His head burst out from the oil and he gasped for air.
“No! Tiger killed your parents!”
Lexi felt rage burn inside her and she pushed his head under again. “Die, you bastard!”
Scarlet reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. “He’s dead, Lexi. You killed him.”
She looked down and saw Monkey’s limp body slide down to the floor. She had killed him.
Tiger saw it too and fled from the chaos into the night.
Lexi watched him vanish. “He killed my parents, Joe!”
Hawke watched him go. “I’m on it!”
He pursued him hard, smashing his way through the door. The stairs he had seen turned out to be a fire escape leading down to a car park at the rear of the restaurant. He pounded down the metal steps three at a time. Beijing was towering all around him. The sound of sirens was still in the air, as were the police choppers and their searchlights. One of the biggest manhunts in modern Chinese history was unfolding all over the capital city, The hounds were everywhere and he was the fox.
But right now he was more interested in a tiger.
With Rat in British custody and Zhou, Pig and Monkey all dead, Tiger was the last surviving Zodiac and letting him go was unthinkable.
And then he saw him, fleeing at full speed into the night. He was sprinting under a line of streetlights toward another side street. Hawke knew that for the Zodiac assassin, losing him in the backstreets of Beijing would the easiest thing in the world. He had to catch him now, or he would be the mother of all loose cannons, hell bent on revenge against them and with the skillset to deal it out.
He sprinted after him across the car park, pounding on the asphalt as fast as he could power his legs forward. Tiger was younger than him, faster and probably more agile, but he thought he might just have the edge when it came to upper body strength.
And luck.
Tiger darted into an alley lined with garbage cans and the Englishman followed him into the darkness. The assassin was already at the far end and wheeling around the corner. Chest pounding and lungs on fire, Hawke forced his aching legs to work harder and faster as he turned the corner and scanned the street for his enemy.
A busy street lined with shops on both sides. Towering above them were several storeys of apartments, marked by washing on poles hanging out of the windows and blowing gently in the neon breeze.
Tiger was on the other side of the road, slowing to a jog now and heading for what looked like a laundry.
Hawke was wrong. The Zodiac assassin wasn’t aiming for the laundry but a Mazda parked up out the front of it. As Tiger approached it, someone inside flung open the rear door and he dived inside.
The former SBS man was running out of options. If the car took off into these side streets that was the end of the chase. But the Mazda wasn’t taking off anywhere. Instead it revved and turned in a tight circle in the middle of the street before heading right for him.
Hawke narrowly avoided the impact by flinging himself into a forward roll and he got back to his feet on the other side of the road. As the Mazda rushed past him a man in the back seat beside Tiger leaned out of the rear window and twisted a submachine gun around, spraying lead all over the asphalt. The rounds chewed into the surface of the road and spat chunks of tarmac up into the air all around him.
He dived onto the hood of a passing cab and landed with a smack on the windshield. His back slammed into the glass and smashed it, leaving the driver struggling to see the road. He opted for stomping on the brakes and sent Hawke flying off the hood of the car and crashing down on the hot, hard road. He turned the fall into another roll to absorb the energy and dragged himself back up just in time to avoid another hail of bullets from the Mazda.
He ran to the side of the road and took cover behind one of the market stalls. The owner started shouting in Mandarin at him and waving a slice of durian in his face. His tirade was brought to an abrupt stop by a savage fusillade of automatic bullets raking into the front of his stall and blasting his stock to pieces. He swore loudly and hit the deck beside Hawke, then spoke in rapid Mandarin.
“Just what I was thinking, mate.”
More police sirens and lights.
“They’re having a busy night.” Hawke cradled his head in his hands as another wave of gunfire ripped over their heads blasting lotus roots, taros and starfruits all over their heads.
The driver of the Mazda hit the gas hard, spinning the wheels and making them squeal like pigs. Two thick clouds of burned rubber smoke spewed out of the rear wheel arches and then the car took off, swerving down the street. It turned a corner and vanished into the night leaving crowds of terrified people peeping out from behind wherever they had sought cover.
Hawke thrust a hundred dollars into the stall holder’s hands and looked at him with an apology on his face and a shrug on his shoulders. “Gotta go, mate. Not all that interested in explaining this to the law.”
He slipped away into the crowd and called Scarlet. Reaper had done the decent thing and stolen a Haval H9 SUV he’d found around the back of a noodle bar near the restaurant. He started the long walk back to the rest of his team and found them leaning against the side of the Haval, sharing a smoke. Lexi was safe but not out of China, so the mission was only half done. They still had to get back to the other team and finish the hunt for Kruger and the Sword of Fire.
“Talking of getting out of China,” he asked. “Rich sort it out yet?”
Scarlet nodded. “As planned. The ship leaves tonight — if we can get there.”
“We can get there.”
The rest of the night was quiet as Hawke drove the Haval out of the city and joined the highway stretching around the west coast of Bohai Bay. Leaving the industrial landscape of the capital behind, they cut through endless tracts of Chinese countryside before finally arriving in Qingdao at four in the morning.
The port city nestled on the western reaches of the Yellow Sea and they quickly located the Naja Maersk moored up behind one of the massive container cranes in the northern section of the port. At over four hundred meters in length and nearly two hundred thousand tonnes, it was one of the world’s more formidable container ships and tonight it was their passage to freedom.
Sailing under a Danish flag, it was due to leave port and sail through the South China Sea before crossing the Indian Ocean. From there it would head north through the Suez canal until eventually reaching Rotterdam. Under the protection of Captain Poul Kampmann the ECHO team would sail out of Chinese waters and then get picked up by a chopper from a US carrier group under the direct orders of President Jack Brooke himself.
Hawke pulled up and killed the Haval’s engine. Dumping it at the side of the road behind a cargo shed, they walked across to one of the gangways on the stern’s starboard side. Waiting there was a man smoking a cigarette and wearing a black beanie. He introduced himself as Ulrik and then showed them up the enormous gangway.
At the top of the steps a man in a roll neck jumper met them and waved them on board. A thick carpet of silver stubble carpeted his jaw like an expensive rug and his pale blue eyes had a hint of mischief about them.
“I’m Captain Kampmann,” he said, nervously glancing behind them down at the docks. “Were you followed?”
“They tried,” Hawke said, “but they failed. Listen, thanks for taking this risk, Captain. Smuggling a fugitive out of China is a big deal. We all have a lot to thank you for.”
The man finished his anxious scan of the port over their shoulders. “Let’s just say your organization was very generous when it came to paying me for my troubles. We’re due to leave in a few moments, so please, Ulrik here will show you to your quarters. There you can freshen up before dinner and then we will rendezvous with the US Navy helicopter as soon as we are out of Bohai Bay.”