“You will back off. Leave us alone,” Amari said.
“Amari is right,” another piped up, voice almost failing. “We haven’t hurt you.”
Drake pulled up, knowing he shouldn’t be surprised but taken aback all the same. “Haven’t hurt… how insulated are you people? Do your parents know you’re not in your rooms?”
“We answer only to the Master. Other than that, we do the same as everyone else. We party, drink lots of water, socialize and sunbathe.”
Drake wanted to plug his ears. The sheer ignorance of it staggered him. But he plucked on a likely thread. “The Master talks to you often?”
Utter disbelief and scorn poured out at him. “The Master talks to no one. His legacy will remain intact. At. All. Costs.” More one-word sentences.
Drake couldn’t fathom the depth of idiocy — or rather the extent of fanaticism — he was seeing. But the guns — they were certainly real and required addressing.
He backed off. “No problems here.”
Amari already had his hand on the door. “Do not follow us into this hotel. We do not want to hurt you.”
Drake allowed them to leave, still astonished at the turn of events and the lack of attendant mercenaries. The cult clearly preferred to work from afar, directing operations with a wave of a sheaf of thousand-dollar bills and reluctant to shake hands with their unwashed employees. When the last man disappeared into the darkened interior, he followed.
Hayden held him back. “They’re desperate men, deep down.”
“All the more reason to corner them,” he said. “And I don’t see a man among them.”
The team filed through the same door, into the hotel. A welcome blast of air conditioning struck their exposed skin, almost as good as the relief from the constant blue glare of the skies.
Amari and his acolytes stood dead ahead of them, staring down an inner hallway with guns drawn. Hotel guests milled between them.
“I warned you!” Amari screeched.
“No—” Drake managed to cry.
The sound of gunshots drowned him out.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Torsten Dahl found himself, unexpectedly, in a coffee shop in Zurich. Sabrina Balboni had been allowed her freedom to help catch Webb, and had been directed to head for the Swiss city. Now, the rest of the team had traveled after, knowing that where Balboni was so too would be Tyler Webb.
And the mercenaries. Let’s not forget about those.
Dahl believed he’d had his fill of these so-called soldiers of fortune lately. From Arizona to New York they’d plagued his every waking hour, and then even during a much-needed vacation in sunny Barbados they had attempted the unthinkable — to hurt his family. Dahl didn’t think any hired killers survived that day,
Balboni, to her credit and desperate need to stay out of prison, had played her part well. She’d taken the time to convince Webb even though he already respected and revered her skills. And she knew her job, which at the moment was all about Webb. She knew her Saint Germain history.
Zurich was the place where, according to old accounts by various public figures including Sir Francis Bacon, Saint Germain had founded Freemasonry. The Count had spent some years here, perfecting that particular formula, before transplanting it to Venice and also Paris. Dahl cared about none of that now. He only cared about stopping Webb.
“Any contact?” he asked Kinimaka.
The Hawaiian held the cell that was Sabrina’s point of contact. “Not yet,” he said. “Shoulda implanted that tracker, brah.”
“Too obvious. And Webb wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if he found it. I believe she’ll come through.”
Kinimaka scrunched his face up, the old CIA suspicion still evident. “She’s a thief. Why the confidence in her?”
“She’s not just a thief. She is different. Proven in most ways and lacking in just a few. I believe she’s redeemable.”
The Hawaiian laughed. “Like your new girlfriend? Careful, Dahl, you’ll end up surrounded by your own sympathies.”
“Kenzie is not my girlfriend,” Dahl said crossly. “Stop believing everything Alicia tells you.”
Hearing her name, Kenzie looked over from the table beside them. “Talk to me, boys, not about me. So, when are we setting off after this screwball thief?”
Dahl swallowed a harsh retort. “We allow her to settle in, gain Webb’s total confidence, and then she will call. Have faith.”
Kenzie grunted and returned to staring into the black depths of her coffee cup as if she could read their future in what grounds remained.
Dahl stared into space, ignoring the comings and goings all around. Since Barbados and the terrors his wife, children and he had been put through by his old enemy, his life had been through more twists and turns than a corkscrew. Johanna, at first willing to try again, was already starting to pull away. The children were holding up well, bouncing back with a vengeance, and not even suffering nightmares after their ordeal. There was always a silver lining, he thought, even where the storm ran deepest.
It seemed there was nothing more to do, or try, short of quitting his job. Even then, would an initial euphoria turn to dust once whatever kind of new life they made grew mundane and he began to miss his true calling?
So here he was in the heart of Zurich, in the middle of another job and trying to find a solution to his marital problems. Not easy when the other half of the solution sat thousands of miles away.
Zurich itself was an impressive city. Located at the northwestern tip of Lake Zurich it had been called the wealthiest city in Europe as well as the city with the best quality of life. Theatres, art galleries and museums were in abundance, bringing tourists from all parts of the world. Gathered around him now were an eclectic bunch: backpackers, business men and locals pecking away at computers.
A standard cellphone tone caught his attention. Kinimaka stared at the screen before nodding and holding it to his ear.
“Yes?”
Dahl watched his face as the hustle and bustle around them went on uninterrupted. This could change things. Set them in motion. The Hawaiian’s face remained impassive for a while and then a telling reply.
“Where is it?”
Dahl felt a surge of energy and smiled at Smyth. At last, movement. This would help occupy their minds, divert their attentions.
Kinimaka nodded as he spoke. “We’re on our way. We’ll try to—”
Clearly then the line went dead as he stopped talking and stared at the screen. “Hope she’s okay,” he said, and then let out a long breath.
“And so do I,” Dahl said. “But stay tough with her, Mano. Don’t forget we have the means to test her too.”
The merc they’d questioned in Paris earlier had listed all the places both he and his fellow goons had been tasked to guard. They had that list now, and would be matching it closely with what Sabrina gave them in the future.
“I have coordinates. It’s not too far but—” He looked downcast.
“What?”
“She said something like—‘bring your skis’.”
Dahl could understand why Kinimaka might look so glum. “Shit, and you find it hard to walk in a straight line.”
“I know.” No protests came from the Hawaiian side.
Smyth knocked on the table. “So, get the coordinates tapped in. Let’s scope this bad boy out.”
Dahl watched Lauren push her laptop into the center of the table. She had been researching Saint Germain and Zurich, and the history of Freemasons. The wealth of lore and hearsay surrounding the Count, however, was challenging and quite fascinating.
Considered a secret agent of King Louis XV of France he appeared to have gone with a British commander to India to actually fight the French, highlighting an incredible talent for being able to go back and forth with leaders of warring camps and nations. An agent, a spy, a “singer who plays the violin wonderfully, composes and is also completely mad”, according to Horace Walpole.