The Treasures of Saint Germain

CHAPTER TWENTY

With Mai and Smyth double-checking their perimeter, the SPEAR team strode back around the side of the arena toward the front doors. Conversation was passed, the most significant part of which for Drake, was a comment made by Beauregard.

“The cultists’ men, they are slow. Lacking, due to years of watching and no action. Perhaps they are complacent, but have now become aware that they will have to step it up.”

“These are mercenaries,” Hayden said. “Not true cultists.”

“That is exactly what I mean,” Beau told her. “That their bosses are slow, lacking. Inactive. They will have to improve and amplify their skills if they are to achieve their own goals.”

Hayden nodded slowly. “You could be right. Idleness breeds complacency. They can’t remain idle.”

“One more reason for a trip to Dubai,” Drake appended.

Upon returning to the front entrances, Drake began to wish they hadn’t. The unsure masses had congregated and milled around whilst being told what to do. The clamor drowned out all conversation. Hayden waved them all back again.

“Argento.” She tapped the comms. “Where are we?”

“No facials. Webb has gone. The dead terrorists are simply that at the moment. No identification. On a much brighter note our new female friend just started to sing higher and longer than Pavarotti. She—”

Hayden smiled grimly, taking in the team. “We’ll be there soon, Armand. Good job.”

“Of course, of course. I am merely magnificent.”

“Now.” Hayden breathed out a ragged sigh and glanced around, her hair framed by a huge white Motor Show sign. “Where the hell can we find a car?”

Despite the proximity of innumerable vehicles it took thirty minutes for their transport to turn up. By that time the team was chomping at the bit and bordering on irritable. With no further information forthcoming, Webb’s trail was growing colder by the minute. Beat cops and informants failed to find anything on the street. CCTV cameras came up blank, even the covert ones.

And Europe was a big continent. So many places to disappear.

A minibus packed them all in, with Dahl taking the wheel. Ironically, as he set off, the streets of Barcelona became much easier to navigate as people left the area or turned in for the night.

Alicia wiggled her elbows into Yorgi’s ribs. “Whoa, it’s a good job you’re smaller than a woman, Yogi. And stop friggin’ wriggling, ’less you want me to headlock ya.”

Drake turned partway around. “Don’t let her bully you, mate. Give her as good back.”

“Webb came to Barcelona for a reason,” Hayden was saying. “Are we to believe it was just for her?”

“She had skills,” Dahl said. “Took a major weapon to take her down.”

“A blunt instrument.” Drake thought about the litter bin and then glanced over at the Swede. “And a major tool.”

“Weapon,” the Swede amended.

“Y’know, I’m not convinced—”

“Still,” Hayden interrupted. “If the woman’s so important — who is she?”

“Just wait,” Kinimaka said. “And we’ll find out.”

“Maybe not Barcelona.” Mai always thought outside the box. “Maybe Spain.”

“To recap then,” Hayden said. “We have fanatics dedicated to preserving the secrets of Saint Germain, and Tyler Webb journeying from Transylvania to Versailles to Barcelona, digging through old chemistry books and enlisting the help of expert teams… and people. What is he ultimately chasing, though? And why?”

“Dude willingly abetted the destruction of his own organization to get where he is,” Smyth said, then tapped his forehead. “Crazy. This situation could exist entirely in his head.”

“The cultists don’t think so,” Lauren said.

“He’s collecting items. Or following a map. Or stealing artefacts.” Drake shrugged. “Whatever. We’ll ask him when we find him.”

“If we don’t get taken off this thing first,” Hayden fretted. “I mean, the entire team chasing one man?”

Drake scratched his forehead as Dahl wound through the quiet streets. “Don’t be daft. The world’s most wanted man, and a path of destruction and danger across Europe? Of course we’ll see it through. Not to mention the personal angles.”

A call came through, which routed through Bluetooth to the vehicle’s phone system. Dahl touched a button.

“Yes?”

“Argento here. We have progress, mi amico. The woman is a ghost, a fringe-walker that nobody has ever heard of or seen before. How about that?”

“I’m not sure how that helps us, Armand,” Hayden ventured as the Italian actually paused.

“She wasn’t always that way. Take her story back many years and she was — and is — Sabrina Balboni, an Italian actress, singer and dancer. Very different back then, she fell into bad ways after gaining her fame and ended up convicted of manslaughter when a car she was traveling in killed a passerby. She and three other people, including the driver, were heavily under the influence of cocaine at the time. She did a stretch — a long one — completed her time and then fell off the map. Utterly. We haven’t delved into the last twelve years yet, but she is a loner and totally devoted to herself. That’s why she rolled over on Webb.”

“I’ll tell you this,” Dahl said. “Those last twelve years? They taught her some furious skills. The way she moved…”

“Calm down.” Kenzie patted his arm. “We’ll get you an autograph.”

“So what did she know?” Hayden asked.

“Webb contacted her because she has these ‘furious skills’, as you say. She has no equal, a reputation passed on only by word of mouth, and a contact protocol worthy of a president. Webb has always run in powerful circles and was made aware of her long ago. He paid a healthy monthly retainer just so, one day, he might be able to enlist her services. Now the time has come, it seems.”

“But what are—” Dahl slowed for a red light “—these skills?”

“Basically, Sabrina is a thief. At a more complex level — she’s Catwoman…”

“My favorite,” Yorgi intoned with a deep Russian accent.

“Just so we’re clear,” Kenzie whispered under Argento’s narrative. “She’s not joining the team.”

“Webb needs her services simply because his quest — whatever it is — gets harder with every stop along the way. The man needs Balboni’s help to gain easy, fast entry to at least three more places, quite possibly because he can’t take it slow and easy anymore. Not with the cult after him. He knows they’re watching all these places. His solution is Sabrina Balboni.”

Drake nodded. “Logical. Webb’s not striking like a sledgehammer anymore. So where are these three places?”

“Ah, mi amico, the trillion-euro question. First, I have to ask, did any Alfa Romeos get hurt as your chase progressed?”

“Nope. Not one,” Drake guessed, knowing the subject was close to the Italian’s heart.

“Ah, good to know. That is good. Well, he explained to her where he was going next and hinted that nobody knew the final destination short of the country. He required her skills to gain access to one of Spain’s oldest colleges, the University of Barcelona, which is why he agreed to meet amidst a hundred thousand people intent on watching the match. Her idea. She is governed by anonymity, this woman, just a face in a crowd that nobody ever remembers. They were headed to the university right away.”

Dahl slowed the vehicle to a crawl. Hayden leaned forward. “And the final destination?”

“America,” Argento said.

Of course, Drake thought. Something else that just didn’t make any sense.

Dahl punched Seville into the satnav. “We can be there soon,” he said. “Call the locals again, Armand, and have them watch the place.”

“Already done. But it has been over an hour and a half.”

“I know that,” Hayden hissed, her frustration showing. “I friggin’ know that.”