Drake and Dahl chased the six remaining bikers as they pursued Webb through the crowded streets of Barcelona. Alicia and Mai hammered along the sidewalk, keeping pace several meters to the right. Webb bounced his own machine up onto the opposite sidewalk, his own intentions unclear. Drake saw a crowd ahead of him and no easy way through. He angled the bike over, slipped through several quickly disappearing gaps, and came up behind one of the cult’s rear-guard.
“Oy!”
The helmet turned, the gun swiveling too. Drake accelerated up the other side, clipping the curb but hanging on, and then kicked out at his adversary. The bike wobbled, the man shaking wildly but holding on, and then leaned back, decelerating.
The gun now poked toward Drake.
Quickly, he yanked on the steering and smashed his own bike against his adversary’s. This time the man took flight, crumpling as he landed, and yelling out in pain. Another gun skittered away.
Drake tracked Webb as best he could, confident the man would have to return to the road any second. Then he could…
Just then the ex-Pythian hauled so hard on the brakes that the back tire lifted and came around ninety degrees. Webb leapt into space, leaving the bike to crash into the floor. Drake slowed and left his bike at the curb, then saw Dahl up ahead battling with a rider so close they were practically sat on each other’s seats. The Swede managed to lug the cultist over and left the bike to tumble, then dropped a shoulder and threw the other man hard onto the hood of a nearby car whilst still seated. Metal crumpled, bones broke. Dahl carried his bike out of the way and then deposited it against a lamppost.
“Marking your territory?” Drake had kept half an eye to make sure Dahl was okay and the other on Webb as the man headed for a building almost covered in flashing lights, advertisements and flickering billboards.
“Don’t men still piss on lampposts up in Yorkshire?”
“Oh aye, lad, they do. The women too.”
“Lovely.”
Drake saw a rider up ahead, black clad, trying to steer his way through a crush of bodies. He stood little chance and fell to the floor, but a wave of his gun sent dozens of people running. Drake saw Webb enter a rotating door ahead and finally saw where the man was headed.
And why.
The Barcelona International Motor Show.
It’s gonna be so crowded in there you couldn’t find a giant wearing an octopus hat. Webb’s next backup. Another chance to slip away. But wait… maybe not. Could Webb finally have made a mistake?
The football match would divert thousands for its duration. Drake ran flat out to try to keep eyes on Webb. The flashing lights, rather than grab his attention, annoyed the hell out of him and made him look away. Droves roved outside the entrance, discussing the cars or the city or the match, or a multitude of alternate entertainments. Drake pushed through the doors and flashed a temporary ID badge at the guard.
Don’t stop me… don’t stop me… I don’t want to cause any incidents—
Then Dahl was behind him. “Are we in? Or do I have to plant him with the hydrangeas over there?”
Drake winced, eyes still locked on Webb but only seconds away from losing the madman. The guard stared at Drake and then Dahl, catching sight of their cuts and bruises.
“Come on, man,” Dahl said. “We’re in pursuit of an international terrorist who just entered your friggin’ showroom.”
The guard took another look at their badges and then ushered them through, calling on security. Drake hurried along the same route he’d seen Webb take. “You know it’s a motor show, right? Not a car showroom.”
The pair didn’t wait, but rushed through the acceptably slender throng, grateful now for the gargantuan event not too far away. Kenzie and Smyth caught them up and then Hayden, who reported the rest were just behind.
“Any sign of the gunmen?” Dahl asked her.
Hayden shook her head. “No, and that’s not a good sign. They will be seeking a different entry point, that’s all. And then…” She exhaled with a worried look. “It could be bad in here. I’ve already alerted the locals.”
“There!” Drake cried.
“What? Webb? The cultists?” Dahl stared over in anticipation.
“No. It’s the new Ferrari F12 TDF. See the new side vents and enhanced wheel arches? The—”
“Fucksake, Drake.” Alicia sauntered up on his left. “I know cars are the greatest love of your life, but…”
Hayden paused as the crowds again became overwhelming. The vast hall was filled with splendor and gold and glitter at every turn; manufacturers showing off their latest offerings and draping them with striking colors, banks of lighting and half-dressed models. People gathered at the best vantage points, taking their photos and discussing the finer points of what was on offer. From German to Italian, English to Japanese, the whole gamut parked their wares on rotating turntables and invited special guests to cross the red-rope barriers and sip champagne whilst trying to look cool and extremely wealthy. The walkways between such brands as Lamborghini and Porsche were full to capacity, whilst the paths between less extravagant brands were much more navigable. Hayden switched the group past the Toyota offering and Drake quickly followed.
Webb was ahead, two stands away, the man and his backpack standing out from the milling crowd as he pushed through. The first gunshots echoed terribly inside the motor show, blasts resounding around the high ceiling. Immediately, Drake saw the running gunmen coming down an aisle that crisscrossed Webb’s, their guns aimed straight at him. He jumped over a rope barrier and ran among a display of Mitsubishis, bullets marring the metal all around him. Lights shattered and exhibition stands blew apart. More shots ripped the excited ambiance to shreds.
Drake drew his gun now, having no qualms about taking the shooters out for good. He ran fast and stooped, Glock held low. Webb’s head popped up briefly amongst the Mitsubishis, followed by a volley of lead and several smashed windscreens. A tower of paper cups flew through the air. A bottle of champagne exploded along with a pile of brochures, the whole collective shooting up and showering the area.
Drake saw people ducking and diving, and fired at the first running gunman. He flew sideways, colliding with a temporary display and smashing it to pieces, streaks of red blood marring the exclusive designs. The team spread all around him. Dahl leapt up two revolving platforms to gain the dizzy heights of a Peugeot stand and crouched behind a silver car. Alarm bells resounded, clearing the public out. The crowds that once stared at and admired the shining vehicles now streamed for the red exit signs.
Dahl fired his weapon from atop the stand and another cultist went down. More followed though, swiveling and firing up at the Swede. Drake saw him duck behind a wheel, and lay down some cover fire.
Hayden was crouched low, keying her comms system. “Webb’s heading for the rear exits. Anyone there?”
Only the local cops answered, not sounding entirely sure.
Drake crept closer to the running men. The team all opened fire now, causing their enemy to scatter, duck and hide behind vehicles and metal stanchions. Dahl crept down the other side of the Peugeot stand, moving on all fours. Alicia popped up and fired at Drake’s side, keeping the enemy hemmed in.
“Move closer,” Hayden said. “I count eight remaining. Speed wins the day here, guys.”
Drake wondered if that was an intentional double entendre.
Lauren was the only one to remain behind as the rest of the team stole ever closer to their enemies’ positions. Two cultists tried to bolt after Webb, but Smyth and Kinimaka made short work of their mad dash. Webb himself appeared to remain cautious, keeping his progress steady and watchful, not risking anything but aiming inexorably for the rear of the enormous hall.