The Treasures of Saint Germain

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The jet hummed along, thousands of miles above the earth. Darkness pressed all around, a dense cloak enfolding all the simmering secrets that traveled within.

Drake found himself seated around a table with Alicia, Mai and Beau and hours to kill. After eating they sat back and took advantage of the night flight, dozing and day-dreaming. Drake asked Mai about Grace’s welfare, and the ex-Ninja inquired as to Karin. Drake found himself floundering; Karin had been out of touch for weeks and a gentle enquiry had told him she’d almost finished training and was on some kind of special mission. Unhappy, but unable to learn more, he’d swallowed a bitter bullet — it was one thing pulling strings to practically force an unexpected recruit into a unit, it was quite another to then keep track of that recruit.

He told Mai as such.

“It will be hard for her,” she said. “But necessary, I think, if she is to stay with this team.”

After Komodo’s death she could have gone many ways. Drake was pleased she had taken this unexpected route, after losing everything she loved to war. The young woman had buried too many people for this stage of her life.

“She’s a fighter,” Alicia added. “My kinda girl.”

“Do not tell me you’ve kissed her as well,” Beau queried, only half-joking

Alicia shrugged. “Not that I can remember. But who knows? Some of the older things clattering around my mind are a little woozy.”

“Does that include Drake?” Dahl put in with a guffaw from across the aisle.

Drake narrowed his eyes. “You just keep on cozying up to your new bird, mate. You two look real happy over there.”

Dahl looked a little embarrassed, pulling away from Kenzie.

Drake gamely tried to include Beau in their conversation. “So, how did you meet Michael?”

“Crouch?” The Frenchman waved it away. “It is a long story. And not for idle chit-chat. I worked for Crouch and you by infiltrating the Pythians, yes, but the initial decision was not made lightly—” he paused “—or wilfully.”

Drake allowed his eyes to widen. “Bollocks. And here’s me thinking you’re a good guy.”

“No, my friend. Are there any left?”

“I’d like to think so.”

Beau settled back. “I see none. You think Crouch is all good? You ask him one day how he influenced my help.”

Drake found it hard to gauge just how upset Beau was over Alicia. Common sense told him the two had been merely passing time; but intuition said more. How did it all become so complicated? Everyone happy on the outside, or at least accepting, but what are they all really thinking?

Mai put it out there. “Sleep, I think, is probably best for now.”

Avoid it. Ignore it. Let it heal before you touch it. Drake could think of nothing better.

Hayden and Kinimaka sat at the back of the plane, rows and rows of empty seats between them and the others, ostensibly to plan out their movements in Barcelona.

In truth, mountains were moving.

Hayden twisted her blond hair into a short bob, wrapped herself in an overlarge jacket, and drew her knees up. Kinimaka was droning on about Webb and his clear mortality, and his inability now to stalk them for pleasure.

“It’s over, Mano.” The words were out before she measured them fully. “We need a break.”

The Hawaiian stopped in mid-flow, his face so full of surprise that she hung her head.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it was coming.”

“I thought we were concentrating on the mission.”

“Then I guess you were wrong.”

Kinimaka coughed. “You sat all the way back here just to tell me we’re taking a break?”

“Well, maybe, I didn’t want the entire team part of our intimate discussions.”

Kinimaka let out a long breath.

Alicia grunted. “You should lower your voice then.”

Hayden gripped the sides of her seat. “What do you want from me, Mano? We’ve been over it a dozen times. It’s too hard to be together so we should both see how we fare apart.”

“This all started when I wouldn’t let you torture Ramses, right?”

“Stop dramatizing it.”

“Or was it before that?”

“A few times,” Hayden admitted. “I thought you could have stepped up a bit quicker.”

“I’ve always been at your side. Through everything.”

“I know. That’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kinimaka agreed and shifted in his seat. “Y’know, there’s no ‘taking a break’, Hay. No month-long breathers or time-outs. You bail now, you bail for good. We’re done.”

It wasn’t him, Hayden knew, but the man was hurting. She’d carved a wound and exposed it, dug deeper and analyzed it. The future held… what? More fighting, more hardship.

“Maybe it’s better that way,” she said, not even sure if she believed it. “Maybe.”

He used the seat in front to hang onto as he maneuvered himself out of the seat next to her and walked down the length of the plane. Silence followed their conversation, broken only by the buzz of the plane.

Smyth watched Kinimaka take a new seat and then turned to Lauren. “You wanna end up like those two?”

Lauren spread her hands. “Do you even know what we are now? Right this minute?”

“We fight enough battles,” Smyth said. “Without fighting them between us too.”

“Ya got that right. So why try?”

“You know why. Look at your new boyfriend.”

Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. “Is the child in you your leader, Smyth?”

“I see Nicholas Bell as a terrorist trying to save his ass. You see him as someone trying to turn his life around whilst helping out the good guys. I remember you meeting him in that room, dressed as Nightshade. Who’s right?”

Lauren gestured, the New York swagger clear. “Well, I am. Obvious.”

Smyth stayed quiet, the annoyance clear on his face.

Kenzie leaned into Dahl, no doubt trying to make him feel uncomfortable. “All these problems, eh? Bet you’re so glad to be married.”

The Swede tried not to wince, then stared at Kenzie to see if she was taking the proverbial. Hard to tell. She was ex-Mossad and well trained. He elected to stay neutral.

“We all have our problems, Bridget.”

“Oh, calling me by my first name. That spells doom.”

“No. You spell doom.”

“Do you think? After everything I’ve been through — you think I’m damaged beyond repair?”

Shit, Dahl didn’t know and really didn’t want to get too in depth with her as the plane perceptibly began to descend toward Barcelona. He stared hard at the seatback before him. “Everyone gets damaged. It’s how you heal and move on that counts.”

“I regret ever trusting my superiors,” she said. “I regret later choosing an unlawful life. I regret—” she shrugged “—an awful lot. Doesn’t mean I don’t have hopes.”

He met her gaze. “What hopes?”

“Simple ones, for now. Like living and staying free and helping new friends out.” She laughed.

Dahl measured the flippant remarks and still believed he’d initially been right about her. In Kenzie was the soul of a tortured, betrayed individual struggling to overcome something good and true and right. She hid it well, but the Israeli cared for more than just revenge and ancient artefacts.

“I think you’re on the way to redemption then,” he said with an equally offhand laugh, but held her gaze to make sure his words appeared as heartfelt as they were.

I hope for you.

Sounded corny, somehow wrong. But it felt right.

Dahl watched the runway appear below. Barcelona’s night-blanket was giving way to a pre-dawn drizzle. Somewhere down there terrorists might be planning an event just so they could enable Tyler Webb to slip away once more. An event potentially as large as anything they’d yet seen. The road to hell was open and they all walked its ruthless, terrible byways.

Not this time, Dahl thought. We’re a step ahead of you this time.

He hoped.