Widening — then it stopped.
‘Shit!’ cried Eddie. ‘They’ve pushed the bloody button to close it!’
Zane’s response was to jam the accelerator down harder. The Ferrari surged forward. ‘We can fit—’
The gate reversed direction.
‘No we can’t!’ Eddie cringed as the 458’s front wheels cleared the shrinking gap with a hair’s-breadth to spare—
A shrill crunch of tearing metal — and both men were flung forward as the closing gate sheared away bodywork before smashing against the rear wheels.
In a contest between rubber and steel, the result was inevitable. Both tyres exploded, one of the wheel rims being wrenched from the axle. The Ferrari careered out on to the road at the head of a comet tail of mangled wreckage, barely missing a car heading towards Amalfi, only to hit a Fiat in the westbound lane. Both vehicles slammed into the base of the towering cliff.
The Ferrari’s airbags had fired, cushioning the impact. Eddie straightened groggily. ‘Told you. You okay?’
The younger man grimaced. ‘My head hurts, but… yeah, I think so.’ He clambered from the car. ‘At least I fulfilled an ambition.’
Eddie climbed over the passenger door. ‘Which one?’
‘To drive a Ferrari. Even if it was only for twenty seconds.’
‘We need to find something else to drive, fast.’ The gate was opening again. A shrill of tyres told him that Leitz’s bodyguards were coming after them in the BMWs.
He looked around. The Fiat’s driver was uninjured, already gesticulating furiously through his battered car’s window. A small truck behind it had skidded as it braked to avoid the wrecked Ferrari, blocking both lanes. Horns blasted as more vehicles joined the jam.
No way back to Amalfi, then — they would have to go west. Eddie checked the first few cars in the other lane. Fiat, Lancia, Fiat: any would do, but they would need to make a U-turn to escape, which in the confined space would take time he didn’t have. He needed a bike, or…
‘Here!’ he shouted, running to the fourth vehicle in the line.
Zane hurried after him — only to stop in disbelief. ‘We can’t use that!’
‘We don’t have a choice!’ Eddie’s intended getaway vehicle was a three-wheeled Piaggio Ape, the little green pickup’s rear bed loaded with gardening equipment. Its driver, a slovenly old man with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, watched Eddie approach with surprise, then fear as he saw his gun. ‘Scusi, signore, but we need-o your auto.’
The Mossad agent hesitated, but the roar of approaching engines convinced him. He ran to the Ape, elbowing Eddie aside before yanking the driver out of the single-seat cab. ‘I’ll drive.’
‘After what you did to the last car?’ the Yorkshireman hooted.
‘Just get in the back!’ Zane shoved the driver away and dropped into his seat.
‘Scusate,’ Eddie said apologetically to the bewildered Italian as he jumped into the pickup bed.
The Ape’s little engine revved hard, sounding like bees trapped in a tin can, then the vehicle jerked into motion. The Piaggio had handlebars rather than a steering wheel; Zane jammed them to the left to pull the vehicle out from the line of traffic. With a turning circle of just twelve feet, it had no difficulty coming about even on the narrow road — although the alarming amount of body roll warned its occupants that its stability did not match its manoeuvrability.
Eddie grabbed the cab’s rear and leaned over to help counterbalance the Ape as the first of the black BMWs powered out of the driveway. It barged wreckage aside and swung after the Piaggio as the second 7 Series emerged behind it. ‘Here they come!’
Zane twisted the throttle to its limit, sending the Ape zipping along the winding cliff road as the two larger — and vastly more powerful — cars roared in pursuit.
18
Eddie crouched, bracing himself against the cab. The line of stalled eastbound traffic whipped past on the Ape’s left, parked cars and wheelie bins hemming it on the right. The lead BMW closed with frightening speed.
There were two men in the car. The passenger had a gun, but the 7 Series itself was the weapon, about to ram the flimsy Ape off the road—
Eddie snapped up Leitz’s Sphinx and fired. The combination of the Piaggio’s rough ride and Zane’s evasive driving threw off his aim, but the bullet still ricocheted off the BMW’s bonnet. Alarmed, the driver pulled back.
But the threat was far from over. The other man lowered his window, leaning out…
‘Hold on!’ Zane shouted. Eddie grabbed the pickup’s side as the Ape snaked between three young men riding scooters. Shrilling horns and angry shouts followed in the little truck’s wake. The BMW braked hard to avoid hitting the riders, the driver blasting his own horn. Various rude Italian hand gestures came in response.
The passenger made a gesture of his own — with his gun. Suddenly rather less macho, the trio hurriedly pulled aside. The BMW accelerated, its twin following.
The delay had given the two men in the Ape a respite, however brief — its top speed was only around forty miles per hour. Eddie checked the back for potential weapons. Some large plastic sacks of soil, several spades and rakes held upright against the cab by a length of bungee cord hooked into a hole in the roof, a rust-specked set of shears, a grimy plastic box containing small tools and packets of flower seeds. Not the most promising selection, but if he ran out of bullets, they would be all he had.
The black cars were gaining quickly even on the narrow road. The gunman leaned out of the lead vehicle’s window, his counterpart in the second BMW following his example.
Eddie tensed, awaiting the inevitable attack. The pickup bed’s low sides were thin pressed aluminium. He would be almost completely exposed to their pursuers’ fire, and there was no room for him in the cab…
Inspiration came to him. He grabbed one of the heavy soil bags and dropped it on its edge against the tailgate. Two more joined it, wedged diagonally against each side wall — and now he had a bunker of sorts, the sacks of earth acting as sandbags.
The Ape tipped again as Zane brought it around another bend. The gap between the three-wheeler and Leitz’s men shrank with alarming speed—
Muzzle flash from the lead BMW — and Eddie heard the supersonic crack of a bullet tearing past.
He dropped behind his makeshift barricade. The next shot hit a soil bag. There was a flat whap! and he felt the sack kick hard against him — but the round didn’t penetrate, the dense, damp earth absorbing the impact.
A sharp clang and a second thump. Another bullet, this one punching through the tailgate before burying itself in the packed soil. He had a chance—
He readied his gun, lifting his head a fraction to spot the lead car’s roof — then fired two shots at its driver.
His awkward position behind his improvised cover affected his aim, but he still hit the front of the 7 Series. The driver reacted with fright, the car swerving before he recovered.
The gunman returned fire. Most of the shots from the weaving BMW went wide, but one still smacked into the soil bags. Eddie waited for a moment, then popped up again for another attack—
To see the 7 Series charging at him.
The car rammed into the Piaggio. Even with two men aboard, the little three-wheeler was swatted like an insect. Its back end slewed sideways as the BMW pushed it along, rear tyres rasping over the asphalt. Only Zane’s lightning reactions saved it from overturning as he slammed the handlebars to turn the front wheel into the skid.
The impact almost hurled Eddie over the tailgate. The stacked soil bags saved him — but he lost the gun as he clung on, the Sphinx spinning away on to the road. The BMW’s driver angled to smash the pinned Ape against the towering cliff wall…