‘No, we don’t,’ Eddie countered at the sound of pounding feet outside. ‘What we do need is to get out of here before we get killed!’
The footsteps came closer. Eddie brought up his pistol—
A man bearing an MP5 sub-machine gun rushed into the room - and took two shots to his chest. Eddie ran to him, shoving the USP into a pocket and picking up the MP5, then glanced at the display cabinet containing Khoil’s first computer. ‘A Spectrum, eh?’ He smashed the glass with the gun’s stock, making Nina jump, then did the same to the little computer inside it.
‘What was that for?’ she gasped, startled by the petty vandalism.
He grinned. ‘I was a Commodore 64 kid. Now where’s this garage?’
They ran from the infotarium, Nina directing them to the elevator. Another guard charged round a corner ahead - and took a burst from the MP5 across his chest. Shouts echoed behind them; more people were coming.
A short side passage led to the elevator. Nina pushed the call button, but Eddie booted open the door beside it and waved for her to go down the stairs. She took them two at a time, the heavy case banging against her legs, and emerged in the basement.
Eddie arrived a second later, eyes widening in admiration as he took in the gleaming cars. ‘Wow. This lot’s nearly as good as Kari Frost’s collection.’
Nina was in no mood for comparisons between maniacal billionaires past and present. ‘All I care about is: does he have anything fast?’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He indicated a two-tone slate and charcoal-grey hunk of sculpted, purposeful curves - the Bugatti Veyron. ‘Fastest production car ever built. Well, except for one by some little American company—’
‘We don’t need the Guinness World Records, just start it!’
A glass-fronted cabinet near the elevator contained numerous keys, each with the fob displaying the manufacturer’s logo. Eddie searched for the distinctive ‘EB’ of Bugatti, then smashed the glass with the MP5 and snatched out the keys. He tossed them to Nina. ‘Your turn to drive.’
‘Me? But—’
‘Unless you want to shoot.’
‘I’ll drive,’ said Nina quickly, running to the Veyron. She threw the gun and case inside and lowered herself into the low-slung, luxurious interior as Eddie rounded the supercar, the MP5 raised.
A chime as the elevator arrived—
Eddie fired before the doors had even fully opened, a guard thrashing backwards into the confined cabin. He glimpsed Tandon and released another burst, but the Indian squeezed himself flat against the side wall. For a moment Eddie considered running across to finish him off, but then the Veyron started with a growl from its massive sixteen-cylinder engine. He swung into the car. ‘Go!’
Smoke belched from the screaming tyres as Nina pressed the accelerator. ‘What the hell’s with this gearstick?’ she cried, trying unsuccessfully to shift into second gear.
‘It’s a sequential - push it forward to change up!’ Eddie leaned out of the door, seeing Tandon running for cover behind the McLaren. He fired another burst - just as Nina figured out the gears and upshifted. The car leapt forward, throwing off his aim. The McLaren’s windscreen shattered as Tandon dived behind it. Eddie cursed and pulled himself inside the Veyron, lowering his window as the supercar shot towards the ramp.
Nina kept accelerating, the engine note thunderous in the underground space. There was a horrible crunch as the Bugatti’s front air dam scraped the foot of the ramp, then they powered towards the square of daylight ahead—
One of the Range Rovers skidded to a halt at the entrance, broadside on to block their escape.
Nina fought her instinct to brake, instead jamming the accelerator all the way down and bracing herself . . .
The Veyron reached the top of the ramp - and went airborne. It smashed into the Range Rover at window height, slicing off the 4x4’s roof in an explosion of glass. The driver ducked just quickly enough to avoid decapitation, the supercar’s underside clearing his head by an inch as it arced over him and smashed back down to earth.
Airbags fired, punching Eddie and Nina back into their seats. Dazed, Nina tried to straighten out, and found that the Bugatti wouldn’t be breaking any more speed records: the suspension was wrecked, one of the rear wheels loose and bashing against the bodywork. Despite the damage, she still managed to wrestle the car towards the gate.
Eddie sat up, raising his gun - and seeing a potential target. Mahajan and another man were driving a golf cart towards the palace, the Khoils on the rear seats. He fired at them. Khoil and Vanita flung themselves out of the cart as bullets caught the guard and sent him flailing to the ground. Mahajan ducked and swerved the little vehicle to put it between the gunman and his employers.
Nina headed for the long drive - only to see a second Range Rover brake to block it. With its low ground clearance and damaged suspension, the Veyron had no chance of negotiating the grass verges to get round it. She instead made a hard turn, bringing the supercar on to the runway.
Eddie glanced back at the golf cart. Vanita had snatched up the fallen guard’s MP5 and was pointing it at the Veyron. ‘Down!’ he shouted as she opened fire. Bullets puckered the Bugatti’s bodywork, but none reached the cabin; the Veyron’s engine was mounted behind the seats, the huge block taking the clanging impacts. There was a loud hiss and a gush of steam as one of the radiators was punctured, adding to the wounded car’s woes.
Nina skidded past the parked jet and the now-closed container holding the smaller aircraft, aiming along the length of the runway and slamming up through the gears. The Veyron had all-wheel drive; even with one of them crunching against the wheelarch the response was still frightening. In the mirror, the golf cart was suddenly reduced to a dot as the car blasted through the sixty mile per hour mark in barely four seconds, thundering on towards a hundred. ‘Jesus!’ she yelped.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Eddie, pushing himself upright. ‘I’m jealous that you’re driving now!’
She was not as thrilled with the experience. The collapsed suspension was making the steering wheel judder like a jackhammer, even holding the car in a straight line becoming harder with each passing moment. Dashboard warning lights started flashing - the radiator was not all that had been damaged. The speedometer passed one hundred . . . then dropped back down. ‘I think this thing’ll need more than an oil change at its next service,’ she warned.
Eddie looked back. The steam had been replaced by greasy smoke, swirling in the Veyron’s slipstream. The second Range Rover was now in pursuit.
Ahead, even with the Veyron slowing, they were rapidly running out of runway. Beyond the poles of the landing lights at its far end, Nina could see the estate’s boundary wall. She brought the car into a sweeping, shuddering turn on to an access lane leading to the main drive. Only a short distance to the main gate, and freedom - if they could get through it.
If they could get to it. The engine rasped alarmingly, the stench of burning oil filling the cabin. Even with her foot to the floor, their speed was still falling. Sixty miles an hour, fifty. Nina straightened out as they reached the road, seeing the gate ahead. Guards ran to block their path.
Armed guards.
‘Go through them!’ Eddie shouted. ‘Crash the gate!’
‘There’s no power!’ Nina protested. Forty miles an hour and still slowing, even as she dropped through the gears in a desperate attempt to maintain speed. The vibration from the wrecked wheel was getting worse, the Veyron’s back end starting to weave. ‘We’re not gonna make it!’ Thirty . . .