The shout spurred their quarry into action. A big Citroen C6 peeled out of a bay and sped towards the exit - then swerved at Eddie.
He dived on to the bonnet of a Renault Clio as the Citroen ripped off the smaller car’s bumper, then crashed into one of the security barriers. The windscreen cracked as the obstacle rode up the car’s bonnet, but the C6 had built up enough momentum in its charge to smash through, the broken barrier clanging to the concrete.
Eddie ran back to Kit. An elevator disgorged a trio of armed guards. ‘We need a car!’ he told them. ‘Someone give me your keys, quick!’ One of the men fumbled in a pocket. Eddie snatched the keys from him and pushed the button on the remote. Lights flashed a few rows away. He ran for the vehicle, an ageing, dented little Volkswagen Polo - not his ideal choice to pursue a large and powerful executive cruiser, but all that was available.
He started the car and pulled out. By now, Kit had issued orders to the guards and run to the main lane, waving him down. Eddie skidded the hatchback to a stop. ‘Come on, get in!’
‘I don’t have a gun!’ Kit protested as the Englishman set off again.
‘You’ve got a
The car reached the ramp and raced up to ground level. The road curved away from the Interpol building to join a street to its south. Eddie braked hard at the junction, not sure which way to go until he saw flashing hazard lights to the right - the fleeing Citroen had hit another car. He swung past the stricken vehicle and headed southwest, parallel to the river. They passed a bridge over the Rhone, but more signs of collision and chaos told him the C6 had turned south.
Kit shouted instructions in French into the phone. ‘There’s a unit in front of us,’ he reported. ‘It’s going to cut her off.’
Eddie spotted the C6’s distinctive vertical tail lights carving through the traffic about a hundred yards ahead. The Citroen sideswiped another car, which spun out - he veered on to the wrong side of the road to avoid the scrum of vehicles skidding to a stop behind it.
Flashing lights, a police car shooting out of a side road on to the boulevard. Madirakshi braked hard, the C6 fishtailing to duck down another street to the right. The cops followed, Eddie turning in after them. He crashed down through the gears, trying to recover speed as quickly as possible. Ahead, the police car closed on the Citroen.
Vertical brake lights flared—
The cops crashed into the C6’s back. Glass shattered, the big car’s mangled hatchback flying open - but the pursuers came off worst. The police car veered off course and hit a lamppost head on, folding around it with a shattering crunch that echoed through the street. Kit gasped what Eddie assumed was a Hindi obscenity.
One of the C6’s rear lights was still working, a single red slash speeding away. Eddie followed, sounding the horn. A near miss at a crossroads as the Polo swerved wildly to avoid a van cutting across their path, then back in pursuit. The closely packed apartment blocks, candles flickering in their windows, gave way to open space. They were back at the river, multicoloured searchlights waving skywards on the far side where the waterfront buildings were illuminated in every colour of the rainbow.
Eddie had no time to appreciate the sight. Madirakshi was heading for a bridge. He realised her plan: to disappear amongst the tourists flocking to see the spectacle of the Festival of Lights.
Another police car tried to block her path across the bridge. She didn’t slow, deliberately aiming for its back end and smashing it out of the way. The crumpled police car whirled like a top, spinning on to the pavement and scything down a pedestrian.
Kit gasped again. ‘People are getting
‘No, wait!’ They were gaining quickly on the Citroen; the second crash had caused serious damage. ‘She’s slowing down. We’ve got her!’
The struggling C6 cut straight across the avenue at the far side of the bridge, more people scattering as the woman drove on to a broad footpath. Horn a constant wail, the Polo followed in the wake it had cleared through the crowd.
A large plaza opened up ahead, more tourists heading to the city’s heart. Two people were knocked down by the Citroen as Madirakshi swerved on to a swathe of lawn, but her car was in its death throes, steam billowing from the bonnet. She braked and skidded in a shower of earth and torn grass, ploughing the car into the crowd. Screams filled the plaza.
Eddie stopped the Polo, jumped out and saw her sprint into the shocked onlookers. He raced after her, Kit following. ‘Place Louis Pradel,
More shouts of protest and alarm as Madirakshi clawed through the crowd told Eddie the direction she was heading. The narrow street he entered was illuminated by a canopy of lights overhead, thousands of tiny bulbs sparkling like stars. He couldn’t see his target in the crush of gawkers. If she doubled back, he could pass three feet from her and never realise—
A high-pitched shriek just ahead. She had knocked down a child. An enraged man yelled after her, her police uniform deterring him from violent retaliation. Eddie and Kit pushed past him - but the father grabbed the Interpol officer and yanked him backwards. No uniform, no deterrent. The man hurled him to the ground, about to kick him in the face—
Eddie smashed a punch into the furious father’s jaw, knocking him down. The fallen child screamed again. No time for apologies. He pulled Kit upright.
Where was the killer? He pushed forward, the street opening out into another large plaza - the Place des Terreaux. Any more yells from irate tourists would be drowned out by the carnival clamour of one of the Festival of Light’s main attractions; the square was crammed with people.
Eddie blinked in momentary confusion at the sight, its sheer visual impact like a slap to his eyes. The surrounding buildings were acting as massive projection screens, turning the city into a kaleidoscopic, almost psychedelic explosion of colours. The images were constantly changing, one moment perfectly matching the ornate facades and picking out each window frame in dazzling hyperreal shades, the next swirling into motion as giant animated characters danced above the crowd.
There were other displays within the square itself. A towering sculpture spiralled towards the cold night sky, neon lights blinking in sequence to create the illusion that it was rotating. Next to it a surreal figure, a ten-foot-tall hollow man composed of pea-sized balls of light, performed acrobatic motions above a tall pedestal. A hologram; the constant crackle where intersecting laser beams from below literally set the air alight was audible even over the booming music and crowd noise.
A loud
‘Do you see her?’ Kit asked, catching up.
‘No.’ He spotted a drainpipe on a nearby building and pushed his way to it. Climbing a few feet gave him enough height to see over the surrounding crowd. He scoured the milling heads, searching for anyone in a hurry—
There! Closer than he expected - she had apparently also been taken aback by the spectacle, hesitating at the plaza’s entrance before moving diagonally across the square near the fire-eater. Eddie pointed, then jumped down and joined Kit, shoving through the throng after her.
A startled woman yelled in French not far ahead. For a moment the crowd in Eddie’s path parted, giving him a glimpse of the police uniform. He was twenty feet behind her, less. Another
She was an arm’s length away—
Eddie grabbed at her, fingers tugging her sleeve before she twisted away. He elbowed through the crowd after her to find himself in an oval space amongst the bustle. The fire-eater, a big man in Arabic-style clothing, looked round in surprise, a burning torch halfway to his mouth. The woman glared back at Eddie with her good eye, the prosthetic staring blankly ahead.
A stand near the fire-eater held other lit torches for his act - and a container of paraffin. She hurled the plastic bottle at her pursuers. Eddie darted aside, but it bounced off the younger man, splashing his arm.
