“What about a reciprocal?” I said. “Rojas’s store is directly southwest of the heading he’s given you.”
“Could be,” Wilson said. “Better to go somewhere than nowhere, eh?”
He showed the chart to the pilot who swung the Eurocopter onto a new heading and gunned it. If he’d had lights and sirens he would have been using those too.
“Why would ’e go back there?” Dr Bertrand asked. “’E must know we are after ’im.”
“Because of the gems,” I said. “If there was no third robber then he and the woman — Gabrielle Dubois — must have robbed Rojas themselves, but we know he didn’t have anything on him when he was found.”
“So he’s gone back to look,” Marcus said. “But we searched and didn’t find anything.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t have Hope and Lemon with us.”
His expression hardened. “All this for a few stones.”
“Lefévre mentioned a new delivery that was supposedly delayed,” I pointed out. “But he was lying about everything up to that point. Why not about the delivery as well.”
“So you reckon there’s a fortune in precious gems out there for the taking, eh?” Wilson said. “Not surprising he decided to risk it.”
I shook my head. “I think there’s more to it than that—”
At that moment the pilot leaned over his shoulder. “Coming up on the location.”
“Put us down short,” Marcus said. He pulled the Colt out from under his shirt and racked a round into the chamber. “I don’t want the bastard to know we’re here.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Joe Marcus might have been ten years out of uniform, but before that he’d been twenty years in the USMC and he hadn’t forgotten a trick.
The two of us picked our way across the deserted streets and the rubble, moving fast but careful, guns out in our hands. The SIG felt inadequate for the task. What I wouldn’t have given for an M16 or an HK53 compact assault rifle for this kind of urban combat.
We’d had difficulty persuading Dr Bertrand and Wilson to stay with the helo. Both had wanted to come with us and Marcus had been blunt in his refusal.
“You’ll slow us down.”
From the way Dr Bertrand scowled at him, it was probably the first time she’d been told she wasn’t fit to do something. Wilson looked pained but seemed to accept the truth of it.
“Shout if you need backup though. We can always land the bloody helicopter on ’em, eh?” His pilot did not look overly enthusiastic at this prospect.
We worked our way in to the opposite side of the street to the location of Santiago Rojas’s jewellery store. The only signs of life were carrion birds and the occasional scurrying rat.
It was strange to be in the midst of a city and have no traffic noise. Even the immediate airspace was quiet. When the broken canopy of a petrol station flapped in the rising wind, it was sudden enough to make me whirl, bring the SIG up. The canopy rattled again harmlessly and we passed on, dust clouds eddying through the gaps and crevices.
The only place to gain a decent vantage point was the row of buildings facing the jewellery store, none of which were in a particularly good state.
Marcus studied the structural damage with a professional eye and eventually led us into the end unit through a rear service door. The store was another one that had sold designer clothing and the sight of the fallen manikins inside the gloomy interior gave it a surreal air. There was the relentless drip of a cracked water pipe somewhere, too, so the ground floor was an inch or so deep in water. I just hoped the power was definitely off as we paddled through it.
A cast iron spiral staircase gave access to the upper storey. The whole thing had become detached from the building around it and now leaned at a slightly drunken angle. It trembled beneath our feet as we climbed.
Upstairs there was a crack in the outer wall so bad I could see daylight through it. The interior had been home to more display racks and fitting rooms. The racks were tumbled to the floorboards and every mirror in the place was cracked or lying in splinters. Looked like somebody was in for a shit-load of bad luck.
Marcus and I tiptoed our way across the glass to the empty window frames and peered out. Below us we had a good view of the street. Off to our far right the Bell was settled on the same landing site Riley had used previously.
The Aussie pilot himself was sitting on the ground, ankles and wrists secured with duct tape. His bound hands were pressing a bloody rag to the side of his head. I guessed from that he hadn’t given in gracefully to being hijacked.
The man we suspected was Enzo Lefévre stood a little distance away. In his uninjured hand he was holding the huge Ruger revolver I’d last seen next to Riley’s seat in the Bell. Alongside him was Hope, her skinny frame hunched as if expecting a blow. Of Lemon there was no sign.
“Too far for a clear shot,” Marcus murmured, regret in his tone.
“Especially in this wind.”
“Call her back to you,” Lefévre was saying to Hope. He extended the arm holding the Ruger and thumbed back the hammer with a click I could imagine even if I couldn’t hear it. “Call her back or you won’t ever see your dog again.”
“Fuck. You,” Hope said clearly and raising her voice she yelled, “Lemon, STAY!”
“God dammit, Hope,” Marcus said under his breath. “For once in your life do as you’re told, girl.”
“If she doesn’t start playing along we’re going to have to do something fast,” I murmured. “If Lefévre can’t get what he wants from her, she’s no use to him.”
“She’s still a valuable hostage.”
“At the moment she’s just a pain in the arse. He won’t let her back into the helo with the dog — asking for trouble in a confined space — and you know she won’t leave Lemon behind without a fight.”
Marcus flicked worried eyes to me but said nothing.
Below us the thief still had the gun aimed at Hope, although the Ruger weighed the best part of three pounds and his arm was starting to waver.
“Why are you being so stubborn about this, hmm? All I want is for this remarkable dog I’ve heard so much about to locate a bag for me. A small bag I had with me when I was trapped by the earthquake. Then you can go free — you have my word.”
“What about Riley?”
“I need Monsieur Riley to take me out of here. After that I will release him, also.”
Riley laughed and ended up coughing fit to burst a lung. “He’s lying, sweetheart. Soon as he gets what he wants we’re as good as dead.”
Even so, we could see the indecision on the girl’s face.
“Do it,” Marcus willed her through his teeth. “Give him what he wants. Buy us some time, create a distraction.”
“The building’s not safe,” Hope said at last, tears in her voice. “The gap they made between the cars to drag you out is caved in. What if there’s another aftershock and the rest of it comes down on Lem?”
“The decision is up to you, of course,” Lefévre said with an almost courtly bow, “but you may not like the alternative.”
“What’s that?”
Lefévre shifted his aim downwards and to the side, away from Hope.
“That I shoot your friend here through his left leg.”
Riley grinned widely at him.
“Not a good idea, mate. Not unless you’ve got a couple of hundred hours’ rotary wing experience under your belt. ’Cos there’s no way I can balance the controls for the tail rotor on the old bus without two good feet.”
Lefévre thought for a moment, then gave as much of a shrug as his injured arm would allow and shifted his aim back to Hope.