“Looks like he’s heading toward the launch pad.”
“But why?”
“No wait — it’s not the launch pad. It’s the sea. There’s a boat out there. It must be another one of his damned yachts!”
“We can’t let him get away, Mr Decker! He’s killed too many.”
Decker put the trike into a dive and steered toward the ocean. “We won’t, and for pity’s sake will you stop calling me that. I already told you — it makes me feel old.”
“And as I already said, you are old.”
“I’m not a day over forty.”
“Your point?”
“Not old.”
He levelled the trike off. They were flying at less than a hundred feet now — low enough for Selena to be able to read the licence plates on the service vehicles scattered around the far reaches of the airfield.
Madan made another desperate attempt to shake them off his tail with a second burst of gunfire from the Micro-Uzi. Bullets sprayed all over the place but Decker evaded them with lighting reactions, and then Selena returned the compliment by firing another two rounds from the sidearm.
“Damn it, I missed again!”
Decker wondered what was going on in the seat behind him and shook his head. “Are you holding the grip and pointing the barrel at him, or holding the barrel and pointing the grip at him?”
“Very amusing,” she said. “Not all of us were trained by the US Marines, you realize. If Mr Madan and I were engaged in a debate about ancient history I would annihilate him.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s very grateful he’s up here instead,” Decker said sarcastically, and pushed the trike even faster. They raced up behind Madan now and Selena raised the gun and fired.
The bullet hit the engine block and after a puff of smoke and a loud squealing noise Madan’s trike rapidly began losing altitude.
“You got him!” Decker yelled. “Bastard’s going down!”
Selena had shot Madan down over the swampland along the coast several hundred yards short of his yacht and now Decker pointed at the boat out at sea. “He has men on the deck — look.”
“Are they armed?”
“Yes, but we’re well out of the firing range.”
Madan was now smashing into the swamp and desperately trying to control the tiny trike. His efforts were in vain and after a few tough moments the small aircraft flipped over and crashed upside down in the thick, brown swampland.
“Can you get us down safely, Mr Decker?”
“Of course I can,” he said, and reduced power once again on the trike. Selena felt the difference in revs as the engine slowed and they started to lose altitude quite rapidly. Up ahead, Rakesh Madan was now crawling through the swamp on his way to the yacht, calling out for his men to help, but none could hear his pleas.
Decker brought the trike down safely, and they came to a stop a few yards from a bedraggled and desperate Rakesh Madan.
“Hey, Madan!” Decker called out, ripping his belt off and heaving himself out of the trike. “Got somewhere you have to be?”
Madan tried to back away from Decker and Selena as they drew closer to him, but he tripped once again in the tangled reeds and fell back into the rotting slime with a splash. Staggering up to his knees, he was now covered in rotten reeds and swamp slime.
Decker struck out and landed a hefty right jab on the billionaire’s jaw, spinning his head around in an almost comical way and sending him crashing back down into the swamp. “Not so damned great now, are you?”
“I… please!” He held out a hand to implore the American to leave him alone.
“What’s the matter, Madan?” Decker yelled. “Can’t think of a way for your billions to help you get out of this situation?”
“Any amount!” Madan cried out. “Any amount — just name it and it’s yours! Do you want the yacht?”
Selena hung back while Decker waded forward in the swamp. He was slowing up now, exhausted after the struggles of the last few days, but he still had enough energy to do what needed to be done.
He grabbed Madan by the collar and the Indian flinched. “How many times…” Decker said, punching Madan again and knocking him back down. He hauled him up again. “Have I got to say…” He punched him a third time hard in the nose and splattered it open, but kept him out of the water by holding onto his collars. “That I…” a fourth punch, “Hate…” a fifth punch. “Boats!?”
Selena winced as the sixth and final strike knocked Madan clean out. The broken billionaire collapsed in a spineless heap into the swamp and bobbed about on the tide as Selena walked over to the American.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“No. I split my damned knuckles on his nose bone.”
EPILOGUE
Riley Carr was celebrating the success of the mission by sipping a cup of coffee in the departure lounge of Kolkata Airport, and Selena was doing the same thing right beside him. Diana was pushing Charlie over to their table in a temporary wheelchair. The former RMP soldier and grifter was lucky to be alive after the gunshot wounds he had sustained, but even now he was still smiling, and holding two steaming cups in his hands.
After they had bid their farewell to Arjun Johar at the debriefing in the city they were free to go, and now Charlie and Diana joined Riley at the table but Selena rose to her feet and gazed out the window down the runway.
Riley sighed and grinned. He was feeling in a good mood. Vòng was dead, Kuan and Madan were both in an Indian prison awaiting trial on terrorism charges, and he had Vedika Jha’s telephone number in his pocket. Better than that, Diana had just heard from the Portuguese authorities — her parents were safe and Madan’s men were under arrest.
Now he turned to Selena and winked. “Why don’t you just go and ask him?”
Selena’s eyes were fixed outside as she scanned the private aircraft area of the airport. “Ask who what?”
“Even Blind Freddy knows what’s going on, Lena.”
“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Charlie and Diana exchanged glances but said nothing, preferring instead to stay out of it and enjoy their last coffees before taking off and flying out of the city.
“Come off it, Lena. Just go and ask the bloke.”
“Ask who what?”
Riley rolled his eyes. “Ask Mitch if he wants to play Indiana Jones with the rest of us instead of flying novelty plastic fried eggs out of Macau for the rest of his life.”
Charlie laughed, and Diana raised an eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t put it quite like that if I were you.”
“I was thinking no such thing,” Selena said turning from the runway and sitting down beside Charlie. “I was merely watching that little plane take off.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. He’s a vulgar, rude, uncouth, arrogant man.”
“Yeah, but enough about Riley,” Charlie said with a smirk. “What do you think about Mitch?”
“Mr Funny Cuts strikes again.”
“Mr Funny Cuts is better than Mr Funny Cats,” Charlie retorted.
“They were Lucky Cats,” Selena said absent-mindedly.
“He’s got a plane,” Diana said.
Riley finished his coffee, yawned and put the cup down. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Yes, there is that…” Selena said dreamily. It was infuriating when Riley read her mind like this, but that was part of the reason they were such good friends.
“Seriously,” the Australian said. “Who has their own bloody plane? We could go literally anywhere in the whole world whenever we wanted. The damn thing even lands on water!”
They went outside into the oppressive blazing heat and crossed the tarmac on their way to the parked aircraft — lots of Cessnas, Pipers and Beechcraft, but only one Grumman Albatross, sparkling in the Indian sunshine, a few patched-up bullet holes here and there.