as the man rattled on. For a man so reluctant to spill the beans they could now barely shut him up. The names he reeled off would be amazing scalps, even a single one could be a game-changer in the unstable war on terrorism. But ten or more? Drake saw havoc ahead.
“And they’re just the ones arriving by barge, the ones I have facilitated. There are many more arriving by helicopter and other means. I don’t know many, but one is Tyler Webb, the leader of the Pythians.” Almeida stared at them as if expecting a pat on the back. “Y’know him, right? Most wanted man in the world?”
Drake steered him back to an earlier point. “Ramses,” he said. “What exactly do you know of him?”
Almeida’s eyes clouded over. “Crown Prince of Terrorism. Runs everything. Knows everyone. They say not a single attack passes that he doesn’t have previous knowledge of, not a hit happens without his sanction. They say some of these terrorist leaders don’t even know they work for him.”
Drake waited. “Is that it? So you know . . . nothing?”
Almeida shrugged. “Man’s a myth. I’ve heard whisperings that this is Ramses’ last bazaar, but it’s probably being run by some big cartel. They own most of the basin anyway.”
“They don’t own it,” Drake said. “They’re just squatting until a man with a bigger gun comes along. Or until the forest figures out a way to annihilate them.”
Dahl nudged him. “Whoa, that’s deep for a Yorkie bar. Have you been sneaking some of this guy’s coke?”
“Well, let’s hope it happens,” Drake said. “Save us a job.”
“You spoke of others arriving by chopper.” Hayden turned to Almeida. “What others?”
Now, the Brazilian dropped his gaze cagily. “I shouldn’t tell you,” he said. “I shouldn’t even know. It’s not even definite, just hearsay, and sounds like a deep pile of shit to me.”
Hayden shrugged. “Let me be the judge of that.”
“And what happens to me then?” Almeida asked. “After I tell all.”
“Then you can go. Free.”
“Do I have your word?”
“You have this,” Alicia barked, wrapping the towel around his face again. Almeida struggled and flapped his hands.
“Okay, okay!” he squeaked as the towel was removed. “I heard this from a dude I know, but like I said it could be complete bullshit.” Again he hesitated.
“Speak!” Dahl cried. “Do it now!”
“Okay, okay. Keep yer trilby on. It was the CIA,” he said matter-of-factly. “The CIA are coming.”
Hayden, perhaps naively, immediately shook her head. “No way. We’d have heard about a joint op.”
“No.” Almeida grinned maliciously at her misunderstanding. “The CIA are here . . . as clients. Customers. They’re fucking buying, lady.”
Drake touched Hayden’s shoulder as the ex-CIA agent gaped and then looked ready to explode. The truth was, the CIA had many shadowy arms as did most organizations. Black ops missions and black sites had to get their raw materials from somewhere. Maybe this was one of those places. But this was a revelation from which the whole team would have to take stock. Were they safe? Did this particular CIA entity know they were here? Or was it all, as Almeida said, complete bullshit?
“And the Big Dog,” the Brazilian added. “He’s coming with them.”
Now Drake frowned. “Big Dog? What the hell are y’ blathering about?”
Almeida seemed confused. “What?”
“Explain,” Smyth growled.
“That’s all he said,” Almeida blurted. “My friend. The man I talked to who helped them with the choppering in. We spoke often,” he admitted. “Compared notes in case there was someone we—” he stopped abruptly.
“Could blackmail,” Dahl completed it for him. “Yeah, we know.”
“He told me about a guy the CIA were bringing to meet the man of myth—Ramses. Called him the Big Dog. That’s all.”
Hayden turned to Drake, shock embedded into her features. “Surely not the director? The assistant director?
“And they’re just the ones arriving by barge, the ones I have facilitated. There are many more arriving by helicopter and other means. I don’t know many, but one is Tyler Webb, the leader of the Pythians.” Almeida stared at them as if expecting a pat on the back. “Y’know him, right? Most wanted man in the world?”
Drake steered him back to an earlier point. “Ramses,” he said. “What exactly do you know of him?”
Almeida’s eyes clouded over. “Crown Prince of Terrorism. Runs everything. Knows everyone. They say not a single attack passes that he doesn’t have previous knowledge of, not a hit happens without his sanction. They say some of these terrorist leaders don’t even know they work for him.”
Drake waited. “Is that it? So you know . . . nothing?”
Almeida shrugged. “Man’s a myth. I’ve heard whisperings that this is Ramses’ last bazaar, but it’s probably being run by some big cartel. They own most of the basin anyway.”
“They don’t own it,” Drake said. “They’re just squatting until a man with a bigger gun comes along. Or until the forest figures out a way to annihilate them.”
Dahl nudged him. “Whoa, that’s deep for a Yorkie bar. Have you been sneaking some of this guy’s coke?”
“Well, let’s hope it happens,” Drake said. “Save us a job.”
“You spoke of others arriving by chopper.” Hayden turned to Almeida. “What others?”
Now, the Brazilian dropped his gaze cagily. “I shouldn’t tell you,” he said. “I shouldn’t even know. It’s not even definite, just hearsay, and sounds like a deep pile of shit to me.”
Hayden shrugged. “Let me be the judge of that.”
“And what happens to me then?” Almeida asked. “After I tell all.”
“Then you can go. Free.”
“Do I have your word?”
“You have this,” Alicia barked, wrapping the towel around his face again. Almeida struggled and flapped his hands.
“Okay, okay!” he squeaked as the towel was removed. “I heard this from a dude I know, but like I said it could be complete bullshit.” Again he hesitated.
“Speak!” Dahl cried. “Do it now!”
“Okay, okay. Keep yer trilby on. It was the CIA,” he said matter-of-factly. “The CIA are coming.”
Hayden, perhaps naively, immediately shook her head. “No way. We’d have heard about a joint op.”
“No.” Almeida grinned maliciously at her misunderstanding. “The CIA are here . . . as clients. Customers. They’re fucking buying, lady.”
Drake touched Hayden’s shoulder as the ex-CIA agent gaped and then looked ready to explode. The truth was, the CIA had many shadowy arms as did most organizations. Black ops missions and black sites had to get their raw materials from somewhere. Maybe this was one of those places. But this was a revelation from which the whole team would have to take stock. Were they safe? Did this particular CIA entity know they were here? Or was it all, as Almeida said, complete bullshit?
“And the Big Dog,” the Brazilian added. “He’s coming with them.”
Now Drake frowned. “Big Dog? What the hell are y’ blathering about?”
Almeida seemed confused. “What?”
“Explain,” Smyth growled.
“That’s all he said,” Almeida blurted. “My friend. The man I talked to who helped them with the choppering in. We spoke often,” he admitted. “Compared notes in case there was someone we—” he stopped abruptly.
“Could blackmail,” Dahl completed it for him. “Yeah, we know.”
“He told me about a guy the CIA were bringing to meet the man of myth—Ramses. Called him the Big Dog. That’s all.”
Hayden turned to Drake, shock embedded into her features. “Surely not the director? The assistant director?
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