Armed only with his old kukri, Hawke and Lea gave chase and pursued the Syrians around to the west side of the Redeemer. When they got to the other side of the platform they were amazed to see the whole of Rio de Janeiro in front of them. It was a breathtaking vista from this elevation, but there was no time to appreciate it because standing at the end of the platform with nothing behind them but a sheer drop of hundreds of feet was General Ziad Saqqal and Dr Jawad, and they were fumbling with the locks on the medical carry case.
“Get back!” Saqqal shouted. “Get back or I will release Utopia!”
“Take it easy, Ziad,” Hawke said, slowly reaching around to check the kukri was still on his belt. “You don’t want to do that.”
“But I do! This is the most lethal airborne plague in history! This, right here in my hands, was responsible for the annihilation of Paititi and the destruction of the Inca civilization. Now it will destroy civilizations again, starting with the people of this city.”
“We don’t have the NBC suits!” Jawad screamed. “You cannot release it!”
“Silence!”
Jawad made a break for it, and Lea ran after him, leaving Hawke with Saqqal. It didn’t take her long to catch up with the unfit scientist, and she brought him down with a leg tackle.
Jawad scrambled to get away from both Lea and Saqqal, desperately trying to flee to safety before Utopia was released and pandemonium broke out in the city. Unlike everyone else on this mountain, he alone knew what would truly happen if this thing somehow got out of containment and was exposed to the atmosphere.
Now, the woman was striking him and trying to stop him getting away. Jawad had never fought in his life, and being struck in the face hurt more than he’d imagined.
“Please stop!” he yelled. “We have to get away! You don’t understand!”
Lea stepped back and wiped the blood from her mouth. It was time to shut down the enemy and she knew that when there was serious work to do the time to start was always now. She fired back with a fast palm strike that collided brutally with the scientist’s chin, smacking his head back on the concrete and knocking him out.
Then she turned and ran back to Hawke. Somewhere on the other side of the enormous Christ statue he was trying to stop that lunatic Saqqal from releasing the Utopia plague.
Ziad Saqqal had no love for humanity, not after what had happened to his family in the rocket attack, and he had made his peace with the universe. He had wondered if he could live with himself and unleash the plague on the world at the same time, and he had thought yes. Now he had to consider if he could take his own life in the process.
Staring at the former SBS man who was now fast approaching him, he thought yes once again, and began to unlock the carrying case. Dying in agony from Utopia over the next few hours would be preferable to a life in jail on terror charges.
But then the Englishman pulled a chunky knife from his belt and hurled it at him. It flew through the air with the speed of a Ninja’s shuriken and he felt the heavy blade plunge into his chest. His eyes widened like two saucers as he realized what had happened, and then he turned those two crazed eyes downwards to the wound and saw the mighty blade sticking through his ribs.
He could feel the case in his hand as he began to go over the rail. If he hurled himself off, Utopia would be released before the English bastard could stop it. It was his last chance… his last act. He felt his consciousness slipping away as the blood poured from the terrible wound in his chest and pump over his body.
Hawke watched as Saqqal began to topple over the rail, the case still in his hand. If it went over the cliff with the Syrian it would smash apart and Utopia would be released to the world, furiously multiplying as it spread its death cloud over the human population, spreading from city to city.
He knew he had only one chance to stop this, and sprinted forward with all his might. With his body awash with adrenalin he surged forward and snatched the medical case just as Saqqal toppled over the edge.
He peered over the cliff edge and saw the smashed body of Ziad Saqqal crash into the rocks and spin down in to the ravine, broken and bashed beyond repair. He breathed out with relief as he locked the carry case back up and set it down on the concrete, and then he felt Lea slide her arm through his. He turned as she kissed him on the cheek, the enormous statue of Christ the Reedeemer rising above them.
They kissed for a moment and hugged each other before returning their gaze to the incredible sight of Rio de Janeiro. The city lights began to sparkle as night approached.
“That is one pretty view, Josiah.”
“Thanks, I’m trying something new with my hair.”
“Not you, ya fool — the city behind your big, fat head.”
“Ah…”
Lea rolled her eyes and pointed to an enormous, steep peak jutting out into Guanabara Bay. “What’s that mountain over there?”
“Sugarloaf Mountain. If old Saqqal had gone there instead we could have re-enacted Moonraker,” Hawke said with a devilish grin.
“Cable cars… really?” Lea said. “After Switzerland and Zaugg?”
“Yeah… maybe not.”
She peered over the rail and saw the flashing lights as the police raced up the hill. “Can’t be too long till we have company.”
“Hmm — shame I don’t have my wingsuit. This would make the perfect launching platform, but as it is, we’ve got quite the walk ahead of us so let’s get started.”
Lea cocked her head and squinted as she looked at his stomach. “She’s right you know.”
“Who’s right?”
“Cairo. She said you were getting a bit of a tummy.”
“Are you having a laugh?”
“Sure I am.”
He smiled. Having a laugh was always easy if Lea Donovan was around.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ryan Bale wiped the sweat from his forehead and checked the magazine Reaper had given him. Three rounds. He smacked it back into the grip of the Glock.
Make them count.
After a lifetime looking down his nose at violence and guns, it suddenly felt good in his hands. He liked the weight of it, the shape of the grip, the feel of the steel trigger guard.
The power of life and death.
His new-found love of the weapon mixed dangerously with the deep hatred he felt for Dirk Kruger, the man who had kidnapped him and dragged him halfway around the world. The man who had used him like a walking encylopaedia, the man who had kept him gagged with his hands behind his back so he could use him as a bargaining chip in case ECHO got in his way again.
The man who was trapped on this boat with him… and now he was going to kill him stone dead.
Ryan crept along the portside deck, gun raised into the aim. He heard firing and ducked inside a doorway for cover, but then he realized he wasn’t the target because he could still hear shooting.
He moved forward to see Kruger blasting the hell out of the throttle controls and the boat slowed rapidly in response. The South African turned and saw him, and immediately fired on him. The bullets were wide, and pinged off the bulkhead in a shower of sparks, leaving Ryan diving for cover behind the portside wall of the wheelhouse.
He scrambled to safety and remembered once again he had only three bullets.
Make them count.
Reaper felt the water rush over him as he hit the ocean. The two men had become tangled in Kruger’s net and as they rolled off the boat into the sea the Frenchman suddenly understood what the South African used it for — torturing and killing his enemies.
As they went out behind the Navetta the boat dragged them along in its wake, and Corzo now started punching him hard in the face. Reaper knew only one man was getting out of this net alive, and it wasn’t going to be Carlos Corzo.