The Treasures of Saint Germain

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Hayden followed the lead cops out into the eternal drizzle and cast a glance at the gunmetal skies. The low-hanging clouds matched her mood, and she could see no change coming in the near future.

Alicia jogged along beside her. “Having fun?”

“What? No. For some time now life has been about as much fun as a bullet in the back.”

“Well, you would know.”

“I feel that I don’t know my own mind, can’t trust decisions that I make.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because every big decision I make is wrong.”

“So this is you. Running beneath a gray sky. Physically and emotionally.”

Hayden sent an inquisitive glance across. “Is that really Alicia Myles?”

“New and improved. I’ve changed, or rather I’m trying to change but it’s a lot harder than you think.”

“I get that you’ve stopped running. But you’ve found what you’re looking for. I haven’t.”

“Ah, bollocks. So I have.” She stared at Matt Drake for a moment.

“Maybe I’ll never find it because of the job we do.”

Alicia nodded. “Fighting. Running. Chasing. Never stopping. I guess I got lucky.”

Hayden managed a smile. “So I get the next pick of the bunch, huh? Who’s that? Smyth? Beau? Yorgi?”

Alicia whistled. “All damaged goods.”

“Yes,” Hayden whispered. “We don’t know the half of it. We’re all damaged goods. Once that childhood innocence lifts away — we’re all damaged goods.”

She put her head down as they passed the National Opera and then cut past the tube station at Leicester Square. Here, droves emerged onto the sidewalk with little care for those already walking past and the area turned into a free-for-all. Dahl found a way via the road and zipped between slow-moving cars. Hayden’s cell reverberated at that moment and she fished it out automatically whilst on the run.

“Jaye.”

“Hi, Miss Jaye, this is Bob Todd calling from the President’s office. Is this a good time?”

Hayden pulled the phone away to stare at the screen, doubting her ears. The number was not identified.

It could be better, she thought and said, “Sure, we’re good for now.”

“I’ll be brief then. The President feels this business with Robert Price has opened a few doors.”

Hayden’s thoughts flicked back over the recent ex-Secretary of Defense and his betrayal of the United States. “It has?”

“Well, first there’s a new Secretary of Defense. And Price’s… bad decisions… give us opportunity to change.”

“They do?” Hayden was concentrating as they passed the Cambridge Theater, Foyles and then hung a sharp right down Denmark Street. She heard Kinimaka grunting something unintelligible about the old Forbidden Planet store, but tuned the Hawaiian out.

“In basic terms the President feels your team should be relocated. Somewhere new. Fresh. And secret.”

“A secret base?” Hayden blurted.

Bob Todd chuckled. “Exactly that, yes.”

Hayden bit her tongue, managing to cut off the ooooohhh sound only a second after it began. She thought she’d gotten away with it.

“Sounds good, yeah? We’ll be getting on that right away but be prepared to travel and let your team know in the next few days. In related news, our new Secretary has been chosen and she will be in office very shortly.”

“She?”

“Yes. Miss Kimberly Crowe is a woman.”

Hayden filed it all away as the Shaftesbury Theater passed by and then they were on Bloomsbury Street. The cops waved and pointed out an imposing building up ahead. Hayden opened her mouth to end the call but closed it quickly as Todd offered up a little more information.

“Miss Crowe has expressed an interest to meet you all very soon. We’re trying to arrange it even now.”

“That may be, um, tricky.”

“Understood. But that is part of what Secretary Crowe is all about. If she thinks somebody or something is worth taking the risk — nothing’s gonna stop her.”

Hayden shook her head. Shit. How the hell do I explain the attributes of this crew?

“Maybe wait until we get back home,” she said tactfully. “It’s gotta be easier.”

“That sounds very amicable. It will be arranged.” Todd signed off before she could reply.

Hayden looked up. The British Museum was larger than she’d imagined. The truth that then settled was that it could take all day to find a determined man in there. She looked over at the cops.

“Can you get the curator down here? The manager?”

“Which one, ma’am?” One of the cops tried sarcastic.

Alicia still stood at her shoulder. “You can get Santa and all his fucking elves if they’ll help, boy. Just do it now.”

Hayden took a moment to relax and look over the imposing structure. Inside was a man who’d dogged her dreams and waking nightmares for far longer than she cared to remember. In addition, she remained certain that Amari or his cronies would make some kind of appearance. If they’d been watching the previous locations then they would be here too. She looked up as a man came running down the steps.

“The curator,” one of the cops said.

“What on earth is the meaning of this?” the tall, self-important man asked them, his voice a piercing wail. “I am a busy man, you know.”

Drake stepped into his face. “We ain’t exactly lounging around, pal.”

Alicia said it best. “Look, man, shut the hell up and answer her questions. The faster you do it the less chance there is of you getting shot.” She viewed the area. “Best be quick.”

“Shot?” The curator faltered.

Hayden pushed him toward the museum. “Move it, move it. Faster.” The team followed the now sprinting curator all the way up the steps.

And to whatever hell waited beyond.