41
‘I know you,’ said Stikes with a suspicious frown as
Sophia Blackwood descended the steps, her long black coat billowing
in the idling helicopter’s rotor wash. ‘You were Chase’s
wife.’
‘I know you too,’
said Kit, alarmed. ‘You tried to set off a nuclear bomb in New
York!’
Stikes’s frown
deepened. ‘You’re also, if I remember correctly, supposed to be
dead.’
Sophia smiled, coming
fully into the light at the foot of the stairs – revealing that her
beautiful face was marred by a deep, crooked scar that ran from an
inch behind her left eye down her cheek and on to her neck,
disappearing beneath a black scarf. The rest of her outfit was also
black, including a pair of expensive leather gloves. ‘Gentlemen,
I’m all those things, and more,’ she said. ‘But right now, I’m the
person you wanted to meet’ – she turned
away from Stikes and looked at Kit – ‘and, like it or not,
your superior. So shall we get to
business?’
‘As you wish,
Lady Blackwood,’ said Stikes. There was
a faint tinge of mockery to the word; the British government had
stripped Sophia of her title following her failed attack on the
United States. She gave him a cold look. ‘I assume Jindal told you
what I want in exchange for these.’ He held up the
case.
‘I know what you
want,’ said Sophia. ‘However, the people I represent are more
curious about why.’
‘It’s simple, really.
When I first met Jindal in Venezuela, I knew something wasn’t
right. Interpol division heads don’t go out and do fieldwork – and
they certainly don’t do fieldwork that’s only tangentially related
to their job. He gave me some cock-and-bull story about the
archaeological expedition being connected to a smuggling
investigation, but he obviously had some other motive for being
there. So I had a little chat with him, and learned about your
organisation. The Group.’
If Sophia’s look at
Stikes had been cold, the one she directed at Kit was positively
icy. ‘Funny. He somehow forgot to mention that.’
‘I was tortured!’ Kit
protested. ‘If I hadn’t said anything, he would have killed me. And
I didn’t tell him why the Group need
the statues. How could I? I haven’t been told myself.’
‘You told him more
than enough, apparently.’ She turned back to Stikes. ‘So, you have
some idea of the Group’s objectives. What do you want from them?
Your wanted status with international law enforcement to disappear,
perhaps? Or is it just about money?’
‘Only indirectly,’
said the Englishman. ‘I’m actually offering them my
services.’
Sophia arched a
perfect eyebrow. ‘Are you now?’
‘Yes. I have the
experience, the connections and, frankly, the ruthlessness to be a
great asset. From what Jindal told me, what they’re planning will
genuinely change the world. I want to make sure I’m on the side
that benefits when it happens.’
‘Everyone will
benefit. Or so they say.’ There was a glint in her eye that
suggested she had a different opinion.
‘They will,’ insisted
Kit. ‘I wouldn’t be a part of this if I didn’t believe it would
help the world.’
Stikes rattled the
case. ‘But they need these first, don’t they?’
Sophia glanced back
at the blond man watching from the top of the steps. ‘There was a
suggestion – not mine, I’ll point out – that we should take them
from you by force.’
Stikes gave her a
lupine smile. ‘That would be a bad idea.’
‘I know. We used a
thermal scanner to see who else was here before landing. Mikkel is
very good, but I doubt even he could pick off all three of your men
before they killed us.’
‘He’d be lucky to
draw his—’ Stikes broke off abruptly. ‘Three men?’
Sophia responded in
kind to his sudden concern. ‘What is it?’
‘I only have
two men.’
‘Then who’s the
third?’
‘Ay up,’ said a
Yorkshire voice.
The trio whirled to
see Eddie climb on to the catwalk, carrying a SCAR. Mikkel’s hand
flashed into his jacket to draw a gun – but Eddie had already
whipped the rifle up and fired. The blond man collapsed, two bullet
wounds in his chest.
The SCAR came back to
the three people on the walkway. ‘So,’ said Eddie, advancing,
‘interesting little meeting. My ex-comrade, my ex-wife, and,’ a
searing glare at Kit, ‘my ex-friend.’
‘Eddie, this isn’t
what you think,’ said Kit, raising his hands. ‘Interpol authorised
me to make a deal with Stikes for—’
‘Shut up!’ Eddie roared. Kit flinched. ‘Don’t give
me any more of your fucking lies and bullshit. You’ve been working
with him the whole time to get those fucking statues – and you
killed Mac for them!’
Silence, Kit frozen
with an expression of shocked guilt. Stikes finally broke it.
‘McCrimmon’s dead? What a shame.’
Eddie’s mouth
tightened with anger. He snapped up the rifle and fired. Stikes’s
beret flew off and disappeared into the darkness. The mercenary
staggered, dropping the case and clutching his head as blood ran
down his face.
‘You missed?’ said
Sophia, affecting casualness as she recovered from the shock of the
gunshot. ‘Not like you, Eddie.’
‘I don’t miss what
I’m aiming at from this range,’ he growled.
Stikes felt the
wound. The bullet had carved a deep gash in his scalp, red
spreading through his fair hair like ink on tissue paper. ‘That was
a mistake, Chase. If you want to kill me, you should have done it
then. You’ll never get another chance.’
He stared at the
other former SAS man, anticipation growing as he waited for the
crack of a distant rifle, an explosion of blood and bone . .
.
His expectancy faded.
Nothing happened.
‘Oh, were you waiting
for one of your sniper mates to shoot me?’ asked Eddie
sarcastically. He held up the SCAR. ‘Got this off the bloke on top
of the tank. And I killed the guy on the cliffs over there before I
got here. You’re getting sloppy, Stikes, putting your men in the
most obvious positions.’ A gesture with the rifle. ‘Okay. Weapons.
Chuck ’em.’
Stikes reluctantly
pulled the Jericho from his holster and tossed it past Eddie, where
it hit the machinery below the catwalk with a dull clank. Eddie
moved the gun on to Kit. ‘I’m unarmed,’ he said.
Eddie nodded; the
Indian wouldn’t have had the opportunity to acquire a new weapon.
The SCAR lined up on Sophia. ‘So am I,’ she said.
Her ex-husband gave
her an irritated look. Sophia sighed and reached into her coat,
drawing out a matt-black Glock 36 compact pistol, which she dropped
over the edge of the walkway. There was something odd about her
left hand, Eddie noticed; some of her fingers seemed unnaturally
stiff inside the leather glove. And looking more closely, besides
the scar, there was something different about her face: her
cheekbones looked sharper, the line of her nose more curved. Had
she had plastic surgery?
‘So, what are you
going to do now, Eddie?’ she asked. ‘Are you going to kill
us?’
‘Him?’ said Eddie,
nodding towards Stikes. ‘Yeah. For what he did to Nina. You, I
haven’t decided yet. Since I already thought you’d died twice,
might have to make it third time lucky – but I wouldn’t mind seeing
you back in prison either.’ He rounded on Kit. ‘As for you, though
. . . Isshould kill you. But first, I
want to know why. Why did you do it – why shoot Mac?
Why?’
Despite the cold wind
blowing down from the hills, Kit was sweating. ‘I didn’t want to do
it, Eddie, you have to believe me. But he didn’t give me any
choice. He was going to destroy the helicopter – and the statues.’
His eyes flickered towards the fallen case.
‘The statues,’ Eddie
echoed quietly – before suddenly erupting. ‘Those fucking statues!
Am I the only one who doesn’t put all this stupid archaeological
shit above people’s lives? What’s so
important about the fucking things?’ He aimed the rifle at the
case. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow them to fucking
pieces right now.’
He noticed Sophia
tense – she had a reason, at least. But Kit spoke first, taking a
step closer with his hands spread, almost pleading. ‘I . . . I
can’t tell you, Eddie. I wish I could. But it’ll change the world.
We have to have the statues. For . . . for the sake of all
humanity.’
Eddie regarded him
for a moment . . . then his eyes narrowed. ‘Not good enough.’ His
finger tensed on the trigger—
Bright lights washed
over him.
He looked round.
Another car was pulling up beside Kit’s—
The instant of
distraction gave the Indian an opening. Kit leapt at him, one hand
grabbing the SCAR and shoving it away from the case. Eddie fired, a
burst of bullets twanging off the pipework below. Stikes jumped
away from the line of fire, Sophia hurriedly taking cover behind
him.
With both hands on
the rifle, Eddie couldn’t defend against a punch that jarred his
vision. He and Kit grappled for control of the SCAR, lurching back
along the catwalk. The gun’s ejection port was facing the Interpol
officer; Eddie pulled the trigger again, more rounds ripping into
the pumping machinery - and showering Kit’s face and neck with
searing cartridge casings.
Kit shrieked and
jerked back, still trying to wrest away the SCAR. Another burst of
fire, but this time the spent brass sprayed over his shoulder as he
forced the gun upwards. Eddie kicked at his legs, trying to trip
him—
A shrill screech came
from a pipe below, followed by an earth-shaking thud and a
thunderous roar of flame.
The bullets had
damaged one of the pumps, gas escaping through a cracked valve . .
. and igniting as more red-hot rounds flashed through
it.
Nina and Macy exited
the taxi – and jumped in shock as an explosion rattled the vehicle,
a fireball boiling skywards from the pumping station. Beneath it, a
forty-foot-long line of fire blasted out almost horizontally from
the machinery, the force of the flame seething against a complex
knot of pipes.
Stikes and Sophia
recoiled from the heat. The two fighting men were almost directly
over the burning gas jet – which was acting like a blowtorch,
slicing into the neighbouring pump’s pipework.
‘Time to leave, I
think,’ said Sophia. She reached for the case – but Stikes was
quicker. The former soldier snatched it up and opened it, moving as
if to tip its contents over the guardrail.
‘Do we have a deal?’
he demanded. ‘Because if not, I’m going to throw these things into
the fire and get the hell out of here before this whole place goes
up!’
Sophia gave him a
sour look, then nodded. ‘We have a deal.’
‘Excellent. Then I’d
appreciate a lift!’ He looked at the helicopter, which was already
rising from an idle to takeoff revolutions as its pilot realised
the danger.
‘Well, it does seem
that I have a spare seat.’ She hurried up the steps with Stikes
behind her, passing Mikkel’s body without a second
glance.
Racing through the
open gate, Nina saw someone jump into the helicopter. A man, blond
hair standing out in the firelight: Stikes? The brief glimpse
wasn’t enough for her to be sure.
Macy, behind her,
looked fearfully around the compound. ‘Do you see Eddie or
Kit?’
Dismay filled Nina’s
voice. ‘Oh, yeah. I see them.’
‘Where?’
She pointed above the
flame as she ran faster. ‘Take a guess!’
The detonation had
knocked both Eddie and Kit down – with the Indian landing on top.
He threw another punch at Eddie’s face, knocking the Yorkshireman’s
head back against the walkway’s grillework floor. Eddie’s grip
slackened, and Kit managed to prise one of his hands off the SCAR.
He struck at the Englishman’s face again, bloodying his mouth, then
rolled back on to his haunches, pulling the gun with
him.
He turned the bulky
weapon round, pointing it at the man who had been his
friend—
The conflict in his
mind made him hesitate, just for a split second. He didn’t want to
do this, but he had to – Eddie had
deduced the truth of what happened to Mac, had seen him with Stikes
and Sophia Blackwood. It was the only way to maintain his cover at
Interpol and prevent anyone else from learning of his involvement
with the Group.
The only way, he told himself. Finger on the
trigger—
One of Eddie’s legs
lashed upwards, striking the rifle just as it fired. Two shots
exploded from the barrel, whipping just above his head – then the
SCAR clicked impotently, its magazine empty.
Eddie didn’t hear it;
the gunshots, practically in his face, had left him deafened and
half blind from the flash of the muzzle flame. But he could still
see well enough to slam his other foot hard against Kit’s chest.
Kit fell backwards, head smacking against the
guardrail.
Spitting out blood,
Eddie kicked the other man again before using the railing to pull
himself to his feet. The heat from the flame jet was like standing
at an open oven.
He looked along the
catwalk. Stikes and Sophia were gone - as was the case containing
the statues. The chopper was at full power, about to take off. No
way he could stop them from escaping.
That left
Kit.
Even as part of his
mind protested at leaving Mac’s killer unpunished, Eddie knew he
would have to bring Kit in alive. He was the only link to whatever
the hell was going on, the only way to learn the truth behind the
Scot’s murder. He grabbed Kit by his black hair and slammed his
head against the railing again, then hauled him
upright—
A sudden noise, loud
enough to break through even his addled hearing. Straining metal,
something giving way under immense heat and pressure . .
.
Nina was almost at a
ladder up to the catwalk, Macy a few yards behind, when a very
threatening sound made her stop abruptly. ‘Get back!’ she shouted,
turning and diving to the ground—
The damaged pump
exploded.
Shattered sections of
pipe were thrown hundreds of feet into the air as a pillar of fire
blasted skywards like an erupting volcano. The entire facility
shook, the noise of burning gas a jet-engine roar as it sucked in
air to feed the conflagration. The explosion was powerful enough
even to jolt the helicopter as it took to the sky and wheeled
away.
Eddie’s slowly
recovering hearing had been obliterated again – but that was the
least of his worries. The new geyser of flame was forty feet away,
but he didn’t need to touch it to be burned. The combined heat from
it and the ruptured pipe below was horrific. He could feel his
exposed skin stinging, his hair scorching.
But worse was to
come. The walkway juddered, joints snapping—
The world suddenly
rolled around him, a whole section of catwalk giving way like a
giant hinge. He fell, hitting the guardrail – which broke. Nothing
below but the blazing gas—
He jerked to a
painful stop as one of the severed rail’s stanchions speared
through his flapping leather jacket, almost wrenching his shoulder
from its socket. Six inches to the side, and it would have gone
through his chest. Eddie hung helplessly, dangling only feet above
the line of flame . . . then with an agonising effort managed to
twist and claw the fingers of his right hand into the grated
floor.
The catwalk was
tilted at a seventy-degree angle. Eddie pulled himself higher,
shrugging his left arm out of his ruined jacket and finding a
secure hold with that hand before tugging the other sleeve inside
out to free himself. Something dropped from one of the
pockets.
His father’s business
card, still in its evidence bag. It landed in the fire and was
instantly incinerated.
He would go the same
way if he didn’t move fast. The grillwork cutting into his fingers,
he hauled himself up until he could stand on the support, and
looked round. An intact section of the walkway was six feet away in
one direction; in the other . . .
Kit hung from the
catwalk’s edge, his feet closer to the flame jet than Eddie’s had
been. He struggled to climb, but couldn’t get a firm enough
grip.
His panicked eyes met
Eddie’s.
The Englishman
hesitated, looking across to the nearby catwalk, and safety . . .
then he stepped across to the next stanchion to reach
Kit.
Ears ringing, Nina
sat up to see a spear of fire at least a hundred feet high roaring
into the dark sky. Smaller blazes were already spreading across the
pumping station as debris fell all around like burning
hailstones.
She heard a shriek,
and whipped round to find Macy clutching her thigh where she had
been struck by a piece of smouldering shrapnel. ‘Macy, get out of
here!’ Nina shouted, waving towards the gate – where she saw the
taxi rapidly making a skidding turn as the driver
fled.
‘What about Eddie?
And Kit?’
‘Just go!’ She stood,
flinching as another chunk of pipe smacked down nearby, then
started back towards the ladder.
To her horror, she
saw that a section of catwalk had partially collapsed – and someone
was hanging from it over a searing fire. Kit. A moment of sickening
fear – where was Eddie ? – then she made out her husband through
the broken walkway’s gridwork floor.
He was moving towards
Kit. Was he going to rescue him, or. . .
She scurried up the
ladder, recoiling from the heat at the top. A security camera
watched her. The pipeline’s operators had to know by now that something was badly wrong,
and be trying to stop the flow of gas.
Unless they
couldn’t.
The fires were
spreading, getting closer to the gas tanks. If one exploded, it
would take the others with it, obliterating the entire
area.
‘Eddie!’ she cried.
But he didn’t hear. ‘Eddie!’
Kit finally got a
firm hold on the grating. He dragged himself up, looking for
anything that would assist his climb.
A small pipe to one
side, connecting two larger conduits running from the pump. He
shifted his weight towards it, finding a foothold – and something
else.
Stikes’s gun was
wedged between the two main pipes, just within reach.
Despite the danger,
he was thinking one step beyond immediate self-preservation. He
still had to protect his cover. Which meant he still had to deal
with Eddie—
A foot on the
stanchion. Eddie loomed over him.
Kit made his decision
– and grabbed the gun.
Nina hurried along
the catwalk, holding up her arms to shield her face from the almost
unbearable heat. Her eyes stung - she rubbed them and blinked,
seeing Eddie standing over Kit—
Eddie was about to
reach down to Kit when he realised the Indian’s hand was already
moving. Not towards him, but to something under the catwalk, nickel
glinting on the steel pipes . . .
Stikes’s Jericho, now
in Kit’s hand.
The Indian twisted
his wrist, aiming the pistol upwards—
Eddie’s foot snapped
out, catching Kit hard in the face. Blood sprayed from the Indian’s
nose, shock causing him to lose his grip. He fell.
Into the
fire.
For a fraction of a
second, Eddie saw his expression in the inferno’s light, a mixture
of pain and anger and terror – then he was gone, vaporised by the
fury of the escaping flame. The Jericho dropped with him, vanishing
into the fire.
He turned, starting
back towards the intact section of catwalk - and saw Nina standing
there, staring at him in utter disbelief.
Even in the searing
heat, Nina somehow felt cold, as if her blood had been replaced by
icy water. Her mind refused to accept what her eyes had just
witnessed. It couldn’t have happened. It couldn’t!
But it had. Eddie had
just climbed over to the helpless, flailing Kit . . . and kicked
him to his death.
He came closer, the
stanchions shuddering under his weight. ‘Give me a hand!’ he called
as he reached the end of the broken section and tried to clamber
up. She didn’t move. ‘Nina!’
She broke out of her
freeze and pulled him up. ‘Oh God, what did you do? What did you do?’
‘We’ve got to go!’ he
shouted, looking towards the spreading fires. ‘Run!’ He pushed her
ahead as he raced along the walkway. The security camera looked on
with its glazed eye.
Nina reached the
ladder and hurried down it, jumping off halfway. Eddie followed.
They ran for the gate, the roar of the fires now accompanied by the
squeals and groans of warping metal. The gas tanks were giving way
. . .
Through the gate.
Macy sprinted for the highway ahead of them. The squeals turned to
shrieks—
One of the gas tanks
blew apart in a seething white ball of fire, the others following
it in a chain reaction. A shockwave erupted outwards, whipping up a
wall of dust and blowing Nina and Eddie off their feet. A roiling
mushroom cloud rose into the night sky, a marker visible for miles
around for the crater that had once been station
fourteen.
It took minutes
before Nina felt composed enough to speak, or even think. She had a
vague, confused memory of Eddie carrying her along the dirt road,
Macy running back to help them, then sitting beside the highway
trying to recover from the shock.
Not merely the shock
of the explosion. Her memory of what had happened on the catwalk
was crystal clear. It kept replaying, unbidden, in her mind: Kit
dangling from the walkway by one hand, struggling to get a grip on
a pipe with the other, Eddie’s foot lashing out, Kit’s face filling
with horror as he dropped into the fire . . .
Vigilante justice.
Revenge-driven murder. Just like Jerry Rosenthal in New York. Only
this time it wasn’t a mere moral talking point, a topic of
argument. It was something her husband had done right in front of
her.
Someone sat beside
her. Eddie. The light from the still burning pipeline revealed his
scorched clothes and reddened skin. ‘Hey,’ he said, putting his arm
round her shoulders.
She pulled
away.
He looked startled,
then hurt. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Nina said
curtly, standing. In the distance, she saw flashing lights –
emergency vehicles coming along the highway.
Eddie stood as well.
‘Then what’s the matter?’
‘What’s the
matter?’ she cried. ‘You murdered Kit,
that’s what’s the matter!’
Macy, sitting nearby,
reacted in disbelief. Eddie’s response was only slightly less
surprised. ‘What?’
‘Eddie, I was right
there! He was hanging off that walkway, and you – you kicked him
into the fire!’ Saying the words out loud brought back her shock at
what she had seen, full force.
‘He was trying to
kill me!’ Eddie protested. ‘He had a fucking gun in his
hand!’
Nina shook her head.
‘He didn’t have a gun.’
‘He did – how could
you not have seen it? You were right there, you must have seen it!’
‘He didn’t have a
gun,’ she repeated forcefully. ‘And why would he have been trying
to kill you?’
‘ ’Cause he was
working with Stikes,’ said Eddie, anger rising. ‘He was all along.
All they wanted the whole time was those statues. Kit killed Mac to
protect them, and tried to kill me because I figured it
out.’
It was now Nina’s
ears, not her eyes, that she doubted. Kit had killed Mac? The idea was impossible to
believe. More than that, it was . . .
Insane? The word sent another chill through her.
Could Mac’s murder – compounded by the news of his grandmother’s
death – have possibly affected Eddie so badly? ‘Why?’ she
asked.
‘How the fuck would I
know? I wasn’t in on whatever they were doing. But I’ll tell you
who else was,’ he added. ‘Sophia.’
Nina stared at him.
‘Sophia?’ she said after a pause. ‘Sophia, as in your ex-wife
Sophia?’
‘Yeah. She was the
one who wanted the statues.’
‘You mean Sophia
Blackwood?’ said Macy, bewildered. ‘The terrorist? I thought she
was dead.’
‘She is dead,’ Nina told her. ‘And Eddie should know –
he threw her off a cliff!’
Eddie looked in
frustration between the two women as the wail of approaching sirens
reached them. ‘She was here – she took off with Stikes in that
chopper. Don’t tell me you didn’t see her either!’
‘I saw Stikes – I
think.’ Nina glanced at the now empty helipad. ‘But the only other
people I saw were you . . . and Kit.’
‘There! Kit and
Stikes were working together, like I told you! That’s why he kept
the whole meeting a secret!’
‘He told me about it.’ Eddie’s face revealed his shock.
‘Stikes offered Interpol a deal – immunity in return for the
statues. Kit didn’t tell you because he knew how upset you were
about Mac, and thought you’d react badly if you knew he was talking
to Stikes.’ Nina let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘And he was
right!’
‘No, that isn’t –
that’s not what happened,’ Eddie insisted, desperation entering his
voice. ‘Kit wasn’t negotiating some immunity deal. He was working
with Stikes and Sophia!’
‘Stikes and Sophia,’
Nina echoed. ‘Two of the people you hate most in the world – and
they’re both involved in a conspiracy to cover up Mac’s murder? By
Kit? Eddie, this whole thing,
everything you’re saying, is just, just . . .’ She didn’t want to
say the word.
He knew exactly what
she meant, though. ‘I’m not fucking mad, and I didn’t fucking
hallucinate this.’ He grabbed her by her upper arm. ‘Kit killed
Mac! And he would have killed me too, if I hadn’t killed him
first!’
Nina recoiled with a
gasp of pain as his fingers dug into her. ‘Eddie, let go,’ she
said. It was the first time she could remember that he had ever
physically hurt her. ‘Let go of me!’
He opened his hand,
and she jerked away, almost tripping as she scurried backwards.
‘Jesus Christ, Eddie! You killed a policeman – you murdered your
friend!’
‘That’s not what
happened!’ he shouted, starting to follow her.
‘Don’t touch me!’
Nina brought up her hands, balled almost into fists. Eddie stopped
as she continued to retreat. ‘Get away from me! I don’t – I don’t
even know you any more! What have you done?’
Eddie stayed still,
stricken, as the first emergency vehicles reached the dirt road.
Leading was a yellow van bearing the gas company’s logo, which tore
past and headed for what was left of the pumping station. Behind it
was a police car, which screeched to a stop at the roadside. Two
cops jumped out, running to the group and drawing their guns. They
shouted orders in Spanish.
‘What the fuck’s
this?’ Eddie demanded, raising his hands as the men fixed their
weapons on him.
Macy translated. ‘Oh,
my God. Eddie, they say they’re arresting you for murder!’ She ran
to the cops and asked panicked questions in their language, getting
brusque responses. ‘The gas company saw you and Kit on the security
cameras!’
One of the cops
approached Eddie. He gestured for the Englishman to hold out his
hands, ready to be cuffed. The other hung back suspiciously, unsure
what to make of Nina and Macy and splitting his attention between
the three.
‘I didn’t murder
him,’ Eddie said – to Nina, not the cops. ‘He was trying to kill
me. You’ve got to believe me.’
‘I . . . I don’t know
if I can,’ she whispered.
The first cop waved
his gun impatiently. Eddie gave Nina a long, saddened look, then
held out his wrists. The cop fumbled one-handed for his handcuffs,
glancing down as they caught on his belt—
And was sent reeling
as Eddie’s fist crashed against his jaw, his other hand wrenching
the pistol from his grip.
The second cop
hurriedly brought up his gun – but found his partner between him
and their intended prisoner. He hesitated, then clumsily
sidestepped to get a clean line of fire—
A single gunshot, and
the second cop’s weapon spun away with a crack. He screamed and
clutched his hand. Eddie’s bullet had shattered on impact with the
pistol’s harder steel, sending shards of metal spearing into his
flesh.
‘Tell ’em not to
move,’ Eddie barked to Macy as he rounded the two men, smoking gun
covering them, and headed for their car.
‘Uh . . . I think
they figured that out for themselves,’ she said,
shocked.
Nina was stunned,
struggling to take in the latest turn of events. ‘Eddie, what the
hell?’
‘Kit killed Mac, and
he tried to kill me,’ said Eddie, reaching the car. Its engine was
still running. ‘He was working with Stikes, and Sophia. And I’m going to prove it. I don’t have
a fucking clue how, but I’m going to prove it to you.’ The gun
still raised, he slid into the driver’s seat. ‘Only I can’t do that
from inside a Peruvian prison. So . . . I guess this is it.’ He put
the car into gear and reached to close the door – then spoke again
just before it slammed shut. ‘I love you.’
And with that the car
peeled away, swinging across the central divider and heading at
high speed back north, leaving the overwhelmed Nina
behind.