David Leadbeater
Chasing Gold
CHAPTER ONE
Standing at a bare, undraped window, staring at the façade of the National Museum of American History where it let out onto Constitution Avenue wasn’t quite Alicia Myles’ idea of a fun night. It was pitch black; it was cold; it was incredibly boring.
Rob Russo, at her side, met her distant gaze with one of frustration. “C’mon, Myles, it’s barely 22:00 hours. Cheer up, woman.”
“Crap. That just makes it worse. Do you know how many different things I could be doing at 22:00 hours?”
Russo looked wary. “Is that a sex joke?”
“No, it’s not a bloody sex joke. Except… now that you’ve mentioned it, you just made everything worse.”
“Poor you.”
“Oh, cheer up, Russo. I’m sure there’s a rhino around here that you could mate with.”
Alicia enjoyed the weary look that came into Russo’s eyes. Their relationship was a strained one, made up of soldiers’ mutual respect and loyalty but tainted by Russo’s resistance to change and Alicia’s hard-headed resistance to absolutely everything.
It had stemmed from Alicia being the newest addition to the Gold crew.
But that was no longer the case.
The new elephant in the room was currently being ignored by both of them. This latest presence raised the recent specter of death, a specter they’d prefer to keep at bay.
“We’re lucky you were already here in DC,” Russo mumbled, sounding as if he thought the exact opposite.
“Well, my team’s HQ is here, Rob. You know that.”
“Yeah.” It was a glum sigh.
“You’re even luckier that my team and I were exonerated. We’ve been on the run for months.”
Russo’s face tightened. “I know.”
Alicia finally looked beyond the immense figure to take in the rest of the room. Their boss, Michael Crouch, hadn’t moved since she arrived — perched on the edge of a plastic chair with a cellphone stuck to his ear, talking quietly. Hopefully, Alicia thought, it’s about the mission. She’d be upset if she found out he’d just ordered pizza.
Caitlyn Nash stood at the back of the room, flicking through a folder that had been provided by the FBI. Alicia saw her bright eyes glaze more than once, and wished she knew how the twenty-two-year-old had coped through the last few months.
Still, there would be time to catch up with all that.
And that left the new guy. Crouch had introduced him as Will Austin, a fresh, utterly green recruit who, apparently, could get himself into endless trouble just crossing the road. So far, nobody had mentioned young Austin’s forte. Alicia had eyed Russo and received the long-suffering eyeball-roll as a reply.
Don’t ask.
An interesting topic for later. Alicia checked her watch for perhaps the hundredth time and then turned back to the window that overlooked Constitution Avenue.
“I don’t get it,” she admitted quietly to Russo. “Don’t you guys hunt gold? Why the hell are we staring at a museum?”
“We don’t only hunt gold,” Russo told her. “Twice now, we’ve prevented the theft of it. You were… otherwise engaged.”
“Don’t the Smithsonian have security for that kind of thing?”
“Yep, but as outside contractors we’ve earned a special reputation. Especially when you add all the treasures that we’ve found into the mix. They trust us implicitly. And, you know Crouch — he has all the contacts in the world.”
Alicia did know Crouch. Their boss was an ex-SAS commander who’d started at the very bottom and worked his way to the top before retiring early. Despite his calling, the man’s passion had always centered on treasure and treasure hunting. Life had never been sweeter for Crouch than when he’d formed the Gold Team and set off scouring the world in search of ancient artifacts. A gig guarding the Smithsonian alongside the FBI would come easy to him.
Still, there were questions.
And she’d been waiting around ninety minutes to start asking them.
“Hey,” she interrupted Crouch’s interminable conversation. “You planning on putting that thing down this year?”
Will Austin looked over from his perch by the windowsill. “Cellphones.” He shook his head. “I have the same problem with my girlfriend.”
“You have a girlfriend?” Alicia allowed briefly. “Does she come with a washing label?”
“You lost me.”
Alicia sighed deeply. “Shit, this is gonna be harder than I thought.”
Russo leaned over. “I don’t think the kid has a sense of humour.”
“Hardly surprising,” Alicia said. “His pants are made by Pampers.”
Finally, Crouch finished his call and made his way over to her. “Thanks for coming over, Alicia. I thought you’d want to be part of this. How are the others?”
She scrunched up her nose in thought. “Well, we’re all good, surprisingly. The government exonerated everyone, as you know, but that was only a few days ago. The last job took its toll, so a bit of rest is in order. Unfortunately…” she tailed off.
Crouch caught the ominous tone in her voice. “Unfortunately, what?”
“It’s hard to explain. But… you know when you get that feeling that you’re smack bang in the middle of something,” she looked around, “but you just can’t see it?”
“I do.” Crouch nodded. “Used to be a fundamental mission emotion.”
“Put it this way,” Alicia said. “I don’t wanna stay away from DC for too long. I’m afraid of what I’d come back to.”
Crouch nodded earnestly. “Well, if you need our help don’t hesitate to ask.”
Alicia smiled. “I will. But, for now, what the hell do we have here? I’m not used to working with—” she lowered her voice “—the authorities.” The whisper was filled with horror and came with a raised eyebrow.
Crouch tried to retain the earnest smile but failed. “Well, yeah, it came as a bit of a surprise to me too, if I’m being honest. I have a good friend that works for the FBI, and they’re aware of the previous treasures we found and then ensured were returned to the people that were due them. They like our non-profit ideal, surmising we’re in it for the right reasons.”
Alicia blinked. “You sure we’re talking about the FBI here?”
Crouch shrugged. “Just a small department, if I’m being honest. My friend contacted me a few days ago. She received Intel that the Smithsonian was about to be robbed.”
Alicia was electrified. “She?”
“Is that all you heard? Bloody hell, Alicia, this could go down at any minute.”
“Let’s hope.” She checked her watch. “I can still catch Peaky Blinders if they’re quick.”
“The intelligence is that two highly elusive super-thieves have been contracted to steal the original Star-Spangled Banner for a terrorist state that then plans to burn it live on television in front of the entire nation which, as you can imagine, is an act that would inflame another generation of terrorists, severely embarrass the US government, and demotivate the people. Hell, the effects would be felt worldwide.”
Alicia stared out the window across Constitution toward the gray façade that was the National Museum of American History. She knew the far side backed onto the National Mall, not far from the Washington Monument. “You have guys around the back?”
Crouch sighed. “They have guys watching from every conceivable direction. These thieves though — a Japanese woman named Terri Lee and an American named Paul Cutler — are famous for their ingenuity and… slipperiness. I don’t like it.”
“Then position people inside.”
“We have.”
“Where did the Intel come from?”