Payne laughed as he pushed the boat away from the dock.
‘No funny stuff,’ Jones warned as he tapped the steering wheel with his pistol. ‘Head north, and don’t stop unless I tell you to. Understood?’
Zidane nodded.
‘What about me?’ Berglund asked.
‘Stay low and stay out of my way,’ Jones replied.
‘I’ll try.’
The boat was not designed for safety; it was made for excitement. Its gunnels were no more than eighteen inches above the water and offered little protection to hide behind. Even slouched as low as he could go, Berglund’s head and shoulders were still exposed.
‘You’ve got ten minutes to catch up,’ Jones shouted to Payne as the boat floated toward the open water. ‘Any longer and I’m coming back to save your ass.’
‘From what?’
‘From yourself.’
Payne smiled and retreated toward the door as the jet boat’s engine roared to life. A moment later, Zidane dropped the throttle and the boat rocketed forward like a dragster at the starting line. The sound was so loud it attracted the attention of every surviving guard on the property, which was exactly what Payne had been hoping for.
The more he killed on land, the less he would have to worry about on water.
Payne steadied himself at the bottom of the stairwell. The passage was narrow, forcing people to descend one at a time. It was the perfect chokepoint for Payne to lie in wait.
When the door finally opened, three of Cole’s soldiers hustled down the tunnel in succession. Payne peeked around the bottom corner of the stairwell and opened fire. His first bullet caught the lead man in the throat — an instant kill shot. In the close quarters, the remaining men were unable to raise their weapons in time. Payne leveled his pistol and squeezed the trigger again. The second man fell dead and tumbled forward, which left the third standing in the clear. Payne fired once more, and the confrontation was over a few seconds after it had begun.
Payne took a deep breath and checked his ammo. As he did, he heard the distinctive roar of the jet boat moving farther and farther away. Payne assumed everything was fine until he heard a second engine rumble to life. Then another. Then two more. Suddenly concerned, he sprinted back into the boathouse and peaked outside toward the source of the sound.
In front of the mansion, four more WaveRunners were being launched from a hidden hold in the stern of the yacht. Payne cursed loudly as he watched four gunmen speed away in pursuit of Jones’s jet boat. He knew that with three passengers on board, it wouldn’t have the speed to keep its distance from the lighter, faster WaveRunners.
His friend was about to be out-paced, out-manned, and out-gunned.
In the early-morning light, Jones could see Zidane’s villa growing smaller and smaller in the distance. They were almost a mile away, but they were by no means safe. Not yet. Not with four WaveRunners closing in on them.
‘We can’t outrun them,’ Jones announced.
‘Of course not,’ Zidane replied in a smarmy tone. ‘You’re only prolonging the inevitable.’
‘I don’t need the commentary,’ Jones shouted back. ‘Just keep driving.’
He knew Zidane was right. The WaveRunners would eventually catch them, and when they did he would have no choice but to engage in a one-sided firefight from a boat that offered very little protection.
Jones heard the telltale pop-pop-pop-pop-pop of an automatic rifle, but the riders in pursuit were unable to compensate for the WaveRunners’ heaving motion as they sped over the swells and whitecaps on the lake. A series of tiny splashes erupted in the water to the side of the jet boat as the bullets fell harmlessly wide of their target. Another round whizzed by overhead. Range was not the issue for the high-powered assault rifles; it was their aim that could not be controlled.
In the midst of the gunfire, Jones watched as the lead soldier suddenly tilted his weight and veered sharply. The action caused the nose of the watercraft to dip below the surface, which in turn forced the rear into the air. A massive plume of water sprayed from the vehicle and soaked the two soldiers to his left. He then repeated the action in the other direction and doused the soldier to his right. Now that he had everyone’s attention, he swung his gun from one side to the other, squaring the men in his sights while violently shaking his head.
‘Why’d they stop?’ Berglund asked as he brazenly stuck his head up to see what was happening behind him. Ever the scientist, he deemed the reward of knowledge greater than the risk of being shot in the face.
‘One of them just figured out that if they shoot Miss Daisy, they’ll be going home without a paycheck,’ Jones explained. ‘But don’t worry, they’re still trying to kill us.’
‘On the contrary,’ Zidane said. ‘Tomas is of great importance to me. His life is to be spared at all costs. I’m afraid that the only person they’re trying to kill is you.’
65
Jones studied the men in the distance. He knew they wouldn’t risk shooting their employer, and he knew he could use that to his advantage. If he let them get in range, he could end their pursuit once and for all. ‘Slow down. Bring them closer.’
Zidane was a smart man, and he quickly figured out what Jones had in mind. He also realized this was probably his best chance to get away. Rather than slowing down, he forced the throttle into neutral, pulled the key from the starter, and dove over the side of the boat.
Jones started cursing before Zidane even hit the water.
But what could he do?
With the boat now bobbing lifelessly, the soldiers would attack in a matter of seconds. He knew there wasn’t enough time to dive in after the keys, and without Zidane’s presence on the boat, he and Berglund were sitting ducks. Jones pulled the scientist to the floor and prepared to make the best of a bad situation.
Zidane laughed at the sudden turn of events.
But his joy didn’t last.
Just as the soldiers opened fire, a sleek gunboat cut between them and their prey. The gunboat’s .50 caliber guns made short work of the WaveRunners, pumping round after round into the overmatched mercenaries. Compared to the armored gunboat, the personal watercraft were little more than toys — toys that could be easily shattered at the whim of the biggest kid in the playground.
Today, the biggest kid was Nick Dial.
Thanks to Dial’s persistent urging, the Italian State Police had eventually agreed to provide their assistance. Jones had known they would be out there, somewhere in the water. He simply needed to buy enough time for their arrival and then give them a reason to get involved. Whatever reservations they had were put aside the moment they saw four men raining automatic rifle fire upon a defenseless vessel.
As the gunboat circled the wreckage, Zidane finally conceded defeat. With Jones’s gun trained at his head, the billionaire swam slowly back to the jet boat.
‘Nice try,’ Jones admitted, ‘but did you really think I was alone out here? I might be pretty, but I ain’t stupid.’
Zidane pulled himself on board and stumbled around the boat, shaky on his feet from the shock of what was happening. In his wildest dreams, he had never imagined his legacy would end like this. He thought he would live in comfort for many more years, a rich man who could buy his own immortality. Now everything he had done would be for naught.
He had spent a fortune to prolong his life, but in that moment, he wanted to die.
A minute later, his wish would be granted.
Jones waved his arms to signal Dial, who was now standing on the bridge of the gunboat taking stock of the scene. Dial could only shake his head at the bodies in the water.
‘You really need to stop taking our calls,’ Jones said.