The bloke's got a point,' said Eddie, quick-stepping alongside them. 'And I kept telling you the same thing, so we can't both be wrong.' He slid a hand between Nina and Osir. Mind if I cut in?'
By all means,' said the Egyptian, smoothly releasing Nina and stepping back. Shaban rushed up beside him. 'They are working together. I toid you ' Osir shook his head, his smile infuriating his brother. Let's see what happens.'
Eddie, what are you doing?' Nina whispered as he took hold of her. You can't dance!'
Says who?' He glanced at the quartet before looking back into her eyes. 1 "Por Una Cabeza" - a tango. Doddle.
What? Since when - aah!' He set off in step with the music, carrying her with him. To her amazement, he seemed to know what he was doing. When did you learn how to dance? You can't stand even being in the same room when Dancing With The Stars is on!
You know those mornings I was with Amy?'
Amy?' Nina frowned, then tried to push away. 'That cop?'
Hey, key' he hissed, holding her. She was having dancing lessons, and I went with her.
Oh, is "dancing lessons'' a euphemism now?'
No, it's actual dancing lessons! Hold on tight - one front ocho comin' up!
One what?' Nina began, before Eddie turned her sharply round, then back again. Her heels clattered frantically over the floor. They ended up pressed face to face. Whoa! So when - why did you learn to dance? You hate dancing!'
I wanted to surprise you. At the wedding reception/
What wedding reception?
The one I was going to sort out when I got some money, so we could actually have our family and friends there instead of just the Justice of the Peace! A bit late, I know, but I wanted to do something nice for you.'
Oh my God,' said Nina, taken aback. 'You actually learned how to dance, just for me? That's . . . that's so sweet'
Oi,' he warned. Don't smile. We're supposed to hate each other.
She clamped her mouth shut, trying to scowl rather than grin like a fool. 'But why pick dancing?
' 'Cause you only own maybe three DVDs, and two of 'em are about dancing. Dirty Dancing, Strictly Ballroom . . .'
Eddie, this is very lovely and romantic, but just because I like watching dancing doesn't mean I can actually doit'
He was surprised. 'I thought you could!'
Livin' proof that I can't, right in front of you!' She clumsily followed him as he turned, seeing Osir still watching . . . with growing mistrust. Look, the zodiac'll be ready by the time we go back to his yacht. We came into Monaco on a boat, a tender or whatever it's called - it's on pier twelve in the harbour. You can't miss it - it's painted the same colours as his racing cars. If you can follow it to his yacht—'
No way I'm going to leave you with him - he thinks he's pulled!'
It's the only way to find the pyramid. You've got to get out of here.' An idea. 'Slap me. Eddie was aghast. T'm not going to bloody slap you!'
We've got to convince him we've split up.' She raised her voice from the sotto level of their discussion, enough to be heard over the music as she attempted to twist free of his hold. You son of a bitch! I was finished with you before, and I'm twice as finished now! Slap me/ she added from the corner of her mouth, seeing Osir and Shaban approaching. 'You - you needle-dicked limey asshole!
Eddie's face contorted in dismayed disbelief - then he slapped her. The blow wasn't hard, but the crack was loud enough to catch everyone's attention. Sorry,' he mumbled.
Sorry!' she replied, just as surreptitiously, before shoving him back. The string quartet stopped mid-note, watching the disturbance.
Osir interposed himself between them. 'I think you should leave, Mr Chase.
You know what? You're welcome to her,' he snarled. Crap party anyway.'
Shaban and Diamondback hurried over. 'We'll show him out,' announced Shaban. The bodyguards lumbered through the crowd to surround Eddie. The back way.
Get your fucking hands off me,' Eddie said as a suited goon grabbed his upper arm. He jerked away, only for another man to seize him from the other side.
You can throw him in the harbour for all I care,' Nina shouted, horribly aware that Shaban undoubtedly planned something much worse. 'Get the hell out of here, Eddie!'
That thought was foremost in Eddie's mind. The first goon regained his hold on his arm, and they frogmarched him to the service door. Shaban and Diamondback followed right behind them, the latter with an expectant grin. If they got him out of sight of the casino's visitors and staff, he would be seriously outnumbered and outgunned, as he doubted that Diamondback was the only armed member of Osir's security team.
Twenty feet to the door, ten. It was a natural choke point - if both goons tried to hustle him through at once, their movements would be restricted enough to give him a chance to strike. But if they were halfway competent, they would be expecting it. . .
The door opened just before they reached it. A waiter stepped through, carrying a tray bearing several bottles of expensive wine.
He was quite a big guy, heavy—
With both goons still firmly holding his arms, Eddie suddenly hoisted his feet off the ground and kicked the waiter hard in the stomach.
The unfortunate man flew backwards, bottles falling - but Newton's third law held true, the force of the impact knocking both Eddie's captors back in reaction. They collided with Shaban and Diamondback. All five men tumbled to the floor in an unruly heap . . .
With Eddie on top.
He yanked his arms free, elbowing one man in the groin and rolling to a blackjack table. The service door was his best hope of escape - but before he could run through it swung shut, the lock clicking. No time to search the winded waiter for his key.
You fucker!' Diamondback spat. The American flailed out from under the convulsing bodyguard, clawing for a revolver—
Eddie snatched a card shuffling machine from the table and fired a stream of cards into his face like angry moths. Diamondback threw up his hand to protect his eyes, the half-drawn revolver clunking to the carpet. Eddie hurled the shuffler at his head, scoring a solid-sounding hit, then ran for the entrance to the main lounge.
He risked a glance at Nina as he barged through the startled partygoers, seeing her quickly suppress an enthusiastic Go, Eddie! smile as he reached the doors.
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The two men outside responded to the commotion as Eddie burst into the casino. He punched one backwards, but his companion lunged to tackle the troublemaker—
He suddenly fell on his face with a bang. Eddie leapt over him into the lounge, finding Macy just outside the door with one foot outstretched where she had tripped the attendant. 'Thanks,' he mouthed. She was about to follow him, but he firmly shook his head, gesturing for her to lose herself in the crowd before anyone realised they were together. Just escaping the casino on his own would be tricky enough.
She reluctantly backed away as Eddie rushed across the room between the startled gamblers. Behind, Shaban was screaming orders, Osir's two other bodyguards thundering in pursuit. The pair of attendants at the courtyard entrance also ran to intercept him, weaving round the gaming tables.
The main doors - but casino security staff crashed through them, walkie-talkies crackling. All the gaming areas were closely monitored by CCTV to watch for cheats, whether punters or employees: the alarm had been raised the moment trouble started.
Boxed in. He needed a distraction—
A woman in the casino's uniform was taking a tray of chips to a roulette table. Eddie ran to her -and kicked the tray. Its contents flew into the air, raining down on the surrounding tables like multicoloured hailstones.
The response was instant chaos.
The chips ranged in value from a few euros to tens of thousands - and everybody immediately lunged to grab the latter. A woman screamed as the man beside her knocked her from her stool, and there was a huge crash of glass as a drinks trolley overturned. A blackjack dealer shrieked as her table toppled to the flo
or in another cascade of scattering chips. The two bodyguards were caught in the scrum of snatching hands.
The near-riot had also cut the security guards off from Eddie - and him from the exits. He clawed through the crowd, looking for a new escape route.
Get that bastard!' Diamondback roared, barging into the room with another of Osir's bodyguards. His gun was in his hand, anger overcoming any thought of keeping a low profile.
Eddie ploughed forward. Something solid clunked against his foot. A champagne bottle from the trolley. He bent and snatched it up - a club was better than no weapon at all - then saw a clear route out of the money-crazed mob beneath a roulette table.
He rolled under it, scrambling along on his knees as he tore off the foil and unwound the wire cage holding the cork. Shouted French from behind told him that the security guards had lost track of their target. Emerging from beneath the table, he jumped up.
A man yelled as Osir's bodyguard slammed him out of his path. Diamondback was right behind him as the two men rounded the roulette table, coming for Eddie as he pushed his thumb against the cork—
Pop!
The cork shot from the bottle at the head of a sparking geyser and hit the bodyguard square in one eye. He screeched, clapping a hand to his face as champagne sprayed over him. Diamondback tried to push him aside, arm outstretched over the man's shoulder as he took aim—
Eddie threw the still-gushing bottle. Its blunt end hit the revolver, smacking it from Diamondback's hand on to the roulette table. The gun bounced off the baize and landed on the spinning wheel, the wooden butt extending out over its rim.
Diamondback snarled and shoved the half-blinded bodyguard at Eddie, who staggered as the man collided with him, then dived along the length of the table after his Colt. The gun spun out of his reach. He pushed forward on one elbow, grasping again . . .
Eddie threw the bodyguard aside and flung himself on to the table, smashing an elbow down on the other man's spine. Diamondback howled in pain, his twitching hand just missing
the gun as it came round again. Eddie dragged him bodily back down the table before punching his head and making a dive for the gun himself.
His fingers closed on empty air as the revolver continued its circuit.
A fist crashed against his skull, jarring his vision. The Python cruised past once more. Diamondback delivered another pounding blow to the back of his head, slamming his face against the cloth. Before Eddie could look up again, his opponent twisted and kicked him in the side, rolling him away from the wheel in a shower of betting chips.
Diamondback dug one cowboy boot hard into the baize and thrust himself back up the table. He slapped a hand down on the wheel, jarring it to a stop.
Eddie saw Diamondback's hand finally clamp round the gun. The American had kicked him too far away for him to land an effective punch - he needed a weapon to extend his reach, fast.
The croupier's rake—
He snatched it up and swung it at his adversary. It snapped in half.
The handle was nothing more than a length of black-painted dowel. Diamondback looked at him mockingly, the blow practically painless. He flipped the gun in his hand, bringing it to bear—
Eddie stabbed the pointed, broken end of the rake into his crotch.
This time, the result was anything bur painless. Diamondback's eyes bugged wide. Eddie saw his chance, grabbing him by his scaly lapels and slamming a steamhammer headbutt into his face before wrenching the gun from his hand and standing on the table to survey the scene.
The chaos had spread to the rest of the room, some people trying to flee, others rushing in from the corners in the hope of claiming a prize before they were all gone.
Somebody screamed, seeing the gun. He looked round. More security men were hurrying in. He had to get outside. But all the exits were covered.
That left the windows.
He leapt from the table and ran towards the courtyard entrance. An attendant moved to block him, but the revolver's muzzle swinging towards him quickly changed his mind. Eddie had no intention of shooting, though. Even if he'd had more than a puny six bullets, he wasn't about to blast his way out of a building full of innocent tourists. He rounded a craps table, looking up at the ornate ceiling, the chandeliers hanging from it. . .
Another of Osir's men sprang out from behind a row of slot machines. Eddie jinked sideways just in time to avoid being tackled, but the hulking bodyguard still managed to grip his waist. He bashed at the man's head with his elbow as they ran, but the goon wouldn't let go, intent on ramming him into the nearest solid obstacle.
Which was another slot machine, right in front of them.
Instead of trying to dodge, he hooked his arm tightly round the man's neck and deliberately aimed for the machine. The bodyguard realised too late what he was doing and tried to stop, but now the tables were turned, Eddie pulling him towards a very painful collision—
The machine's video screen shattered as the bodyguard smashed into it head first. Eddie reeled back as sparks exploded from the hole - and a cascade of tokens spewed into the tray, the machine chiming happily.
You hit the jackpot, mate,' Eddie told the unconscious man. He was about forty feet from the nearest curtained window - and thirty-five from a trio of security guards pounding towards him.
He used the slumped bodyguard as a stepping stone to scramble up on top of the row of slot machines, then charged along it. The guards snatched at his legs as he sprinted past, but too late to stop him from making a flying leap off the last machine and grabbing a chandelier.
With a musical clash of crystal, he swung through the window.
The curtains ripped away and wrapped round him as he fell, a protective shroud against the shattering glass. Unable to see, he hit the ground hard, rolling several times. Sharp shards rained round him.
Eddie threw off the curtains and got painfully to his feet. Shocked partygoers gawped at him. 'Don't mind me,' he grunted. Just came to see the
His gaze landed on the green and gold car at the courtyard's centre, its engine still idling. The driver was half standing as he looked over the rear wing to see what had happened. 'Car,' Eddie concluded.
He ran for the vehicle. The driver - he recognised him as a Finn called Mikko Virtanen -stared at him in confusion.
Sorry, mate,' said Eddie, shoving him out of the cockpit. He pocketed the gun and jumped into the cramped compartment, sliding to a lying position almost parallel to the ground. 'Good luck with the race!'
The team technicians snapped out of their paralysis at the sight of their star driver being carjacked and ran at him - but Eddie had already pulled the lever to engage the clutch. He squeezed the steering wheel paddle to switch into first. . . and pushed the accelerator.
The result was like nothing he had ever experienced.
Without a helmet or earplugs, the engine's howl was almost deafening, and the jolt of acceleration smacked his head back against the unpadded roll bar so hard that he saw stars.
People leapt out of Eddie's path as the pointed nose of his new ride speared at them, one of the huge front wheels clipping a table and sending hors d'oeuvres to the four winds. He aimed for the street, closing his eyes as he hit the lightweight barrier—
Osir ran out of the ballroom, Nina behind him, just in time to see the car smash through the cordon into Casino Square. 'Zarhaf he gasped. Stop him, somebody stop him!'
Shaban and the bloodied Diamondback burst from the casino. Diamondback raised his second Colt and pointed it at the car, but a frantic screech of 'No! Not here!' from Osir stayed his trigger finger. 'Get after him! Sebak, go!'
With an angry glare at Nina, Shaban ran after the car, Diamondback and another of Osir's bodyguards following. Casino security staff poured into the courtyard, too late to do anything but mill in confusion. Macy appeared in the doorway, but Nina gestured for her to get back inside.
Osir turned to her. Your husband just stole a million dollar racecar!
Yeah, that's s
omething else about him that drives me mad,' she said, feigning infuriation, his total lack of respect for other people's property!'
He shook his head in dismay. At least it's only the spare car. And since he's not a professional driver, he won't get far.'
Eddie was quickly discovering that driving a racing car was vastly harder than it looked. The slightest touch of the stiff and heavy accelerator seemed to send several hundred horsepower instantly to the rear wheels, making the back end slither about wildly, and with cold tyres and not enough speed for the wings to generate downforce it felt like driving on an ice rink.
To make matters worse, even though he was now on the racing track, the road was still busy with civilian traffic - coming straight at him. He was going round the circuit the wrong way. What was more, since he was sitting so low to the ground, the oncoming headlights were at eye level, dazzling him.
He swerved, barely avoiding the monolithic nose of a Bentley - only to have one end of the front wing disintegrate into razor splinters of carbon fibre as it scraped against the roadside crash barrier. He battled with the steering wheel, ignoring the battery of furiously flashing warning lights on it as he struggled to stay in a straight line.
Back into two-way traffic as he joined the Avenue d'Ostende and descended the hill towards the harbour, but being able to go with the flow was little help as this road was even busier. The back end of a Range Rover loomed: he braked, sliding forward as the wheels locked up. The engine threatened to stall, and he pushed the accelerator again.
Too hard.
The car lunged, cracking his head another blow. The other side of the front wing shattered against the Range Rover's rear wheel, shards stabbing into the rubber.
Eddie swerved away as the big 4x4's tyre exploded and it crashed down on its alloy wheel rim. 'Sorry!
But the broken chunks of carbon fibre had also damaged his own tyre, the front wheel shuddering as he steered round another car. He was losing what little control he had.
And he could hear something else over the engine's scream - sirens. The police were coming. It wouldn't exactly be hard for them to pick out his car from the rest of the vehicles.
The Cult of Osiris Page 21
