They sprinted away from the men, turning right on Ibn Al Akhsheed Road and running up the street toward a high building at the end. “Looks like this should give us some time to think,” Hawke said as he pulled Snowcat into the Pyramisa Casino.
They entered a plush, expansive casino with lights built inside the ceiling that glittered like diamonds over the busy room beneath them. Everywhere they looked they saw people throwing money away on roulette wheels and backgammon boards.
“What now?” Snowcat said.
“We could play poker, but I’ve always preferred blackjack,” Hawke said, as he scanned the room for another exit.
Snowcat rolled her eyes and stared at the Englishman. “Now is the time for jokes, really?”
“I guess not,” he said, noticing the look on her face. “This way!”
They ran down the carpeted steps into the busy room and weaved through the hundreds of people crowding around baccarat tables and pachinko machines, all hoping to win a million, or at the very least, watch someone else win a million.
Hawke knew they’d all be focussing on something other than their odds in a few seconds’ time, but that was the plan. If anything could give them good cover and slow down the armed men, it was hundreds of terrified gamblers desperately clutching their chips and running six ways from Sunday.
Then the armed men burst into the casino and fired a few rounds from their guns into the ceiling, bringing the chaos Hawke had wished for.
Shouts and screams rose from the casino floor as the horror of what was happening dawned on the guests, but Hawke and Snowcat had the advantage. He surveyed the area and realized they were still a hundred yards from the nearest steps to the upper level where the exits were. Then he saw another option.
“Can you run?” he asked.
“Of course!”
“No, I mean really run.”
“I think so,” she replied, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
“Good, then let’s go!”
He sprinted forward and drawing on his parkour training he vaulted over the brass bars that separated the casino floor from the raised area where people ate and drank. Snowcat watched with respect as the Englishman’s powerful body sailed over the bars and he landed with the agility of a cat on the upper level. He stopped and automatically crouched down for cover before turning back to face her.
“You can do that?”
“Of course…” she said, and sprinted forward, copying the manoeuvre Hawke had just completed and nearly pulling it off, but her right foot caught the top bar and pulled her upper body down hard into the carpet of the upper level.
“Nearly, I can do it…”
“You’re doing fine.”
Behind them the men had located them from the far side of the room and were now spreading out and running down both sides of the casino on the upper level, firing occasional shots in short, professional bursts which were designed to keep Hawke and Snowcat pinned down.
“We need that exit!” he said, and they dashed toward a fire escape with all their might.
Hawke kicked the panic bar so hard he nearly tore it off, and they were once again shielding their eyes from the savagely bright Cairo sun.
“These guys just don’t give up!”
“They will never give up,” Snowcat said, an eerie knowing look on her young face. “Trust me, they will not stop until you are dead, and now me too.”
“Too bad they picked a fight with me then,” Hawke said. “Because I never give up either.”
Behind them they heard the men shouting as they cleared the casino and made their way toward the rear fire escape.
“They’re talking in English!” Hawke said.
“Of course they are, Joe! You haven’t worked any of this out yet?”
“Worked what out? Those bastards are British and they’re trying to kill me! I thought they were Russians — no offense.”
“Hey,” Snowcat said, and shrugged her shoulders. “None taken, but we have to get out of here, right now.”
“You read my mind.”
As the men crashed through the fire escape and Hawke and Snowcat sprinted away into the Cairo sprawl, his mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts. Clearly the men were professionals — either Special Forces or former Special Forces guys — and now he knew they were British… but why were British soldiers trying to kill him?
His heart pounded as he raced through the back streets of Cairo with no answers, and the only person who could give them to him was a Russian woman he barely knew, running beside him into nowhere.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They ran along two more streets until Snowcat began to slow down. He could see that she didn’t want to admit it, but she was flat out knackered. He looked around for another way and saw what he was looking for just a few yards ahead outside a small shop selling oranges and other fruit out of wooden crates.
“Hey! There!” Hawke pointed at a motorbike chained to a rank outside the shop.
“This is a joke, yes?” said Snowcat, staring at Hawke in wonder.
“Eh? What’s wrong with it?”
Snowcat sighed and shook her head. “Fine, but don’t complain to me if falls apart and we get killed on it.” Without even glancing around, she pulled out her Makarov and blasted the chain off the forty year-old Kreidler Florett.
As the bullet echoed around the street, passers-by screamed and ran for cover, while Hawke nodded with casual appreciation. “Good shot.”
“Is it safe?” she asked. “There’s rust all over the fuel tank and the tires looked like they’ve seen better days.”
“Yeah, like back when Reagan was president. Now give me some of that gum you’re chewing and leave the rest to me.”
“My chewing gum?”
“Just hand it over — it’s a filthy habit anyway.”
“Hey!” Snowcat said as she handed him a piece of the gum.
Hawke slung the gum and kept the wrapper, rolling it into a thin tube like a wire and holding it in his lips as he traced the bike’s ignition wires back to a small plastic connector. He decoupled the connector and placed the foil wrapper into the connector and bridged two of the open ports. A second later a low clicking noise told him it was ready to start up, which he did with a smug nod of his head. “Not bad even if I do say so myself.”
“Not a lot of room on this thing, is there?” Snowcat said as she straddled the bike. “Coming?”
They climbed aboard. Hawke sat on the front and Snowcat sat behind him, her hands around his waist. Moments later they were skidding out into the traffic. The tinny rasping of the fifty cc engine filled the street as they sped away from the armed men, and Hawke watched with undisguised alarm as their pursuers clambered into a jet black Cadillac Escalade which had skidded to a halt a few yards behind them.
“These blokes are good…” Hawke said. “And they’ve already got back-up from somewhere!”
Snowcat turned to see. “How are we supposed to get away from them on this? I’ve got a hair dryer with more power.”
“You need a little faith, Agent Snowcat,” Hawke said, and revved the Kreidler.
“People have faith in God, Hawke. With you I’m beginning to think it’s more like despair.”
Hawke laughed and revved the ancient German motorbike for a few more seconds before accelerating faster down the street.
Snowcat turned and tried to aim at the approaching Escalade but Hawke was weaving the Kreidler in and out of the traffic in an attempt to put some distance between them and the goons behind.
He jumped a red light and speeded west along the broad El Tahrir boulevard.
The driver of the Escalade floored the throttle and sent a plume of burned rubber smoke into the air. The giant Caddy lurched forward even faster and began to close in on them.
“Time to speed up, Englishman!”