The Secret of Excalibur

taking it to Vaskovich!’ She ran to the door. ‘Come on!’

Chase stared at her, anger turning to bewilderment. ‘What’re you talking about?’

‘He’s stealing it, he’s stealing my goddamn sword! Come on!’

She ran for the stairs, Chase following in confusion. ‘How do you know?’

‘Because he just got into a taxi!’

Sarcasm filled his voice. ‘Oh no, a taxi! That proves he’s evil! Now who’s being paranoid?’

They clattered down the stairs, a couple of embassy workers jumping out of their way. ‘Since when does Jack use taxis? Every time he’s gone anywhere, he’s had an official US government vehicle - car, plane, whatever! But now he’s carrying something incredibly valuable - and he decides to take it to the airport in a cab?’

They reached the lobby. Nina spotted Peach talking to a tall, granite-faced man with a close-cropped brush of pure white hair - who was holding the other metal case. ‘Mr Peach! Hey!’

Peach looked round in surprise. ‘Dr Wilde! What’s the matter?’

She jabbed a finger at the case. ‘Did Jack Mitchell just give you that?’ she asked the white-haired man.

Peach spoke for him. ‘Yes. We’re putting it into secure storage until it can be transferred to DARPA.’

‘Uh-huh. And what about the other case?’

‘What other case?’

‘The case he’s about to give to the Russians! Eddie, come on!’ Nina rushed for the exit, Chase shrugging helplessly at Peach before following her. One of the Marines stationed at the metal detectors inside the doors moved to block them, but Peach shouted for him to let them through. They ran down the steps and into Grosvenor Square.

Nina hunted for the taxi. ‘Where’d he go? Where’d he go?’

‘Over there.’ Chase pointed to the left; the road round the square was a one-way system, circulating clockwise. The traffic was light, the only cab in sight heading east along the long side of the gardens towards the heart of London.

Nina spotted a black cab outside the Marriott hotel to their right. They ran to it, the driver looking up expectantly. ‘Follow that cab!’

‘Are you taking the piss?’ the driver hooted.

‘No, no! That cab, over there!’ She pointed to the opposite corner of the park. ‘We need to be wherever he’s going, fast!’

The driver regarded her as if she were an escaped mental patient. Chase sighed and took out several banknotes. ‘Fifty quid do you?’

‘That’s the ticket,’ said the driver with a broad smile. ‘Hop in!’

The taxi set off with a determined diesel rasp. Nina peered ahead as they drove past the embassy and turned to head east. ‘There! There he is!’

The driver accelerated. ‘Saw you both come out of the embassy,’ he said. ‘So this geezer we’re after - terrorist, is he? Spy?’

‘A thief,’ Nina told him. The driver didn’t seem impressed, but continued the pursuit regardless.

‘You think,’ said Chase.

Nina addressed the driver. ‘If you were going to Heathrow from the embassy, would you go the way he’s going?’

‘God, no!’ the driver said, laughing. ‘Completely the other direction, miss.’

‘Told you,’ she said to Chase. ‘That’s why he didn’t take an official vehicle - he doesn’t want anyone from the embassy to know where he’s going.’

‘I still don’t get what you’re thinking,’ he complained. ‘If he was going to give the sword to Vaskovich anyway, why didn’t he just hand it over at Glastonbury?’

‘Maybe he didn’t want to blow his cover. Not in front of us.’

‘Okay, so if he’s really working for Vaskovich, he could have had Kruglov kill us and then make up whatever story he wanted. Why would he care about keeping us alive once he’s got the sword?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Nina, shaking her head. ‘But Jack knew Kruglov and the rest . . . and they knew him.’

‘If they’re so matey, why were they trying to kill him?’

Nina didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, she sat back and watched as they caught up with Mitchell’s taxi, their driver keeping a couple of cars between the two black cabs. They turned south, eventually emerging on Regent Street and passing through the neon blaze of Piccadilly Circus before heading east again.

‘Looks like he’s going to Leicester Square,’ the cabbie said. Traffic had slowed considerably even by London’s sluggish standards, people crowding the pavements ahead.

‘What’s going on?’ Nina asked.

‘Film premiere at the Empire, miss. I dropped some girls off there earlier - they wanted to see that American bloke starring in it, wossname, that guy with teeth. Grant Thorn, that’s the one. My missus likes him, but I reckon he’s just another one of those plastic Americans. No offence, miss.’

‘Uh-huh. Hey, he’s stopping,’ Nina said, seeing the other taxi pull over.

‘Stop here,’ Chase told the driver. The taxi squealed to a halt a few car-lengths behind its quarry as Mitchell climbed out. Chase paid the driver. ‘Keep the change.’

‘Thanks, mate,’ the driver replied. Nina opened the door as Mitchell headed into the crowd. ‘Hope you catch your thief !’

‘Do you know your way around here?’ she asked Chase as they hurried after Mitchell, battling to keep sight of him through the throng.

‘More or less. I lived in London when I was with Sophia.’

‘You did? Huh. You never told me.’

‘Can we not fucking start all that again?’ They followed Mitchell into Leicester Square itself. Its northern end had been cordoned off to form a roadway leading to the Empire cinema, flanked by a crush of onlookers. Cameras flashed and people yelled in excitement as a limo pulled up at the red carpet, only for their enthusiasm to disappear as its occupants emerged, apparently not famous enough to earn a cheer.

Nina glanced at the cinema. A huge billboard proclaimed the movie as Gale Force, the face of Hollywood flavour-of-the-moment Grant Thorn dominating an image of stormy seas, an exploding helicopter and a voluptuous young woman in a bikini. ‘Looks like your kind of movie,’ she quipped. The crowd then caught her attention: more specifically, the number of yellow-jacketed police officers and security personnel in and around the cordon.

Chase had the same thought. ‘If he really is going to give the sword to Vaskovich’s people, he’s picked a good place to do it. Lot of people around, lots of cops - less chance of them just killing him and taking it.’

Mitchell was now heading south down the side of the garden at the square’s centre. Though much less crowded than the area in front of the Empire, it was still busy, Leicester Square being home to several other cinemas as well as restaurants and bars. He reached the southwestern corner of the garden, stopping beside a bust of Sir Isaac Newton at its entrance.

‘Shit,’ Chase muttered. ‘We can’t keep going this way, he’ll see us. Go back, go into the park.’

‘What if we lose him?’

‘Doesn’t look like he’s planning on moving. Come on.’

They doubled back, entering the gate at the garden’s north-western corner and hurrying down the diagonal path towards its centre, passing a Union Jack-emblazoned stall selling Londonthemed tourist tat. To Nina’s relief she quickly sighted Mitchell again, still waiting by the statue. Then she froze, grabbing Chase’s arm as she recognised someone else. ‘Eddie, Eddie!’

‘Whoa, shit,’ said Chase, making a rapid half-turn away from Maximov, who was crossing the square not far ahead. ‘Did he see us?’

Nina cautiously peered round him. ‘No, he’s still heading for Jack. Oh, God, that punk bitch is there too.’

Chase followed her gaze and saw Dominika emerge from behind the ticket office at the garden’s south end, her green hair standing out like a flare under the streetlights. She too was making for Mitchell. He realised they