Dahl suddenly pointed. “There!” He made a beeline for the nearest car, a family-sized Chevy.
Hayden saw hordes of men piling out of three black sedans parked at the curb. Fear slammed down her throat like a clenched fist. These guys were here to finish them off. Cayman had absolutely no intentions of letting them leave this place alive.
Kinimaka smashed his way into the big Chevy. “We gotta run!” he shouted. “Come on!”
In another minute, Kinimaka was revving the engine, making it roar and then slewing the car across the grass median and out into the road. Hayden checked her gun and gave her backup to Dahl. She watched as he checked the mag, face hard as Icelandic rock.
“They’ll come after us.”
Kinimaka floored the accelerator, speeding into a light traffic and making sure his own gun was ready as the three big cars with their murderous passengers began to give chase.
Straight toward downtown L.A., Beverly Hills, and, ultimately, Hollywood.
CHAPTER FIVE
Drake stepped out of the apartment first and walked down the short set of steps that led to the street as darkness began to send its inky tendrils across the southern skies. The sound of traffic and the hubbub coming from the underground station could clearly be heard a few hundred feet away.
Walking down the pavements on either side of the exclusive street were youths brandishing an assortment of weapons, among them baseball bats and tire irons. Several more youths advanced down the middle of the road.
Mai stopped at his left shoulder, Alicia at his right. The Englishwoman gave a happy laugh. “Some sparring practice. It’s been a while.” She spared a glance for Drake and Mai. “Don’t hurt ‘em too bad, ladies.”
More cars suddenly slewed around the corner and came to a screeching halt halfway up the road. Doors were flung open and more youths leapt out, weapons in hand, their harsh grunts of challenge little more than caveman bravado.
Mai smiled at Drake. “And now they give us an easy way out.”
“Amateurs tend to do that.” Drake watched her glide away and then faced the half dozen rough-looking kids stalking toward him. “You need to stop,” he said to them forcefully. “Whatever they’re paying you ain’t worth a beating.”
Two of them actually stopped, but more out of bewilderment than prudence. Drake high-kicked the first and stole his bat, used it to catch the swing of the second and slid into the man when his heavy swing made him overreach. Drake heaved him over a shoulder, straight into a third assailant and, by then, the remaining three were wide-eyed. One found some daring and came in swinging. Drake used him as an example. He caught the tire iron, gripped it hard, and sent it slamming back into the youth’s face. Blood from a broken nose sprayed everywhere. He fell down, crying.
To his left and right, Mai and Alicia were dealing out similar lessons. Drake moved next to one of the still-running cars. He heard the youth inside calling for more reinforcements and thought the next bunch might not be so inadequate. He picked up a bat and jumped into the passenger seat.
“Who ya ringing?” He jammed the end of the bat against the youth’s cheek, mashing him up against the window.
“Percy.” The youth gasped. “Don’ hurt me, man. I ain’t done nothin’ to you.”
“That call”—Drake nodded at the discarded mobile—“did more hurt to us than all these kids put together. Get out of the damn car. Now.”
The youth was gone in a second to be replaced quickly by Mai. “Shall we go?” she asked, flexing her fist.
Drake stared at her. “Aye up. One of ’em clock you one?”
She made a face. “Splinter”
Alicia leapt across the hood and then climbed onto Mai’s lap. “Stop chatting up the help, Drake. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
Drake reversed quickly, swinging the car backward around the corner and out into the flow of traffic. There was just enough space for him to make sure they weren’t going to rear-end anyone. He jammed the accelerator down hard just as two silver-colored BMWs cut across the car behind them, provoking a flurry of screeched tires and blared horns.
Drake saw the men in the rearview. “They’re behind us.”
Alicia seemed happy enough perched on Mai’s knee. “Haven’t done this since I was a kid.”
“They’re behind us, Alicia. And they won’t just have sledge-hammer shafts and baseball bats this time.”
Mai shifted uncomfortably. “You, a kid?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Did you two hear what I just—?”
“I heard you banging on, Drake.” Alicia turned a stare on him. “Probably best to leave it there, eh?”
“Still a kid.” He grumbled. “Always a kid.”
“If it helps me cope…then yes. Always.”
He drove. Piccadilly hummed this time of night, crawling along with cars, buses and cabs, the pavements thronged with crowds of people. But still, Drake managed to weave his way forward at some pace, fast enough so that their pursuers couldn’t stop and chase them on foot, but still keeping under a reckless pace. The lights were kind to them. Even a big red open-top, double-decker bus, thronged with tourists, moved aside so they could pass. Drake began to wonder if there was a siren on top of the car.
But their relentless pursuers kept pace. They passed the bottom end of Bond Street and Fortnum and Mason, the Royal Academy and Le Meridien.
“You know where we’re headed?” Alicia twisted around to look behind them and then back to the front. “Picca-fuckin-dilly Circus. Well done, Drakey. You led us to the biggest bottleneck in the country.”
Drake knew she was right. But plan B was already streaming through his subconscious. “Sometimes, Myles.” He sighed. “You make a silly metaphor sound plausible— you know, the dumb blonde?”
Alicia squirmed. “Bollocks.”
Mai grunted. “Please stop grinding your bony arse into my thighs.”
That gave Alicia a moment’s pause. “Never heard that before.” She confessed. “It’s normally the opposite. And bony? I’d go more with sexy, full and round.”
Drake stole sidelong glances, but when the bottleneck of Piccadilly Circus loomed ahead, he quickly threw the car to the left and pulled up to the curb. “Quick. Foot traffic here is in the thousands. We’ll lose them among the herd.”
They leapt out, hurrying along the pavement and quickly joining the throng. The London air hit them with a sharp bite. Hundreds of heads and bodies bobbed all around them. Drake made for the corner of the circus and cut along the frontage of The Sting. Bright lights and clothes-store music assaulted his eyes and ears for a second, washing out of the open doors and surrounding him. Then he was past, joining another crowd waiting to cross the road to the small island that separated Regent Street from Glasshouse Street.
“Nip up Glasshouse,” Alicia motioned briefly. “We’ll be able to cut through Soho and use the Leicester Square tube. I’ll Google car rental outlets.”
Drake nodded appreciatively. “Sounds good.”
They crossed the road amidst the mass of tourists, locals and day-trippers as the bright lights of the Piccadilly Circus big screens flashed above them. There was a single moment of loosening up, when Drake’s mind flitted away from their pursuers and refocused on what they might discover about Wells when they tracked his friend, Andrew Black, down to Sevenoaks, and then, from deep in the heart of Piccadilly Circus the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang out.