The Last Bazaar

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

A half hour later and they were free of Ramses, alone in their tent and fishing around hastily for replacement clothes. It took them a while to remember where they were and what type of stalls were scattered all around.

“We’re dumbasses.” Kinimaka hung his head.

“Not really,” Alicia said. “We’re just not used to shopping at designer boutiques inside a war zone.”

At that moment the tent flap opened and Dahl stepped through. He took one look at the state of their clothes and then shook his head.

“Couldn’t manage without me, huh?”

Drake apprised him of all the details, bemused at the Swede’s reaction and knowing he shouldn’t be.

“Caimans!” Dahl shouted. “You fought caimans and I missed it?” He sounded truly crushed. “Hell, Mano and I could have started a new sport. Caiman tossing.”

Alicia looked up. “Any way you view that comment — it’s dangerous.”

Dahl scowled. “Best part of the bloody mission, and I’m babysitting a surfer.”

Drake then mentioned how their chase had finally ended. Dahl winced and quickly sobered. “This Ramses then, and Akatash — they’re the real deal? Cunning as car salesmen, crooked as Wall Street and crazier than your resident Swedish pin-up boy?”

“Not that I’d agree with some of that,” Drake said. “But yes.”

“Then who’s the priority?”

“What did Hayden say?”

“Shit, I barely spoke to them. I wanted to get back. Hayden’s chomping at the bit, wants in on the fight. Lauren’s tired of guarding our tame terrorists and Smyth’s, well… grumpy.”

“Can we pause this?” Alicia complained. “We really need to change these underclothes. I’m heading to the shops.”

Drake hung his head. “I really don’t like this new you.”

“Just sit on yer damn man bench and complain. I’ll grab you a nice tight pair of undies.”

In the end they all shopped and were back at the tent within ten minutes, stripping down and changing with professionalism and maturity, all of them knowing there was a time for ribaldry and a time for gravity.

“Plan?” Kinimaka said when they were finished.

“Pinpoint the main players,” Drake said. “Follow them and keep tabs. When we have all three in our sights we end this corrupt jumble sale.”

Outside, the post-lunch shower had just arrived, mercifully light and brief this time. Still, the humidity rose fast and the ground steamed in protest as Drake and his colleagues set forth with their eyes peeled and intentions clear-cut. Past the boutiques and the slavers’ tent, the private viewing areas and the caiman pit they walked. Groups wandered to and fro, some silent, others laughing or joking drunkenly. Sellers hawked their wares. Drake scanned every nook and cranny. At his side, Alicia pretended tiredness as she peered intently into all the bazaar’s darker places. The leafy canopy waved overhead, spangled with sunlight. Drake was momentarily distracted as a woman dressed like a princess walked by, head and shoulders held regally and gown wrapped around her svelte body in such a complex fashion she might never escape its many folds. The Yorkshireman shook his head sadly. These people were about as out of touch as a London-based politician. The incredulity level rose even more when another princess strode by, her three-foot train held aloft by two servant girls. Drake looked at Alicia and found her, for once, at a loss for words.

“Amazing,” he said. “Even my favorite gobshite is dumbstruck.”

But Alicia hadn’t even seen the princesses. “As endearing as that statement is — alluding to my penchant for adverse commentary — I have to say that I am truly flabbergasted and don’t know what the hell to do.”

Drake followed her gaze. “What is it? Who’s that?”

“Oh fuck. What is she doing here? Guys, stop. This is big trouble. See that woman over there? Her name is Kenzie and she’s an artifact and arms smuggler. I came up against her recently during the crusader gold jaunt, and she almost killed us all.”

Drake stared. Dahl stared. Nobody had heard such respect in Alicia’s voice before.

“When you talk about me,” the Swede said, “to others. Do you feel a similar reverence?”

“Shut yer mouth, bitch boy. Listen, Kenzie is an extremist. Lost her family to government mismanagement and went rogue. Turned on them. Now she’s as hard and ruthless as they come.”

“Looks can be mightily deceiving then.” Dahl measured her.

“She wields a katana.”

“Fuuuuuuck.” If the men’s tongues could have bounced off the forest floor that was the moment. Drake tried to reel his back in. “So… um, I mean what’s your plan? Mark her as another target when we have three already? Is she that dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t know whether to kiss her or kill her,” Alicia said. “Maybe I’d do both.”

“Just to distract her, right?” Drake wondered.

“Decision is out of our hands now,” Alicia breathed. “She just saw me.”

Drake reached for his guns.