked at them impatiently. “CIA,” she said impatiently, then relented and added “Bitches,” for effect.

Kennedy pushed ahead of them all. “Feel like I’ve got a damn target on my back,” she grumbled and disappeared inside. Drake, for all his vigilance, felt the same and waved everyone on ahead before taking a last look around, and then following.

She hadn’t seen Drake in a while. He hadn’t changed. Neither had that bitch, Kennedy Moore. And they still had the kid, Ben Blake, nipping at their heels. The CIA agent she’d encountered — and playfully kissed several times back when they first captured her in Sweden — looked like she needed a major banging to bring those stress levels down a bit, and was being almost as vigilant as Drake.

And the big guy? Now he looked interesting.

She’d followed them carefully, cleverly, all the way from Jamaica. Lionel Raychim had long been a player on Boudreau’s list, and when Boudreau learned of Alicia’s long history with Drake, it only seemed right to send her after the ex-SAS man.

Alicia Myles turned to her own big buy, the techno-wonder known as Tim Hudson. “Huddo,” she whispered her own private nickname for him. “Keep behind me, big boy. Drakey ain’t gonna like us turning up uninvited like this. The boys… ” she rolled her eyes to the left, “… need to be taken in by the act, too.”

“I know the plan, Alicia.” Hudson was clearly dying for a smoke, but now wasn’t exactly the time.

“Give ‘em about ten minutes inside,” Alicia said, checking her watch. “Then we’ll move.”

Inside, the museum was cool and quiet. A few people milled about the entryway and amongst the cabinets and display cases beyond. Drake scrutinised all of them, but nothing made his sixth sense prickle.

Hayden decided to forgo all the treasure-hunt business and presented her credentials at the counter. The young woman behind the desk stared at them blankly.

“Yes?”

“CIA.”

“I can see that, Miss. Congratulations.”

“Don’t get smart. Just point us towards the Calico Jack donations.”

“I wouldn’t work in a museum if I were smart, Miss, I’d work in a library. It’s that way.” She jerked a thumb through a nearby door and went back to her work.

Drake stared at Hayden and Hayden stared at the woman. They couldn’t quite tell if she’d just been insulted. Was that the point?

“Onward,” said Ben now leading the way. Drake reflected on the last few museums he’d visited. Things hadn’t really worked out too well for the owners.

The Calico Jack exhibition was surprisingly large. Row upon row of small and sparkly artefacts sitting upon numerous shelves, each one tagged accordingly. To their credit the museum clearly looked after its donations. Every item of pirate booty gleamed or sparkled.

The controller was easy to spot. By far the largest item in the exhibit, it had been placed at the back but still managed to dominate. The body was shaped like a slender hour-glass and marked all over with arcane symbols, the like of which would undoubtedly make some archaeologists day. Attached to the top of the hour-glass and sweeping down the body in a gentle curve were the ‘arms’. These were made of some kind of hard metal that shimmered under the pinpoint lights of the display. The ‘arms’ ended in a kind of pincer, like a crab’s claw, that were clearly intended to attach to something.

The dull, supposedly worthless, box. The hard-drive.

Drake made sure Kinimaka and Kennedy were happy with their perimeter. “Ok. So, Hayden, you gonna break the glass or do we go official?”

Hayden gave him a sharp glance. “What do you have against museums, Drake? We give Gates a call, of course.

The CIA agent wandered off, clicking buttons. Drake had to wonder briefly why some people always walked around when talking on their cell-phones. Maybe that was why some countries called them ‘mobile’.

He surveyed the team, and then took a moment to laugh at himself. What was he doing? He wasn’t a solider any more, wasn’t even half a soldier, judging by the way Alicia Myles had kicked him all over the floor of that chateau in Germany. Problem was, the desire had faded away faster than the name of today’s blockbusting movie-star. Now, he was a man who had lost something, and a man who knew the name of the baby he could never have with his dead wife.

Emily. They would have called her Emily. Alyson had been four months pregnant when she died. Their final argument, one of many since Drake learned of the impending baby and struggled to come to terms with it, had already convinced him that he wouldn’t let either of them go ever again, even as Alyson walked out the door.

But he let her go that last time. To let her calm down. After a while he would have called her, made it better, made it right forever.

His eyes met Kennedy’s and he knew from her expression that her thoughts were as haunted as his own. Kennedy Moore shared the same darkness of extreme repressed memory.

He shook it off. Kennedy turned away. Sooner or later they were going to have to come to terms with their demons.

Kinimaka saw their exchange, but pretended to be studying a row of Spanish cutlasses. A big man with a good heart. Drake opened his mouth to say something but then Hayden came over at a clip.

“Looks like we’re sorted here. Cat woman outside should be getting the call from the museum’s directors any minute. Once we have it-”

Drake nodded. “We need to move fast, back to Miami.”

“That’s it,” Hayden looked around at the sound of footsteps. “Hey, you alright there, sweetie?”

The woman shot Hayden a look sharper than razor wire. “Please look after the exhibit. You have no idea what it’s worth.”

“You think?” Hayden started to walk purposefully towards her, face ablaze. She knew what it was worth alright. She knew what it had cost so far.

Ben stood in here way. “Not worth it, love,” he said gently. “Not worth it at all.”

Hayden stopped, looking amazed. By the time she recovered the museum curator had removed the controller from its place and was ready to hand it over.

Kennedy walked forward, but the woman shied away. “I was told to give it to Miss CIA here, no one else.”

Hayden strode forward and grabbed the article. With a massive effort she turned away and nodded to the others. “Let’s get out of here.”

Drake and Kinimaka led the way, careful to check the foyer area first. There was no one milling around but a pair of old tourists. Drake headed for the exit doors and stepped through.

And time suddenly stood still. His breath literally froze in his throat.

For there, right smack-bang in front of him, holding a nasty-looking Ingram M6 with the military config. and with an evil grin on her flawless face, was the woman who still disturbed his dreams.

Alicia Myles.