Free Matt Drake 14 - The Treasures of Saint Germain by David Leadbeater Page A

cannibal cult of Peru? No, well, never mind. Interpol knows all. You will catch up. Webb is no longer sneaking, he is in full-tilt, fully-exposed, pressurized mode, hounded everywhere. He needs every ounce of assistance, every last morsel of help he can muster. Clearly, he still has money, influence, a network of sorts.” Argento paused to draw breath before he died of asphyxiation.
    The team realized they’d been holding theirs too and gulped air.
    “And thanks to your pet Pythian—Nicholas Bell—we now have names, contacts, locations and files for all of them.”
    Drake couldn’t help glance over toward Smyth and Lauren, conscious of their differences. The soldier sat tight-faced, eyes fixed dead ahead whilst the New Yorker made a point of shifting in her seat to stare right at him.
    “Don’t say it,” Smyth mouthed.
    “What? That I told you so?”
    “Yeah, that.”
    But Argento was forging ahead. “Everything’s monitored. Everything. Webb recently used fake IDs to buy a flight to Barcelona. We can’t intercept that because he only made contact after he landed to arrange something else, something very worrying for Interpol. We have no facial recs so he’s now hiding successfully. My friends, you have to get to Barcelona. Fast.”
    “Why?” Hayden asked. “What’s so worrying?”
    “He bought tickets and arranged to meet a contact at the Camp Nou tomorrow night. And knowing Tyler Webb, the distractions he arranges . . . well, that could be catastrophic. He has no sense of morality.”
    Alicia was looking blank, and so was Mai. But Drake sat bolt upright. “The Camp Nou? As in the football stadium? Oh shit, is there a match planned?”
    “Yes, mi amico. A big one. The stadium—it will be full.”
    Drake was already on his feet. The rest followed as Hayden headed for the door, Argento’s voice urging them on like incessant machine gun fire. The pictures he painted were truly shattering.
     

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
     
    The jet hummed along, thousands of miles above the earth. Darkness pressed all around, a dense cloak enfolding all the simmering secrets that traveled within.
    Drake found himself seated around a table with Alicia, Mai and Beau and hours to kill. After eating they sat back and took advantage of the night flight, dozing and day-dreaming. Drake asked Mai about Grace’s welfare, and the ex-Ninja inquired as to Karin. Drake found himself floundering; Karin had been out of touch for weeks and a gentle enquiry had told him she’d almost finished training and was on some kind of special mission. Unhappy, but unable to learn more, he’d swallowed a bitter bullet—it was one thing pulling strings to practically force an unexpected recruit into a unit, it was quite another to then keep track of that recruit.
    He told Mai as such.
    “It will be hard for her,” she said. “But necessary, I think, if she is to stay with this team.”
    After Komodo’s death she could have gone many ways. Drake was pleased she had taken this unexpected route, after losing everything she loved to war. The young woman had buried too many people for this stage of her life.
    “She’s a fighter,” Alicia added. “My kinda girl.”
    “Do not tell me you’ve kissed her as well,” Beau queried, only half-joking
    Alicia shrugged. “Not that I can remember. But who knows? Some of the older things clattering around my mind are a little woozy.”
    “Does that include Drake?” Dahl put in with a guffaw from across the aisle.
    Drake narrowed his eyes. “You just keep on cozying up to your new bird, mate. You two look real happy over there.”
    Dahl looked a little embarrassed, pulling away from Kenzie.
    Drake gamely tried to include Beau in their conversation. “So, how did you meet Michael?”
    “Crouch?” The Frenchman waved it away. “It is a long story. And not for idle chit-chat. I worked for Crouch and you by infiltrating the Pythians, yes, but the initial decision was not made lightly—” he paused