The Last Bazaar

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Drake awoke to the sound of a waterfall smashing onto the roof of his tent and washing down the sides. It took only a second to remember where he was and that the cascade came from the menacing clouds that no doubt hung low over the endless canopy of trees above. The hard rain practically surged against the flimsy material and, as he sat, up a disembodied voice drifted out of the near-dark.

“You snore like a moose in mating season.”

Drake rolled over and drank from his bottle of water. “And I guess Johanna says you make little gurgly baby sounds, huh?”

“What my wife says to me in the morning is none of your business. And how did I end up next to you anyway?”

“I lost a bet. Now shut the hell up and find out the time.”

Dahl lifted an arm out of his sleeping bag, squinting at his watch. “Dial says five-thirty. Shit, can we even make proper progress in this torrent?”

“Ordinarily, yes. But we’re searching for a camp and need to be stealthy about it. Let’s wait, it’ll pass soon.”

“Oh yeah? Expert on the Amazon now are we?”

“I read the crib sheet.”

The two men lay in semi-dark for a while until the deluge eased. By the time they emerged into the drenched jungle the others were already breaking camp. The team worked quietly and efficiently, and soon were ready to set out. Hayden checked coordinates and pointed them in the right direction.

“Six miles,” she said. “And then we really have to hit the stealth button. I reckon if the weather holds we’ll make that in half a day.”

“Longer,” Dahl said. “We should be taking a break when the real heat hits after lunch time. I read the crib sheet too.”

“We have to arrive before then.” Hayden nodded. “We won’t stop every transaction but we do have to halt the worst of them. Let’s head out and see how far we get.”

The team filed out, wet, disagreeable and sore from a night on the jungle floor. It took time to adapt to any new environment, and by the time they acclimated they all wanted to be long gone from the rainforest. The drizzle abated as they set off, and Drake took that as a good sign. Kinimaka took the lead, waving a machete like he didn’t know how to use it, and even Hayden gave him a very wide berth.

“Watch out there, big guy,” Smyth growled. “You’re gonna have a tree down on us.”

Kinimaka turned with a fierce frown. “You wanna take point, small fry?”

“Gladly.”

Smyth relieved Kinimaka of the machete and forged a path. Rain dripped all around and on top of them. The light filtering through the trees was wan at first, but soon started to take on a brighter luster, each ray illuminating a new patch of unchartered territory. Drake hefted his pack and his weapons and followed Alicia, trudging through the undergrowth. The pace they set was necessarily steady because, even as the sun came out, conditions were always tough for hikers. It might have been easier if they could stop and stare, marvel at the crouching wildlife and the rising steam, the sopping underbrush and the living jungle, but everyone knew they were on a schedule and the last bazaar was about to begin. The whole team were on alert; this was not an uninhabited jungle any more. Drug lords and gun runners and all manner of law-breakers made this area home these days, and the SPEAR team were constantly ready with their weapons. The slow pace they adopted was partly to conceal their presence from them, as any sudden gunfire might warn Ramses and his security of their close proximity.

Drake slogged along at the center of the march, as wary as he was relaxed and focused on the sounds that surrounded them. Alicia turned, holding a branch aside for him.

“Who would want to live here? Yuk.”

“Criminals.” Drake shrugged. “No law exists in the Amazon rainforest, love.”

“It’s predator versus predator,” Dahl said from behind. “But luckily, you have the top of the food chain right alongside you.”

Drake allowed the branch to snap back against the Swede’s forehead. “Whoops. Sorry, oh King of the Jungle.”

“What?” Alicia looked aghast. “He didn’t catch that vine in his teeth?”

Dahl wiped rain from his eyes. “Piss off, both of you.”

They tramped on, the hours passing in soulless silence, their boots quietly absorbed by the mulch, moving from trail to trail if they could, but otherwise forging their own path. It was after eight before Hayden called a short break.

Smyth plonked himself down upon a fallen log, face dripping more with sweat than water. Kinimaka sat beside him and eyed what they could of the skies.

“Has it been raining again?”

“This is the face of a man working hard for a living,” Smyth grated. “Not something you’d know about back on the pineapple plantation.”

Kinimaka cleared his throat. “Seriously, I’ll take over if you like.”

“Nah. The rainforest’s losing more than enough trees per hour as it is.”

Drake made sure he checked on Yorgi and Lauren before they resumed. The Russian thief and the New Yorker were the least qualified of any of them to be carting weapons through a jungle, but both looked well hydrated and with an excess of energy. Hayden figured they had come three miles but then the going hadn’t been as hard as they’d figured. At this rate, Drake thought, they’d come close to the site of the bazaar by late morning. He spoke quietly to Dahl and Alicia, careful not to let his voice carry too far into the surrounding vegetation. It was Smyth, sitting on his log, who clearly heard something ahead, for at that moment he signaled the group.

Get out of sight.

Drake rolled into the undergrowth, trying not to imagine what might already be housed there. Beneath the boughs and overgrown surrounds of an immense tree they crouched in silence.

Before long a group of men came by, clearly not natives. They wore dirty T-shirts and cut-off denims, carried Ak47s carelessly and stared only at each other. Drake was glad they had chopped at the trail so carefully, but at the same time believed these men wouldn’t have spotted a man with scythes for arms standing in their way. At the same time, their confidence was discomforting. Drake knelt alongside his friends as the men filed by, speaking in Mexican and laughing among themselves. Ten minutes later the coast was clear and the group emerged, soaked, cramped, but still invisible to the world.

Another hour slipped by, broken only by bird calls, creaking boughs and the snapping of branches. Drake once thought he heard a low growl, but wasn’t sure if it came from an indigenous cat or Smyth. It never came again so he assumed it had emerged from the latter. Hitching up their backpacks and readying their weapons they moved further and further southeast along a line that ran fairly parallel to the Jutai River, occasionally returning to its banks as the trail meandered to and fro.

It was after eleven when Hayden called another break.

With infinite care, the group came together.

Drake swigged more water greedily. “How close are we?”

“Very,” Hayden whispered. “The dots are practically merging. From here on in you guys should use your GPS, scout the perimeter of the bazaar, and then rendezvous back here in an hour to compare notes. Let’s say Yorgi, Lauren and Smyth wait here.”

There were nods all round, and Smyth looked relieved to be taking a break. Hayden gave the trio a parting warning. “Stay alert for roving patrols.”

Drake consulted his own GPS and moved in closer to their objective until a movement eight meters to his right made him freeze. With infinite caution he crept closer, sizing up the person who emerged out of the greenery. As he worked his way around he began to hear music in the distance, a dance tune, and considered the audacity of his prey. That’s good, he thought. A bold enemy is usually a dead enemy.

The guard he evaluated seemed a little different from the usual type of mercenary. Drake studied him and saw a better edge to the vigilance, a certain skill to the way he handled his firearm and words passing between him and other watchers via some kind of headset. These men were real professionals, not just called so because they killed for a living.

Drake continued through his sector until he encountered two more guards. The third seemed to sense him, and that was fair praise, but Drake managed to slip away without detection. All the while the music pumped in the background and occasionally a gust of laughter rode the wind. Twice, Drake heard gunshots followed by either jeering or merriment and assumed some kind of game was underway. In any case, the bazaar was in full flow. Drake backed away and returned to the rendezvous, once more becoming accustomed to the rainforest’s relative peacefulness. They had been lucky so far but now came another intense downpour. Drake found himself smiling.

That should dampen their masochistic amusements.

Back at the rendezvous the team were already assembled. Dahl looked ready to poke fun for his lateness — and for that matter so did Alicia — but their need to keep to murmurs robbed them of their fun. Within minutes the various reports came in.

“Guard every fifty, sixty feet,” the Swede said under the punch of the rainstorm. “Capable looking. Probably hand-picked. Some kind of group communication so no chance of picking ’em off one at a time. A solid cordon, I’d say.”

Drake affirmed with a nod. “Agreed. If we’re trying to get in there unnoticed we’ll have to come up with another way.”

Hayden pursed her lips. “I’m of the same mind. Distraction is a possibility to draw some of them away, but that would only draw attention, and these guys don’t seem particularly dumb. I think we need a way of blending in.”

“Count me the fuck out,” Smyth griped.

Alicia tapped the watery jungle floor. “I came across a tributary of the Jutai that seemed to run close by the main camp. Couldn’t get too far along to get a better look, but a small barge did pass by with guards stood around the top deck.”

Kinimaka crossed his large arms. “So where does all that leave us? We might as well have HALO’d in. Saved us all this hoofing about.”

Hayden shook her head. “The camp, the main bazaar, is huge. No way will we get away with storming it. And even if we did get lucky with the guards we’d lose three quarters of the people we came here to get. And don’t forget Webb, the CIA and Big Dog. No, this one’s gonna take a little finesse.”

Dahl looked blank. Drake coughed. Kinimaka narrowed his eyes. “Say what?”

“Finesse. Skill. Flair. Elegance. You know.”

Dahl continued to stare. “I’m not following.”

Alicia scratched her head. “What the hell is she talking about?”

Hayden threw up her hands in despair, but refrained from shouting. “All right, boys, less of the wise guy routine. Let’s use that incredible wit to come up with a solution, eh?”

“At some point we need to gauge the conviction of Ramses’ soldiers,” Smyth said. “If they’re fanatics this thing could be a whole lot harder.”

“It also means Ramses is good,” Drake said gloomily. “Probably better than all the Pythians put together.”

“We have to assume they have contingencies in place to guard against a full-scale invasion,” Dahl said. “And covert infiltration.”

At that moment the downpour began to lessen. The team took a moment to adjust to the softer noise levels and mopped water from their clothes. Within moments they were sweltering from the new, humid heat.

“Anyone get look at actual bazaar?” Yorgi asked.

Blank looks were returned, so the Russian thief whispered again. “So far, there is only one way in. Yes?”

Dahl thought about it. “I’m assuming you mean the river?”

“Dah. The river.”

Alicia quickly shook her head. “Full of parasites. Piranhas. Maybe even a caiman or two. We ain’t swimming in there, Tarzan.”

“Speaking of Tarzan, you could probably branch-creep your way in from tree to tree.” Drake pointed up at the densely packed, incredibly thick branches. “But I don’t think even we are that good.”

“Too noisy,” Yorgi agreed. “And slippery, but one man could. I could.”

Hayden thought about it for a while before pulling a face. “It’s not enough. One man inside is not enough. I’m liking the sound of the river more and more.”

“I forgot my cossie,” Alicia said without humor, further hammering home her point of a few moments before.

“There’s always skinny dipping,” Smyth said with a rare grin. “I’m game if you are.”

“In your dreams…” Alicia paused, then said, “What the hell is your first name anyway?”

“Look,” Yorgi interjected quickly. “When I mention river I do not mean we swim. I mean we take boat. One of their boats.” He made a snaking gesture. “Cruise in.”

Drake knitted his brows together as the idea suddenly flourished. “Pretend we’re one of them? A guest? Yorgi, that’s brilliant!”

Hayden shushed him. “Keep it down. It’s risky. I can think of three big obstacles without breaking sweat.”

“Shit, Hay, look around. What isn’t risky?”

“So you’re thinking: Board a boat, seize it, hold its occupants hostage and take their places at the bazaar? Assuming they’re guests.”

Alicia grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

Dahl clenched a fist. “I’m liking the sound of that.”

Hayden looked to the skies. “I was going for sarcastic, guys. But, hell… do you think we can do it?”

“It’s a long river,” Drake pointed out. “Nothing says we have to nick the boat this close in.”

“IDs may be a problem,” Lauren said.

“Doubtful,” Hayden said. “It’s a terrorist arms bazaar, not a United Nations charity ball. Of course, there will be an entrance tag of some sort, which we will have to extract from whomever we grab.”

“Let’s hope it’s not fingerprints, facial recognition, retina scan…” Smyth started.

“Again, doubtful,” Kinimaka spoke up. “For similar reasons.”

“But we can still take the boat without assuming that risk,” Drake pointed out. “If we decide it’s impossible to gain entrance after that, then we can find another way.”

“Time is against us.” Hayden tapped her watch. “So, if we’re all agreed, let’s get going.”

“This is good,” Dahl said as they walked. “From inside we can identify weak spots. People we should acquire. The expendables. The VIPs. Booby traps. Weapons caches, that sort of thing.”

“And just as important,” Hayden said. “We could identify items that need safeguarding. Items that should never fall into a terrorist’s hands.”

“So plan is… a go?” Yorgi asked in a faltering attempt at American slang.

“Aye lad,” Drake gripped his shoulder. “It’ll be a scorching hot day in Hell when all these nasty bastards get their just desserts. We’re about to start fanning the flames. Stoking the fire. Lighting the—”

“Look,” Alicia interrupted, pointing ahead. “The river.”