Eddie clambered out of the Hyundai. A shout in French came from the Suburban’s far side — followed by another shot from an Increment member. The last bodyguard slumped dead over a car’s bonnet.
The Yorkshireman saw that one of the Removal Men had taken a hit to his arm, a comrade hurriedly examining the wound while the third man ran to the wrecked Suburban to police the bodies. Brice and Alderley rushed from the mall. ‘Where is he?’ demanded the former. ‘Where’s Mukobo?’
Eddie pointed at the Suburban as it roared across the car park. ‘There!’
‘Damn it! Peter, come on!’ Brice sprinted for the parked Peugeot, Alderley behind him. Eddie hurried after them.
The field agent started the car before Alderley was fully through the door. He pulled out, Eddie having to block his path to force him to stop. ‘Get out of the way!’
Eddie jumped into the rear. ‘I’m coming with you!’
‘Why? You’ve already caused enough trouble!’
‘Can you shoot and drive at the same time? Gimme your gun!’
Brice pulled away in pursuit of the Suburban, reluctantly passing back his sidearm. Eddie quickly checked the weapon — a nine-millimetre Glock 17, ten rounds remaining in the magazine and one in the receiver — then readied it.
Mukobo’s vehicle made a skidding right turn at the top of the exit ramp to avoid an approaching bus. ‘Oh, God,’ Alderley said in dismay. ‘He’s going down into the town!’
The Suburban cut the wrong way around a roundabout, crossing a bridge over the freeway to head for Playa de las Américas. ‘Great, right into a place full of tourists!’ Eddie said. ‘We’ve got to stop ’em before someone gets hurt.’
‘That is the plan,’ Brice told him sarcastically.
He skidded the Peugeot through the roundabout. Ahead, the Suburban charged down a sweeping road past a large piece of modernist concrete architecture — but movement outside a more mundane structure caught Eddie’s attention. ‘Cops!’ he shouted, seeing several police cars peeling out from its grounds. ‘We’re going right past the local nick!’
‘We can’t let them catch Mukobo,’ said Brice.
‘It’s their bloody jurisdiction, and Mukobo shot up a shopping mall! They won’t let you walk out of here with him.’
‘It’s vital to British interests that we bag him. That’s our top priority — our only priority.’
‘Why? Why’s some mass-murdering rapist from the arse of Africa so important to Britain?’
If Brice was about to deign to answer, he was cut off as the Suburban vaulted over a grassy reservation at a junction. The kerb was too high for the pursuing car to risk traversing, forcing him to brake and go around it. The SUV pulled away, Brice accelerating after it with a curse.
‘Cops have seen us!’ Eddie warned. Three police cars were closing fast. ‘Does MI6 give you “get out of jail free” cards with your licence to kill?’
‘They haven’t caught us yet.’ The Suburban turned hard left on to a side road. Brice followed — only to react with a start when he saw more police cars skidding to block its far end.
Mukobo’s driver also responded with alarm, the SUV ramming a parked car aside to reach the pavement before another frantic turn brought it on to a descending ramp. Brice sawed at the wheel to bring the Peugeot in pursuit.
The Suburban smashed through a fence at the ramp’s bottom and leapt into a flood control channel. Brice followed. The only water in the concrete river bed was a thin, rancid stream, the SUV kicking up a dirty spray as it rushed along. ‘There’s nobody around — we’ve got clear shots!’ Eddie yelled. He lowered a window and leaned out, bringing up the gun. ‘It’s bulletproof, so go for the tyres!’
He fired three shots. The first grazed the SUV’s rear bumper, the others hitting the wheel below as he refined his aim. A chunk of rubber flew off — but the tyre remained intact. Alderley’s shots had no more effect. ‘It must have run-flats!’
The truck’s occupants heard the impacts — and moved to retaliate. Movement behind the tinted windows as someone opened the sun roof. The bodyguard in the front seat stood — and opened fire on the Peugeot.
Brice swerved across the channel in a spume of filthy water. A bullet punched a hole through the roof above Eddie as he ducked, another scarring the windscreen—
Alderley cried out, falling back into his seat and clutching his right arm. ‘Jesus, I’m hit! I’m hit!’
Eddie leaned back out. The bodyguard, smiling at his success, brought his gun around at the new target—
Five rapid shots exploded from the Glock, blowing a bloody chunk from the African’s head. The SUV swerved crazily as the dead man collapsed on to the driver.
‘Sometimes it is about being a good shot,’ Eddie told Brice. ‘Alderley! You okay?’
‘Just — winged me,’ the older man replied in a strained voice.
The Suburban’s driver regained control. Taller buildings rose on either side of the flood channeclass="underline" hotels. They were approaching the heart of the resort. Eddie looked ahead. A road bridge crossed over the waterway — and beyond it, he glimpsed blue water. ‘We’re almost at the beach!’
There was an obstacle between them and the sea. Past the bridge was a piled mound of grey sand and rocks running across the channel. The 4x4 would be able to traverse it with relative ease; the Peugeot, an ordinary family car, less so.
Brice had seen it too. ‘Damn it! Hold on!’ He accelerated.
‘You’ll never get over that,’ Eddie cautioned.
‘We don’t have a choice! We’ve got to get Mukobo!’
The Suburban whipped under the bridge. The 308 followed, juddering as it drove on to accumulated silt and stone. The 4x4 reached the mound, reeling drunkenly over ever-larger rocks — then it went airborne, thumping back down in an eruption of sand. Brice tried to follow—
He and Eddie both saw the sharply protruding stone at the same moment. The agent braked hard — but too late.
A tremendous bang — and part of the car’s suspension was ripped away by the unyielding point. The Peugeot slewed across the debris pile, almost rolling on its side before lurching to a standstill. Alderley cried out as his injured arm hit the door.
Even braced, Eddie had also been flung sideways. Shoulder throbbing, he straightened. ‘Everyone okay?’
The steering wheel’s airbag had deployed, protecting Brice but leaving him dizzied. ‘Yeah. I think so.’
‘Been better,’ Alderley gasped, face pale.
People on the beach were gawking at the wreck, but the Suburban was still mobile beyond them. ‘Mukobo!’ Eddie cried, jumping from the car.
‘Chase! Wait!’ Brice tried to follow, but his door was jammed. ‘Wait! That’s an order!’
Eddie ignored him, running after the SUV. ‘Move, move!’ he yelled. Tourists scattered in fear on seeing his gun. He scrambled on to a paved walkway along the beach’s edge just as the Suburban cleared the sand ahead of him. It hit an obese man in shorts, throwing him bloodily over a low wall, then swerved up a ramp. People screamed, flinging themselves out of its path. A flat thud told Eddie that someone else had been mown down in Mukobo’s merciless desperation to escape.
He pounded up the ramp. The 4x4 was now hemmed in, a wall on one side and packed seating outside bars and pizzerias and steak houses on the other. More shrieks of terror as the Suburban ploughed through the tourists on the waterfront. Another harsh bang, a woman spinning over the wall to the beach below. It would be a massacre, unless he stopped it—
Eddie halted, whipping up the gun and locking on to the damaged wheel — then emptied the Glock’s magazine into it.