‘We should be able to beat ’em there, but…’
‘But what?’
‘Exactly. They’ve got guns, and we don’t. And the rate they’re going, they’ll still arrive before the cops sort themselves out, especially as we haven’t even called the cops yet!’
‘I’m sure the poor man whose car you stole will have done that by now.’
‘Yeah, which means they’ll be chasing us, not the bad guys! Shit, and Derrick needs an ambulance an’ all,’ he remembered. ‘Why didn’t you stay and help him? He’s your friend!’
Rothschild bristled. ‘You told me he’d be all right! And if I hadn’t come with you, you wouldn’t have known where they were going. They’ve stolen a priceless artefact — we can’t let them get away with it.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ Eddie muttered. ‘You’re as bad as Nina!’
Ahead, the boats went under a bridge. ‘Which way?’ he demanded. ‘Stay on this side or go across?’
‘I don’t know!’ she protested. An intersection was coming up fast, a long tram trundling towards the bridge blocking their view of what lay beyond. ‘I… This side, stay on this side!’
Eddie jammed the wheel to the left, stabbing at the brakes to send the Porsche around the tram’s rear. He felt the car’s heavy back end threaten to snap out on the wet road; even with decades of development and technological aids, the 911’s rear-mounted engine was still a trap for the unprepared driver. A punch of adrenalin as he caught the slide, then straightened — only for the headlights to reveal that the road along the river was blocked by building work, signs warning that it was for pedestrians only. ‘Shit!’
He braked hard, debating what to do. The sight of the boats pulling away made his mind up in an instant. He accelerated again, sounding the horn as he ploughed through the signs and traffic cones.
‘No, no, oh my God!’ Rothschild wailed. Shocked Berliners dived out of the way, one man vaulting the railing and hanging above the edge of the Spree as the 911 thundered past. ‘You’re going to kill someone!’
‘You bloody told me to go this way!’
‘I haven’t lived in Berlin for forty years! It’s changed a lot!’
Eddie shot her an angry glare, then returned his full attention to negotiating the waterfront. The Porsche’s left flank clipped a couple of construction barriers as he jinked to avoid a dumbfounded young couple, then its right side took a greater pounding as the Englishman was forced to grind against the metal railings along the river to dodge an oblivious headphone-wearing man. Rothschild shrieked as sparks flew past her window.
The construction zone ended just before the street passed under a large bridge, a train rumbling over the Spree above the boats. Eddie crashed through more barriers back on to the road and shot across an intersection — only to realise he was now going the wrong way down a one-way street. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped, flinging the car on to the kerb as a truck rushed at him. His passenger closed her eyes in terror.
He dropped back on to the street with a bang. Even with all the obstacles, they were still gaining on the boats. Eddie had no idea what he was going to do when he caught up with them, but as long as he could keep them in sight, he had a chance of recovering the angel, and bargaining for Nina’s release—
He dodged an oncoming car — and saw a new problem ahead.
A road bridge crossed the Spree on the right. Ahead, the street continued along the river — but it was barricaded, steel pillars allowing pedestrians and cyclists through while blocking cars. ‘Which way?’ he shouted. Rothschild’s eyes remained firmly squeezed shut. ‘Oi! Prof! Which fucking way do we go? Do I cross the bridge?’
She risked a look. ‘No, it’ll take you away from the river.’ With no other options, Eddie flung the Porsche into a slithering left turn. ‘And don’t you dare swear at me again!’
‘Then bloody help me!’ he snarled back. The new street was also leading him away from the Spree. ‘How do we catch up with the boats?’
‘If you can get on to 17th June Street, you’ll be able to get back to the river.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘The long road through the park that we came down when we arrived.’ She looked at the modern apartment buildings around them. ‘I don’t recognise where we are. If you can find the Reichstag, I can direct you from there. Go right!’
The next road in that direction was another one-way street, two cars at traffic lights blocking it, with more bollards preventing Eddie from taking to the pavement. ‘Have to try this next one,’ he said, peering ahead. The Porsche rapidly closed the distance to an intersection with a broad boulevard. More traffic waited at the lights; he pulled into the wrong lane to overtake. ‘Okay, hold on!’
Rothschild flinched as her memory finally caught up with the speeding car. ‘No, wait!’ she cried, but Eddie had already hurled the 911 into another wildly fishtailing turn — on to the broad pedestrian plaza leading to the Brandenburg Gate.
Even on a rainy night, there were still plenty of tourists milling around the Pariser Platz, forcing him to resume his symphony on the horn as he swerved to avoid knots of people and dawdling bicycle rickshaws. Making matters worse were the numerous uniformed men and women around the square’s periphery; it was home to both the French and American embassies, ensuring the constant presence of the Berlin police. ‘Like we weren’t in enough bloody trouble already!’ he complained as the cops ran to try to block him.
‘They have guns!’ Rothschild said in alarm. ‘Perhaps we should—’
‘We’re not stopping,’ Eddie growled. He fixed his gaze on the illuminated arch of the Brandenburg Gate at the plaza’s far end and dropped down the gears, foot to the floor.
The Porsche’s acceleration punched them back into the seats. Eddie’s continuous shrilling of the horn finally had an effect, the tourists clearing the 911’s path as it raced towards the central archway. He saw a cop beside the monument draw his gun, but was now committed. ‘Duck!’ he warned Rothschild.
The car blasted through the gate at over seventy miles per hour, emerging on a wide semicircular plaza. A single gunshot cracked after it, but the bullet glanced off the Porsche’s sloping rear. Rothschild squealed at the impact. ‘They’re shooting at us!’
‘Welcome to my bloody life!’ Eddie responded as he rounded another stand of bicycle rickshaws and brought the 911 thumping back down on to asphalt. He now knew where he was, seeing the long tree-lined avenue receding ahead. ‘How do we get back to the river?’
She reluctantly peered over the dashboard as the Porsche began its sprint down 17th June Street. ‘Go to the Victory Column,’ she said, pointing at the distant floodlit statue. ‘Then back over the bridge we took this afternoon. Will we be ahead of them?’
The speedometer needle surged upwards, Eddie weaving across all three westbound lanes through the traffic. ‘Damn well better be.’
Rothschild pushed herself back upright. ‘Why are you so angry with me? If I wasn’t helping you, you wouldn’t be able to follow those boats at all. You wouldn’t even have known to come to Berlin!’
‘I’m mad because you dropped the bloody statue,’ he said. ‘I had to save you rather than get the angel — and if I don’t have the angel, I’ve got no way of finding Nina!’
‘You don’t even like me! And I know Nina certainly doesn’t. I’m surprised you didn’t go after the angel instead.’
‘Don’t think I wasn’t bloody tempted.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘Because… because I couldn’t let another innocent person die for getting mixed up in our lives,’ he admitted. ‘Speaking of which, shut up and let me try to drive without killing anyone!’ Rothschild fell silent, but her surprise at his revelation was clear.