Strobe lights flashed across the buildings behind as more police cars joined the chase. He swore under his breath, looking down Broadway.
Where was Nina? Where was Eddie?
The cab reached the lower end of Herald Square. Nina risked a glance up Broadway as she crossed the intersection and continued up Sixth Avenue, seeing police lights in the distance, before looking back at the nearer and much more menacing lights in the mirror. The pursuing police cars had also drawn closer, but were unable to overtake the powerful truck.
Hey, there's my store!' said Macy. Nina looked back, wondering what the hell she was talking about. You know, Macy's.' She pointed as the giant store rolled past to their left.
Just hold up the phone,' Nina snapped. Eddie, where are you now?'
I'm almost there. Where are you?
The taxi reached the 36th Street intersection, Nina checking for traffic coming from the left - to see a bright orange sports car zoom down Broadway. 'Eddie, are you in an orange car?'
Yeah, why?'
Ijust missed you! I'm going north on Sixth!'
Eddie said something, but it was drowned out by Macy's cry of, 'They're catching up!' The pickup's driver had put the hammer down, the great chromed whale-mouth of its grille looming large.
And Snakeskin was leaning out of the window again, revolver raised—
Nina hurled the cab into a desperate left turn on to 37th Street as a bullet punched through the door just above her thigh.
Eddie heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet impact over the phone. Shit!'
He had to double back - but two NYPD cruisers were moving to block Broadway ahead, despatchers alerting them to the second high-speed chase.
And there were more police cars behind him . . .
Hang on!' he shouted to Grant as he stabbed a button to deactivate the traction control -then dipped the clutch as he spun the wheel with one hand and yanked hard on the handbrake with the other
Even with four-wheel drive the Lamborghini couldn't keep its hold on the road, slithering round in a 180-degree spin as Eddie mashed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roar was accompanied by an earsplitting scream from the smoking wheels as the Murcielago lunged forward again, the tortured tyres laying thick black lines of rubber on the tarmac.
Ahead, the other police cars moved to box him in - then hurriedly swerved aside as the cops realised he wasn't going to stop. He shot between them, the two cruisers behind him pulling into single file to follow the writhing Murcielago through the gap.
The tyres found grip again, the sudden jolt of acceleration like a kick to the back as the oncoming traffic peeled off to either side, headlights flashing, horns blaring. 37th Street was coming up fast. Eddie eased off, about to turn right to catch up with Nina—
A battered yellow cab hurtled across the intersection right in front of him.
Time slowed to a crawl as Eddie recognised the red-haired figure at the wheel, Nina looking round at him open-mouthed as the Lamborghini thundered straight towards her—
Eddie twitched the wheel - and accelerated The world snapped back to full speed as the Lamborghini crossed just in front of the cab. He thought he heard Nina's scream behind him, but it was probably his imagination: it would have been lost in his own.
Adrenalin surging from the almost-collision, Nina looked in the mirror - to see the Ram smash square on into a police car that had been chasing Eddie. The cruiser cartwheeled along the street in a storm of flying glass.
The impact had affected even the Dodge, the bullbar buckled back through the radiator grille and the hood crumpled upwards. Behind it, another police car skidded to a halt, cops breaking off their pursuit of the Lamborghini to help their colleagues.
Did you see that?' Macy said breathlessly.
Kinda hard to miss,' said Nina. 'Eddie!
You okay?' Eddie asked her as Grant held out the phone in his shaking hand. Yeah! Jesus, I nearly hit you!'
He turned west on to 39th Street. 'Head for Times Square - I'll get behind you and block them.'
Eddie, one of them's got a machine gun!'
I'll worry about the machine gun - you just put your foot down!' Grant blinked. Worry about the whaO'
But Eddie had something else to worry about. Ahead, a truck was reversing into a loading dock, blocking the street. He braked hard and blasted the horn in frustration. 'For fuck's sake! What next, two guys carrying a sheet of glass?'
The truck was clear; he veered round it, powering towards the Seventh Avenue intersection.
Nina's cab shot across the junction, heading north. If he could get ahead of the pickup—
The dented Ram roared pastjust before he made the turn. Shit!' He swung in behind it, vision filled by the broad red tailgate. Headlights blurred past on both sides. Like Broadway, Seventh was a one-way street, southbound only.
Grant cringed as an SUV passed uncomfortably close to the Murcielago. 'We'll never get past!'
What're you talking about?' Eddie countered. 'We're in a fucking LamhorghiniV He dropped down a gear—
And floored the accelerator.
There was a gap in the traffic to the left - only short, but it was all he needed. He hoped . . .
The Lamborghini surged forward, rocketing past the Ram with a triumphant howl and darting back in front of it. Eddie braked. Startled, the pickup's driver also slowed, his vehicle weaving, before realising he had the clear weight advantage and could just barge the supercar aside.
Eddie accelerated again, just enough to keep ahead of the truck. He saw Nina's cab pulling away as it headed for Times Square, its tail lights the only red points in the sea of headlights parting before it.
And directly ahead of it, a bus.
Ricardo gestured feebly. 'A bus, there is a bus.'
I see it,' Nina told him. It was a red British-style double-decker, an open-topped tour vehicle for sightseers.
Coming straight at them.
'There is a bus!'
I see it!' She flashed the headlights and pounded on the horn, keeping her foot down. What are you doing?' demanded Ricardo.
Macy stared in disbelief through the cracked partition. We're gonna hit it!'
He'll stop, he'll stop . . .' Nina poised her other foot over the brake, ready to jam it down—
The bus driver chickened out first, the safety of the few passengers on the last tour of the night his top priority. He braked hard, the bus's wheels locking . . .
It skidded.
Oh, that's bad,' Nina gasped. The bus slewed round through almost ninety degree, a metal and glass roadblock.
But a driver in the lane to the right saw the danger and accelerated away just before the bus hit his car from behind - clearing a space.
Nina took it.
The Crown Victoria hit the kerb with a bang. A huge NYPD logo on the wall of the Times Square station house filled Nina's vision; she screamed and spun the wheel, the front bumper rasping against the sign as the car careered along the sidewalk. People dived out of the way, but there was an obstacle dead ahead—
Shit!' Nina wailed as she hit a hot dog cart. The vendor had already sprinted away, his stall spinning like a top in a spray of boiling water and flying frankfurters as the cab bowled it into the intersection.
Then she was clear, powersliding on to Broadway. She looked back . . .
The bus swayed to a standstill - blocking three lanes right in front of the Lamborghini. Shiiiiit!' Eddie and Grant cried. The only way to avoid a collision was to follow Nina—
A spine-jarring thump as they mounted the sidewalk, then Eddie turned hard left to round the bus, barely missing the whirling hot dog cart.
He too looked back—
The skidding Dodge Ram hit the bus.
It ploughed straight through it, the lower deck bursting apart in an explosion of shredded metal and flying seats. Most of the passengers were on the upper deck, those few downstairs fleeing for each end of the vehicle as the pickup rolled through its middle. It crashed do
wn in Times Square, screeching to a stop on its side.
The Lamborghini also shrieked to a halt. Eddie opened the scissor door and jumped out, landing in a crouch to look over the supercar's bonnet. The overturned Ram was dribbling fuel from a ruptured line, its driver slumped bloodily through the smashed windscreen. Another of its occupants, a chunky bald man, had been thrown clear and lay near the hot dog cart. He still had a weapon clutched in one hand, a compact TEC-9 sub-machine gun.
The Lamborghini's other door swung up. Grant emerged - and to Eddie's dismay ran straight for the bald guy. 'Wait, get back!' he shouted.
The actor ignored him, reaching the weakly moving gunman - and kicking the TEC-9 out of his hand, sending it skittering away to clank against the wrecked Dodge. This is a citizen's arrest!' he proclaimed, putting a foot on the man's back and striking a pose. He grinned at Eddie. 'Just like in Citizen s Arrest, huh?'
Idiot,' Eddie muttered, hurrying round the Murcielago. He passed the steaming hot dog cart, a blue flame from a squat gas cylinder still burning under its water tank. You okay?
Yeah, man. That was . . . intense. Wow!' A flash came from the top deck of the ruptured bus as someone took his photograph. So, did we save your—'
A cop ran round the bus, pistol raised. 'Freeze!' he bellowed. 'Put your hands up and get down on the ground, now'
Eddie immediately raised his hands. Grant, meanwhile, faced the cop, unconcerned. 'It's okay, man. We're the good guys.' He nodded towards his billboard. See? It's me!'
The cop twisted his arm behind his back. Shut up! Get on your—'
The Ram's rear door flew open and Diamondback burst out like a Jack-in-the-box. He saw the three men and aimed his revolver—
Eddie tackled Grant, wrenching him from the cop's grip as Diamondback fired. The bullet caught the cop in the chest. Blood spurted out as he crashed to the ground, his gun bouncing away and sliding under a stalled taxi. Its driver ran for cover.
Hauling Grant with him, Eddie dived over the cab's bonnet as Diamondback fired again, the taxi's windscreen exploding. He shoved Grant against the front wheel, spotting the cop's gun near the back.
Diamondback jumped down from the Ram. He fired another two shots at the cab, blowing out windows, then snatched up the TEC-9.
Eddie threw himself into a forward roll to the rear wheel and grabbed the gun, a Glock-19 automatic. He pressed his back against the wheel and checked on his charge.
Grant was shuffling towards him—
Back!' Eddie yelled, diving at the actor as Diamondback opened fire on full auto. A string of ragged bullet holes blew open in the doors just behind him as he knocked Grant back. More bullets ripped into the front of the cab, piercing the thin steel bodywork - before clanging ineffectually against the solid metal of the engine block.
Cars are concealment, not coven' Eddie shouted at the shaken Grant as the onslaught stopped. Didn't they teach you thai at action movie school?' He popped his head up. The snakeskin-jacketed gunman was out of ammo, dropping the TEC-9 and switching back to his revolvers. Nearby, the bald man, face a patchwork mess of cuts and grazes, staggered to his feet.
Eddie!' a woman shouted. He looked round and saw the uniformed Amy approaching in a rapid crouch, her partner behind her.
Diamondback fired again, forcing everyone down. His companion drew a pistol as they retreated. 'What the hell's going on?' Amy demanded.
Ask them!' he replied, gesturing towards the gunmen. They're the twats who just tried to kill my wife!'
Another shot punched through the cab, spitting shrapnel. Grant yelped, and Amy flinched. NYPD!' she shouted. 'Drop your weapons!
More bullet hits on the cab, the sharp crack of an automatic joining the revolvers' louder blasts. The two men weren't receptive to orders. Eddie looked under the taxi's front bumper to see them hurriedly backing away as other cops returned fire. With an officer already down and civilians at risk, they were shooting to kill - but he needed at least one of the gunmen alive to learn why they wanted Nina dead.
He hefted the Glock - and fired it under the car, the bullet tearing a bloody hole in the bald man's right ankle. He fell, screaming. Eyes narrowed to agonised slits, he looked up at Diamondback. 'Help me!'
Diamondback returned his gaze . . . then without even changing expression shot him in the head. A sunburst of blood sprayed the street beneath him.
Jesus!' Amy gasped as Diamondback took refuge behind the overturned Ram. Then she realised what Eddie was about to do. 'No, wait!
But Eddie had already sprung out from behind the taxi, running at the pickup with the gun raised. His target was behind the Dodge . . . and it was no more bulletproof than the cab. He aimed low, hoping for a leg shot as he blew a line of holes from the back of the truck to the cabin—
Diamondback dived out from the front of the truck - and fired. But he wasn't aiming at Eddie.
The shot hit the hot dog cart's gas cylinder - which detonated like a bomb.
The concussion knocked Eddie off his feet. By the time the roiling explosion dissipated and the cops recovered from the shock of the blast, Diamondback had sprinted away down 43rd Street, shoving through the fleeing crowd.
Eddie swatted away a burning hot dog bun and stood painfully. Amy hurried to him, other cops running past them - some to help the injured officer, the rest in fruitless pursuit of the killer. 'You okay?'
I'll live,' he grunted, looking at the bald man. 'Unlike him/
Amy shook her head, still stunned by what she had just witnessed. Cold-blooded murder, right in front of a bunch of cops? That guy's insane.'
Maybe, but he's good at what he does. I don't think your guys'11 catch him.'
We'll see,' Amy said with wounded professional pride - but also a certain resignation.
Grant came over, face white. 'Whoa. Man. You, you . . .' He pumped Eddie's hand vigorously. Amy's eyebrows shot up as she recognised him. You saved my life, man! I'd be dead now if you hadn't been there!
Eddie decided not to mention that it was Grant's own fault he'd become a target. All part of the job.'
No, man, seriously. Anything you want, anything you ever need, just let me know. It's yours.'
How about your Lamborghini? Kidding,' he clarified, seeing from Grant's face that anything' didn't literally mean anything.
Man!' said Grant, gazing at the Murcielago. T can't believe it. You said not a scratch, and damn, you did it!
Even with the scrapes it had taken the Lamborghini appeared unscathed, reflected firelight gleaming off its paintwork. Yeah. Normally anything I drive gets totalled. Must have got lucky this time . .
The trickle of gasoline from the wrecked Ram reached one of the burning buns.
Buggeration—' Eddie began, throwing Grant and Amy down as a line of flame scurried back to the pickup's fuel tank—
The Ram exploded, somersaulting end over end through the air - to smash down on top of the Murcielago, crushing it flat.
Eddie sat up. 'And fuckery.
Grant gasped plaintively at the sight of three hundred thousand dollars of scrap metal. Somebody on the bus took another photo. 'Oh, manl
You had insurance, right?' said Amy.
His expression gradually relaxed. Yeah. Huh. Good point. And I wasn't sure about the colour anyway.'
Eddie!' Eddie got up as Nina ran to him. 'Oh my God, you're okay!' Forget me, it's you I was worried about.'
They embraced, then she looked back at her battered cab. Macy had done as Nina told her and run off, but there was still someone in the vehicle. She turned to Amy. 'You've got to get an ambulance. The cab driver got shot.
I think we'll need more than one,' Amy told her, radio already in her hand. 'Eddie, I don't know what just happened here, but you are sure as hell going to tell me.' She regarded Nina, then Grant. And so are you, and you . . . hell, I should arrest everyone in a five block radius!'
You know her?' Nina asked Eddie.
Yeah, she's a friend.'
Her expression became more s
uspicious as she looked the attractive police officer up and down. 'Wait. . . your cop friend? The one you were with the other morning?'
Ah . . . yeah/ he admitted. 'That one/
You're Eddie's wife?' Amy asked. Nina nodded. Okay, tell you what - how bout we make all the introductions down at the precinct?'
5
74
'Well/ said Eddie, slumping on to the couch the following morning, 'when I said "Let's see what tomorrow brings" . . . that was more than I had in mind.' 'Getting chased and shot at?' Nina replied. 'It was just like old times - in exactly the way I didn't want. I'm amazed we didn't end up in jail.'
'You can thank Grant for some of that. You know who he rang with his phone call? His manager. Who rang his publicist, who rang the mayor .. /
'The mayor?' said Nina, surprised.
'Yeah. That charity thing the other night? They met each other there. And since the mayor was fawning over the hot Hollywood star and having loads of photos taken with him, it would've been a massive embarrassment if his new best mate got locked up a couple of days later.' He grinned humourlessly. 'Which is why Grant's in today's papers as a real-life action hero instead of as a mugshot. But it's Amy we really owe.'
Nina's lips tightened. 'Why her?'
'She vouched for us, basically. That twat in the snakeskin jacket blowing someone's head off in front of half the NYPD made it pretty obvious who the bad guys were, but we'd still have been in trouble if she hadn't stood up for us.'
'Stood up for youryou mean.'
Eddie knew the tone. Oh, God. What?'
'You fanvwhat, Eddie. That woman, Amy - you were with her the other day when you said you were with Grant Thorn!'
He held out his hands in exasperation. 'Yes, I admit it! But there's nothing funny going on - she's just a friend. I've got loads of other female friends all over the world, and you've never had any problems with them.
'That's because you didn't lie to me about them! How many other times did you tell me you were working while you were seeing her?'
The Cult of Osiris Page 9
