Kennedy leapt forward. Alicia grinned like her plan was in motion. With a fluid movement any wild Jaguar would have been proud of she twisted out of Kennedy’s reach, threw her spare weapon to Drake, and turned and started firing.
The Ingram fired loud. The streets of Key West came to a halt as people stopped what they were doing and turned an ear to the skies. What could that be? Not gunfire? Not here-
Drake shoved Ben around the side of the museum. Hayden drew her weapon, as did Kinimaka. Kennedy stayed with Ben. Drake fired as men emerged from cover about thirty feet away. Two came from behind a toilet block, running hard. Drake dropped them with two quick squeezes of the compact trigger.
Alicia was shooting on full-auto, but then she knew where her former comrades were hiding. Tourists and locals were scattering round the edges, jumping over fences and routing each other across the nearest hotel grounds.
Drake backed away. “Myles! Come on!” He knelt by the corner of the museum, his friends around him, and picked off every man who showed any part of his body. “Damn, we need a way out of this.”
“Got that right,” Alicia said as she scrambled next to him, Hudson in tow. “There are about thirty of ‘em out there.”
“Thirty?” Hayden looked horrified.
“Boudreau says his boss always goes over the top. Makes him look hard or whacko or something. Oh, they’ve got a helicopter too.”
“So you do work for Boudreau,” Hayden hissed at her. “How can you work for that maniac, you fucked up bitch?”
“Steady,” Alicia said without a flicker of concern. “That kind of talk may make me want to kiss you. Again.”
Bullets strafed the side of the wall next to them. Drake ducked as brick dust blasted past his eyes. “This way.”
Walking backwards, they cleared the museum and ran. Drake turned towards a hail of gunfire that clattered amongst nearby palm trees, but held fire, not wanting to exhaust the clip so early. Then they were suddenly on Duval Street, the thoroughfare still crammed with shoppers and tourists.
“We can’t go this way.” Hayden shot off to the left, heading towards the ocean and a narrow path. Kinimaka and Kennedy raced after her without pause.
Drake glanced around. At that moment a horde of bad guys came sprinting around the other side of the museum and aimed their weapons down Duval Street.
Hayden and the others were already out of sight.
Drake went the only he could. Into the crowd.
Kennedy sprinted in Kinimaka’s wake, not realising she was the last person until Hayden began to slow. When Kinimaka’s grunts lost some tempo she glanced back.
“Wait!”
Hayden stopped. “Damn! Where did they get to?”
The tree-lined pathway curved both ways, offering no clear view either forward or back.
“We have to help them.” Kennedy made a move.
“No! We must keep going.” Hayden still clutched the controller tight to her chest. “Drake can fight off an army if needs be. We must get this device to safety. The Blood King can never get both!”
“So he’s real again now,” Kinimaka was muttering. “Real. Myth. Real. Myth. Hard to keep up.”
Hayden set off again, this time with her gun poised and the artefact held more securely. Kennedy reluctantly stayed with them, trusting that Drake along with Alicia Myles as back-up knew how to win a war.
Behind them, gunfire erupted.
Drake blended with the crowd as best he could, pushing Ben before him and trusting Alicia to do her bit for Hudson. They moved up Duval Street, past the small cafes and bars, flitting from group to group and putting as much distance between themselves and their pursuers as they could.
Drake spotted them intermittently. Several were talking into wrist mics and clicking Bluetooth ear receivers. Instructions were being sought.
What worried Drake was the Blood King’s reputation. What had probably been a good move on any other day and with any other enemy could well backfire on him today. Hudson was already labouring, he noticed. That kid needed to lay off the bacon butties and stick to lettuce for a while.
The sudden sound of a machine-gun’s rattle brought him up short.
The mad bastards were sprinting up Duval Street, machine-guns shouldered, firing as they ran.
Drake did the only thing he could. Dragging Ben and screaming at Alicia to follow, he cut left and pounded straight through the grounds of a restaurant. Slamming people aside, he charged through the front door.
Hayden forced them on by sheer will power alone. Even then it was only when Kennedy heard sounds of pursuit coming along their own path that she put a spurt on. With the bad guys just behind they broke free of the palm-tree lined path and emerged onto a sun-drenched causeway. High concrete embankments were fashioned to form a docking area, running up to the wide road with every manner of boat imaginable tied up to either side. The causeway was their only way forward, yet it offered no concealment.
Hayden kept on repeating the old Jaye doctrine over and over in her head. Survive another minute. Survive just another minute.
When she glanced back again she saw the lead pursuers break clear of the trees. She dropped to her knees and quickly fired off three shots. The men went down in a tangle, catching the legs of those behind them. Mayhem ensued.
Kennedy had sprinted on ahead and now turned, squinting in the bright sunshine. “Boat’s the only way off here. Any preferences?”
“One that’s already running.” Kinimaka barrelled past her and almost bounced off the causeway, landing on the deck of a big white speedboat that lay at rest, burbling in its own gentle wake. Its owners started around in alarm at the big man and then grew even more upset when he waved his gun at them.
“Off.”
Without hesitation they dived into the clear, rippling water.
“Nice day for a swim anyway,” Kinimaka muttered as Kennedy came to his shoulder.
Hayden landed feet first in the speedboat with shots slamming and skimming off the concrete causeway above her. “Go!”
Kinimaka slammed a huge paw at the throttle. The speedboat responded with a furious roar, taking off faster than a slapper heading backstage at a Kid Rock concert. They threw themselves into the bottom of the boat as machine-gun fire fizzed through the air, less deadly at range than the venomous shouts that were aimed their way.
Hayden put her head up a little and was thankful to see the causeway fading behind. “Keep to the coast!” She shouted at Kinimaka. “We need to call Drake.”
And then, behind them, she heard the unmistakable whickering of fast-moving blades.
“Chopper!”
Drake prayed the savages back there had ceased fire when their quarry entered the restaurant. Attacking a CIA safe-house and a military cruiser was one thing — shooting between tourists on one of the busiest streets in Florida was urban warfare.
He raced through the tables, shouting and urging everyone to clear out. Blank looks greeted him at first and a little laughter, until they saw his gun. Then there was a sudden upsurge and a cacophony of screams. But Drake and his colleagues were already through it, the blockage intended to slow their hunters down.
Out through the back door and they were in a small alley. Drake cut left, dragging Ben. A minute later and they were on another street.
An open-topped sports car idled at the kerb before them, its occupant shouting into a mobile phone.
Drake glanced around at Alicia. “That’ll do.”