The Last Bazaar (7 page)

Karin Blake had been battling inner demons her whole life. At a young age she had watched her best friend die because no one had bothered to listen to a young girl’s screams. Upon leaving home and then gaining the very best grades she had rebelled against the system and her loving family, and hit some kind of rock-bottom. Later in life, still rebelling but in a more positive way, she had clawed her way back to where she really wanted to be—as a useful and productive part of a team that truly cared for her. She had learned to forgive and then to love. Having highly capable men and women relying on her told her just how positively she had been accepted.

And then, as her life tended to, everything fell apart. More death. First her parents and then her brother, and then her life’s love, gunned down in an alley as he tried to protect their team. Karin Blake was stripped to the bone, exhausted with life and all its suffering, looking to find a quick way out.

To combat those thoughts she turned to the only people who she thought might be able to help—the Army. Though she had never told Matt Drake, those days of quiet she endured whilst they chased down the ghost ships had been made up of her trying to find an alternative to an easy, quick departure from life’s chaotic terminal. In the end the answer was all around her—soldiers fighting for the best cause in the world whilst battling their own internal enemies. There was only one thing to do. Become a war machine.

Fort Bragg was, among many things, a training facility. Inside its AOR—its Area of Responsibility—recruits were trained up to become some of America’s finest soldiers. From the classroom to engagement training, vehicles to robotics, it had earned the enviable and apt reputation as one of the best in the world.

Karin had already been evaluated and thrust into lessons. Varied exercises existed that would reward her with engagement skills, egress skills, dismounted soldier training and “call for fire” expertise. There were virtual suites and good old fashioned obstacle courses and punishing down-in-the-mud days. But the rigors of any day were nothing when compared to the adversities she encountered when alone. They had already appointed her a psychological profiler who had the power to kick her out.

The men she had met—some of them practically boys—were supportive for the most part, only a select few following the old stereotype. The women were hard-faced and somehow looked a little lost, not in this place but with life, with day-to-day events in general. Karin remained aloof, friendly when required but almost unapproachable. She was not here to make friends. She was here to start afresh and, hopefully, become a valued field member of one of the best Special Forces teams on the planet. But she had already accepted that the key to her success was effort—determination, sweat and exertion throughout the day would pay off in the most positive way.

It had to.

This was Karin’s last big push. Some people coasted through life but Karin fought her way through it—overcoming obstacles at every turn. But even a fighter sooner or later ran out of spirit. Karin had overcome her last obstacle.

The days dawned fresh and bright and all merged into one. Karin was the first at her post and the last to eat, the first awake and the last asleep. Nothing existed except this shiny nucleus of self-control, hour after hour, day after day. With the falling of night and the absence of urgency came the darkest of visions—so many graves she had not visited in months or years. Who visited the graves of those who died? Her friend, her parents, her brother, so alone out there and so isolated. It didn’t take long to visit a cemetery and pay respects, and god knows her loved ones deserved it, but life . . . life always found a way to take those precious hours away.

Please,
she thought nightly.
Please let the dawn rise. Let the day begin. So I can forget.

The hardest thing Mai Kitano had to do in the days following Grace’s shooting was tear herself away from the girl’s bedside. The initial hours were the worst, the shock of that horrific twenty-second tragedy still finding no respite in her mind. Hibiki stayed with her, though he was barely able to string a sentence together so distraught was he at having to shoot Emiko. Chika told their story and the cops gave them a break, but they returned later.

Then Grace showed visible signs of improvement. Mai’s fears eased but then her raging guilt took hold and she sought out Hibiki.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and they exited into fresh sunlight for the first time in days.

Hibiki told her he knew not of a cure, but of a way to take a breather, a pause from the rigors of real life. He led her to an underground parking garage where he kept a small open-top, two-seater sports car called Belle, and fired up the engine. Within fifteen minutes they were cruising outside Tokyo, along sweeping bends and long straights, greenery and stunning views catching their imaginations on all sides. The great vault of the sky stretched endlessly above them and the breeze in her hair made her wish for better days.

Mai realized not a word had passed between them since they left the hospital. She turned her face away from the sun and toward her old friend. “Dai, I just don’t know what to say.”

The cop’s face remained stoic. “There’s no coming back from this, Mai. It’s one of those life-altering events you wish you never had to face. If it wasn’t for Chika I’d be heading for a nut-house right now.”

Mai gazed at the passing scenery. The panoramic blur reminded her of the flow of life—only certain images registered and stuck.

“We have to change this life.”

Hibiki concentrated on a steady flow of rolling curves before letting out a long sigh. “And I guess that’s as simple as it sounds?”

“Harder than that, Dai. It’s impossible.”

“That’s what I thought.”

A deep valley opened up below. Hibiki slowed the car and negotiated the road that tracked along the steep edge. Mai allowed her mind to clear as stunning images filled her brain. Hibiki was right, the trip was beyond therapeutic.

“Here,” Hibiki handed her a packet of mints, “it’ll help freshen your breath.”

Mai blinked in surprise. It wasn’t in her friend’s nature to be so rude. Unless . . . she observed him for the first time and saw a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth. As much as it surprised her again it gave her hope too. It reminded her that Grace could live and grow up to be a wonderful, healthy girl.

And that led her onto another problem.

“We have to get Grace away from this life. As soon as possible.”

Hibiki nodded and slipped a pair of sunglasses on. “Agreed. I think she should stay in Tokyo, either with or close to Chika and me.”

“You’re staying with the TMP?”

“I’m a cop. What else would I do? Do you know how hard it is to change lifestyles after a certain age?”

Mai did know what he meant, but said nothing. The fact remained that, although Grace would no doubt want to make her own mind up, Mai herself had life-altering decisions to make. Options did exist, she knew. The Tokyo Metropolitan could probably find her a position on the force which she could steer away from special or undercover ops. A consultancy business? Her own bodyguard company? None of it sounded particularly savory, but it beat getting shot at all day long.

But did it?

Mai reflected over the recent years. The adventures she had shared with Drake and the team stood out in her memory like shining beacons, like the Aurora Borealis of her life’s events. Yes, they were tempered with loss but what kind of experience wasn’t?

Hibiki glanced across. “Thinking about SPEAR?”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Easy. That’s the first flicker of a smile I’ve seen on your face in days.”

“Am I that transparent? I thought my face was quite unreadable.”

“Not to me.”

“And you think I should return?”

“To SPEAR? I think it’s the only thing that makes you happy. And bad things aren’t going to stop happening, Mai, just because you chose to opt out. They happen every minute in every part of the world. All we can ever do is try to make things a little better.”

Mai smiled wider for a moment as Hibiki threw the vehicle around another series of bends, the wind whipping at her hair.

The cop laughed. “You can hang your head out the window if you like.”

Mai laughed too and saw a text message coming in to her friend’s cellphone through the car’s Bluetooth system. It appeared on the Sat-Nav screen as he pulled into a lay-by.

All well here. Enjoy yourselves! Chika xx

Mai settled back into the seat. “Thank you for falling for my sister.”

“The pleasure was mine. We work well together.”

Mai nodded. Of course she knew they worked even better together when they didn’t have a crazy sister living with them. It was time to make that decision.

“Drive,” she told Hibiki. “Just drive.”

The road stretched far ahead, a ribbon of dreams, a snaking stretch of immersive inspiration, and Mai spoke no more but let her mind wander through a lifetime of experience and emotion. There was no pressure, no hassle, no reason to interrupt her train of thoughts. This was to all intents and purposes
tangible and true
Mai-time, and she reveled in it.

In the end, she picked her phone out of the glovebox and called a number.

“Hello, Hayden, it’s me.”

The voice at the other end sounded surprised. “Oh, hi, is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes. We’re well and Grace is getting better by the hour. Something to do with a young person’s fortitude, I believe.”

“Sure, well, that’s all five-by-five. Friggin’ reception is bad here. You need anything else?”

“Yes actually, I do.” Mai stared hard into the middle-distance. “Where are you?”

Hayden reeled off an explanation and a location, ending with the question that Mai most dreaded. “Why? Are you coming back?”

She answered as truthfully as she could. “I don’t know. I’m going to try. But tell nobody, Hayden. Just in case I don’t make it.”

Drake awoke to the sound of a waterfall smashing onto the roof of his tent and washing down the sides. It took only a second to remember where he was and that the cascade came from the menacing clouds that no doubt hung low over the endless canopy of trees above. The hard rain practically surged against the flimsy material and, as he sat, up a disembodied voice drifted out of the near-dark.

“You snore like a moose in mating season.”

Drake rolled over and drank from his bottle of water. “And I guess Johanna says you make little gurgly baby sounds, huh?”

“What my wife says to me in the morning is none of your business. And how did I end up next to you anyway?”

“I lost a bet. Now shut the hell up and find out the time.”

Dahl lifted an arm out of his sleeping bag, squinting at his watch. “Dial says five-thirty. Shit, can we even make proper progress in this torrent?”

“Ordinarily, yes. But we’re searching for a camp and need to be stealthy about it. Let’s wait, it’ll pass soon.”

“Oh yeah? Expert on the Amazon now are we?”

“I read the crib sheet.”

The two men lay in semi-dark for a while until the deluge eased. By the time they emerged into the drenched jungle the others were already breaking camp. The team worked quietly and efficiently, and soon were ready to set out. Hayden checked coordinates and pointed them in the right direction.

“Six miles,” she said. “And then we really have to hit the stealth button. I reckon if the weather holds we’ll make that in half a day.”

“Longer,” Dahl said. “We should be taking a break when the real heat hits after lunch time. I read the crib sheet too.”

“We have to arrive before then.” Hayden nodded. “We won’t stop every transaction but we do have to halt the worst of them. Let’s head out and see how far we get.”

The team filed out, wet, disagreeable and sore from a night on the jungle floor. It took time to adapt to any new environment, and by the time they acclimated they all wanted to be long gone from the rainforest. The drizzle abated as they set off, and Drake took that as a good sign. Kinimaka took the lead, waving a machete like he didn’t know how to use it, and even Hayden gave him a very wide berth.

“Watch out there, big guy,” Smyth growled. “You’re gonna have a tree down on us.”

Kinimaka turned with a fierce frown. “You wanna take point, small fry?”

“Gladly.”

Smyth relieved Kinimaka of the machete and forged a path. Rain dripped all around and on top of them. The light filtering through the trees was wan at first, but soon started to take on a brighter luster, each ray illuminating a new patch of unchartered territory. Drake hefted his pack and his weapons and followed Alicia, trudging through the undergrowth. The pace they set was necessarily steady because, even as the sun came out, conditions were always tough for hikers. It might have been easier if they could stop and stare, marvel at the crouching wildlife and the rising steam, the sopping underbrush and the living jungle, but everyone knew they were on a schedule and the last bazaar was about to begin. The whole team were on alert; this was not an uninhabited jungle any more. Drug lords and gun runners and all manner of law-breakers made this area home these days, and the SPEAR team were constantly ready with their weapons. The slow pace they adopted was partly to conceal their presence from them, as any sudden gunfire might warn Ramses and his security of their close proximity.

Drake slogged along at the center of the march, as wary as he was relaxed and focused on the sounds that surrounded them. Alicia turned, holding a branch aside for him.

“Who would
want
to live here? Yuk.”

“Criminals.” Drake shrugged. “No law exists in the Amazon rainforest, love.”

“It’s predator versus predator,” Dahl said from behind. “But luckily, you have the top of the food chain right alongside you.”

Drake allowed the branch to snap back against the Swede’s forehead. “Whoops. Sorry, oh King of the Jungle.”

“What?” Alicia looked aghast. “He didn’t catch that vine in his teeth?”

Dahl wiped rain from his eyes. “Piss off, both of you.”

They tramped on, the hours passing in soulless silence, their boots quietly absorbed by the mulch, moving from trail to trail if they could, but otherwise forging their own path. It was after eight before Hayden called a short break.

Smyth plonked himself down upon a fallen log, face dripping more with sweat than water. Kinimaka sat beside him and eyed what they could of the skies.

“Has it been raining again?”

“This is the face of a man working hard for a living,” Smyth grated. “Not something you’d know about back on the pineapple plantation.”

Kinimaka cleared his throat. “Seriously, I’ll take over if you like.”

“Nah. The rainforest’s losing more than enough trees per hour as it is.”

Drake made sure he checked on Yorgi and Lauren before they resumed. The Russian thief and the New Yorker were the least qualified of any of them to be carting weapons through a jungle, but both looked well hydrated and with an excess of energy. Hayden figured they had come three miles but then the going hadn’t been as hard as they’d figured. At this rate, Drake thought, they’d come close to the site of the bazaar by late morning. He spoke quietly to Dahl and Alicia, careful not to let his voice carry too far into the surrounding vegetation. It was Smyth, sitting on his log, who clearly heard something ahead, for at that moment he signaled the group.

Get out of sight.

Drake rolled into the undergrowth, trying not to imagine what might already be housed there. Beneath the boughs and overgrown surrounds of an immense tree they crouched in silence.

Before long a group of men came by, clearly not natives. They wore dirty T-shirts and cut-off denims, carried Ak47s carelessly and stared only at each other. Drake was glad they had chopped at the trail so carefully, but at the same time believed these men wouldn’t have spotted a man with scythes for arms standing in their way. At the same time, their confidence was discomforting. Drake knelt alongside his friends as the men filed by, speaking in Mexican and laughing among themselves. Ten minutes later the coast was clear and the group emerged, soaked, cramped, but still invisible to the world.

Another hour slipped by, broken only by bird calls, creaking boughs and the snapping of branches. Drake once thought he heard a low growl, but wasn’t sure if it came from an indigenous cat or Smyth. It never came again so he assumed it had emerged from the latter. Hitching up their backpacks and readying their weapons they moved further and further southeast along a line that ran fairly parallel to the Jutai River, occasionally returning to its banks as the trail meandered to and fro.

It was after eleven when Hayden called another break.

With infinite care, the group came together.

Drake swigged more water greedily. “How close are we?”

“Very,” Hayden whispered. “The dots are practically merging. From here on in you guys should use your GPS, scout the perimeter of the bazaar, and then rendezvous back here in an hour to compare notes. Let’s say Yorgi, Lauren and Smyth wait here.”

There were nods all round, and Smyth looked relieved to be taking a break. Hayden gave the trio a parting warning. “Stay alert for roving patrols.”

Drake consulted his own GPS and moved in closer to their objective until a movement eight meters to his right made him freeze. With infinite caution he crept closer, sizing up the person who emerged out of the greenery. As he worked his way around he began to hear music in the distance, a dance tune, and considered the audacity of his prey.
That’s good,
he thought.
A bold enemy is usually a dead enemy.

The guard he evaluated seemed a little different from the usual type of mercenary. Drake studied him and saw a better edge to the vigilance, a certain skill to the way he handled his firearm and words passing between him and other watchers via some kind of headset. These men were real professionals, not just called so because they killed for a living.

Drake continued through his sector until he encountered two more guards. The third seemed to sense him, and that was fair praise, but Drake managed to slip away without detection. All the while the music pumped in the background and occasionally a gust of laughter rode the wind. Twice, Drake heard gunshots followed by either jeering or merriment and assumed some kind of game was underway. In any case, the bazaar was in full flow. Drake backed away and returned to the rendezvous, once more becoming accustomed to the rainforest’s relative peacefulness. They had been lucky so far but now came another intense downpour. Drake found himself smiling.

That should dampen their masochistic amusements.

Back at the rendezvous the team were already assembled. Dahl looked ready to poke fun for his lateness—and for that matter so did Alicia—but their need to keep to murmurs robbed them of their fun. Within minutes the various reports came in.

“Guard every fifty, sixty feet,” the Swede said under the punch of the rainstorm. “Capable looking. Probably hand-picked. Some kind of group communication so no chance of picking ’em off one at a time. A solid cordon, I’d say.”

Drake affirmed with a nod. “Agreed. If we’re trying to get in there unnoticed we’ll have to come up with another way.”

Hayden pursed her lips. “I’m of the same mind. Distraction is a possibility to draw some of them away, but that would only draw attention, and these guys don’t seem particularly dumb. I think we need a way of blending in.”

“Count me the fuck out,” Smyth griped.

Alicia tapped the watery jungle floor. “I came across a tributary of the Jutai that seemed to run close by the main camp. Couldn’t get too far along to get a better look, but a small barge did pass by with guards stood around the top deck.”

Kinimaka crossed his large arms. “So where does all that leave us? We might as well have HALO’d in. Saved us all this hoofing about.”

Hayden shook her head. “The camp, the main bazaar, is huge. No way will we get away with storming it. And even if we did get lucky with the guards we’d lose three quarters of the people we came here to get. And don’t forget Webb, the CIA and Big Dog. No, this one’s gonna take a little finesse.”

Dahl looked blank. Drake coughed. Kinimaka narrowed his eyes.
“Say what?”

“Finesse. Skill. Flair. Elegance. You know.”

Dahl continued to stare. “I’m not following.”

Alicia scratched her head. “What the hell is she talking about?”

Hayden threw up her hands in despair, but refrained from shouting. “All right, boys, less of the wise guy routine. Let’s use that incredible wit to come up with a solution, eh?”

“At some point we need to gauge the conviction of Ramses’ soldiers,” Smyth said. “If they’re fanatics this thing could be a whole lot harder.”

“It also means Ramses is good,” Drake said gloomily. “Probably better than all the Pythians put together.”

“We have to assume they have contingencies in place to guard against a full-scale invasion,” Dahl said. “And covert infiltration.”

At that moment the downpour began to lessen. The team took a moment to adjust to the softer noise levels and mopped water from their clothes. Within moments they were sweltering from the new, humid heat.

“Anyone get look at actual bazaar?” Yorgi asked.

Blank looks were returned, so the Russian thief whispered again. “So far, there is only one way in. Yes?”

Dahl thought about it. “I’m assuming you mean the river?”

“Dah. The river.”

Alicia quickly shook her head. “Full of parasites. Piranhas. Maybe even a caiman or two. We ain’t swimming in there, Tarzan.”

“Speaking of Tarzan, you could probably branch-creep your way in from tree to tree.” Drake pointed up at the densely packed, incredibly thick branches. “But I don’t think even we are that good.”

“Too noisy,” Yorgi agreed. “And slippery, but one man could.
I
could.”

Hayden thought about it for a while before pulling a face. “It’s not enough. One man inside is not enough. I’m liking the sound of the river more and more.”

“I forgot my cossie,” Alicia said without humor, further hammering home her point of a few moments before.

“There’s always skinny dipping,” Smyth said with a rare grin. “I’m game if you are.”

“In your dreams . . .” Alicia paused, then said, “What the hell is your first name anyway?”

“Look,” Yorgi interjected quickly. “When I mention river I do not mean we swim. I mean we take boat. One of
their
boats.” He made a snaking gesture. “Cruise in.”

Drake knitted his brows together as the idea suddenly flourished. “Pretend we’re one of them? A guest? Yorgi, that’s brilliant!”

Hayden shushed him. “Keep it down. It’s risky. I can think of three big obstacles without breaking sweat.”

“Shit, Hay, look around. What
isn’t
risky?”

“So you’re thinking: Board a boat, seize it, hold its occupants hostage and take their places at the bazaar? Assuming they’re guests.”