In the lull between the shots, one of the Russians started speaking, but Chris couldn’t hear what he was saying or notice anyone responding. Chris could only guess they were calling someone for reinforcements. Even if Chris’s team survived the initial fight against superior numbers without the benefit of surprise, they’d soon run out of ammo.
Off to the right, two policemen wearing bullet resistant vests and armed with submachine guns stepped out of a white police vehicle marked with an orange stripe on the side.
“We can’t stay here,” Chris whispered.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Sonny said.
Hannah nodded.
Because Chris was the strongest shooter of the three, it made the most sense to pair up Hannah and Sonny. Chris pointed to them. “You two leapfrog back.”
They didn’t have to be told twice. They hustled back ten meters to the nearest cover, while Chris watched their six. But Animus, Whiteface, and their men weren’t making even the slightest movement. What are they up to?
When Hannah and Sonny opened fire on Animus and his clan, Chris took that as his signal to fall back. He passed a young mother and her child huddled on the ground, and he wished he could help them, but it was going to be all Chris could do to save himself. The best thing he could do for the mother and child was to leave the area quickly to remove the danger. His feet pounded against the ground as he passed Hannah and Sonny at a run and went ten more meters to the cover of a tree.
Animus’s crew shot at the armed police officers, and the police officers fired back. The police took out two of Animus’s men, but they retaliated with full force. A shot hit one of the officers in the neck, immediately dropping him. The other officer seemed to be wounded in both his arm and leg. He limped as he tried to drag his fallen buddy to safety.
While Animus and his men occupied themselves with the police, Chris and his crew were able to put nearly a hundred meters of distance between them and the bad guys.
“Time to haul ass,” Sonny said. He led Hannah and Chris southeast through the woods.
Police sirens descended on the park now. Chris glanced back. Animus and his comrades were still following Chris’s crew. And fast.
As Chris, Hannah, and Sonny ran, the ground appeared level, but a dip in one spot caused Chris to trip. He dodged trees. Their roots threatened to topple him, but he stayed on his feet. When one foot came down, a root made him lose his balance, twisting his ankle and wrenching his nerves. The agony caused his eyes to tear up, but he held his tongue.
He didn’t know how far he’d have to run, and having to do it on a bum ankle was not good. The pain in his shoulder returned from the shot he’d taken back in Athens, and he regretted not having done more physical training on his own after he left the Teams.
He gritted through the fire consuming his ankle and the stabbing in his shoulder, maintaining his pace. Animus could cause him even more pain, and if Animus turned him over to Xander, the man would surely clang Chris’s chimes for killing Evelina. He would much rather die than be captured — especially now.
The trio had run half a klick, reaching the southeast corner of Hyde Park, and the nerves in Chris’s shoulder and ankle had become numb. Although the numbness provided relief, he prayed he wasn’t causing permanent damage.
They passed a giant dark metal statue of Achilles armed with sword and shield. Chris considered how excruciating a shot to the heel would be, then banished the thought. Getting shot in the shoulder hurt enough as it was.
To the northeast of the nearest park exit was a bus stop where a red double-decker bus was parked. Trying to catch it would cause the trio to backtrack closer to the enemy. Before Chris could weigh the option anymore, the bus pulled out.
They slowed down to a walk and holstered their weapons to blend in better with the civilian population. Now there seemed to be people everywhere: entering the park, walking on the sidewalk, crossing the street, waiting for a bus, and driving. They were going about their everyday activities, clueless as to what danger was on its way.
Sonny crossed the northbound Park Lane. Hannah and Chris followed. Then Sonny traversed a grassy square where there were few trees. Traffic ran across multiple lanes of the southbound street, and Sonny, Hannah, and Chris came to a stop as they waited for an opening to cross.
“Damn!” Sonny cursed.
While they waited, the distress in Chris’s shoulder and ankle returned, and Animus and his clan were closing the hundred-meter gap behind them. Chris walked out into the street holding his arm out and yelling at oncoming traffic. He was sure a car would hit him, but the vehicles slowed down, honking at him as they crossed. I’d rather get killed by a car than give Animus the satisfaction of killing me.
Hannah and Sonny followed, and a young white guy in a white Audi honked his horn. His vehicle pushed forward, his bumper nudging Sonny.
Sonny banged his fist on the hood and shouted, “I’m walking here, shit-for-brains!”
The driver waved his hand and shouted back in Jafaican — a mix of Cockney, Jamaican, and something else.
Sonny flipped him the bird. “Up yours, sweetheart.”
When they reached the other side of the street, they faced a tall concrete wall that ran for some distance and seemed to have no entrance. Sonny jumped and grabbed the top of the wall, pulled himself up, climbed over and dropped out of sight. Hannah went next, and Chris followed. Intense burning in his shoulder gripped him, but he made it over. On the other side, they scaled another wall.
They landed in a lush casino garden. Under a porch canopy, supported by fluted white pillars, a TV monitor displayed BBC News. The green card tabletops matched the color of the ivy and other plants. At the roulette table, men and women wearing business attire stopped gaming, drinking, and cigar smoking to gawk at Chris and his friends. The looks on their faces ranged from curiosity to fear.
Sonny took the point, briskly and confidently walking across the patio past the red horse chestnut and bay trees.
Hannah smiled at the guests. “Maintenance.”
At the time, it sounded like a weak cover, but in the heat of the moment, no other excuse came to mind, so Chris smiled, too.
Some of the guests returned to their activities, but the croupier kept staring, her brow creased and her roulette wheel stationary.
Sonny passed the bar on his way into the building. Inside, they found another roulette wheel and more card tables, but this time they didn’t attract as many eyes.
A man in a tuxedo approached Sonny. “May I help you, sir?” he asked, his tone haughty.
“Yes, actually. Can you show me the way out?” Sonny asked. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
“Right this way, sir.” The man in the tuxedo led them off the gaming floor and down an arched hallway where chandeliers lined the ceiling. At the end of the hall, Chris and his team exited the building, returning to the streets of London.
To their left, three of the Russians rounded the street corner, discreetly holding their pistols down to their sides but not concealing them. It appeared Animus had split his men up to look for Chris’s crew.
“These guys won’t quit,” Chris muttered.
Sonny’s face twisted in determination. “We have to make them quit.”
“Or at least slow them down,” Hannah said.
Animus and another Russian appeared. Now there were five of them.
Across the street, the doorman to the Four Seasons Hotel greeted Sonny, who ignored him and entered the lobby. Chris and Hannah followed close behind. The lobby was clear except for a handful of guests checking in at the front desk. Chris’s first impulse was to form a hasty ambush on Animus, but that would endanger the guests. He didn’t like choosing a path of escape through populated areas, but in the heart of London, there wasn’t a plethora of unpopulated places where he and his friends could stay alive.