“I’ll live. Good job it didn’t hit my face—it would’ve ruined my good looks.” A grin creased his battle-worn visage; she smiled back. “You ready?”
She nodded. Eddie entered the corridor, quickly moving to the glass door. A couple of Osir’s bikini-clad girls were sunbathing below, a trio of the yacht’s crew with them, watching the race on a flat-screen TV. Two of the men were armed. “Well, strolling casually to the boats is out.” He raised the gun. “On three, we both jump. Soon as you land, run for whichever boat’s in the water, start it, and do not stop for anything. They’re going to kill us anyway—if they catch us again we won’t get a second chance. All right?”
“All right,” Nina reluctantly agreed. “I’ll tell you something, though.”
“What?”
“I’m not depressed anymore.”
“Yeah, nothing like a death threat to pep you up, is there?” They kissed, then Eddie pushed the door open. “Okay, one, two, three—go!”
They burst out into the hot Mediterranean sun and vaulted the railing.
The drop was almost nine feet; Nina’s landing was painfully hard, making her fall. Eddie fared better, dropping into a frog-like crouch before springing back up. One of the women shrieked, the other staring at him with dull surprise. The men jumped up, the armed ones fumbling for their guns.
Eddie’s MP7 clattered, two silenced bursts stitching lines of bloody holes across the pair’s chests.
Noise from behind—
He spun and fired another burst at another man beneath the balcony, a gun spinning from his hands as he was thrown back against the blood-splattered bulkhead.
Nina got up. “You okay?” Eddie asked. She nodded. “Good. Get to the boats.” As she set off, he covered the remaining people. The shrieking woman had progressed to full-blown screams, her companion still regarding him with blank-eyed bewilderment. The unarmed man was eyeing the dead crewmen’s guns. “Can you all swim?”
The responses from the trio were in the affirmative. “Good. You’ve got three seconds to start!” He waved his gun at the yacht’s side. They got the message and jumped overboard.
He ran after Nina, pointing the gun back at the yacht’s superstructure as he reached the stairs to the dock. Another green-jacketed man appeared, pulling the charging handle on his MP7—only to take a burst from Eddie’s gun and crash over a lounger. Knowing that his weapon was down to its last few rounds, Eddie dropped it and snatched up one of the dead men’s guns as he went past.
Nina checked the boats, not liking what she found. Both speedboats had been winched out of the water, the only floating options for escape being Jet Skis. “Eddie, I hope you know how to ride these things, ’cause I don’t have a clue!”
“Just start one!” He fired a few shots to force a crewman back into the ship, then jumped down to join Nina. “I’ll drive!”
She started the engine, looking in concern at a prominent warning sticker about the danger from the little craft’s powerful underwater jet blast. “It says we should be wearing wet suits.”
“Yeah, and we should be wearing life jackets too, but we’ll have to make do!” He vaulted aboard in front of her. “Take the gun, and don’t fall off!”
She clutched the MP7 and gripped his waist tightly as he twisted the throttle, sending the Jet Ski blasting away from the yacht in a plume of spray.
TWENTY
Osir stood at the window of the VIP box, face almost pressed against the glass as the race leaders screamed past—with Mikko Virtanen fronting the pack. “Yes!” he cried, pumping his fist. It was only OIG’s second year as primary sponsor of what had previously been the second-tier Monarch team, but the results already spoke for themselves—and with a win at Monaco, the most prestigious race of all, the publicity boost for the Osirian Temple would be beyond measure.
Shaban was seated behind him, barely paying attention. His phone rang, and he listened to the frantic voice on the other end of the line for several seconds before jumping up. “Khalid!”
“Not now,” said Osir, waving a dismissive hand.
“Khalid,” Shaban repeated, the anger in his voice drawing his brother’s attention from the race. “The yacht.”
“What is it?”
Shaban ushered him away from the box’s other occupants. “Wilde and Chase have escaped.”
Osir looked stricken. “What?”
“They killed some of our men, then stole a Jet Ski.”
“When—when did this happen?”
“Seconds ago—they just left.”
Osir tried to devise an authoritative course of action, but all he could manage was, “We have to stop them.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Shaban turned away, raising the phone.
Osir touched his shoulder. “Discreetly. No trouble. Not here,” he said, almost pleading.
“That depends on them.” He spoke to the Solar Barque’s captain. “Send every man you have after them. Get the tender to intercept them in the harbor. Follow them in the yacht if you have to—they must be stopped. At any cost.” He snapped the phone shut, giving Osir a disapproving look before hurrying out.
The open sea off Monaco was choppy enough to make things bouncy for any craft not large enough to ride it out—and for something as small as a Jet Ski, it was practically a roller coaster. “Jesus!” yelped Nina as their Kawasaki crested a wave and was airborne for a moment before smacking down heavily in the trough beyond. “Can’t you keep it in the water?”
“Only if you want them to catch us,” Eddie answered. He looked back. A Jet Ski had already left the Solar Barque in pursuit, one of the speedboats had just been dropped into the water to follow them—and the yacht itself was powering up, froth boiling beneath the bow as it used its thrusters to turn around. “Oh, great! The guy’s got his own private navy!”
A wave tossed them skyward again, Eddie battling to keep the craft from tipping over as it landed. Another large yacht loomed ahead; he turned sharply around its stern, aiming for the harbor entrance beyond the flotilla of expensive pleasure craft.
Nina glanced around. The pursuing Jet Ski was gaining fast, and the speedboat was also rapidly closing the gap. “I think this guy’s a better driver than you,” she said as the other Jet Ski carved cleanly through a swelling wave without losing speed.
“I bloody hate show-offs,” Eddie growled, seeing that the other rider would quickly catch up—and that he was armed.
A flash of fast-moving color beyond a line of anchored yachts. Even from a momentary glimpse he knew what it was, and turned toward it. “What’re you doing?” Nina asked nervously as the harbor entrance swung away. Their pursuer changed course to intercept them, drawing closer.
“When I say duck, duck. And I mean really, really duck!”
They were heading almost straight at the lead yacht’s bow. “You’re going to hit it!”
“No, I’m aiming close—but we’re gonna be even closer to something else.”
“What do you—” A red-and-white powerboat shot into view from behind the yacht, thundering along parallel to the line of vessels. “Holy shit!”
The man on the other Jet Ski raised his gun—
“Duck!” Eddie screamed, dropping as low as he could behind the handlebars. Nina followed suit.
The Jet Ski zoomed past the yacht, barely missing the powerboat’s stern as it crossed behind it—passing under the towrope hauling a water-skier along in its wake, the line slicing an inch over their heads.
The other rider swerved to follow them past the powerboat. The towline was partly hidden by spray, and by the time he saw it, it was too late—
The line caught him just below the chin. His speeding Jet Ski kept going as he was snatched from it with a crack of shattering vertebrae, spinning back over the rope to splash into the water. The water-skier hit the corpse, taking off as if hitting a ramp before tumbling to a waterlogged stop.
Eddie turned back toward the harbor entrance. The Solar Barque’s speedboat swerve
d through the anchored boats after them.
Another vessel, green and gold, burst out of the harbor. The yacht’s tender, two men aboard. It made a hard turn as it cleared the outer breakwater, coming right at them.
They were cut off.
Eddie made a split-second decision and brought the Jet Ski back into the millionaires’ armada. The larger boats were more powerful, but his Kawasaki had the edge in maneuverability. If he could weave through the stationary yachts, he might gain enough of a lead to run for the harbor …
Shit!
His plan would fail. The Solar Barque was powering for the harbor entrance. If he wasted time trying to escape the two smaller boats, it would block their path.
The speedboat was gaining fast from behind. The tender was also accelerating, smacking hard through the waves.
Every escape route was closed—unless he made a new one.
Nina clung harder to Eddie as he turned the Jet Ski again and headed straight for the tender. “Whoa, whoa!” she cried, jabbing a finger at the rapidly approaching boat. “Bad guys!”
“I know!”
“Then go away from them!”
“Trust me!” He jinked from side to side, searching for the perfect wave.
A man in the tender stood up, one hand clutching the windshield for support as he aimed his gun with the other.
Eddie saw a deep trough in the water ahead, a steep breaking wave crest beyond it. Right in line with the tender. “Hang on!”
He swept into the dip, turning the throttle as far as it would go as the Jet Ski shot up the crest.
And out of the water.
The gunman was about to fire when the jet ski momentarily dipped out of sight beneath his boat’s prow—then flew up over it, smashing down on the bow.
Gripping the handlebars with all his strength, Eddie leaned over, pulling Nina with him and tipping the Jet Ski as it skidded sidelong over the decking. The little craft’s underside smashed through the windshield and ground along the tender’s side—in the process crushing the driver against his seat back and catching the gunman with a jet blast that struck him like a blow from a baseball bat.
The Jet Ski flew off the stern and slammed back into the water, only Nina’s near-death-grip on Eddie keeping her from being flung off. The jet spluttered and coughed before drawing more water into its impeller, sending the Kawasaki surging forward again.
The tender plowed onward at full power, the driver dead. The gunman fumbled for the controls, catching the steering wheel and knocking the boat into a turn—
Directly into the speedboat’s path as it swung to avoid a head-on collision.
The speedboat ripped through the tender’s side, both boats exploding in a storm of shattered wood and fiberglass. Blazing debris rained over the surrounding yachts.
Nina looked back at the cartwheeling wreckage, but Eddie’s attention was fixed on what lay ahead. The Solar Barque was almost at the harbor entrance. “Hold on!”
She saw green-jacketed men on the yacht’s main deck—all armed. “They’re gonna shoot us!”
He brought the Jet Ski parallel to the breakwater. “Shoot them first!”
“I’ll never be able to hit them!”
“You don’t have to—just keep their heads down so they can’t hit us!”
Nina pointed the MP7 up at the rapidly approaching ship. “Oh God, I’m so not a gun person,” she said, wincing as she pulled the trigger.
The gun bucked in her hand, the bolt’s rapid clacking almost as loud as the hissing thwat of the suppressor with each shot. Firing one-handed from a bounding vehicle, she found it almost impossible to aim, but against a target the size of the yacht it didn’t matter. Black spots pockmarked the Solar Barque’s pristine white superstructure, a window shattering. The men dived to the deck.
“Stop, stop!” said Eddie. “Save some!” The end of the breakwater was coming up fast. He hauled the Jet Ski around in a savage left turn, clearing the concrete by inches.
The harbor opened out before them, Monaco shimmering under the sun on three sides. Eddie aimed for the inner harbor; the outer harbor’s high quays were built for commercial ships and liners, not tiny pleasure craft. They needed to find a lower pier to get ashore.
Nina looked back. “Oh, crap!” The Solar Barque was right behind them, its prow a giant knife blade slicing through the water. Gaining. “Faster, faster! Seriously, go faster!”
“It’s a Jet Ski, not a jet fighter!” Eddie complained. “If anyone sticks their head over the side, blow it off!”
Nina awkwardly turned in her seat, pointing the gun up at the looming bow. She saw a man lean over the port side, spotting the Jet Ski. He hurriedly ducked out of sight as she fired a couple of shots.
They entered the inner harbor, Eddie turning to make landfall at the northwestern corner—and saw a new threat powering toward them. Not from Osir’s people; this was a police boat, siren wailing. The chaos outside the harbor had attracted attention. An officer shouted commands over a megaphone, ordering both vessels to stop. “Buggeration and fuckery!”
“Any friends in the Monaco police department?” Nina asked hopefully. The absence of an answer was enough. “Thought not!”
More figures appeared at the yacht’s bow railing, guns pointing down—
Nina fired first. One man retreated sharply; the other was hit in the shoulder. He spun backward, finger convulsively tightening on his trigger …
Sending a stream of armor-piercing bullets up the front of the superstructure.
The bridge window blew out—and the captain, at the wheel behind it, was hit square in the forehead. He collapsed over the instrument panel, dead. The throttle control was pushed to full beneath him—and with the other crew members all on deck trying to shoot Nina and Eddie, there was nobody to take over …
The police boat altered course to cut off the chase. Eddie darted behind it, the Jet Ski leaping out of the water as it crashed through its wake. He glimpsed an officer in the stern raising a rifle. “Down!” he warned Nina, looking back to see when the man was going to fire.
He wasn’t. Instead, he was leaping desperately out of the boat, his companions diving off the bow.
A moment later the Solar Barque plowed over the smaller craft, ripping it in half. The smashed boat’s fuel tanks exploded, the yacht carving through the fireball as it blindly pursued the Jet Ski. One of Osir’s men flung himself into the harbor as flames rolled across the foredeck.
“Jesus!” Nina cried. “Are they insane?”
Eddie turned again, aiming for a small slipway between the crowded quays. The yacht didn’t follow. “I don’t think anyone’s driving.”
“What? But I only winged that guy!”
“I’m not complaining!”
The Solar Barque surged past behind them, any thoughts among its crew of shooting the fugitives replaced by simple survival instinct as they dived overboard. The yacht was powering straight for a clutch of smaller but still hugely expensive vessels in the corner of the harbor, their occupants’ attention suddenly diverted from the racing before them to the rapidly approaching behemoth behind. People fled screaming down the gangways.
“Get ready to run,” Eddie told Nina. “Soon as we hit land, we leg it, and don’t stop until we’re half a mile away!”
The Jet Ski shot up the slipway, keel scraping noisily along the concrete. Crash barriers loomed ahead: the racing circuit ran right along the harbor front. Eddie yanked at the controls, but out of the water there was no way to steer the Kawasaki. It hit the corrugated metal, flinging both passengers painfully against the handlebars.
A race marshal nearby saw the unexpected collision and started to run to them—then froze in shock as the Solar Barque, smoke billowing from its scorched bow, rammed into the harbor at close to thirty miles an hour.
The smaller yachts disintegrated into fireballs of multimillion-dollar debris as it smashed through them. A larger vessel was flipped on its side—and the mega-yacht ran up over it to
crash down on the quay, its mangled prow ripping apart the crash barriers. The Solar Barque skidded across the track like a steel wall, beaching itself in front of a grandstand as it screeched to a stop.
Mikko Virtanen was still in the lead, powering out of the chicane on the harbor’s northern side—to find a towering white barrier where he expected to see a corner. The marshals came to their senses and frantically waved warning flags, but it was too late for the Finn.
He stamped on the brakes, his car skidding past Nina and Eddie’s position and spinning out before crashing tail-first into the hull. Another million dollars of Team Osiris hardware was reduced to shrapnel, what was left of the body whirling back along the track and grinding to a standstill. Again, the car’s designers had done their job perfectly; dazed but unharmed, Virtanen shakily opened his visor and blinked up at the people staring at him over the barrier.
Nina nudged Eddie. “You know you said to run as soon as we got to land?”
“Yeah? Oh, right.” They sprinted away as more marshals hurried to the scene.
“You did that?” said Macy in amazement, indicating a helicopter shot of the beached yacht on a TV screen. “Wow! That must be like a hundred million dollars in trashed boats!”
“I told Osir it’d cost him,” Nina said, looking warily around the hotel lobby. The fences surrounding the circuit were designed to keep spectators out; exiting hadn’t been hard, but there had been the constant worry that the police were hunting for them as they made their way back to Casino Square. So far, nobody had recognized them—the cameras were focused on the race, not the harbor, until moments before the Solar Barque crashed spectacularly ashore—but she still wanted to get out of the principality as soon as possible. At the very least, there would be several angry insurance companies after their heads.
“Sucks for Mikko, though. Poor guy. He really thought he was going to win.”
The Pyramid of Doom_A Novel Page 25