‘I’m sure we can come up with something,’ said Mac. ‘But if you’ve seen as much as you need, we should go. Being parked like this is probably attracting attention.’ The tree-lined street was devoid of stationary vehicles; all the houses had drives and garages large enough to accommodate multiple cars. Parking on the road was a giveaway that someone didn’t belong.
‘Yeah, okay.’ Eddie looked back at the Clubhouse – and saw the main gates open, the guards moving aside. ‘No, hang on – someone’s coming out.’
It was not a car that emerged first, but a police motorbike. Next came a black Cadillac Escalade SUV, miniature Venezuelan flags fluttering from its front quarters. Another bike followed it.
Eddie glimpsed a familiar silhouette behind the tinted glass as the convoy drove past. ‘That was Callas!’
‘No sign of Stikes?’ Mac asked.
‘Nope.’ He regarded the Clubhouse again, cracking his knuckles. ‘He might still be in there with Nina . . .’
‘Or he might have gone to do whatever Callas has hired him for.’
‘Either way, Nina’s still there. Soon as it gets dark, I’m going in. Okay, let’s go.’
‘So how are we going to distract the guards?’ Macy asked as they set off.
Eddie looked at her, an idea forming. Having showered away the sweat and grime of her jungle ordeal, she was back to her usual state of youthful beauty – though her clothes still bore the dirty scars. ‘We’ll have to get you a new outfit.’
She grinned. ‘I’m okay with that.’
‘Something that shows off your body.’
The smile broadened. ‘Still with you.’
‘And some running shoes.’
‘Aw.’
‘And an iPod.’
‘Cool!’
Mac sighed. ‘And I suppose all this is going on my card?’
‘If we stop Callas and Stikes, I’m sure
In the tropics daylight ends quickly, the twilight sky over Caracas soon fading to black. By the time the last glow had vanished, Eddie was in the garden of the mansion next to the Clubhouse, perched in a tree near the wall separating the two properties. The house behind him was dark; he didn’t know if its occupants were simply away for the evening or if the military takeover of their neighbour’s home had encouraged them to take a vacation, but either way it simplified matters.
From his position, he had a good view of the brightly lit Clubhouse. It was a big building, with multiple points of entry. More important, none seemed to be guarded. Soldiers were patrolling the grounds in ones and twos, but they had an indefinable air of excitement – or anticipation – about them. Their minds were on something other than their immediate duties.
The coup? Possibly. Callas hadn’t returned, and there had been no sign of Stikes or anyone who might be working for him, just Venezuelan troops. Was tonight the night?
But for now, his priority was finding Nina and Kit. He regarded the house. A swimming pool glowed an unreal cyan, illuminated by underwater lights. A large flatscreen TV near the poolside was showing a baseball game, an excited commentator offering a blow by blow account in Spanish, but nobody was watching it. Handy; the noise would help cover his entry into the grounds.
He looked at his watch, then towards the road. Any minute now . . .
Movement in the grounds: a soldier strolling from the mansion’s rear to its front. Shit! He was staying on the wide lawn rather than venturing into the bushes and flower beds near the wall, but would still be close enough to catch any unexpected movement in his peripheral vision. Eddie had replaced his filthy clothes at the mall with a black T-shirt and jeans, but they would hardly render him invisible – there was more than enough light coming from the pool for him to be spotted if he wasn’t careful.
He willed the man to move faster, but instead the Venezuelan slowed, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one . . . then stopping entirely for his first drag. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Eddie muttered.
Another look at the street—
He saw Macy jogging towards the gates. She had gone the other way ten minutes earlier, her low-cut, tight and very bright pink and black running outfit ensuring that she caught the attention of the two young men guarding the entrance. Her smile and wave as she passed had hopefully cemented her in their memories. Now she was returning, the inference being that she lived nearby and was on her way home.
The gate guards definitely remembered her, turning to watch her approach. That was part of the distraction Eddie needed – but now this arsehole with his cigarette was right where he wanted to go. And there wasn’t enough time for him to climb a different tree – a pair of headlights had just come into view behind Macy . . .
The soldier remained still, savouring the smoke as if he had stepped out of a 1950s cigarette advert. Eddie glared at him, trying to induce instant and terminal lung cancer, but to no avail.
Macy waved at the soldiers again, then jogged across the street towards them. The headlights drew closer. White earbuds in, she didn’t seem to hear the oncoming vehicle. One of the soldiers suddenly realised the danger and shouted a warning. Macy turned—
The car skidded to a stop. Not quickly enough. The screech of tyres was punctuated by a flat metallic bang as she rolled up on to the bonnet, then slid off to land heavily on the road.
Eddie winced. Even though he had been expecting it, and both Mac, driving, and Macy knew what they were supposed to be doing, it still sounded like a bigger impact than they had planned.
