Chapter 15

 

Thomas Hayes. That was the name of the British expat who’d bought the mummy. Elle had dug up the information before breakfast and woken everyone with the news. Not that Joe had been sleeping. Nope. He’d being lying in bed wondering why Julia wasn’t there with him and trying to figure out what he could do to fix things. So far, he hadn’t come up with anything yet.

“Who the hell is this guy again?” Joe said to Ryan, who was by his side, but also to the rest of the team through his comm device.

Ryan and Joe were sauntering down the street in front of Hayes’ mini-mansion. They were decked out as tourists—small backpacks, easy-wash casual clothing, large cameras. Joe used his camera to snap photos of the glass and concrete monstrosity Hayes called home.

“I told you,” Elle said through the audio link in his ear. “He oversees the South American representatives of the British Council.”

“Like an area manager?” Ryan said.

“Exactly. His job is to see that British art and culture is promoted in other countries. It’s a public-relations type job,” Elle said.

“It’s also a great position if you want to build your own collection of illegal artefacts,” Joe pointed out.

“Yeah,” Elle said. “The guy has a serious obsession with building his own collection.”

“I don’t get it.” Joe pointed the camera, zoomed and snapped away. “What’s the point in collecting stuff you can never show anyone because all of it’s stolen?”

“Greed?” There was a snap in his ear, and he got a mental picture of Elle popping gum. “A sense of self-importance? A deflection from other things that are wrong with him, as in ‘my art collection is big enough to make up for the fact I have a really small penis’?”

Ryan almost choked on the bag of chips he was shovelling down.

Joe spotted a white van coming up the empty street. “Got eyes on Ed.”

He watched the van as he wandered along the street. There were no people walking or hanging around. After the crowded chaos of central La Paz, the wealthy suburb of Alto Florida was a little eerie. The houses were huge, if a little close together for Joe’s taste, and there were manicured trees at regular intervals along the sidewalk. Every house was cut off from the street by a high wall or a spike-topped fence, but unlike Lima, there weren’t any guards visible. It seemed the homeowners relied on their walls and security systems to keep the riffraff out.

The van stopped in front of Hayes’ house and Ed climbed out. He was dressed in overalls with a clipboard in his hand. He nodded at Joe and Ryan as though they were strangers, before producing a ladder from the back of the van and propping it against the pole beside the walled house. According to Elle, that pole ran wires for everything from power to internet connection.

Joe and Ryan sauntered past Ed as he attached the disrupter boxes Elle had furnished him with, to the lines leading into Hayes’ house.

“Tell me again why I came with you lot to La Paz?” Ed grumbled.

“You volunteered,” Joe said. “You practically begged. You kept going on about wanting to find the treasure. No one twisted your arm to get you to tag along.”

“That was before I got to play the workman because I’m the only South American in the group,” Ed said in Joe’s ear while he worked. “This is racist bullshit.”

“Be grateful you aren’t a woman,” Patricia said. “If you were a South American woman, we wouldn’t even let you do that much—we’d send you into the house as a maid. So please, don’t talk to me about racial stereotyping.”

Ryan thought that was funny. “Can you even comment on this, Patty? You’re white, upper class and rich. You’re a walking, talking example of privilege.”

“And that means I can’t have an opinion? That I can’t stand up for my fellow woman?” Patricia asked coolly.

“Women of the world unite!” Elle called.

Joe groaned. “Can we focus on the job and start a march for equality later?”

“See?” Patricia said. “The fact you can say something like that as a throwaway statement shows how far we still have to go. Honestly, when I was marching for equality in the seventies, I didn’t think I’d still be fighting for it over forty years later. Do any of you young people realise how pathetic that is? You’re dropping the ball on this issue. You need to make more of an effort to put things right.”

“Done,” Ed said, and Joe almost kissed the man for stopping Patricia’s rant.

“Elle,” Joe said, “you in?”

“Give me a minute, Mr. No-patience.”

Joe glanced back into the van as he passed, and saw Julia and Patricia sitting behind the work equipment. He kept his face blank when he really wanted to start shouting all over again that they shouldn’t be in the field. He’d lost the argument because Patricia had pointed out that she was the only one who knew what the mummy looked like. And Julia had said that where her gran went, she went too. Then Ryan had argued that the mummy would be easy to spot because it was a dried-up dead body, and how many of them could be in the house? At which point Elle ruined that argument by saying, “Thomas Hayes is known to collect them. There could be dozens in there.”

So Joe had lost the argument and the women were back in the field.

“Okay,” Elle said. “I’m in. His security system was good, top of the line, but nothing fancy. He’s only worried about burglars. Not people like us.”

Joe shared a look with Ryan.

“Elle,” Ryan said, “we’re here to steal something, what does that make us?”

“Huh,” Elle said, and then there was silence.

Joe scanned the area. It was quiet. “There’s activity in the house on the left. Ed, you see anything from up there?”

Ed turned and waved at the neighbouring house. “It’s a maid.”

“You see anything else?”

“Are there any cameras on neighbouring houses, ones pointing at our house?” Elle asked.

“No,” Ed said. “They’re all focusing on their own properties.”

“Will the maid be a problem?” Joe said.

“If she is, I’ll handle it,” Ed said.

“And how will you do that?” Patricia’s tone was icy.

“Why, I’ll use my considerable charm.”

“Can we please, for once, focus on the job?” Callum snapped over everyone else. “No more talk unless it’s to do with the operation. Keep your petty crap for your free time.”

“Yes, sir,” Elle said. It was unclear if she meant it sarcastically.

“The maid’s gone,” Ed said.

“The gates will open on my mark,” Elle said.

“Out of the van,” Joe told the women, and they scrambled out.

Joe and Ryan took up positions on either side of them, blocking them from view as they kept an eye on the quiet street.

“Three, two, one,” Elle said, and then there was a clanking as the electronic gates opened.

“You sure this guy doesn’t have any staff?” Joe asked as they rushed towards the front door and the gates clanked shut behind them.

“Doesn’t trust them,” Elle said. “They only come in when he’s home.”

“Street is clear and quiet,” Ed said.

Ryan had his tools out and was busy picking the lock on the door. Joe kept his eyes peeled for trouble, all the while aware that Julia was back to avoiding eye contact again. It was a huge step backwards. One he couldn’t afford to think about during an op. He needed to focus on keeping them safe and getting them out of there.

“We’re in,” Ryan said. The door opened and they piled into the house, closing it behind them.

The building was even uglier on the inside than the outside. The walls were whitewashed cement or exposed brick. The furniture was minimal, to the point of there being rooms with only the odd, uncomfortable chair. The rest of the space was dominated by Thomas Hayes’ art collection.

Ryan whistled as Patricia’s mouth hung open. Julia’s eyes were so wide that she looked like a meerkat. They were inside a private museum. There were huge contemporary paintings on the walls, and sculptures dotted everywhere. His taste ran from ancient artefacts to contemporary art.

“That’s a Paula Rego,” Julia said with awe. She looked at her gran. “I don’t think he could afford that. I think it was probably intended to hang in the British Embassy.”

Patricia pointed at the far wall. “That tapestry went missing from a Colombian museum two years ago. I wrote a paper on it when I was a grad student. It’s worth a fortune. A unique piece of South American history.”

“And Thomas Hayes has it.” Julia pointed at some of the pieces in turn. “Antony Gormley, Jenny Saville, Rachel Whiteread, David Hockney. He’s filled the house with work by famous British artists. This collection is worth millions, and I’d say most of it has been appropriated through his job or attained on the black market.”

“By appropriated, you mean he stole it from the British Council?” Ryan said. “I don’t know anything about art—you might as well be listing made-up names for all I know. But I recognise money when I see it in action.”

There was a horrible pause. Joe and Ryan were suddenly very focused on the wires running from the artwork.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Ryan flattened his face to the wall and peered behind the painting next to him.

“Fuck.” Joe’s eyes shot to the corners of the room.

“I’ll take that as an affirmative,” Ryan said.

“Joe,” Julia said, “there are other words.”

For once he didn’t soften at her gentle reprimand. “Elle. We’ve screwed up. Our information was wrong. There’s a second security system inside the house. It’s seriously high-tech and it’s monitoring the artwork. I’m betting we’ve already triggered a silent alarm.”

They could hear Elle tapping furiously. “No police callout. Must be a private security firm. See if you can get me a company name.”

“I’ll look for one. The rest of you scatter,” Joe shouted. “Find the mummy. We don’t have much time. Minutes at best.”

The women ran.

Joe followed the wiring, looking for a name, for anything at all that would tell them who’d installed the system and who was monitoring it. “Whoever this is, they’re good,” he told Elle. “Ryan, you got anything?”

“No.”

He heard running. Doors slamming.

“I’ve got it!” Patricia shouted, no longer caring if anyone heard.

“Ryan, go help them. I’ll keep looking.” Ryan ran after the women. “Ed? Any activity out there?”

“Nothing. I’m going to get the van running and make friends with the neighbour.”

“You think we can use their house to hide out until this is over?”

“It’s an option, and we don’t have many. I’ll look into it.”

“Callum?” Joe said.

“I’m on my way. I’m heading for the back of the property. There’s a driveway leading up to the house next door.”

Over his comm, Joe heard a car swerve. “Same house as Ed’s flirty maid?”

“Yeah.”

“Joe,” Ryan said, “we’ve got a problem.”

Joe started running. “I can’t look for a name, Elle. We’ll just need to see who turns up.”

“I’ll keep digging,” she replied. “There are other things I can do. The clinic at the end of the street is about to have a fire alarm problem. I’m hoping it will cause enough chaos to hide your getaway.”

Sure enough, Joe heard the wailing alarm as soon as Elle finished telling him her plan. He ran up a few short stairs to a mezzanine level that backed onto the manicured garden and endless pool. The wall at the back of the property was high, cutting them off from the neighbours and making sure the garden wasn’t overlooked.

“What is it?” He skidded to a halt in the middle of a room full of dead people.

There were pedestals everywhere. Each had a large glass dome on top, and under the domes sat the curled figures of mummified bodies, each one with its knees up to its chest and its arms wrapped around it. Twelve—there were twelve bodies. Their time-leathered skin had taken on the colours of the desert, and looked tight, wrinkled and brittle over their bones. It was hard to believe the husks had once been walking, talking people. Now they looked more like the contemporary art dotted throughout the building.

Around the mummy cases, the walls were filled with vibrant contemporary paintings of nudes, as though Hayes was trying to contrast life and death. It was a strange art exhibition. Made even more disturbing because it had only ever been intended for an audience of one.

“The pedestal is embedded in the concrete floor,” Ryan said. “The dome is sealed onto the pedestal with this welded bar.” He pointed at the metal rim that encircled the dome.

“Smash it,” Joe said without hesitation.

“We tried,” Ryan said grimly. “Reinforced glass.”

“We can’t shoot it. It’ll take several bullets, and someone would call the cops,” Joe said.

As if on cue, there were sirens.

“Ed?” Joe said.

“Fire trucks,” Ed said. “They’re blocking off the west entrance to the street. The firemen are clearing the area. Wait a minute.” They heard him enter into a fast exchange in Spanish. “The cordon ends at the other end of this street. I’ve been told to back off and clear the road.”

“What about the maid next door?” Ryan asked, obviously looking for another way out.

“She won’t open the door.”

“So much for your charm,” Patricia said.

Ed ignored her. “A black SUV just pulled into the east end of the street.” They heard an engine rev. “I’m going to drive down and block them. See if I can buy you a couple more minutes—if it’s the security company.”

“Give me the plate number. I’ll see if I can dig anything up on the car,” Elle told Ed.

Julia suddenly placed a hand on Joe’s forearm. “Inside the front door, there’s a small sculpture. The Anthony Caro. It’s concrete and iron.”

“You mean the thing that looks like a bit of girder was swallowed by some cement?” Ryan asked.

“That’s it. Can you get it?” Julia said.

Joe nodded his permission, and Ryan sprinted away. “Julia, that won’t make a dent in this. You’re talking several bullets in the same spot to get through the glass.”

“I have an idea,” she said. “I think it will work.”

“If anyone can make it work, it’s you. Have at it.” He pulled his gun out of its holster at the back of his jeans. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Gran,” Julia said, “I need your engagement ring.”

“You aren’t going to damage it, are you?” To her credit, Patricia didn’t hesitate in pulling it off her finger and handing it over.

“I promise, if there’s any damage, I’ll have it repaired.”

Patricia’s hand fluttered to her throat. She was clearly not reassured.

Joe could hear Ed arguing with another guy. A guy who wanted access to the street. A firefighter was taking Ed’s side. The new guy was arguing that he was security and needed to investigate an alarm. Their time was up.

Julia rooted around in her ever-present messenger bag and pulled out a tiny first-aid kit. She took out two Band-Aids. Ryan jogged into the room, carrying the sculpture with him.

“This thing is heavy.” He looked at it. “And ugly.”

Julia taped the ring, diamond-side down, to the glass on the flat side of the dome.

“It’s weakest here.” She stepped back. “Ryan, pull down your sunglasses and hit that ring as hard as you can with the sculpture.”

It said a lot about the faith the team had in Julia that Ryan didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he did as he was told. The thud was deafening. The glass splintered.

“What the…?” Ryan said.

“Again,” Julia ordered.

He hit the ring again. The glass shattered. Ryan dropped the undamaged sculpture.

“I don’t like that thing,” Ryan said. “But I can’t argue it’s well made.”

Julia scrambled to get her grandmother’s ring from the debris, while Patricia reached in for the mummy. She cradled it to her as though it were a fragile baby.

“They’re in the driveway,” Ed said. “I’ll do what I can to distract them. Two men. Armed.”

“Oh no,” Patricia said. “I left the cloth for wrapping the mummy in the hotel.”

“No time to worry about it. We need to get out of here.” Joe grabbed Julia’s upper arm, nodded at Ryan to take Patricia and then ran for the glass door that led out onto the patio.

“Gimme that.” Ryan tucked the mummy under his arm like a rugby ball and ran.

“Don’t squeeze, you’ll damage it,” Patricia said.

“If we don’t get over that wall, we’ll all be damaged.” Joe looked at the smooth wall encircling the garden. The smooth wall with glass shards embedded in the top of it.

“I’m sitting at the back of the neighbour’s house,” Callum said. “You get over that wall, you’re in their garden. Then there’s a fence between you and your ride out of here.”

“The security guys are in the house,” Ed said.

“Corner,” Joe snapped, and they veered to the corner. “Ryan, I’ll boost you. Cover the glass with your backpack and mine, then we’ll boost the women over one at a time.”

“Mummy first,” Patricia said.

“Mummy second,” Julia said as Ryan handed her the dead body. “You need to be over the other side to hold it.”

Joe boosted Ryan up, and he used the butt of his gun to flatten some of the glass. He took the camera out of his pack and tossed it over the other side, then used the padded material to make a seat. He pulled himself up, straddling the wall.

“I am seriously praying that nothing sharp is going to make it through this bag and damage the crown jewels,” he said.

Joe tossed up his backpack, and Ryan did the same thing with it. Then Joe held his hands out for Patricia. “Let Ryan help you over.”

She nodded and did as she was told. There was a tiny squeak when she landed on the other side. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she called.

“Mummy.” Ryan held his arms out for it.

Joe took it from Julia and tossed it up to Ryan, who instantly tossed it down to Patricia.

“You’ve snapped a bone! I can’t believe you snapped a bone! This body has been perfectly preserved for over five hundred years and you break it the first time you touch it. As soon as we get back to England, I’m talking to your mother about you. You upset Julia, talk when you shouldn’t and now you’re damaging artefacts.”

“Hurry up,” Ryan said. “Patty’s threatening to tell tales to my mum.”

Joe made a cradle with his hands, for Julia’s foot. “Get up.”

Julia didn’t hesitate. “What about you?” There was worry in her eyes as she reached for Ryan. “You can’t stay behind again.”

There was shouting in the house behind them. Time was up.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you.”

She bit her bottom lip as Ryan fed her over the other side of the wall. “Get down,” Joe ordered, and Ryan jumped down the other side.

Joe took a few steps back and ran at the wall, using the corner to climb up to the place where Ryan had left the bags. He threw himself over the wall, feeling the glass rip his jeans, but not the skin. He took the backpacks down with him to the grass.

The relief in Julia’s face made him feel hopeful that he could get things back to where they’d been before Ryan had outed her. Later. After they’d made it out of this.

“Run. Get over the fence.” Beyond the tall fence, Callum kept the van running.

Ryan clambered over the fence like a cat, deftly managing to avoid the spikes atop it. There was shouting. The hired security guards were in the yard. Without having to be told, Patricia handed the mummy to Julia and let Joe help her over the fence.

“Don’t put any weight on the spikes. Take your time. Go up and over them. Stand on our shoulders. Use us like steps to climb over. We’ll help support your weight and keep you steady.”

“Are you sure you can be trusted with this, Ryan?” Patricia snapped.

“Absolutely.” He didn’t even try to sound sincere.

“Move,” Joe ordered.

Patricia had one foot on Joe’s shoulder while he held her leg to steady her. She felt around and placed her other foot on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan reached up and steadied her as she got her other leg over, and then he slid her down his body to her feet.

Joe took the mummy from Julia and threw it over the fence, past caring whether anyone caught it. The voices of the security guards were getting closer. Time was running out. If they didn’t get over the fence fast, they’d get caught.

“You next.” Joe crouched to help Julia climb up his body. “Hold on tight to the fence, baby. I’m going to stand up so you can step over it.

“Joe?” Julia’s voice was shaky. “Please don’t look up.”

He couldn’t help the grin, in spite of the circumstances. “Nobody’s going to look up your dress.”

“Unless we have to,” Ryan added with a smile.

“Not helping,” Joe told him. The voices were near the wall now. “Elle, you still there?”

“Yup.”

“I need a diversion. The security guys are almost at the back wall.”

“On it.”

Julia was astride the fence, one foot on Joe’s shoulder and one on Ryan’s. “That’s it. Stand on Ryan and swing your other leg over. He’ll grab you and help lower you down.”

Just as Julia swung her other leg over the fence towards Ryan, the alarm on Hayes’ house blared. Julia jerked. Her foot slipped. She lost balance. And toppled.

Right towards the spikes.