The bikers closest to the broken windows rode out into the fog. The Nemesis bulled its way through the scattered debris and terrified guests after them.
The trio who had taken the Codex mounted up. Two of them set off without a pause; the leader glanced back at Nina’s group before moving—
Eddie dived, landing by the golden trident. He snatched it up and leapt to his feet, flipping it round so the three spearheads were pointing backwards.
Nina rushed to Rowan. ‘Somebody help me!’ she cried, pressing her palm against the wound to try to staunch the bleeding. He groaned.
The Nemesis and the first two bikers reached the windows, crunching over the glass. The leader followed—
Eddie hurled the trident. It flew across the hall like a gleaming javelin, spearing down at its target . . .
Not the rider, but his bike.
The shaft shot between the rear wheel’s spokes to be slammed against the forks, instantly locking the wheel. The rider was thrown off as the bike crashed to the floor.
Eddie ran at him. Catch the leader, and this would be over—
The raider rolled, cat-like, back on his feet in a moment - and drew his gun.
Eddie hurled himself behind one of the surviving display cases as bullets sprayed across the room. They smacked into the thick glass, crazing and cracking it - then the onslaught stopped. The gunman dropped his weapon. Out of ammo.
Engine snarl. The Nemesis’s driver had heard the gunfire and quickly reversed back into the hall. The rider ran to the vehicle and jumped in.
A siren grew in volume outside. Somebody on the street had called 911, the police responding rapidly to an incident at the mayor’s location—
More gunshots as the bikers opened fire on the approaching cops. Staccato clangs of lead striking steel and cracks of glass, then the police car veered across the plaza, coming to an abrupt stop against a concrete planter. The siren fell silent, strobes flicking eerily through the fog.
The Nemesis surged away with a V8 bellow.
Eddie ran to the abandoned bike and yanked the bent trident out from the wheel. He pulled the vehicle upright. It had stalled; he jumped on and slammed his heel down on the long kick-start lever. The engine rasped to life. He twisted the throttle, pulling the front wheel round.
‘Eddie!’ Nina yelled across the hall. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘Going after them!’
‘No, wait—’
Too late. He powered through the opening, turning hard to head after the fleeing Nemesis. The bike’s tail light vanished into the fog.
One of the guests, a balding, middle-aged man, hurried over to Nina and Rowan. ‘I’m a doctor,’ he told her. ‘Please, move your hand - I need to see the wound.’
Nina reluctantly lifted her hand from Rowan’s chest, cringing as a thick crimson gush pumped from the hole. ‘Will he be okay?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the doctor, quickly assessing the damage before putting his own palm firmly over the injury. ‘It missed his heart, but it might have punctured a lung.’
‘I’ve called for an ambulance,’ one of his companions reported, waving a cell phone.
Anguished, Nina looked between the injured man and the broken window through which her husband had just disappeared. Rowan read her expression. ‘Nina,’ he gasped, his breathing hoarse and laboured. ‘Go help Eddie. Get - get the Codex back.’
‘But I can’t leave you!’
‘I’ll be okay.’ He forced a once very familiar smile through the pain. ‘Go on. Bring me some chocolates at the hospital. Dark ones.’
Nina gripped his hand. ‘As if I’d forget what you like.’ She squeezed it more tightly, then, after a moment of hesitation, let go and stood. Rowan winked at her. Reassured, however slightly, she turned. Through the broken window, the police car’s blinking strobes caught her attention. ‘Mr Mayor!’
Boyce struggled upright, shaking with adrenalin and fear. He looked round at Nina’s insistent shout. ‘W-what?’
Nina grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the plaza. ‘There’s a police car outside - tell them to put up roadblocks. Now!’
He was still too shocked to think straight. ‘But - I can’t just order them to do things—’
‘You’re the goddamn mayor!’ Nina reminded him as they reached the police cruiser. It was a Dodge Charger, a powerful four-door sedan in SFPD black and white - but both officers inside were slumped over, unconscious or dead. ‘Damn it!’
‘My God,’ gasped Boyce, recoiling at the sight. ‘Now what do we do?’
Nina looked in the direction Eddie had gone - and made a decision. ‘We follow them. You can guide the cops to block them.’ She opened the driver’s door. The man at the wheel was dead, hit by several bullets. Suppressing her revulsion, she unfastened his seat belt, then dragged out the body.
Boyce gawped at her. ‘You can’t do that! It’s - a crime scene or something!’
‘Just get in! No, in the front!’ she shouted as he opened the rear door. ‘I need you to use the radio!’
The other cop was also dead, a bloody hunk of skin and bone hanging off his temple. Shuddering, Nina released his seat belt as Boyce ran round the car. ‘Don’t look at his face, just pull him out,’ she ordered.
The mayor tried to follow her advice, but couldn’t help glimpsing the wound and had to stifle a yelp of disgust. However, he reluctantly manhandled the body out of the car, calling to someone inside the exhibition centre to watch over the dead men.
‘Come on!’ said Nina impatiently. Boyce climbed in beside her. She put the Charger into reverse. Metal and plastic graunched where the front bumper had jammed against the planter, then ripped free. She powered into the fog. ‘Get on the radio.’
At the wheel of the Nemesis, Zec flipped up his visor to look anxiously at Fernandez. ‘Are you okay?’
The Spaniard kneaded his bruised shoulder. ‘I think so. Thanks for coming back for me.’
‘I was hardly going to abandon you, Urbano. You haven’t paid us the rest of our money yet!’ He smiled, but Fernandez was not amused. ‘Who was it? A guard?’
‘No, one of the guests. Bastard! If I see him again, I’ll kill him.’
Zec’s side mirrors revealed something approaching rapidly from behind. ‘This is your chance.’
‘What?’ Fernandez glared at the mirror. A single headlight pierced the murk - one of the team’s powerful Honda XR650R dirt bikes. His Honda. ‘He’s chasing us!’ he said in disbelief.
‘What do we do?’
‘Follow the plan - get on to Taylor Street and head up the hill. Where’s the radio?’ He searched for Zec’s walkie-talkie. ‘Go faster!’
The fog had turned the streets damp and slippery, and the Honda’s high, gawky stance made Eddie feel even more unsteady. But he was quickly getting the feel of the off-roader.
The Nemesis accelerated, the shrill whine of its supercharger echoing off buildings as it barged past a car, which braked and skidded. Eddie cursed, swerving round it. Was his bike fast enough to catch the 4x4?
Only one way to find out. He twisted the throttle harder.
‘Yes, I really am Mayor Boyce!’ said Boyce into the radio handset. The dispatcher at the other end of the line had enough on her plate with the rash of 911 calls, and was unimpressed by the crazy guy commandeering police frequencies and claiming to be the mayor. ‘Look, just get ambulances to the Halliwell building, and set up roadblocks, right now! There are armed robbers escaping on motorbikes and some sort of big SUV, and they’ve killed several people, including two police officers.’
The woman was immediately more attentive. ‘There are officers down?’