Eddie looked down at his filthy, ripped, bloodstained clothing. ‘You mean they aren’t going to bottle me as the new fragrance from Hugo Boss?’
‘Cool house,’ said Macy, regarding the Clubhouse through the rented Fiat’s rear window.
Eddie made a non-committal sound. Architecture was not foremost on his mind, but rather the soldiers on duty around the mansion. There were two at the main gate, and even though the building and its grounds were partially concealed behind trees and a wall he had spotted at least three other uniformed men. As Callas’s unofficial headquarters, those numbers would be the tip of the iceberg.
‘So what do you think?’ Mac asked from the driver’s seat.
‘Unless I dress up as a delivery boy bringing twenty pizzas, I doubt I’ll get in through the front gate. And they’ll be watching the golf course round the back too.’ He looked at one of the nearby houses. Another mansion, though not as grand as the one the Venezuelan government had confiscated. ‘The neighbours – they’re still all normal houses with people living in them, right?’
‘I think so. According to MI6, the chap who owned the Clubhouse was rather outspoken against the Suarez regime. Whether the tax evasion charges were real or trumped up they didn’t know, but he was someone Suarez had been targeting for some time.’
Eddie scanned the row of luxury houses. ‘Might have to do a bit of garden-hopping. But I’ll need a distraction to get into the Clubhouse grounds without being seen.’
‘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 el Presidente’ll pay you back.’ Eddie pointed down the street. ‘Okay. To the mall!’
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