The Covenant of Genesis

ice, spilling a bottle of Bulgari aftershave from the bedside cabinet. Chase punched him hard across the jaw, dropping him limply on to the bed - but the damage had been done.

‘Ribbsley!’ Zamal shouted. ‘What’s going on?’

Chase ran into the lounge, heading for the door. Before he could reach it, it opened and Zamal rushed inside - only to take a blow to the head that sent him reeling back against a counter.

But he recovered fast, grabbing for his holstered gun. Chase charged, gripping his wrist just as he drew the gun and bashing his hand against the edge of the counter. Zamal snarled and jabbed a knee up at Chase’s groin, but the Englishman twisted sideways just in time to avoid a fight-ending blow.

Zamal used the shift in Chase’s balance to thrust away from the counter. Both men lurched across the room, still grappling for the gun as they crashed into the RV’s kitchen area. Zamal’s gun hand came up, the weapon shaking as he strained to break free. Chase fought back, pushing him round . . . and inadvertently pointing the gun at the two women as they entered the lounge. Nina yelped and dropped to the carpet below the line of fire, Sophia hastily retreating behind an armchair.

Chase shoved Zamal back. The gun swung back and forth as they struggled. Nina scrambled forward on her hands and knees as the barrel waved towards her.

Zamal punched Chase in the side. He flinched, giving the Arab the chance to turn and force him down on the kitchen counter, left hand clamping round his throat. A cutlery rack toppled over, its contents clashing across the stainless steel. Zamal twisted his wrist, trying to point the gun at Chase’s head . . .

Chase punched him again, but Zamal blocked the blow with his upper arm as he pushed Chase down harder. Spilled cutlery jabbed at the side of his head. He threw another punch, with no more success, then clawed at the counter, searching desperately for a knife as Zamal’s grip tightened.

His fingers closed round a cold metal handle. He snatched it up, striking at Zamal’s face—

It wasn’t a knife.

It wasn’t even a fork. It was only a spoon, the back of the rounded head striking Zamal’s brow with an almost comical smack! that brought a mocking look from Chase’s opponent.

The look changed instantly to one of enraged pain as Chase rolled the spoon over in his hand and jabbed it at the bearded man’s eye as if trying to scoop it out of his head. Zamal roared and jumped back. Chase leapt up, both men spinning round - and pointing the gun at Nina again. She shrieked and dived out of the way, landing behind the RV’s driving seat.

Ribbsley appeared in the bedroom door, wielding the champagne bottle. He saw Chase and Zamal battling for the gun and ran at them, raising the bottle like a club.

Sophia jumped out from behind the chair, grabbing a black leather briefcase with her cuffed hands. ‘Gabriel!’ He froze, the bottle held high, and looked round at her in surprise. ‘Take this!’ She swung the briefcase and hit him in the chest. Ribbsley stumbled, dropping the bottle, and fell through the open door to land on his back in the sand outside. The case thumped down beside him. ‘Nina! You’ve got the keys! Drive!’

Nina realised that she still had Ribbsley’s key ring - and on it was one key with the fat black plastic head of a remote locking system. With a worried look at the struggling men, she dropped into the driving seat and shoved the key in the ignition.

Chase kicked back with one foot to give himself leverage on the refrigerator, throwing Zamal against the wall. He smashed the other man on the cheek with the point of his right elbow, then managed to get a grip on the gun. Zamal responded by punching him in the ribs. Chase grunted in pain. He elbowed Zamal in the head again, trying to wrench the gun away—

Zamal realised he was in danger of losing his weapon - and squeezed the trigger.

The shot punched through the Winnebago’s roof. Chase yelled as his hand was burned - the heel of his palm had been partly covering the automatic’s ejection port. He let go, and Zamal twisted his wrist around to point the gun at his head, pulling the trigger again—

Clink.

No shot. Chase’s grip on the gun’s slide had stopped it from cycling properly, needing a manual operation to complete the reloading action.

Chase took immediate advantage of the misfire to slam a sledgehammer punch into the Arab’s stomach. Zamal bent at the waist as the wind was knocked out of him, and took a follow-up blow to the face.

The engine started. ‘Go!’ Sophia yelled. Nina released the handbrake, put the Winnebago into drive, stamped on the accelerator . . .

And the seventeen-ton vehicle wallowed as its wheels spun in the sand.

The movement sent Chase and Zamal reeling across the lounge. Sophia snatched up the champagne bottle, waiting for a chance to strike.

Nina tried again, pushing down the pedal more gently. The Winnebago rocked, then gained traction and jolted forward. She swung the steering wheel to bring the enormous RV towards the dirt track away from the coast.

The gunshot had attracted attention. Through the windscreen, she saw men running towards them. Grimacing, she shoved the accelerator down harder.

Zamal and Chase traded more blows, neither willing to relinquish their grip on the other as they staggered back and forth across the room. Sophia was still waiting for a clear strike. ‘Eddie!’ she said impatiently, holding up the bottle. ‘Turn him round!’

Chase saw what she had in mind, and with a furious burst of strength forced Zamal’s back towards her. The bottle flashed down, smashing over the Arab’s head and showering Chase with frothing champagne. Zamal’s knees buckled.

‘Waste of a Cuvee Winston,’ said Sophia, almost sadly, before moving to the door and holding it open. ‘Throw him out!’

Chase half dragged the groaning Zamal across the room. ‘Okay, mate,’ Chase grunted. ‘Holiday’s over.’

The track ahead curved, low limestone embankments rising on both sides. Nina threw the RV into the bend without slowing, the front bumper clipping the outer bank.

Chase lurched, Zamal grabbed him - and both men toppled out through the open door.

16

Chase landed on top of Zamal, knocking the breath from both of them as they rolled to a stop in the Winnebago’s dusty wake.

Chase recovered first, coughing. The Arab was lying prone a few feet away.

He still had the gun.

Zamal realised this at the same moment as Chase. He tugged the slide to unjam it and brought the weapon round—

Chase punched him so hard that his beret flew off. This time, Zamal stayed down. ‘Guess the champagne went to your head,’ Chase said. He looked round to see the Winnebago retreating into the desert - and one of the quad bikes swerving off its patrol route after it.

It wasn’t the only vehicle in pursuit. He could hear the second quad bike cutting through the excavations behind him - and the rasp of a third Kawasaki starting up. All that, plus shouting from the camp as the rest of the Covenant forces mobilised, told him that he really needed to be somewhere else.

He pulled the gun from Zamal’s limp hand and staggered painfully after the Winnebago.

Nina found the switch for the headlights. The bumpy desert landscape lit up before her.

A noise to one side, an engine. In the mirror she saw one of the quad bikes bounding towards her. And something picked out by the headlight’s glare above the handlebars, a line of dark metal in the rider’s hand—

‘Shit!’ Nina gasped, ducking as flame spat from the rifle’s barrel. Bullets punctured the Winnebago’s slab-like side. ‘Eddie, keep down!’ No answer. ‘Eddie?’

Sophia took cover behind Nina. ‘He fell out!’

‘He what?’ She was about to stamp on the brake when another burst of gunfire deterred her. Instead, she increased speed, the RV pitching over each bump like a ship in heavy seas. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Eddie can look after himself.’