The Revelation Code (Wilde/Chase 11) (19 page)

‘Down, get down!’ he yelled, diving flat. The man on the footpath hesitated, needing a moment to translate the warning.

The tiny delay cost him his life. A sub-machine gun roared from beneath the bridge, Trant having removed the suppressor before spraying the bank with bullets. The running man took several to his chest and tumbled to the ground.

Screams came from the bridge, the onlookers fleeing. Still clutching the case, Eddie rolled clear of the river’s edge, then jumped up and ran. Another burst of fire slashed through the air behind him.

He hared up a second set of steps to street level, finding himself at an intersection on the bridge’s northern side. Concrete apartment blocks lined the waterfront, no shelter in sight amongst the tightly packed buildings. Instead he cut diagonally across the main road from the bridge, spotting an alley between more drab, graffiti-spattered towers.

The gunfire had cleared the streets with shocking speed, cars peeling away. A loud thump came from the river as the second speedboat bashed against the bank. More shouts, these in English. ‘Get after him!’

Muscles aching from exertion and exposure, Eddie reached the alley, glancing back to see Trant and his two companions pounding up the second flight of steps. The leader saw him and whipped up his MP7, but the Englishman ran between the buildings before he could fire.

At the alley’s end was a square within a complex of apartment blocks, trees standing over a little park. Bushes and hedges dotted the lawns, a brick and concrete spiral at the centre some sort of children’s play area.

The nearest way out was diagonally opposite where he had entered – too far for him to reach before his pursuers entered the square. They would have a clear shot at his back. The only visible entrance to any of the buildings was just as distant.

‘Shit,’ he gasped, searching desperately for a hiding place – and finding none.

16

T
rant led his two remaining men, Overton and Whelan, at a sprint down the alley. They reached the end of the passage, guns raised – but there was no sign of their target, just rain drenching a dimly lit garden area. The only apparent exits were a door into one of the apartment buildings and a gap between two blocks to the north. Trant knew his quarry couldn’t have reached either in the short time he had been out of sight. That meant . . .

‘He’s still here,’ he warned his companions. ‘Find him.’

‘Careful,’ said Simeon through his headset. ‘This guy’s a pro.’

Sirens wailed in the distance. ‘Cops coming,’ said Overton.

‘We’ve got a minute or two,’ Trant replied. ‘Move fast.’ He directed Overton to the left and Whelan into the centre of the small park, then angled right towards the gap.

A line of hedges, reaching to his thighs, ran along a lawn’s edge. Trant readied his gun, then hurdled it.

Nobody there. He checked behind a nearby tree with the same lack of result. ‘Clear here,’ he announced, continuing across the grass.

Overton followed a path into the garden, checking behind the hedges and bushes. No sign of the Englishman, or the case containing the angel. He moved under a large tree, glad of the brief respite from the downpour. The speedboat’s driver was cold and thoroughly damp despite his rain cape. ‘Anything?’ he whispered, peering into the shadows. As he had not gone into the museum, his headset had not needed a camera; something he was now regretting, as those observing at the Mission could have warned him if the Brit was skulking in the darkness.

‘Not yet,’ Whelan reported.

‘Me neither. Pick up the pace,’ ordered Trant.

Overton continued under the trees. He glanced to his right to see Whelan investigating another patch of bushes, while beyond him Trant checked behind a low brick wall. Their quarry was still nowhere to be seen. He kept going, scanning ahead.

Something caught his eye, a low, blocky shape amongst some plants.

The case. He started towards it, about to alert the others – when water streamed over him from above.

Overton hesitated. He was still under a tree, so the foliage must have thinned out. Or—

The other explanation hit him at the same time as Eddie did.

The sodden Yorkshireman had climbed up on to one of the lower branches, hoping simply to stay out of sight, but when the black-clad man passed almost directly beneath him, he knew he couldn’t miss the opportunity. He dropped on top of him, smashing his elbow down hard against the back of his skull and slamming him face-first to the ground.

The American went limp beneath him. Taking no chances, Eddie grabbed his hair and yanked his head up before driving a vicious knuckle-punch into his exposed throat. Cartilage crunched. The man spasmed, faint choking noises from his gaping mouth barely audible over the hiss of the rain.

Eddie rose to a crouch, searching for his pursuer’s MP7 – only to realise that the man had landed on top of it. He was about to roll him away when some instinct made him check on the positions of the other raiders—

The nearest turned towards him.

Nina realised she was breathing heavily as she watched events in Germany play out on the video wall, Trant investigating the park’s far end while Whelan searched its centre. The latter had just reached an open paved area containing benches, night vision turning the rainy gloom as bright as day. He turned his head, the view panning back in Overton’s direction— ‘Whelan, stop!’ Cross shouted. The image stabilised. ‘There, under the tree – there’s something on the grass.’

Simeon stepped closer to the monitors, trying to make out the crumpled shape. ‘Is that a man?’

‘It’s Overton,’ said Cross grimly. ‘Trant! Man down, south end of the park.’ The other screens blurred as the team leader whipped around.

‘What’s going on?’ said Dalton, agitated. ‘Is he
dead
?’

‘Don’t screw with my husband,’ Nina said quietly.

Whelan moved cautiously towards the slumped figure. ‘It’s definitely Overton,’ he said, his camera darting from side to side as he scanned the park. Nothing moved except the falling rain.

‘Whelan, look to your right,’ ordered Cross. ‘There’s something in that flower bed – there!’

The screens revealed a blocky shape in the undergrowth. ‘It’s the case,’ said Anna.

‘It’s open,’ Cross growled. ‘Check it out, but be careful. He’s around there somewhere.’

‘Cops are getting closer,’ said Trant as he headed in a crouch back along the edge of the park. Sirens became audible over the background noise.

Whelan reached Overton. He nudged the motionless figure with a foot, then crossed the grass to the case and reached down to raise the half-open lid . . .

A dull thump came over the speakers.

‘What was that?’ said Cross, but Whelan was already turning to find the source. The camera fixed upon something on the wet grass – an object that had not been there seconds earlier.

‘It’s the angel!’ exclaimed Dalton.

The stone figure lay on its side, raindrops bursting against the metal and clay. ‘It’s intact,’ Whelan said, relieved.

Sudden realisation made Cross sit bolt upright as Whelan went to retrieve the statue. ‘No, wait, it’s a decoy – check behind you!’ he cried—

The image whipped around through a hundred and eighty degrees with a sickening snap of bone. Then the monitors filled with an extreme close-up . . . of Eddie Chase.

He released his neck-breaking hold. The camera flopped, looking down Whelan’s back. Then Eddie stepped away and the dead man crumpled to the ground.

‘
Definitely
don’t screw with my husband,’ said Nina.

Simeon and Anna both shot her angry looks, but Cross remained focused on the view from the remaining camera. Trant had reacted to his warning by dropping behind a hedge. He peered warily over it to see Eddie crouched by Whelan’s corpse, collecting his MP7 before picking up the statue.

‘Careful,’ snapped Cross into his headset as Trant’s own gun rose into the camera’s field of view and lined up on the Englishman’s back. ‘You might hit the angel. Move in closer.’

The team leader sidestepped along the hedge to a gap, then began a cautious, measured advance. ‘No, wait,’ said Nina in alarm. Eddie still had his back to Trant, the angel under one arm as he cleaned mud off the weapon. ‘Don’t kill him!’

‘Too late for that now,’ snarled Simeon.

She rushed to the cult leader’s side. ‘If you kill him, I’ll never help you find the last angel!’

‘You will,’ Cross replied, his cold certainty far more menacing than any of Simeon’s threats.

Nina looked back in desperation at the monitors. Trant was now directly behind Eddie, closing with each step. The MP7 was fixed on the Englishman’s back.

‘Aim for the head,’ said Cross. The gun’s muzzle rose slightly. ‘Ready—’

Nina snatched the headset off him – and jammed its microphone against the earpiece. Trant flinched at a squall of nerve-scraping feedback—

Eddie heard the shriek from the other man’s headphones and spun, firing a burst from his MP7 squarely into the cultist’s chest.

The camera’s view blurred as Trant was flung backwards, ending up pointing skywards. The image rippled as rain landed on it.

Dalton gawped at the screens. ‘What just happened?’

‘Eddie just happened,’ said Nina with triumph, even as Simeon hauled her away from Cross.

The cult leader jumped up, facing her with an expression of rage, but before he could speak, a voice boomed from the speakers. ‘Ay up. You at the other end of this camera – can you hear me?’

Eddie reappeared, pulling the headset from the dead man and peering into the lens. ‘Anyone there?’ he asked, tapping the microphone with a loud
whump
. ‘Come on, speak up.’

‘Eddie, I’m here!’ Nina shouted into the headset, before Simeon snatched it from her.

The Englishman’s face broke into a strained smile. ‘Nina! Thank God.’

‘Mr Chase!’ said Cross as he put the headset back on. ‘Can you hear me?’

Eddie frowned. ‘Who’s that? You this Prophet bloke?’

‘Yes, I am. Do you have the angel, Mr Chase?’

Eddie drew the camera back and lifted the statue into view. ‘Here. Say hello to everyone at home, angel.
Hello, everyone!
’ he added in a squeaky voice. Nina couldn’t help but smile.

‘You know how dangerous it is,’ said Cross. ‘If you want to see your wife again, you’ll—’

‘No, no, no,’ Eddie cut in, shaking his head sarcastically. ‘Here’s the deal. You tell me where you are, I turn up, you let Nina go unharmed and
then
I give you this little fella here. Otherwise, I’ll put it somewhere nobody will ever,
ever
get their hands on it again. There’s a lot of construction sites in Berlin – a lot of concrete being poured, if you know what I mean. Your man Irton told me you’re pretty desperate to have the full set of these things. So without this, I guess your plan’s fucked, right?’

Cross’s jaw muscles drew tight with anger. Simeon gripped Nina harder, making her gasp in pain. ‘Nobody dictates terms to us!’ he told his leader. ‘If we hurt her, he’ll back down—’

Eddie interrupted him. ‘Cops are almost here.’ The sirens were now much closer. ‘You want me to leave it for them?’

‘Antigua,’ said Cross, the word forcing its way free of his mouth. ‘We’re in Antigua. Bring the angel to the island, and we’ll make the exchange.’

‘Antigua, eh? Me and Nina’d been thinking about having a holiday there. Let me talk to her.’

Cross reluctantly returned the headset to Nina. ‘Eddie!’ she said. ‘You’re okay?’

‘Bit wet. What about you? Have they hurt you?’

‘Not yet.’ She gave Simeon a sidelong look. ‘There have been some threats, though.’

Eddie’s glare through the screen seemed to be aimed directly at Cross. ‘And the baby?’

‘Safe, as far as I know. And Eddie . . . I’ve decided on a name.’

‘Oh you have, have you? Don’t I get a say?’

‘Nope. That’s what happens when you don’t want to know the sex in advance.’

‘Nowt wrong with Arbuthnot, for a boy
or
a girl,’ he muttered, before glancing back at the alley. ‘Okay, gotta go. I’ll see you soon, love – trust me.’

‘You know I do,’ she replied. He grinned, then dropped the headset on to the grass and ran.

Dalton whirled to face Cross. ‘You’re giving in to him?’ he asked incredulously. ‘You’re letting him come
here
?’ A faint edge of hysteria entered his voice, before he glanced almost in embarrassment at Nina and hurriedly regained his composure.

‘No, I’m not, Mr President,’ Cross replied, holding in his anger. ‘There’s only one international airport in Antigua, so he has to come through it. We know him; he doesn’t know us. We’ll take the angel from him when he arrives – by force if necessary.’

‘It’ll be necessary,’ rumbled Simeon. Anna nodded in agreement.

‘He’ll be ready for you,’ said Nina.

‘And we’ll be ready for him,’ Cross replied. ‘Norvin, take her back to the house. Dr Wilde,’ he added, as the bodyguard led her away, ‘you’re still going to find the last angel for me, no matter what happens with your husband. You can trust
me
on that.’

Again the threat was perfectly clear. But Nina also felt a new sense of hope. Not only had Eddie survived; right now he had the upper hand – and the angel.

And now that she knew where she was, she had options too. Without the threat of Eddie’s suffering to force her cooperation, she could risk an escape attempt. She knew from her vacation research that the Caribbean island was not large, and was certain she would not have to go far to find help.

There was the problem that she was under constant surveillance, of course, both electronically as well as by guards like Norvin. She had already started preparations to deal with the latter, though. Even if she was successful, it wouldn’t buy her much time – but it might be enough to let her make a run for the jungle beyond the Mission’s boundary.

With the baby’s well-being to consider as well as her own, though, she couldn’t afford to take the chances she would have done in the past. The moment had to be right.

But she was sure it would come.

Eddie took a circuitous route back to the bridge, tossing the gun into the river along the way. He saw police cars at the intersection, and Maureen Rothschild amongst a small crowd of onlookers.

He moved up behind her. ‘Ay up, Prof.’

‘Oh my God, Eddie!’ gasped Rothschild. ‘You’re alive!’

He huffed with dark humour as he ushered her away from the gawpers. ‘Don’t sound so horrified.’

‘That – that’s not what I meant. I thought they’d killed you! I heard gunshots—’

‘That was me.’

‘But you didn’t have a gun.’

‘Took one of theirs.’

She sucked in her thin lips. ‘I . . . don’t want to know how, do I?’

‘Probably not. But,’ he went on, opening his sodden leather jacket to show her what he was holding inside, ‘I got the angel.’

She regarded the statue with amazement – and concern. ‘Is it intact?’

‘If it wasn’t, I get the feeling I’d be dead already, and so would a lot of other people.’ He closed his jacket again, suppressing a shiver.

‘My God,’ she said, this time with sympathy. ‘You’re freezing! You’ve got to get indoors and dry off.’

‘I can do that back at the museum.’ He took out his phone. ‘Nina thought I was mad for paying so much, but I’m really glad now I shelled out for a waterproof case.’

‘Who are you calling?’

‘Seretse, for one; we’ll need him to fix things up with the Germans.’ He looked down the street at the police cordon. ‘Last thing I need is to get arrested on a murder charge. It was self-defence, but stuff like that can take days to sort out, and Nina doesn’t have that long. I’ve got to get to her, fast.’

‘You know where she is?’

Eddie nodded. ‘Antigua.’

‘In the Caribbean?’

‘No, in Siberia.’ He gave a half-hearted smile. ‘Yeah, the Caribbean. I’ve got a mate who moved there, so that’s another call I need to make. But I managed to talk to Nina, and the arsehole who kidnapped her. We’re making an exchange, the angel for her.’