The Secret of Excalibur

They raced along the terrace, heading towards the steep northern face of the Tor. Despite the terrain, several cows stood on the hillside ahead of them, startled by the noise. Chase looked back as they skirted the nervous animals. Kruglov was on his feet, bellowing orders. His subordinates gave chase. ‘Jack, shoot!’

‘You want to shoot the cows?’

‘No! Shoot over them, scare them!’

Mitchell pointed the gun back and fired three rapid shots into the air. The cows immediately panicked, breaking into clumsy gallops away from the noise . . .

Straight at the Russians.

Kruglov saw the approaching stampede and without hesitation leapt from the terrace, rolling down the hill. The others were slower to react, Dominika after a moment following Kruglov’s example and flinging herself down the slope. Maximov stumbled to a stop as if unable to believe his eyes, while another two men hurriedly reversed direction and ran back along the terrace.

They didn’t get far.

Not even someone of Maximov’s size and strength could stop a charging cow - though that didn’t prevent him from trying to grab the leader of the herd as it ran blindly at him. He was swept off his feet, clinging to the cow for a couple of seconds before being flung clear and hitting one of the fleeing men. They both cartwheeled downhill to end up in a dazed heap.

The cows thundered on. The other Russian looked back and had just enough time to begin a scream before two of the animals slammed into him, one on each side, crushing the life from his body.

‘They should’ve mooved,’ said Chase with a grim smile.

Nina made a disgusted noise at the pun. ‘Where are we going?’

Mitchell pointed ahead as they rounded the Tor. A path led away from the hill across the field. A gate was visible at its edge, a road beyond it. A few sightseers stood in confusion on the path, unsure how to respond to the unfamiliar sound of gunfire. ‘If we can find a car, we can get clear and call for backup. I’ll make an emergency call to the embassy, and they’ll tell the Brits - we’ll have armed units, choppers, whatever we need in twenty minutes!’

They ran across the field. Nina glanced back. The remaining Russians were in pursuit again. ‘That’s if we can last twenty minutes!’

‘We’re gonna have to!’ The sword still in one hand, Mitchell used the other to vault effortlessly over the gate. Chase waited until Nina had climbed it, then scrambled over the obstacle himself.

‘Okay, a car,’ said Nina, looking round. They had emerged from the field in a lay-by at the side of a narrow country lane. A pair of identical black 7 Series BMWs were parked at one end; almost certainly the Russians’ vehicles. ‘Can you hot-wire them?’

Mitchell shook his head. ‘Not in time.’ The only other vehicle in sight was an old sky-blue Volkswagen camper van. They exchanged unimpressed looks. ‘Not what I would’ve picked . . .’

No choice. Kruglov and the others were still coming.

They ran to the van. The passenger door was open, smoke drifting lazily from within. Chase flung open the driver’s door. A young couple looked at him in marijuana-fuddled surprise. ‘Hello, hi,’ said Nina. ‘We need to borrow your van.’

‘Sorry, but you can’t have it,’ said the man languidly, his posh accent suggesting that his choice of vehicle was less out of financial necessity than as a fashion statement. ‘You see, there’s this concept known as personal property, and—’

Mitchell snapped up the gun. ‘Get outta the damn Microbus!’

The young woman shrieked and leapt from the VW, the man raising his hands and stumbling out after her. ‘Okay, take it, I don’t really like it that much, just don’t hurt me!’

‘Get rid of this shit,’ Chase growled at him, plucking a joint from the camper’s ashtray and flicking it on to the road in a flurry of burning embers. He climbed into the driving seat, finding the keys in the ignition. ‘All aboard!’

Nina hopped into the front passenger seat as Mitchell slid open the back door and climbed inside. The van’s rear was set out like a tiny apartment, with a bed, a small table and even a gas camping stove. He dropped Excalibur on the bed and readied his gun.

Chase turned the key. The starter whined for a moment before the distinctive puttering rattle of the Volkswagen’s air-cooled engine kicked in. He revved hard and slammed the long gear lever into first with a crunch, then let out the clutch. The VW didn’t so much spring away as lurch, but at least they were moving.

A glance in the mirror—

‘Down!’ he yelled, hunching in the seat as he swerved the van on to the narrow lane. Nina bent double in her seat, Mitchell dropping flat on the floor behind her as the rear window shattered. Shots cracked from the lay-by as the Russians opened fire. The rear-mounted engine took several hits, bullets clanging off the cylinder block as they ripped through the bodywork. Cushions and pillows exploded in clouds of feathers.

Still sitting low, Chase kept driving. The winding road was so narrow the van almost filled it, hedges blurring past little over a foot from each door. If anyone came the other way, they would be trapped.

The shooting stopped. Chase raised his head high enough to check the mirror. The Russians were running for the BMWs. Then the road curved, and they disappeared from view.

Nina cautiously sat up. ‘Are we okay?’

Mitchell rose to his knees behind her, brushing away feathers. ‘Yeah, but they’re gonna catch up real quick.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘In their BMWs? Ya think?’

‘I’ll call the embassy.’ He took out his phone.

‘What about you?’ Chase asked Nina. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, but . . .’ The full impact of what had just happened finally hit her. ‘Oh, my God. Chloe. They just killed her, they murdered her, right in front of us. For nothing!’

‘Kruglov’s a psychopath,’ said Mitchell, looking up from his call.

‘But he’s also a smart one - he didn’t want to leave any witnesses.’

‘Seemed like he knew you,’ Chase noted, rounding a bend to bring the van towards the outskirts of Glastonbury.

‘Our paths have crossed. Unfortunately.’ Chase was about to ask him more, but then his call continued. ‘Peach? Mitchell. We have a situation here - I need you to get on to the Brits, right now, and get us as much support as they can. Yeah, this is an emergency. We’ve taken fire and the bad guys are going to catch up fast. We’re not exactly in a muscle car here.’

‘Tell him to send the police to Glastonbury Tor as well,’ Nina said, turning in her seat. ‘There’s been a murder.’

Mitchell nodded and relayed the information, then listened to Peach for several seconds before replying. ‘Okay. We’ll just have to stay ahead of them for as long as we can. We’re in a blue VW Microbus, heading for the north end of Glastonbury village, going west.’ He listened again, then said, ‘Okay,’ and ended the call.

‘How long?’ Chase asked.

‘Depends how on the ball your guys are. Twenty minutes, maybe fifteen.’

Nina saw a flash of gleaming black metal behind them. ‘Too long!’ Both BMWs were powering along the winding lane after them.

Mitchell used his gun to knock out the broken glass in the rear windscreen, then crouched. The first 7 Series roared closer, Kruglov leaning from the front passenger window, taking aim—

Mitchell fired first - but not at Kruglov. Instead he unleashed six rapid shots at his driver. The windscreen crazed as if hit by a shotgun blast, an almost opaque white speckled with red.

The BMW swerved. Kruglov ducked back inside and grabbed the steering wheel, but too late. The car rode up on to the steep grassy verge, tearing through bushes before clipping a tree and rolling on to its roof. The other windows blew out.

Nina caught a glimpse of green hair as Dominika struggled through one of the rear windows. The second BMW braked hard to avoid a collision. The overturned car, its front end still buried in the bushes, had partially blocked the road. For a moment she thought the chase was over, but then Kruglov crawled from the wreck, angrily