The Last Bazaar

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

They returned to their tent, and explained all that had happened to the entire team with help of the sat-phone. It was getting on for lunchtime now on the middle day of the last bazaar, and the morning’s shower was descending in full force. Still, the security that surrounded them was first class and the attendance was high, which in itself provided many more capable enemies. Drake listened to the chatter, then nodded in approval as Kinimaka proposed a quick trip to buy some food.

“I’ll go with you,” Alicia said. “Get my shower for the day.”

Drake attacked what they brought back with gusto. Sausages, bacon and beans went down well at any time of the day and in any corner of the world. He listened to Kinimaka rave for a while about the choices on offer before being brought back to reality by Hayden’s tone.

“And where did Webb go?”

Drake ate slowly. “Haven’t caught up with him again yet.”

“Ramses?”

“Ditto.”

“There are too many players,” Dahl said. “What we need is to herd them all into one area.”

“Ain’t the bazaar an area?” Hayden drawled.

“Shit, not exactly. And it’s crawling with hostiles. You should see this place, Hay.” Kinimaka nibbled at a slice of bacon as he talked.

“Well, I see you guys’re running out of time. People are already leaving. We can’t follow all of them once they float or fly away so make a plan. And let’s do this.”

“She’s right,” Drake said. “Time is running out. We don’t want to be choosing between the Crown Prince of Terror, the leader of the Pythians and the treacherous American official now, do we? We want all of them, trussed, boxed, bagged and tagged. It’s time to make a play.”

“All right,” Alicia mumbled, her mouth full. “Soon as I’ve finished this bloody lovely bacon and brie sandwich I’ll go save the world, but not a moment before.”

The scene rasped on Drake as roughly as if a cheese-grater had been dragged down his skin. A diverse group of guests were gathered at the clearing where the caiman pit lay, and at their head, raised on a podium though he barely needed it, was Ramses. To Ramses’ right was the man who appeared to be his bodyguard and to his left stood a prisoner.

Restrained by two burly men, the prisoner stared, terrified, in all directions. His eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring. Panic etched his face, carved into every furrow. Ramses — or more likely his slaves — had dressed the man in beachwear: brand new Speedos, sandals and a classic vest, all in bright pastel colors. His hair was brushed, his skin glowing. Among the crowd were those who watched in silence, those who laughed out loud and those who shuffled eagerly from foot to foot.

Drake looked across at Dahl. “This isn’t gonna happen.”

The Swede nodded, grim-faced. “The fight starts with this man. Right now.”

Ramses’ voice boomed over the heads of the crowd. “And here we are, my good friends! As promised, one of the highlights of the weekend — a live hunt! The prey shall be loosed in one minute, and then yourselves in five. The person who brings me his head wins a free toaster!”

Laughter broke out in the face of the prisoner’s terror, but Ramses’ voice cut through it all. “No, no.” He turned and smiled at the prisoner. “Just a joke at your expense, I’m afraid. I think it would be fairer to offer a tank for your head. Yes, an Abrams tank, delivered anywhere, for this beach-bum’s head. Oh, and remember, both Akatash and I will be joining the hunt.”

Yorgi pulled himself upright as if in anticipation. The other four fixed their game faces. Drake counted eighteen other people in the huddle. This hunt was going to get intense, violent and bloody.

“Don’t worry,” Alicia whispered. “We ain’t scrapped in the jungle for a while. This should be interesting.”

“We still have to keep it low profile,” Kinimaka said with worry in his face. “The three main targets are well divided.”

Before anyone could answer, the individual dressed as a beach boy was let loose, kicked in the back and shown a game trail to escape on. The young man bolted like a rabbit, glad to be free and making the most of his four minutes head start. His sandals slipped on the mulch, but he caught the fall and plunged into the jungle.

Ramses smiled magnanimously as his audience chuckled. Akatash flexed his muscles. Dahl eyed the bodyguard dubiously. Men and women all around tightened clothing, cracked knuckles and readied weapons. The frantic sounds of the man fleeing soon died away and all that was left were the seeping trees, the sparkling midday sun and the almost tangible, rising humidity. Drake inched his way around the group and considered breaking away among the trees but guards watched over them all as if expecting such trouble. Even making their way carefully to the front of the pack put them under scrutiny.

Ramses held up one huge arm, showing off a rose gold Rolex. “Get ready.”

The hunt was on.