She looked for the helicopter. Its crew were equally surprised by the supercar’s abilities, but they quickly recovered, the gunship drawing alongside. The gunner’s head turned towards her, the turret beneath the cockpit matching the movement.
Locking on—
She stamped on the brake.
The deceleration was so violent, not even the car’s driving aids could fully compensate. The Raiju fishtailed, burning black streaks of rubber on to the asphalt as the cannon fire ripped into the cliff along the roadside ahead of it. The gunner turned to track his target, but the Apache had already flown on, the gun hitting the limit of its firing arc.
With their seat belts unfastened, Nina and Lobato were pitched forward; only her braced legs kept her from ending up in the footwell, while the billionaire crashed into the dash. Eddie, wedged against the back of Nina’s seat, came off better, but was still sent flailing. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ he yelled over the Emir’s scream. ‘You trying to kill him?’
‘Oh shut up!’ Nina snapped, her patience at an end. The gunship was already looping around for another attack. She accelerated again. The sudden stop had not affected the car, which quickly regained its insane speed through the curves. ‘Hang on – I’ll have to weave in a few seconds!’
The Apache completed its sweeping turn. The cannon tilted down to find its target—
Nina gripped the steering wheel, then tapped the brake with her left foot, while keeping her right firmly planted on the accelerator. The turquoise lights went out. She clenched her jaw and jinked into the other lane as the gunship opened fire.
The impacts were much closer this time. The Raiju shook as blasts pummelled its side, metal fragments punching through the carbon-fibre bodywork and cracking the rear window. She applied another burst of speed – then braked hard, swerving back into her original lane. Another furious burst of cannon shells stitched holes into the road ahead, then the firing stopped as the Apache overshot them again.
Another bend swept the supercar into a fold in the canyon’s side. Nina powered through it. They were already nearing the bottom of the winding road. The desert plain leading to the Dhajani coast came into view as she rounded the final curve. ‘Hey, car, assisted mode,’ she gasped. The displays regained their turquoise tinge.
Foot down again, the needle flicking upwards as the Raiju descended on to the long, straight highway. She searched for the Apache. It had fallen behind, making a second looping turn for another attack run only to realise too late that its prey had reached its natural habitat: the open road.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s see what this baby can do.’
Even though they were again exceeding a hundred miles per hour, the acceleration was still forceful enough to give the car’s occupants a jolt of adrenalin. At one hundred and fifty, the ride remained smooth; only when they passed the two hundred mark did it start to vibrate, the sheer volume of wind rushing over the bodywork causing turbulence even as the fins and flaps adjusted to smooth the airflow.
‘How’s the Emir?’ she asked Eddie.
He had finished covering the wound. ‘He’ll be okay if we get him to a hospital fast enough.’
‘I don’t think speed’ll be a problem.’ They were at almost two hundred and fifty mph, covering a mile every fifteen seconds. Nina was glad the computer was handling the steering; even on a straight, empty road, she wasn’t confident she could react quickly enough to avoid anything they encountered.
‘Unless that chopper starts shooting again.’
She checked the rear view. The Apache was now just a sand-coloured spot against the rocky backdrop, the supercar easily outpacing it. ‘They’re not firing. Out of ammo, or . . .’
‘Or there’s something else ahead of us,’ Eddie concluded grimly.
Lobato struggled back into his seat. ‘We need to decide where we are going.’
‘I will . . . tell the computer,’ said the Emir weakly. ‘Hey, car?’ The chime sounded, and he spoke to it in Arabic. It confirmed his command in the same language, the map zooming out to show a route to an address in Dhajan City. ‘An old friend. Someone I . . . I trust with my life.’
‘Bet you thought that about Alula, though,’ said Eddie.
‘I did. I hope I have not . . . made two mistakes . . . in one day.’
‘Oh, me and Nina usually manage eight or nine.’
‘Before breakfast,’ Nina added. The car briefly overrode her control of the accelerator, slowing to a mere two hundred to bring itself on to the coastal highway. ‘Hey, there’s Rahji—’ The Saudi’s parked SUV flashed from dot ahead to blur to dot behind. ‘There was Rahji.’
‘At this speed, we will reach the city in just over a minute,’ said Lobato. The Raiju guided itself around a lone car traversing the route, then snapped back into its original lane.
The skyscrapers of Dhajan City rose over the dunes, the highway a shimmering black line sweeping towards them. Nina frowned as shapes emerged from the heat haze. ‘There’s something on the road. Something big.’
Lobato peered ahead. ‘Trucks?’
Eddie looked past his wife. ‘No – those are fucking tanks!’
‘Oh crap,’ she gasped. ‘They really, really want to stop us! Is there another way to the city?’
‘Not . . . from here,’ the Emir told her. ‘This is the only road.’
‘So we’ve got to get past them.’ The squat and angular war machines rapidly took on form, main guns pointing ahead as they rolled side by side along the highway. Nina accelerated once more.
‘You sure about this?’ asked the Yorkshireman. ‘You’re driving straight at a couple of Leclercs at two hundred miles an hour!’
‘I’m going to drive straight between them – well, the car is. Gideon, can it do that?’
Lobato stared at the rapidly approaching tanks. ‘It is not a situation that has been simulated . . .’
‘Great! Let’s hope we’re moving faster than they can aim!’
They would find out all too soon. The supercar had eaten up the distance in seconds, racing towards the tanks like a wheeled missile. Nina glanced at the speedo. Two-sixty, and the computer was not trying to slow down. It had apparently calculated that it could fit through the gap, and she was now committed to trusting its judgement.
She looked back up – to see the turrets turning towards her.
‘Incoming!’ she gasped—
Both tanks opened fire, but with their secondary machine guns rather than the main cannons. Tracer rounds streaked at the car, the initial sprays going wide before the gunners homed in on their target. Nina had to force herself not to grab the wheel to swerve. Their lives depended on the computer.
The searing lines of bullets closed in – and hit.
Rounds ripped into the car’s nose, shards of shattered carbon fibre flying up over the windscreen, which cracked as the bullets punched through the polycarbonate. The whole vehicle shuddered as the incoming fire hit the heavy battery packs. Nina ducked, Lobato shrieking—
The pounding suddenly ceased, even though the guns were still firing. The Raiju was closing so quickly, the gunners couldn’t redirect their weapons fast enough to track it.
The supercar rocketed towards the gap between the two tanks. But they were now turning towards each other, trying to block its path.
Nina cringed and closed her eyes—
A whump of displaced air jolted the car as it shot through the narrowing space with mere inches to spare. If it had had wing mirrors, they would have been sheared off. She opened her eyes again to see the tanks rapidly receding in the rear-view screens. ‘Jesus!’ she cried, scarcely believing she was still alive. ‘We made it!’
‘Still got to get to where we’re going,’ Eddie reminded her, raising his voice over the roar of wind through bullet holes. One of the dashboard screens was broken, the round that had smashed through it buried in the side padding of Lobato’s seat. ‘Everyone okay?’
‘Yes,’ said the shocked billionaire, ‘but the
car is damaged.’ A surviving screen was flashing urgent warnings. ‘The batteries are on fire!’
‘The same kind of batteries as at the solar plant?’ said Nina. ‘The same kind of batteries that exploded like a goddamn – bomb when they got too hot?’
‘Time to get out,’ said Eddie. ‘Where are we?’
They were approaching the fringes of Dhajan City. A couple of miles ahead was the country’s main harbour, tower cranes and hulking container ships rising high above the water, but all were dwarfed by the Atlantia. The liner had returned to its home port for repairs, its long voyage completed just in time to witness the departure of its sister ship. Inland, the gleaming skyscrapers of the city’s business district stabbed into the blue sky, but the map told them they would soon turn away towards the suburbs. ‘We are going to . . . my friend Mamun bin Junayd,’ the Emir said, struggling to be heard over the wind. ‘He was my mentor in the . . . Dhajani army. A good man. A loyal man.’
‘Let’s hope he’s loyal to you personally,’ said Nina. She checked the map. About a mile and a half to go, the freeway exit not far ahead. ‘Is it always this quiet?’ Even as they entered the city’s outskirts, there was a distinct lack of traffic.
‘No,’ said Lobato, concerned. ‘This road is always busy.’
‘That’d be why.’ Eddie pointed to the bottom of the approaching slip road. There was a jumbled line of stationary vehicles at the intersection, where a military roadblock had been hastily erected. ‘Alula’s kicked off her coup!’
Smoke started to boil from the vents and bullet holes in the car’s nose. An alarming sizzling sound rose; more batteries overheating as the flames from the damaged packs spread. ‘This thing’s about to kick off too,’ said Nina as an acrid stench hit her nostrils. Another glance at the map: less than a mile to their destination. ‘We’ve got to get out!’
‘We will . . . never get past the soldiers,’ groaned the Emir.
Eddie coughed as more smoke coiled past him – then jabbed a finger at the roadside. ‘Stop here, stop!’ he snapped.
Nina knew from his tone that he had a plan. She braked hard, halting the Raiju alongside a large billboard. The hoarding was directly in line with the roadblock, obscuring them from the waiting soldiers’ view. She swung up the scissor door and clambered out, Lobato exiting too as Eddie unbuckled the Emir and lifted him from the car.
‘This will not hide us for long,’ said Lobato. ‘The soldiers are waiting for us – they will come looking!’
‘They’re waiting for the car,’ Eddie corrected. Still supporting the wounded man, he leaned back into the cabin. ‘Hey, car! Auto mode.’
‘Destination?’ the computer asked.
‘Er . . . the current one?’
‘Confirmed. Please close all doors to proceed.’
He slammed the door, signalling Lobato to do the same. The billionaire looked confused, but did so. The moment both were shut, the smoking supercar set off – with nobody inside it. ‘Quick, over here,’ Eddie said. He and Nina carried the Emir towards the end of the billboard.
Lobato hurried after them. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Causing a distraction.’ Eddie leaned around the hoarding to observe the slip road. The car was already heading down it, the soldiers at the junction raising their weapons. Civilians trapped by the roadblock scrambled from their cars as they opened fire.
The Raiju’s windows blew apart, bodywork fragmenting as rifle bullets riddled it. But it kept coming, the computer still guiding it onwards until its sensors picked up the stalled traffic ahead. It came neatly to a stop at the rear of the muddled line even as the soldiers kept shooting.
The squad’s commander let loose a final burst, then shouted a command to cease fire. He advanced warily, weapon trained on the pockmarked cabin. His men followed, all reacting in surprise as they saw there was nobody inside . . .
Flames gushed out from beneath the stationary vehicle – and its burning, bullet-torn batteries exploded.
The soldiers scrambled for cover as blazing lithium fragments rained around them. Panicked screams rang across the intersection.
‘Come on,’ said Eddie, starting down a sandy embankment. Nina helped him with the Emir, Lobato limping along behind them. Low-rise housing blocks backed on to the highway; they scaled the wall of the dusty garden area behind one and headed for the road on its other side. ‘Hope you remember how to get to your mate’s house,’ the Yorkshireman said to the Emir.
‘I do,’ came the strained reply. ‘It is not far.’
‘Listen!’ said Lobato in alarm. Over the shouts and cries from the roadblock came the rattle of more gunfire. This was from further away, within the city itself.
‘Sounds like people aren’t happy about your sister taking over,’ Eddie said. ‘This keeps up, you’ll have a civil war on your hands.’
The Emir moaned. ‘Alula, what have you done? People will die because of you!’
‘A lot of people, if the spearhead blows up in Bahrain,’ Nina reminded him. ‘We’ve got to stop her.’
‘How?’ asked Lobato.
She gave him a fraught look. ‘I’ll tell you as soon as I know myself.’
41
Alula gazed from the co-pilot’s seat of the royal helicopter at the vessel below. The Pacifia, identical bar minor cosmetic features to its sister ship, sat stationary in the blue waters of the Gulf of Salwah. It had departed on its maiden voyage a few hours earlier, heading northwards on what was scheduled to be a four-day cruise around the more tourist-friendly quarters of the Persian Gulf.
It would not complete it.
The spearhead sat in a metal case on her lap. She opened it. The strange light spilled out, bright even in the midday sun. What was going on inside the crystal, she wasn’t sure – but then nobody knew for sure, Wilde and Lobato and everyone else with a theory offering nothing more than that: a theory. What mattered was what would happen in practice. And based on Wilde’s discoveries in Turkey, it would do exactly what its creators had claimed.
Obliterate her country’s enemies.
The pilot responded to a radio message. ‘We’re cleared for landing, Your Majesty.’
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Have the captain meet me on the pad.’
She closed the lid, leaning back as the Sikorsky S-76 descended. The Pacifia had stopped to receive its unexpected visitor, but she wanted it under way again as soon as possible. It would take over three hours to reach Bahrain, and she needed the huge ship to be at its target when the spearhead exploded.
The helicopter dropped towards the Pacifia’s bow, bay doors swinging open and landing gear extending. Passengers lounging on the upper deck watched as if its arrival was another show laid on for their amusement. Parasites, she thought with contempt. These were the people Fadil had been so intent on courting? Prostituting their country for fat, debauched old Westerners?
She hid her disgust as the S-76 landed side-on to the superstructure, presenting her door to the waiting officers. The moment the wheels came to rest, crew members scurried to secure them with steel cables.
Al-Asim exited first, surveying the bow for potential threats before opening Alula’s door as the rest of his team of seven men emerged. She passed him the case. He held it in one hand, extending his other to help her out. ‘Your Majesty,’ he said as she stepped down.
‘Thank you, Hashim,’ she said. Heads low beneath the still-whirling rotor blades, they strode across the helipad to the waiting contingent.
A grey-bearded man in a crisp white uniform stepped forward to greet her. ‘Your Royal Highness,’ he said, bowing. ‘I’m Jesper Ingels, captain of the Pacifia. We are all honoured to have you aboard for our maiden voyage.’ The Dane peered past her at the helicopter. ‘I was under the impression the Emir himself would also be here?’
Alula fixed him with a cold look. ‘There has been a change of government. I am now the Emira.’
He was shocked. ‘I . . . I am not sure what to say.’
�
�You can start by pledging your loyalty to Her Majesty,’ growled al-Asim.
‘Of course, of course!’ Ingels bowed again, more deeply. ‘Your Royal Hi— Your Majesty, on behalf of the Pacifia’s officers and crew, I extend our deepest congratulations and respect.’ He looked up at her. ‘Does this mean the previous Emir is—’
‘My brother is dead,’ Alula said curtly. ‘I have declared a state of emergency in Dhajan to ensure calm. As this is a Dhajani-flagged vessel, the same applies here.’
‘But we are in international waters, so . . .’ The captain saw her growing hostility and hastily changed tack. ‘But as you say, this is a Dhajani vessel. What are your orders, Your Majesty?’
Alula marched towards the superstructure’s entrance, al-Asim and his men forming a protective cordon around her. Ingels and his staff hurriedly followed. ‘I want all communications cut off,’ she told him. ‘Cell phones, two-way radio, satellite television, internet – everything.’
‘Everything?’ echoed Ingels in alarm.
‘Her Majesty does not want the passengers panicked by news of what has happened in Dhajan,’ al-Asim told him.
‘I see. But would it not be better—’
‘You will also set course for Manama harbour in Bahrain,’ Alula went on. ‘Get under way immediately.’
Ingels became more concerned by the moment. ‘But we aren’t scheduled to stop there for three days. With everything that has happened in Dhajan, wouldn’t you prefer to be there rather than in Bahrain?’
‘Do not question Her Majesty!’ snapped al-Asim. ‘Cut off all external communications, and set course for Manama. Now!’
They entered the ship. ‘What should I tell the passengers?’ the captain asked.
‘Tell them nothing,’ Alula replied.
‘Your Majesty,’ he said, standing straighter, ‘the safety of the passengers is my absolute priority as captain. If there is anything that—’
Alula stopped and faced him, her bodyguards shifting position to trap him in a menacing circle. The other officers retreated, worried and confused. Even though the Dane was a head taller, he shrank back as she leaned closer, almost snarling her words. ‘The passengers will be safe. Your job is not. If you do not do as I say, I will replace you with someone who will – and have you arrested.’
The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14) Page 43