The man heard the clatter and crash, fired a shot in the direction from which the sound had come, and took off running. Bones stuck out a leg as the man sprinted past, tripping him up and sending him falling hard to the floor. His breath left him in a rush, and his consciousness followed a few seconds later when Bones hammered two vicious elbow strikes to the temple. Helping himself to the man’s weapon, a nickel-plated Beretta 92FS, he grinned. The odds were not yet in his favor, but he’d shortened them considerably.
“Stevens! Did you get him?” someone cried out.
“He’s headed back toward the stairs,” Bones called in a nasal voice. He had no idea what Stevens sounded like, but if silence had greeted the question, the men might have jumped to the correct conclusion. This way, there was a slight chance he could throw them off the trail. He counted to ten, and then moved quietly in the direction of the front door.
No joy. A figure stepped out in front of him and opened fire. Bones dove to one side, came up in a crouch, and fired off a single shot that just missed. His target dropped to the floor and flattened out behind a pedestal covered in broken glass and the shredded remains of a display. Cursing the unfamiliar feel of the Beretta, Bones rolled behind a still-standing display, wondering when the others would arrive.
The man behind the pedestal opened fire. As broken glass rained down on Bones, the shots ceased.
He’s reloading, Bones thought. Time to move in.
He raised up, Beretta at the ready, just in time to see a tall, lean figure move like a shadow across his field of vision. The man on the floor managed a cry of surprise that melted into a gurgle as Greg struck him in the throat, then put him to sleep with a chokehold.
Footsteps, more gunshots, and Greg melted into the shadows.
Two men appeared, looking around wildly. Bones recognized one as the man who had spoken to him downstairs. They spotted him at almost the exact moment he saw them. They raised their pistols, but Bones was quicker. He squeezed the trigger.
And nothing.
The Beretta was empty.
“Of course,” he muttered. “Now what?” His eyes fell on the figure above him — a Maori warrior, clutching a tao, a traditional short spear. “Any port in a storm.” He snatched the spear, gave the dummy a shove, and ran.
The ruse only fooled his pursuers for a moment. Bullets shredded the dummy, and then the men were on the move again.
Bones zig-zagged around the few displays that remained standing, bullets whistling all around him. They had to run out of bullets sooner or later… he hoped.
Up ahead, a broad staircase led up to the second floor gallery. Mounting the steps, he ducked his head as he climbed, regretting his height and broad shoulders. Shots pinged off the marble banister, one ricocheting inches from his head.
“If one of these bullets rips my jacket, I’m going to be pissed.”
At the top of the stairs, he turned left and ran along the balcony overlooking the second floor. The men weren’t shooting now. Though he hoped their magazines were empty, it was more likely they were merely conserving their bullets until one of them got a clear shot at him.
“Greg, where are you?”
“I’m following along behind you guys, but I don’t have a weapon. The guy I took out had fired his magazine dry.”
“Any idea where I’m headed?” Bones dashed along the balcony, wondering when the next hail of lead would fly. “All I see up here is a set of double-doors.”
“Conference rooms, I think. No idea if there’s a way down.”
“Lovely.” A bullet whizzed past his ear and struck one of the doors with a thud. Acting on instinct, Bones dodged to the side, whirled, and flung the spear at the man in the lead. It flew true, taking the surprised man in the thigh and sending him tumbling to the ground. His partner stopped short, gaping at the fallen man. Seeing his chance, Bones dashed through the double doors as bullets flew again.
A short hallway led to a conference room, where windows framed in the thick vines of the so-called green wall, overlooked the street below. There were no other exits. He was finally cornered. The last pursuer was closing in. Time was almost up.
A wooden podium stood at the far end of the room. Bones ran to it, picked it up, rushed toward the nearest window, and struck it, battering ram-style.
The glass cracked, but did not shatter.
“Seriously?” Bones dropped the podium and lashed out with a series of side kicks. Glass flew, falling to the sidewalk below. He finally cleared a hole large enough for him to fit through, and clambered out the window just as the conference room door flew open.
Down on the street, people cried out, and sirens wailed in the distance. Bones gripped the thick vines, his feet finding holds in the green wall’s tangled foliage. Moving with the agility of a monkey, he clambered not down, but up and to the side. He’d just come level with the top of the window when his pursuer leaned out, looking down at where he expected Bones to be.
Bones was ready. He lashed out with a powerful kick, catching the man square on the chin. Stunned, he wobbled, and Bones caught him with an up-kick across the bridge of the nose, and then drove his heel into the base of the man’s skull. The man flopped unconscious, half in and half out of the window, like a wet blanket draped over a clothesline, his gun falling to the ground two stories below.
Bones slipped back through the window to find Greg entering the conference room.
“That’s the last of them.”
“Good,” Greg said. “Kasey’s got the car and will pick us up. Let’s get out of here before the police arrive.”
Bones laughed. “If only I had a dollar for every time I’ve said that very same thing.”
They circled the museum at a fast walk, and hurried down Avenue de la Bourdonnais to Rue de l’Universite, where they joined a crowd of tourists headed for the Eiffel Tower.
“That thing is huge.” Bones gazed up at the famed landmark. He knew the iron lattice structure rose more than a thousand feet in the air, but he was unprepared for just how impressive it was, its bronze surface gleaming against the cornflower sky. “Dude, I would love to climb that thing.”
“You could take the elevator,” Greg said.
“The hell with that. I’m a climber.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’d be treed like a cat.”
They strolled beneath the tower and wandered along the manicured green, reminiscent of the National Mall in Washington D.C., until they reached the Champ de Mars.
“Kasey should be along any minute.” Greg glanced at his watch, then checked his phone. “No messages. I guess she’s okay.”
Bones looked up and down the street. “Either that, or she can’t text while she’s being chased.”
“Why would you say that?”
Bones grimaced. “Wait a few seconds and see for yourself.”
Chapter 15
“Why aren’t we moving?” A note of panic resonated in Sofia’s voice.
“We just hit a little snag, that’s all,” Willis reassured her. “Maddock, how you want to handle this? Release the cable?”
“I’d hate to have come all the way down here and leave without the device.” Dane carefully brought the sub about. “With all the gadgets we’ve got on board Remora, surely one of them will do the trick.”
“Whatever you’re gonna try, you’d better make it quick. Oxygen’s starting to run low.”
Dane glanced at the panels in front of him. Willis was right; time was growing short. He tried pulling the device free. It was not so much a serious attempt, but a matter of eliminating the simplest solution first. No luck.