“Oh my God!” Ambrose managed to squeak out. “What the hell is going on?”
“How the hell did they know we were here?” Caleb said.
“They must have seen the Napoleon note after all,” said Mason.
Milo frowned. “And trailed us from the airport, maybe?”
“Possible,” Ella said. “The delay at the airport in London must have given them a head start.”
“So they were waiting for us at Oxford airport,” Virgil said. “Bastards.”
“Dangerous bastards,” Ben said.
Eva was in shock, staring at the body of the dead director, but Zara was already on the case. Pulling a Glock from her pocket, she had beaten even Caleb in the race to draw her weapon first.
“You’re too slow old man,” she said. “One of these days you’re going to get shot.”
“I can’t believe they killed Nigel!” Ambrose said, his voice barely a whisper.
“And they’ll kill you too if you don’t get away from that door!” said Virgil.
Ben spoke rapidly, the tone of his voice deadly serious. “I don’t know where the hell you got those weapons from but you’re not licensed to use them in this country.” He drew a Glock 19 and slid a round into the chamber. “No one fires except me, or we’re all in a deep lake of hot shit for the next ten years, got it?”
Ben fired a short burst of shots, professional and controlled, and the enemy dived for cover in the darkened corridor outside the office. “We need to get out of here!”
“We have what we need,” Mason said. “We have to get to Paris.”
“What about me?” Ambrose said. “I can’t go to Paris!”
“You’re going to a safe house,” Ben said. “Holloway — get on it.”
The other MI5 man pulled his smart phone from a pocket and started to make a call.
Looking over his shoulder, Mason had a clear view of the path Kiya and the Raven were taking to approach the office. They had anticipated an armed response and were now taking cover behind a large glass case full of ancient Egyptian coffin lids arranged in a vertical display.
“They’re behind that case,” he said.
Zara nodded. “I see the bastards.” She fired off a shot, then another. The sound of the Glock discharging in Nigel’s office was crude and savage, and Ambrose clamped his hands over his ears and nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Dammit!” Ben said. “I said no one fires!”
“So sue me,” Zara said coolly. “I’m not taking a bullet just because some James Bond wannabe tells me not to fight, even if you are Ella’s boyfriend.”
“Ballistics are going to love this crime scene…” Ben muttered.
Ambrose was now the color of putty. “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my life,” he said. “Are they trying to rob the place?”
“Look,” Mason said. “Ben’s right. We have to get out of here. These guys are insane and it’s obvious they’ll kill anyone to get what they want.”
Ambrose had an idea. “We have tunnels here, beneath the Ashmolean. They go all over Oxford.”
Mason shook his head. “No way. I’m not leading my team, or you, down into some kind of labyrinth when I have no way of knowing how to get out. It’s suicide. Think again.”
“They’re getting closer,” Ella said. “Behind that giant thingy on the right.”
Eva rolled her eyes. “That’s the shrine of King Taharqa.”
Caleb frowned. “Whatever you call it, it’s great cover and gets them one step closer to this office.”
“There are too many of us for one vehicle,” Ben said. “Holloway, I want you to take Doctor Lloyd to the safehouse in Cumnor.”
“The rest of us are going back to the airport,” Mason said. “Don’t even think about trying to stop us, Ben.”
Ben fired another shot at the approaching enemy. “I’m only one, and there are seven of you. I can’t stop you without shooting you and I’m not going to do that, am I now?”
“Come with us!” Ella said. “We need all the help we can get.”
Ben glanced at Mason. “Well?”
Mason gave Ella a withering look, but relented. “Fine, but only to the airport, then we go our separate ways.”
“So what now?” Virgil asked.
Mason blew out the window and holstered his gun.
“Dammit!” Ben said. “Did anyone hear what I said about guns?”
“We can get out this way,” Mason said, ignoring him. “I’ll stay here and hold them off and you get everyone to the cars.”
Ben led the others to the safety of the cars parked outside in Beaumont Street while Mason and Zara let rip with their Glocks, emptying both magazines in an attempt to hold Kiya and Tekin back for as long as possible.
“I’m out, Jed,” Zara said.
“Me too,” said Mason. “Time to make tracks.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mason watched as Holloway and Ambrose jumped into the Jag. A second later it skidded away west along Beaumont Street and swerved left onto Worcester Street in a cloud of burned tire rubber and diesel fumes.
“Into the police cars,” Ben said as they sprinted down the front steps. “I’ll drive one and you take the other.” He tossed Mason the keys and they all piled into the two marked police Volvos parked in the street; Ella, Milo and Caleb joined Ben, while Zara, Eva and Virgil climbed in with Mason.
The Londoner turned the key and the engine turned over.
Then the windshield exploded into a mess of shattered glass, but stayed wedged in the frame. “Looks like they’ve worked out where we are,” Virgil said.
“You were top of your class, right?” said Zara, reloading her Glock.
“I don’t think Agent Speers is going to like that,” said Virgil, glancing down at the freshly loaded weapon in her lap. “He’s going to be very disappointed in you.”
“Your lives are like one, long rollercoaster ride,” Eva said, rubbing her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s not always like this,” said Zara. “Sometimes it gets really violent and dangerous.”
Mason gave Eva an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and stamped on the accelerator. The front-wheel drive Volvo roared in response and the two wheels spun around like demons, producing a vast cloud of burned rubber. When he dumped the clutch the car surged forward into the night, leaving two long, black trails of burned rubber swerving all over the street outside the museum’s entrance.
“Hey!” Virgil said, pointing at Ben’s car up front. “He’s got the lights on, and the sirens! Why can’t we do that?”
Eva turned and gave Virgil a look of pity. “What are you, like five?”
“He’s right,” Zara said. “Trust me, I was a cop in LA for years. You slap those babies on and you’re getting where you want ten times faster.”
“Hit it, Z,” Mason said, swerving the car into St. Giles and heading north.
Zara didn’t need to be asked twice, and she quickly fired up what British police called the ‘blues and twos’, activating the flashing blue lights and sirens.
“Oh, man,” Virgil said. “This is so cool, and now we get to go to Paris, too.”
“I hate to dump on your lunch, Virgil,” Zara said, tipping her head to glance in the rear view mirror, “but we have two douche nozzles on our six and they’re gaining fast. Looks like they’re in a BMW.”
“She’s right,” Mason said, checking his mirror. “They’re in an M6.”
Eva looked concerned. “What does that mean?”
“It means the only way we’re getting away from these punks is if Jed can out-drive them,” Virgil said.