The Sacred Vault

‘I’ll be okay.’ He forced a once very familiar smile through the pain. ‘Go on. Bring me some chocolates at the hospital. Dark ones.’

Nina gripped his hand. ‘As if I’d forget what you like.’ She squeezed it more tightly, then, after a moment of hesitation, let go and stood. Rowan winked at her. Reassured, however slightly, she turned. Through the broken window, the police car’s blinking strobes caught her attention. ‘Mr Mayor!’

Boyce struggled upright, shaking with adrenalin and fear. He looked round at Nina’s insistent shout. ‘W- what?’

Nina grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the plaza. ‘There’s a police car outside - tell them to put up roadblocks. Now!’

He was still too shocked to think straight. ‘But - I can’t just order them to do things—’

‘You’re the goddamn mayor!’ Nina reminded him as they reached the police cruiser. It was a Dodge Charger, a powerful four-door sedan in SFPD black and white - but both officers inside were slumped over, unconscious or dead. ‘Damn it!’

‘My God,’ gasped Boyce, recoiling at the sight. ‘Now what do we do?’

Nina looked in the direction Eddie had gone - and made a decision. ‘We follow them. You can guide the cops to block them.’ She opened the driver’s door. The man at the wheel was dead, hit by several bullets. Suppressing her revulsion, she unfastened his seat belt, then dragged out the body.

Boyce gawped at her. ‘You can’t do that! It’s - a crime scene or something!’

‘Just get in! No, in the front!’ she shouted as he opened the rear door. ‘I need you to use the radio!’

The other cop was also dead, a bloody hunk of skin and bone hanging off his temple. Shuddering, Nina released his seat belt as Boyce ran round the car. ‘Don’t look at his face, just pull him out,’ she ordered.

The mayor tried to follow her advice, but couldn’t help glimpsing the wound and had to stifle a yelp of disgust. However, he reluctantly manhandled the body out of the car, calling to someone inside the exhibition centre to watch over the dead men.

‘Come on!’ said Nina impatiently. Boyce climbed in beside her. She put the Charger into reverse. Metal and plastic graunched where the front bumper had jammed against the planter, then ripped free. She powered into the fog. ‘Get on the radio.’

At the wheel of the Nemesis, Zec flipped up his visor to look anxiously at Fernandez. ‘Are you okay?’

The Spaniard kneaded his bruised shoulder. ‘I think so. Thanks for coming back for me.’

‘I was hardly going to abandon you, Urbano. You haven’t paid us the rest of our money yet!’ He smiled, but Fernandez was not amused. ‘Who was it? A guard?’

‘No, one of the guests. Bastard! If I see him again, I’ll kill him.’

Zec’s side mirrors revealed something approaching rapidly from behind. ‘This is your chance.’

‘What?’ Fernandez glared at the mirror. A single headlight pierced the murk - one of the team’s powerful Honda XR650R dirt bikes. His Honda. ‘He’s chasing us!’ he said in disbelief.

‘What do we do?’

‘Follow the plan - get on to Taylor Street and head up the hill. Where’s the radio?’ He searched for Zec’s walkie-talkie. ‘Go faster!’

The fog had turned the streets damp and slippery, and the Honda’s high, gawky stance made Eddie feel even more unsteady. But he was quickly getting the feel of the off-roader.

The Nemesis accelerated, the shrill whine of its supercharger echoing off buildings as it barged past a car, which braked and skidded. Eddie cursed, swerving round it. Was his bike fast enough to catch the 4x4?

Only one way to find out. He twisted the throttle harder.

‘Yes, I really am Mayor Boyce!’ said Boyce into the radio handset. The dispatcher at the other end of the line had enough on her plate with the rash of 911 calls, and was unimpressed by the crazy guy commandeering police frequencies and claiming to be the mayor. ‘Look, just get ambulances to the Halliwell building, and set up roadblocks, right now! There are armed robbers escaping on motorbikes and some sort of big SUV, and they’ve killed several people, including two police officers.’

The woman was immediately more attentive. ‘There are officers down?’

‘Yes, two men were shot! We’re in their car chasing the, ah, the perps - we’re on . . .’ He scoured the surroundings for landmarks. ‘I don’t know which street, it’s too foggy.’

‘Which car are you in? What’s its number?’

Boyce hurriedly searched for any identifying signs, spotting a plaque on the dashboard. ‘Car 643.’

‘Hold on, I’m checking its LoJack tracker . . . Car 643 is heading eastbound on Eddy Street, approaching Leavenworth.’

‘Yes, that’s us,’ Boyce told her. ‘We’re a couple of blocks behind the robbers - we’ll guide you to them. Just stop them before they can get away!’

‘We’re on it, uh . . . Mr Mayor. Units are responding. Take no unnecessary risks.’

‘Bit late for that,’ Nina muttered. A stalled car materialised from the murk ahead of them, forcing her to make a hard turn to avoid a collision. ‘This is like a damn obstacle course! Where’s the siren?’

The bike twitched under Eddie, the knobbly off-road tyres fighting for grip on the wet tarmac. ‘Shit!’ he gasped, risking a millisecond glance at the speedometer. He was doing over sixty down the three-lane street, and the Nemesis was still pulling away.

Noise from ahead, tyre squeals and blasting horns. The twin red eyes of the Nemesis’s tail lights disappeared round a corner, turning left to head north.

Other lights were strewn across his path where cars had skidded and collided as the bikes and the Bowler tore through the intersection. He braked, pumping the levers to stop the wheels from locking. The Honda shimmied and writhed. One foot down for balance, the sole of his shoe scraping on the road, he angled between two dented cars to make the turn. He was just about able to make out a sign on the corner: Taylor St.

The road led uphill, the rising line of streetlights telling him it got steeper ahead. The incline wasn’t affecting the Nemesis, though - the red eyes were smaller, fainter, pulling away.

‘I don’t know who he is,’ Fernandez said into the radio as the Nemesis powered up Taylor Street, swinging across all three lanes to overtake traffic, ‘and I don’t care. Just take him out!’

Ahead, the lights of the team’s bikes danced like fireflies as they dodged obstacles. Two of them flared, the Hondas and their riders materialising from the fog as they braked.

Fernandez watched the mirror as the Nemesis overtook them, the bikes falling back to intercept his pursuer.

Eddie was forced to swing wide to avoid a car pulling out of a parking space. He glanced back at the near- miss before returning his full attention to the road. Where was the Nemesis?

Twin red lights, not far ahead—

They split apart.

Bikers!

They had slowed, waiting for him to catch up. One went to each side of the street, a pincer movement to trap him.

Another intersection flashed past, an angry horn dopplering away behind. The bike to Eddie’s right was closer. He drew almost level, seeing the rider’s blank mirror-mask looking across at him.

Left hand reaching for something—

Eddie swerved sharply away as the rider drew an MP5K. He ducked as fire burst from its muzzle. A crash of glass came from the sidewalk as the bullets shattered a window.

But he couldn’t retreat any further, blocked by a line of parked cars - and the other bike was directly ahead,