The Illuminati Sanctum (The Relic Hunters 6) David Leadbeater (new reading .txt) 📖

startling city, resplendent with history. Lucie had visited many times before but said seven times in their first hour that she couldn’t get enough of it. Jemma was pleased to see a different side to the reserved historian.

Walking past the half-ruined, many-arched remains of the Colosseum, Jemma tied her long, dark hair into a bun and pulled an Under Armour baseball cap over her head. She wanted to look as normal as possible, at least until they were spotted. Lucie gawped up at the curve of the oval amphitheater for a while as Jemma checked their extremities. They’d been here two hours already, checked out the Vatican and Saint Peter’s Square as well as a well-recommended pastry and coffee shop on the Via dei Corridori that nestled close to a genuine Italian restaurant that Jemma had earmarked for later, if they lasted that long.

They didn’t.

Coming around the Colosseum, Jemma’s observational instincts were prodded by a trio of dark vans edging along the road at their backs. A man wearing mirror sunglasses was in front, clearly speaking into a wrist-mic. Jemma almost shook her head. For CIA spooks, they were amateurs at best, but then maybe they underestimated the two women they were hunting.

Jemma grabbed Lucie by the arm and whisked her into the oval ruin, taking only a few minutes to emerge from the other side. Reappearing in the street, Jemma was hit again by scouring winds and sleet, but kept her head up, scanning for watchers. There were none.

She and Lucie crossed a road, darting between cars, and crossed a rectangular patch of grass before ducking into the shadow of another concrete relic. High hedges and trees helped cover their escape.

Jemma grabbed new clothes from a backpack and a new disguise that consisted of shorts, a pin-badge studded leather coat and white ankle boots. She changed right there in the lee of a huge tree, leaving trousers, a warm jacket and her baseball cap in a heap. Lucie switched from blue jeans and several layers of hoodies into a denim jacket and leather pants. She also donned a platinum blond wig.

Together, the pair flagged down a passing taxi and left the scene. Jemma’s plan had worked, near enough. All that mattered now was changing passports and their upcoming journey to Mexico.

*

Yasmine paused to take a breath. She was far from tired. Montenegro was such a beautiful country, one of the only places in the world besides Morocco that would live forever in her heart. She’d chosen the delightful town of Herceg Novi in which to lay out her false flag, a place she’d first discovered over fifteen years ago during her first decade with Interpol. She’d already walked the old town and was now headed down to the Bay of Kotor which wound its way around steep, inspiring cliffs. The going was steep, a single rocky path bordered by a crumbling brick wall, but the sparkling views to her left were worth it.

It might be winter, but it was a stunning winter here in on the Balkan coast.

A large cruise ship plied the waters, extravagant yachts giving it a wide berth. Jagged mountains lined every horizon. Yasmine perched on a smooth section of the scruffy wall and pulled out her cellphone.

“Is that you?” she asked when her call was answered.

“Yes. Are you out of Montenegro, darling?”

“No, no. I love it here. I’m in—”

“You love it there? Come on, Yas...”

“I know, Miki, I know. But, where we’re going, I might never see this place again. I wanted—”

“To make love to it one more time before you split forever? Yeah, don’t we all? But that hardly ever happens, darl. At least not in a good way.”

Yasmine turned to drink in the scene once more: the mountains, the sea, the orange roofs of the lower town and the striking, rugged old buildings. “So tell me, Miki, did you set up the ghostlines for us?”

“It’s why I asked you to call. Yeah, just remember nothing’s unbreachable, but the beauty of this network is nobody knows you’re using it. And it’s simple. You—”

“Thank God,” Yasmine said with a smile.

“Yeah, well I know what I’m dealing with, so I went old school. I’ve sent information via the tried and tested Hotmail account with messages dropped in the Draft section. That can’t be underestimated, or messed up even by you guys. I put the website address in there too, along with passwords. Any online orders you make after arriving at your new home can go through it and get delivered to the blind address, from which you can collect later. The website is also how you’ll communicate with the outside world and surf the Internet.”

“It’s safe?”

Miki sighed. “Are you kidding me, darl? Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing’s unbreachable, as I said. But don’t stamp too loudly and no one will hear you pass by. Got it?”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“Good. Now, I have to get to work.”

“Night shift?”

“Night shift. Some idiots found King Arthur’s tomb and brought out all the world’s crazies. You’d be amazed at the amount of wanted criminals headed to the UK.”

Yasmine bit her lip. “I wouldn’t, not at all. But the noise they make helps us disappear. It helps confuse the path we take.”

The two signed off with some small talk, Yasmine feeling more than a little sentimental. Their whole future was designed around the fact that they wouldn’t revisit old haunts or talk to old acquaintances. Nothing could compromise their new home for fear of reprisals from the CIA and Pang. Maybe even Heidi. The curly-haired agent would be pissed as hell at being left behind, especially at Bodie. Yasmine wondered if she’d ever talk to Miki again.

Her life had been a whirlwind ever since she met these relic hunters and Eli Cross on their quest for Atlantis. Crazy