Song was there within half a minute, revving the bike hard and taking the bone-shattering impacts of the rutted sleepers as they passed under his narrow tires. He pulled alongside, close now; he knew that the driver would be reluctant to ram him again, as the sideways movement might put the Bajaj off the track completely.
Holding tight with his hands to the handlebars, Song balanced on his far leg and shot his near-side boot through the open cockpit, connecting with the American’s face, rocking him back.
Song grinned as he swiftly retrieved his leg, checked the track ahead — saw it curving in a gentle bend — and then lashed out again, steel toe-caps whipping across the driver’s jaw.
While the American was distracted, Wong too scared to offer any assistance, Song put both feet firmly back down and reached out for the Bajaj, hoping to pull himself inside to use his knife on the driver.
But then — what the hell? — the American reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling it further in and then kicking the inside of his own door.
Song realized the man had been overreacting to his blows, luring Song in closer; and as the door hit him hard, he knew what was going to happen.
His hands came away from the door, the impact of the driver’s kick sending the bike skittering sideways over the tracks, and he was fighting to control it round the bend when he heard it; the sound of a train, approaching at speed.
Song looked ahead, saw that he was on the opposite track now, the flat grey metal façade of a locomotive speeding towards him at over one hundred miles per hour.
Cole pulled the door shut as the train crashed into the biker head-on, sending both the motorcycle and its rider flying back the other way along the tracks before it crushed them underneath a thousand tons of fast-moving metal.
The passage of air as the train whipped past the Bajaj was almost enough to jettison the rickshaw from the tracks; but as soon as it started, it was over, and Cole was past the rear of the train now, heading towards freedom.
It was just minutes later that he heard it — another train, this time coming from the rear; within moments, it would be bearing down right on top of them, crushing the Bajaj beneath it just like the bike before it.
‘They’re on the train!’ Wong called out to him.
Cole looked in his mirrors again, and saw that Wong was right — literally; the remaining two agents were on the roof of the train, riding it towards them. Far from being left behind at the station, they must have simply jumped aboard the next train and followed them, knowing they would be able to catch up.
Cole looked across the elevated tracks, saw the traffic on the road beneath, and yanked the wheel over. ‘Hold on!’ he yelled to Wong.
Moments later the little rickshaw smashed through the side barrier and went flying through the air, Cole’s stomach lurching up into his throat as they seemed to sail out across the streets below.
But then the Bajaj crashed onto the street, weight crunching down hard onto the tires, the suspension, rocking the vehicle and its occupants with its savage impact.
Cole looked up at the tracks and his jaw dropped open.
The two agents had hurled themselves from the top of the train in an insane final bid to catch their prey.
Park grabbed hold of the limbs of the tree, using them to break his fall, branches lacerating his skin as he tumbled down, his momentum eventually slowing before landing in a parachute roll on the grass below.
He was satisfied when the bloodied but otherwise undamaged form of Chae landed by his side. It might have appeared suicidal, but Park had seen the section of trees planted on the corner of Medan Merdeka Timur and Medan Merdeka Selantan, and aimed his highly-trained body towards them, knowing that at that height, the branches would break his fall sufficiently for him to survive.
He saw that the Bajaj had also miraculously survived the fall from the railway bridge, landing heavily on Selantan. As he and Chae pushed through the trees towards the road, he watched the rickshaw travel a few tentative feet before giving up the ghost completely; the engine blew and the axle snapped in half, depositing the body of the car right onto the hot tarmac.
The American grabbed Wong instantly and took off at a run, leaping a barrier across the road and heading for more trees beyond.
With all parties now on foot, Park could feel victory right around the corner, and he and Chae set off in hot pursuit, guns out and ready.
Cole and Wong broke through the tree line and were immediately taken aback at the sight which loomed before them; a marble-clad obelisk topped by a flame covered in gold foil, the National Monument rose over four hundred feet into the brilliant blue sky above the teeming city of Jakarta, a symbol of the fight for Indonesian independence.
Cole and Wong raced forwards to try and lose themselves in the crowds of tourists, and were soon in amongst people, trying to blend in, to hide and regroup.
Cole saw the gun rising towards him almost too late, the black barrel emerging from a crowd to his left, the muzzle flashing as a shot was fired.
But Cole was already moving, pivoting to the side before snaking back in at an angle, both hands seizing the barrel and turning it upwards, forcing Park’s wrist back on itself until the gun was ripped from the man’s grasp.
Cole quickly aimed it back at Park, but the man’s leg lashed out and kicked the weapon out of Cole’s grasp. Cole responded instantly by launching a solid rear hand punch to the man’s face. He thought he could feel the eye socket fracture, but Park barely seemed to notice, whipping a round kick into Cole’s thigh before looping another towards his head.
Park had obviously hoped his first kick would topple Cole and allow the second to be the coup de grace; but Cole had spent the last eighteen months in the rings of Thailand, Laos and Cambodia, where leg kicks were the bread and butter of the vicious combat sports practiced there.
He therefore stood his ground and intercepted Park’s second kick, hooking his hand around it and spinning the man further around, launching a strong front thrust kick of his own into the agent’s back which sent him sprawling into the frightened crowds.
Cole could hear police sirens in the streets beyond the square, and police whistles much closer; but he ignored these for now and turned to find Wong.
Seconds later he spotted the man, being marched away by the other agent, a pistol held to his back.
Cole sprinted ahead but the agent must have heard him and turned, pistol aimed at Cole’s chest. Cole was glad when Wong slammed his hands down hard onto Chae’s arms, the gun discharging harmlessly into the floor; and then Cole was there, kicking the gun out of his hands and grabbing the man’s head, pulling it down onto a powerful knee strike.
But Chae anticipated this and put up his hands to block the blow. Cole in turn snapped the man’s head down and slipped his arm around his neck in a guillotine choke, sinking his forearm tight into Chae’s throat, arching his back to lift the agent off his feet, cutting off his air supply completely.
Cole felt Chae’s hands pummel at him uselessly from his bent-over position, waited for him to adjust his weight as Cole knew he would, and then wrenched up violently, severing the man’s spinal cord in one devastatingly final motion.
Cole turned to face Park, but a group of policemen had surrounded him, taking him out of the picture for now.
His head snapped back to Wong, but the arms broker was no longer there.