Harry and the others ducked as the fire burned a metre above their heads, and then when it was safe he scanned the area. He saw that the men in the van were now sprinting from the car park and heading out into the side street beside the battered station. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said trying to get his breath back.
“Them’s some pretty nifty moves, Tex,” Zoey said. “You wanna rescue this damsel in distress and throw me those keys?”
“Why should we?” Lucia said, suspiciously.
“Because you said you needed a car.” She looked at them, the cynical expression on her face was now one of desperate vulnerability. “I can you get one of those — honest.”
“We can take the van!” Lucia said, pointing at the Sprinter.
“No, it’s too obvious,” Harry said, “and I don’t have time to find something easy to steal. I say we trust her.”
“I don’t know,” Liška said. “She could be anyone — she could be one of them placed here to spy on us, or to lead us to our deaths.”
“I think your tin foil hat’s a little crooked there, Chekov,” Zoey said. “I don’t work for anyone besides myself.” She looked at Harry once more, the smart-ass smile now gone completely. “Please man, this is my only chance. If you don’t help me out they’re gonna deport me to the States.”
Harry didn’t have to think it through. His instinct was to let her out. He stepped over to her and unlocked the cuffs. They slipped off her wrists and she rubbed them with her hands, sighing with relief.
“You were saying something about a car?” Harry said.
Zoey took a step back and sighed again. “You’re going to hold me to that, really?”
“I told you she was trouble!” Liška said.
“Woah there, Tin Foil! I never said I wasn’t gonna help you. I’m a girl who sticks to her word. If you need a car then I’ll get you a car. I know just the asshole who can help. He owes me… believe me.”
TWENTY-THREE
It was raining by the time they got to the back of the building and followed Zoey as she sprinted along a cobblestone side street. It was standard Parisien fare, with neat lines of plane trees, stripped bare by the winter and slick with the frozen rain now tumbling down from a leaden sky.
Parked outside a shabby tabac that lurked in the gloom of a soulless modern, concrete residential block was a dirty Citroën C3. As they approached it a chubby man in a puffy black raincoat with the collars turned up twisted his face around to see them. A second later the orange indicator lights flashed and the locks blipped open.
Zoey skidded to halt by the front passenger door and clambered inside. “Get in!”
Lucia and Andrej shared a glance and then followed Harry’s lead as he climbed into the back seat. With some effort the large man turned in the driver’s seat and smiled at them as they jumped in the back. “Hallo! I am Niko.”
Zoey glanced in the mirror. “Guys, this is Niko the Asshole Lookout. Niko the Asshole Lookout, this is the guys.”
“Pleased to meet you all!” Niko said, trying to turn in the driver’s seat to shake their hands.
Zoey sighed. “Niko, we’re on the run from les flics — maybe save the social niceties for later on over a schnapps or something, yeah?” She turned to Harry. “Niko’s Swiss,” she said, as if that explained everything.
Harry, Lucia and Andrej buckled up as Niko indicated and slowly pulled onto the avenue.
“What are you doing, Niko?” Zoey said.
He looked at her, confused “What?”
“Why are you driving like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re a total idiot on your tenth driving test.”
“Oh, that’s not nice,” Niko said. “You shouldn’t say such things. I’m very disappointed in you, Zoey. One must always obey the traffic regulations.”
Zoey glanced in the mirror. “Cut the shit, Nikky,” she said, her voice suddenly hard and cold and humourless. She didn’t sound like the vulnerable wise-cracker Harry had met at the station, and he wondered which one was the real Zoey Conway. “They’re right on our asses. Move over.”
Niko stared at her. “Move over where?”
“To my seat. I’m driving.”
“But you are in your seat,” he protested meekly. “How can I move into it?”
“Didn’t you have any fun as a teenager?” she said, unbuckling her belt and clambering up over the top of him. “Guess not, with you being from Geneva and everything.”
“You’re blocking my view you crazy woman! And it’s Zurich… I am not a Genevois — we don’t even speak the same language!”
“Whatever. Like I said — move over, you weenie.”
The C3 began to swerve violently all over the avenue, forcing a car in the other lane off the road. It crashed through a launderette window as the sound of police sirens rose in the distance behind them.
Now, no one was in control of the Citroën, and in the back, Andrej Liška covered his eyes. “This is it. We’re going to die.”
“No one’s dying, Chekov,” Zoey said, climbing down into the driver’s seat. Beside her, Niko had reached the passenger seat and was desperately buckling himself into it. He turned to Harry and the others in the back. “I don’t like to use bad language, but if you want to see what a total idiot really looks like when driving a car — then look no further.”
“Bad language?” Harry said.
“Niko’s very polite,” Zoey said. She rammed the C3’s manual transmission down into second and the engine howled like a stuck piglet. She took the next corner so fast the car almost tipped over onto two wheels, and clipped a number of coffee tables out the front of a café. The tables went flying, sending cups and bottles and menus all over the street. The patrons of the café leapt back to save themselves and then rushed forward full of waving fists and threats.
“The French,” Zoey said, as if once again that explained everything. She gave a dismissive headshake and returned her attention to the police car on their tail. “These guys are pretty serious about catching up with us,” she said suspiciously. “Something tells me they’re not after a common thief. You guys sure you’re not mass murderers?”
“Mass murderers?” Niko said, his face growing visibly paler.
“We’re not murderers,” Lucia said with a sigh. “We already told you — someone is trying to frame us.”
Niko sighed and shook his head. “I’m very uncomfortable about this Zoey.”
“Oh, can it, Niko. You’re as crooked as they come.” She changed up into third and gained some speed along the Avenue de Tourville, screeching past Les Invalides before swinging the wheel around to the left hard and heading south towards the Church of Saint-François-Xavier. “Don’t pay any attention to Niko here. He’s what you might call my technical back-up assistant. In other words, he neutralizes security systems before I break into buildings.”
“True story,” the Swiss man said with pride. “Why do you think all of the CCTV cameras around the police station were redirected to face the walls?”
Harry was silently impressed. “That was you?”
“Ja. I’m good at what I do.”
“He sure is,” Zoey said. “Oh — and did I mention — he’s also supposed to keep a lookout for me in case anyone comes home earlier than expected.”
Niko turned in his seat and faced them again and gave an explanatory shrug. “I fell asleep — just one time.”
“Sure, the one time I raid the Saudi Ambassador’s Parisian apartment.”
“The Saudi Ambassador?” Lucia asked.
“Sure. Aim for the stars, Jeb, and you might just hit the moon, right?” As she spoke the rainclouds blew to the west to reveal a bright winter sun.