by Alex Archer
He yanked her head back and another man thrust a pistol into her throat. The second man grinned. “Found your back door. Now you come up out of there or I’m going to shoot you.”
For a moment, Annja held her position. She thought she could break away from the man holding her hair, and she believed she could knock the pistol aside. But Edmund was below her, already on the ladder, and that was going to be a problem.
Worse, the two men weren’t alone. Three others with submachine guns stood around the manhole.
“I won’t tell you again.” The man with the pistol was hard and his eyes were empty of compassion, almost feral.
Slowly, Annja climbed up. As she emerged, the gang members stripped her of the shotgun and the pistol. Two of them grabbed her by the wrists and held her arms behind her back. They pulled her back from the hole and pushed her facedown on the ground.
The man with the pistol leaned out over the hole. “Come up now or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
A moment later, Edmund crawled out of the hole. He was patted down, then pulled back and forced to the ground, as well.
“There’s another one in the tunnel.” The leader readied his pistol. “These two were too close to the opening to be shooting back in the warehouse.”
Fiona was going to be ambushed. If she fought, which Annja felt the woman might do, she was going to be killed. And if she surrendered, they were all going to be in the hands of the gang. Annja had no doubt about their eventual fate.
The men focused on the hole as someone sloshed through the water below.
Annja rolled to her left, jerking her right arm violently in an attempt to break free of the man holding her. He managed to hang on, but he was off balance. She swung her right leg up and swept his feet out from under him, knocking him backward.
The man on her left tried to aim his submachine gun, but he’d retained his hold on her left wrist, as well. Anna reached back with her right arm, caught the back of the man’s shirt and yanked him over her body to trip him. He fell heavily and his grip on her wrist broke as he tried to keep his face from striking the pavement.
Still in motion, Annja rolled to her feet, reached for the sword, and the blade nestled easily in her hands. Mercilessly, knowing their lives were measured in heartbeats now, she struck. The blade glittered as she swung and took off the head of the man on her right as he brought up his weapon.
Stepping toward the man on the left, Annja turned the blade and brought it down in an overhand strike that caught her opponent between his neck and shoulder. Almost cut in half, he dropped without a sound.
The man at the opening lifted his pistol and snarled with rage and fear. Annja ducked and followed her blade home as she took another step. The point crashed through the man’s breastbone and skewered his head. He fell backward just as Fiona appeared in the opening.
Annja spun back toward the men she’d knocked down behind her. They were getting up, grabbing for their weapons. Before she could move, Fiona blasted them with the MP5.
On solid ground now, Fiona dumped her empty magazine and put a fresh one in. She glanced at Annja. “Is that the sword Roux was looking for?”
Not knowing what else to say, Annja nodded. She let the sword disappear, then picked up the shotgun and pistol that had been taken from her.
“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” Fiona smiled grimly. “So let’s try to stay alive over the next few moments.” She shifted her attention to Edmund, who was slowly getting up from the ground. “Come along. We’ve a car waiting.”
They ran through the alley as gunfire echoed all around them.
17
The dock area in front of the warehouse had turned into a bloodbath as Laframboise’s men battled the Asian gang members. Bodies lay strewn across the pavement. Klaxons rang out across the river and boat traffic had powered to the other bank.
Annja sprinted at Edmund’s side. He was in good shape and had made a quick recovery. Fiona led them toward the Bristol Fighter, skirting along the warehouses so they wouldn’t be immediately noticed.
Their luck didn’t hold, though. Two of the gang members on motorcycles spotted them and gave chase. The high-pitched whine of the engines cut through the noise of the firefight like buzz saws.
“Fiona!” Annja brought up her shotgun.
Ahead, Fiona swept around and threw a protective arm across Edmund, grasping his shirt and yanking him off balance. He fell and covered his head with his hands.
Annja aimed at the lead motorcyclist as he fired a machine pistol left-handed. Bullets stitched the warehouse wall near Annja and the ringing sounds of the rounds tearing through the sheet metal sounded like steel rain. She squeezed the trigger and rode out the recoil as the shotgun fed another shell into the chamber. The empty cartridge dropped as she sighted in again.
The initial double-ought burst caught the man in the chest and tore him from the motorcycle. The machine fell on its side and skidded across the ground while the man tumbled forward like a rag doll.
Annja squeezed the trigger again and caught the second man in the head. He jerked sideways, parting company with his ride.
A third motorcyclist who’d joined the chase broke his approach and wheeled to his left. Unfortunately, that was directly in the path of Laframboise’s escaping sedan. The big car hammered the motorcycle. The rider tore loose and bounced across the hood and the windshield before dropping in its wake.
For a moment, the sedan got caught up on the fallen motorcycle. Sparks flared from the machine as it ground to pieces beneath the bigger vehicle. The driver stopped, reversed and left the motorcycle debris on the pavement. He whipped around the wreck.
Fiona already had Edmund moving again. They were less than fifty feet from the sports car.
Annja fed more shells into the shotgun as she raced over to the nearest fallen motorcycle. She slung the shotgun and righted the motorcycle. Everything looked fine and the handlebars remained straight, in alignment with the front wheel. She threw a leg across, pulled in the clutch and pressed the start button. The engine caught immediately and she stepped the gearshift into First.
Other gang members on motorcycles roared by in pursuit of the sedan. None paid any attention to Annja. She twisted the accelerator and raced over to Fiona.
“I’m going to follow Laframboise. See where he goes. The car only has two seats.”
Fiona hesitated for just a moment, decided arguing was obviously not going to work and nodded. “Be careful.”
Annja rolled the throttle and shot off in pursuit. Four motorcyclists and a car trailed after the sedan. A gunner leaned out of the sedan, took aim at the car following and unleashed a spray of bullets that smashed into the vehicle’s windshield. Annja was close enough to see the driver jerk with the impacts of the bullets.
The driver tried to maintain control but lost the battle, swerving to the left and cutting off two of the motorcycles without warning. One of the motorcycles went down under the car’s wheels. The other got clipped by the front bumper and spun out of control. Still accelerating, the dead man’s car hit the end of a dock and sailed out into the river.
Annja downshifted, swerved and powered out of a slide, narrowly missing the crushed motorcycle. She checked her mirrors and saw that Fiona was in hot pursuit.
The two gang members remaining on motorcycles hadn’t given up. They dodged and weaved behind the sedan, making hard targets of themselves. They didn’t try to return fire because they’d realized the car was armored and because it took all their skill to manage the rough road and dodge the gunner.
The sedan smashed through cargo loads and sent dockworkers scattering. One man barely had time to leap off his forklift before the sedan smashed into it. The collision ripped the sedan’s fender away and mangled the steering. Annja didn’t imagine that the passengers inside the car fared much better. Despite the damage, the sedan was slowed only for a moment and continued more or less on course.
Less than a hundred yards ahead,
the sedan slewed around in a ninety-degree turn that left it broadside in the middle of the road. The move caught one of the motorcyclists unaware and he smashed into it. Annja and the other gang member braked to a halt, then sped away as the gunner in the sedan opened fire again.
The sedan drove forward toward one of the docks. For a moment Annja thought it was out of control and was going to go over the side. Instead, the driver brought the vehicle to a skidding halt that left the right front tire hanging over the dock’s edge. The passenger doors opened and Laframboise and his lackeys scrambled out toward the water.
The last gang member on motorcycle fired at them, then got picked off by one of the Frenchman’s gunners. Annja remained behind a parked car and ducked as a swath of gunfire took out the windows. Safety glass rained down over her.
When she stuck her head back up, Annja saw a speedboat racing away from the dock. She caught just a glimpse of Laframboise as he ducked belowdecks. In seconds, the speedboat zipped through the lazy river traffic and was gone.
Fiona braked the sports car in front of the car where Annja had taken cover. Peering through the window, Fiona nodded in the direction of the speedboat. “That was Laframboise?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, well, there’s nothing to be done for it now.”
“You don’t have a boat handy?” It was a joke, but Annja did halfway expect the woman to have one waiting somewhere.
“Disappointing as it may be, no, I don’t. Nor helicopter, either. I do have a helicopter, just not at the ready.” Fiona shot her a rueful look. “I hadn’t planned on this.”
“Me, neither.”
They could hear sirens coming closer with each passing second.
“Be a love and put your weapons in the back.” The sports car’s trunk flipped up. “Wouldn’t do any good to get caught with those. There would be far too many explanations for us to make at this juncture. The game is afoot, so to speak, and it wouldn’t do to break stride.”
Annja rode the motorcycle over to the car and dumped her weapons into the trunk. Edmund watched her in fascination.
“You know, Ms. Creed, I don’t believe any of this was covered in the information you sent me.” He looked slightly pale.
“No. I try not to get involved in things like this.” Annja closed the trunk lid. “But they seem to keep…involving me.”
In the rearview mirror, Fiona was smiling knowingly.
There were going to be a lot of questions. Annja got back on the motorcycle and followed the sports car away from the docks as the arriving police tried in vain to contain the area.
They made their escape at a leisurely pace.
* * *
“I’M REALLY NOT SURE THIS is a good idea.” Self-conscious, Annja walked beside Fiona Pioche into the hotel. Annja tried to remember how many nights she’d actually stayed there and couldn’t. She remembered the first night, but thought maybe she’d only caught a nap there before heading out into the streets looking for the new Mr. Hyde.
“I know this isn’t a good idea.” Looking guilty and somewhat like a vagabond after all his rough handling, Edmund trailed the two women. “After all that shooting on the docks, I should quite imagine most of the Metro police are looking for us.”
“No one got a good look at us.” Fiona nodded to the concierge and headed for the elevators.
“There are security cameras over there, you know.”
“Well, we’ll just have to see how good their systems are, won’t we?”
“You drive a rather distinguishable car.”
Fiona pressed the elevator button. “I believe at the time we would have been spotted, Annja and I were freeing you from kidnappers.”
“True, but—”
Smiling sweetly, Fiona turned to Edmund. “But nothing, dear man. Relax and enjoy the adventure.”
“Adventure?”
“Yes. Events like this remind us why we’re alive.”
“After this morning, we’re lucky to be alive.”
“That’s part of the package. So few people get to enjoy adrenaline like that anymore.” Fiona faced the elevator doors as they opened. “I know I’ve missed it.”
Edmund shot Annja a look of disbelief.
Annja smiled at him and stepped into the elevator after Fiona. “I don’t have to collect my gear. I can get internet access practically anywhere.”
“True. But these are your tools we’re after. I think a professional should have access to her tools. This thing—whatever it is—is going to require some serious effort. I think you’d be at your best working with tools you’re comfortable with.”
“Detective Chief Inspector Westcox is going to have a man stationed on my door.”
“There was a policeman in the lobby. I’m sure he’s already phoned the inspector.”
“Was there?” Annja hadn’t seen the man.
“Yes. Callow fellow. Gray suit and a bad haircut. He was reading a fishing magazine. That’s what gave him away. Well, I’d already sussed him out, of course, but the magazine confirmed it.”
“How?”
“It had an address label on it. The magazine wasn’t one provided by the hotel, and it wasn’t one bought in the shop, or in any nearby shop.”
“He brought it from home.”
“Exactly.”
Standing there beside the older woman, Annja felt foolish. “I wouldn’t even have thought of looking for something like that.”
“But now you’ll never forget it.” Fiona reached over and took Annja’s hand. “Don’t waste time chastising yourself. We all have our specialties. This one happens to fall within my bailiwick. I don’t know as much about archaeology and antiquities as you do. And I definitely cannot pull a sword out of thin air even if my life depended on it.”
Edmund stood there and looked fondly back toward the front door.
Fiona held the door and waited for him. She lifted her eyebrows quizzically. “Are you coming? If you don’t, there’s a good chance you’ll never see Anton Dutilleaux’s magic lantern again. Or learn why so many people seem to prize it.”
With a piteous snarl of self-loathing, Edmund stepped into the elevator. He wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m going to regret this.”
Fiona smiled. “Only if you live long enough.”
The elevator doors closed with finality and they started to rise.
“Normally, I’m braver than this.” Edmund pursed his lips. “Then again, normally I don’t have to face gun-toting criminals who tie me to chairs and hit me. Seriously, that’s something that doesn’t happen every day.” He paused. “If it did, I’m convinced I’d find another line of work.”
“We’ll see.” Fiona took out her small pistol and checked it. Satisfied, she put it away. “You might be surprised how quickly you become accustomed to such a lifestyle.”
That was true. Occasionally, when she thought about her own life, Annja marveled, as well. But the action was addictive.
Edmund shook his head. “Absolutely brill.”
* * *
WHEN THE ELEVATOR STOPPED without fanfare at the correct floor, Annja stepped out first. After she turned the corner to the hallway leading down to her room, she saw the big man standing beside a chair in front of her door. He surely hadn’t been standing long.
“Ms. Creed?” The man faced her with his hands at his sides, his jacket unbuttoned, and the blue-and-yellow bulk of the X26 Taser nestled in a hip holster. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yes?”
“I’m Constable Stanbrook.”
“Is there something I can do for you, Constable?”
The smile stayed in place. “Detective Chief Inspector Westcox would like a word with you.”
“I’m not interested in talking to the inspector.”
The constable’s smile disappeared. “I’m afraid the inspector has insisted.”
Fiona stepped in beside Annja. “On whose authority?”
Stanbrook looked momentarily flummoxed.
“On his own authority, of course.”
“Balderdash. What you’re doing here is illegal.”
“Back off before you get hurt, gran. I’ll be deciding what’s legal here and what’s not.”
Fiona kicked the constable in the shins.
Yelping, the man stepped away and bumped into the wall behind him. When he bounced off the wall, Fiona grabbed his jacket lapels in one hand, stuck out a foot and tripped him with an economy of motion. Stanbrook fell heavily to the carpeted floor. He reached for the Taser. Fiona was on him in a flash, controlling the man’s arm as he came up with the weapon. She helped him fire the Taser and both dartlike electrodes lanced into his crotch. He cried out in pain, then shivered as the current hit him and he finally relaxed into unconsciousness.
Fiona stood and ran a hand through her platinum hair. “Gran, my arse.” She nodded at the door. “Let’s go in, shall we?”
Still stunned at how quickly events had escalated, Annja fished her room key card from her pocket and slotted it. She was surprised when the lights turned green and the locking mechanism worked. She opened the door and went inside.
18
Laframboise sat in a small bar just off the Thames. On the television above the bartender’s head, police boats rocked on the river current as they tried to contain the Isle of Dogs crime scene. Several uniformed officers stretched yellow warning tape around the area. Other constables put up sawhorses to block vehicle access.
The news reporter covering the story talked excitedly, but the conversation buzzing around the bar was too loud for Laframboise to make out what she was saying.
“Another drink, sir?” A thin server with black skin and close-cropped blond hair and electric-blue highlights stopped beside his table.
“Please.” Laframboise tapped his wineglass.
The waitress took it and scurried back to the bar.
Laframboise swiveled his attention to Gilbert Campra, his majordomo. “Those were Puyi-Jin’s people?”
