Carmen squirmed around until she was facing the man. She raised her gun and aimed it directly at his kneecap. It wouldn’t kill him, but a shattered knee would put him out of commission, which is all she would need.
The target acquired, she steadied her hand and squeezed the trigger. After the coughing sound of the shot the man screamed and tumbled sideways, clutching the knee that had just turned to jelly. Carmen could see that the gun had flung out of the man’s hand and was lying a short distance away on the pavement.
Carmen jumped up and ran out of the parking lot and across the street toward the stand of pines. As she entered the trees, she heard two shots ring out from two different directions. She zigzagged through the maze of trunks, making it difficult for anyone to hit her.
A few seconds later, she broke out on the other side. Straight ahead, across a short expanse of grass, was the Rhone River. On the shore was exactly what she thought she had seen on the satellite view: a small marina. Escape was within their grasp, if she could only find Amanda.
“Hey,” said a voice behind her.
The Italian turned, her gun raised, but lowered it when she saw a tired-looking Amanda coming out from behind a holly bush.
“You okay?” Carmen grabbed Amanda’s shoulder.
“Yes, how about you? I heard all the gunfire and was scared you’d been shot,” Amanda said.
“I’m fine, but I can’t say the same for the thug who tried to ambush me in the parking lot. Look, I wish there was more time to catch up, but we have to go. Let’s get moving.”
They both turned and ran toward the marina. As they drew closer, Carmen noticed a building and several docks. She also noted that there were about fifteen or twenty boats moored to the docks, mostly small motorboats and sailboats. She couldn’t have asked for more. It was laid out exactly as she had hoped. Given enough time, she might even be able to hotwire one of the motorboats.
Any thoughts that the marina might be deserted disappeared when three men stepped out from behind the small building. Amanda hesitated, but Carmen yelled at her to keep going.
When they reached them, an older man stepped forward. He was likely in his sixties, with a gray beard and wrinkled skin that looked as though he had spent his entire life on Lake Geneva. Carmen knew instinctively that he was the owner. The two others behind him appeared to be teenagers.
“Ça va?” the old man asked, appearing concerned.
“Non, ça ne va pas. Do you speak English?” Carmen asked, knowing her French wasn’t good.
“I speak a little,” the man replied.
“We are working with the police, and there are some bad men on the way,” Carmen said. A look of confusion spread across the man’s face. Carmen pointed her finger like a gun. “Bad men. Bang bang. They come and try to shoot us.”
“Bad men come for you?” he asked.
“Yes, they’re coming for us, and we need a boat.”
Before the man could respond, someone yelled in the distance. They all turned to see two men standing just in front of the pine trees. One of them was bald, and Carmen immediately realized who it was. He was yelling in French, so Carmen could only pick up bits and pieces, but he seemed to be telling the owner of the marina that she and Amanda were criminals. The expression on the old man’s face morphed to one of suspicion, at which point he said to Carmen, “I don’t know… maybe you bad.”
A shot rang out, and the round exploded into the water behind them. Carmen pulled the group behind the building. She then fired another shot back toward the trees to keep the men at bay, but she knew it wouldn't last very long.
“Get us a boat and get it now,” said the Italian, her demeanor suddenly changing from one of a pleading woman to that of a woman who was going to get what she wanted, even if it meant forcing the issue.
“I don’t know—”
“I said get it now!” Carmen shouted. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of one of the teens inching toward the door of the building, and she realized that if she didn’t force the man’s hand, things would descend into chaos. She grabbed the old man by the collar and drew him close, then lifted her Beretta and placed it against his temple. “Les clés pour un bateau! Maintenant!”
Visibly shaken, the man fished in his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. He pulled one of them off and handed it to the Italian.
Carmen asked the man which boat the keys went with.
The man hesitated again.
“Lequel?” Carmen asked again, pressing the gun harder into the man’s head.
“That one,” he said, pointing to one of the boats moored close by. It was an eighteen-foot inboard powerboat, and Carmen couldn’t have been more pleased.
“Let’s go!” she shouted at Amanda.
As they climbed aboard, Carmen saw the men retreating into the building. “Stop,” she said, firing into the roof of the boathouse to get their attention. The old man and one of the teenagers stopped and held their hands up. The third teenager took his chances and darted inside. Carmen wanted to make sure the man had given her the right key before she let them get away. With baldy and his partner closing in, there wouldn’t be time to go inside and pull them out. She handed the gun to Amanda and said, “Shoot them if they move.”
Amanda’s eyes grew large, but she played along, pointing the gun awkwardly toward the men. Carmen climbed into the driver’s seat, checked the throttle, and turned the key. The engine groaned to life, churning the water behind it.
“Merci,” Carmen said, nodding toward the old man. She took the gun from Amanda and motioned toward the other seat. “Sit down and stay low. This may get fun.”
Carmen backed the craft out more quickly than she normally would have, bumping the boat next to them. Once they were clear of the dock, she moved the clutch forward and opened the throttle. The engine roared and the bow lifted in response. Not bad, old man. Thanks, Carmen thought.
The craft threw off a spray of water as the Italian turned out into the river. She didn’t yet know exactly what she was going to do, only that they needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the marina.
“Where are we going?” Amanda shouted her question.
“We’re pretty far out.” Carmen looked at the forest that closed in on both sides of the river. “It would be foolish to go ashore here. If we do, it will become a footrace to nowhere.”
“Then what are our options?”
“Common sense tells me we head back to—”
"Oh, no!" Amanda shouted.
Carmen glanced back over her shoulder. A boat had just left the marina and was headed in their direction. Apparently, the Renaissance goons had been able to quickly commandeer a boat of their own. Judging by its size, she doubted it was faster than theirs, but it might be equally fast and would certainly allow them to remain in sight.
A plan formed in the Italian’s mind. She looked down at the fuel gauge and saw that they had about a half a tank. The hint of a smile crossed her face. It might be just enough to accomplish what she had in mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Get up.”
At the sound of Carmen’s voice, Amanda, who had been shivering in the fetal position on the bottom of the boat, opened her eyes and got up on her knees. She had no idea where they were, only that they had traveled up the Rhone River past Geneva and out into the lake. The only thing Carmen had told her about their destination was that it was a place she remembered visiting in her childhood.
As she settled into her seat, Amanda was startled at what she saw in front of them. They were headed toward a line of boulders along the lakeshore. Just to the right of those boulders was a medieval castle sitting in the water.