Another sighting of Beau, and then Webb, but an entire, crowded float fell in their way, making the going more difficult. Drake found himself scrabbling over the head of a green dragon whilst Alicia used its long red tongue to pull herself in his wake. Then they clambered over an enormous crocodile wearing a crown, the entire team at their backs.
“Feels like a fuckin’ nightmare,” Drake muttered.
“Are you kidding?” Alicia panted back. “Did you see the size of that tongue? More like a dream.”
There were broken jesters and windowless streetcars, a woman blowing a trumpet. The float went on and on, even more vexing because they could see the yard’s exit just ahead. The final obstacles were evil clowns and provoked more than a few screams from Alicia, Lauren and, of course, Kinimaka.
Drake jumped down, sweating a river. The exit door was flung wide. A shop doorway across the street was broken in half, the bottom panel swinging. He cursed. If only for a clear shot! He crossed the road, entered the store and saw an unhappy shopkeeper.
“Which way?”
“Out back.”
More running and chasing. A brief glimpse of Webb saw him clutching another packet and grinning more evilly than any possessed clown through the ages.
A sprint down a long dissecting street and Drake began to smell the river much more strongly. Their quarry broke right, barged through another store and knocked over another shopkeeper. The team raced hard in pursuit, their sweat spattering the dusty floors behind them. Only twice did Drake achieve clear line of sight for a shot, but passed on both occasions for fear of hitting bystanders or chancing a ricochet. Only once did they venture past other cops, who immediately tagged along. Kimberly Crowe was at the end of the line, finding it hard to keep up.
“Is Webb heading for the river?” Hayden asked aloud. “Is this purposeful?”
“You sure as hell can’t land a chopper around here,” Smyth said. “And the roads are narrow.”
They gatecrashed two more stores, drifting ever closer to the river. Lauren, at the back, had been swiping at her cell. Now she shouted out, “It’s easy onto the river around here. There’s a Moonwalk, and something like a dock. A steamboat. It’s pretty open.”
Kenzie had drifted off one store ago and now returned, face flushed. In her right hand she held a katana, in her left a short Ninja sword, both with scabbards. “Now I’m ready for that sausage man.” She grinned. “We’ll see how he fights without skin.”
And, with a certain amount of ceremony, she proffered the ninja sword to Dahl. The Swede looked like he was going to decline, but then saw the formality and hope in her and held out a hand. Quickly, he strapped it to his back, following Kenzie’s example. Crowe didn’t have the energy to question any of it.
They came out into a street, to their left a wide, scenic view of the mighty Mississippi River.
“That can’t be good,” Mai said.
Webb and Beau were approaching the water, close enough to still make out the packets clutched in Webb’s hand.
To their right a massive contingent of mercenaries poured out of a church doorway, giving chase. Bullets began to form a latticework in the air.
Amari.
Drake said: “Well at least this packs all the zealot parties together. Won’t end well though.”
“Nah,” Alicia said. “It’s gonna end bloody. Very bloody.”
Dahl included the whole team with one look. “Stay safe, my friends. And pray we all make it through this one.”
Drake ran hard, not liking the sudden, unexpected silence all around.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
Upon the Moonwalk — the well-lit path that ran along the side of the Mississippi at the edge of the French Quarter, affording great views, questionable odors and steady, romantic strolls — a new version of madness erupted.
Beau shepherded Webb to the railings, then turned and flung several unseen objects that took running mercs in the skull and neck and sent them cartwheeling with the force, straight into their colleagues. Drake noted that every bullet fired at Webb went high, and logically deduced that Amari must now know everything.
The Arab was aware that Webb had cracked every clue, collected every ingredient and was closer than anyone in history to concocting a dose of Magnum Opus — the elixir of life. Now, Drake thought. Amari wants it for himself!
The theory was moot. Webb leapt high, seemingly straight into the muddy waters. Beau swiveled, revolved and rotated in impossible fashion, taking out several mercs before slipping over the railing, still facing the mercs and with arms outstretched, throwing projectiles even as he fell toward the waters.
Drake and the team closed in on the mercs. Amari saw them and screamed out an order.
“Break!”
Drake soon saw what he meant. The mercs didn’t turn and trade fire. What they did was to shift as a group to the right and toward a gap in the railings where a narrow dock stretched like a wooden runway toward the Mississippi. Amari ran among them, plus the people Drake remembered as his six acolytes. The whole gang was here. Good. That makes it all easier.
A powerful engine started up as Drake reached the railings. Over the top rail he saw Webb and Beau seated in a bright yellow powerboat, the Frenchman pulling at the throttle and the nose lifting into the air. Spray plumed toward him, leaving him sightless as Webb’s transport pulled away.
“Always a plan,” Smyth growled. “What next?”
“Where’s he going?” Mai worried. “Remember the ‘all and every resource’ line? We haven’t seen anything near that yet.”
“But now we know how Amari got here,” Dahl said, nodding toward the slipway.
A bobbing mass of boats was moored there, crowded together and tapping at each other’s sides. Even now mercenaries were clambering from boat to boat, using them as a walkway to get to their own, starting them up and roaring the engines, readying guns and rifles.
Hayden called the authorities. “Police boats,” Drake heard her say. “As many as… shit, that ain’t enough.”
“Choppers!” Alicia cried so loudly Drake almost laughed before realizing what she meant. “Yeah,” Hayden shouted as she ran ahead. “Bring all yer choppers too.”
They hurried onto the dock, grappling with and throwing off the rearguard of mercs. Shots were fired. One man went down with a thigh wound, another with a smashed shoulder. Smyth took a round to the vest. Yorgi almost broke a thumb, wrestling a rifle away from a much larger man.
In the end, when Kenzie approached the dock and slowly unsheathed her sword, the trailing merc contingent turned tail and ran. Alicia, Mai and Kinimaka nipped at their heels, guessing the right way was to introduce them to the Mississippi, preferably head first.
Weapons disappeared and focus was lost. Nobody died. Drake noted that boats were moored to the left and to the right, and the loss of mercs was clearing space among them.
“Stay with the mission.” He tapped open his comms. “We’re chasing Webb.”
To the right they broke and copied the earlier antics of the mercs; walking from bobbing craft to craft, heading fast for the outer vessels. Each was moored to the next so that when Drake found a useable vessel all he had to do was untie a short length of rope.
They occupied four speedboats, started them up and pulled away from the dock. Drake saw a SWAT team scrambling toward more boats and another ranging along the Moonwalk, shouting at Amari and the mercs as if that might put them off. In an act of uncharacteristic intelligence, the mercs didn’t fire upon the running SWAT men and began to pull further out into the center of the river.