launcher.
Firing would have done him no good — at this range, the shaped charge on the grenade’s nose would have sent it right through the unarmored windshield, and very possibly through three or four before exploding.
He put his foot on the door at his left and pushed, wedging it across the bumper and front end of the other car. Then he grabbed the scooter and pushed it toward the door. The taxi driver, meanwhile, had regained enough of his senses to throw the car into reverse. He tried getting around the van to the left. But he hit the bumper, pushing the front of the van sideways into another car before managing to get into a small wedge of open space. The space closed quickly — he hit a pickup truck trying to veer away, bounced off and smacked into the side of an SUV, which in turn hit the car in front of it. Within seconds, the entire bridge was one big pileup.
Jing Yo tumbled to the floor of the van, the scooter tumbling on top of him. Rage took over, flooding past the last bits of discipline that had been holding it back. He grabbed the scooter and pushed it over, falling with it to the pavement. Then he scrambled to his feet, pointed the bike at the left side of the crowded traffic lanes, and got on. He gunned it to life, looking for an opening, desperate to fulfill his destiny.
She unbuckled her seat belt, opened the door, and propped herself up on the floor ledge, trying to see over the cars and trucks. Someone on a scooter cut sideways across the lane of traffic.
He had a gun strapped across his back. Two guns.
One was a grenade launcher.
Mara ducked back into the car.
“Give me your pistol,” she told the marshal driving.
“What?”
“There’s someone on a bike up there with a gun. Your pistol!”
“What’s going on?” demanded Broome in the back.
“Come with me!” Mara grabbed the pistol from the driver’s holster, then jumped out of the Chevy. Running toward the scooter, she reached for her cell phone to call Jablonski and warn him.
30
“Beach the boat there,” said Solt, pointing to a ledge of rocks at the end of the sand. “We want to get ashore as quickly as we can, before they begin to organize.”
Christian began pulling off his wet suit. So did Solt — she unfurled a thin pair of pants from under the suit, and stepped onto the beach barefoot.
“We should get some better clothes,” said Christian. Zeus had inadvertently taken the wrong set of sailor’s pants, forcing Christian to wear a pair at least two sizes too small.
“Let’s grab a car and get out of here first,” Zeus told him.
“We can get clothes at the hotel,” said Solt, pointing to the high-rise building almost directly ahead. “There is a gym and a locker room. Westerners are there,” she added. “Your size.”
“I hope so,” replied Christian.
The patio was filled with people craning their necks to see the fires out in the ocean. A pair of fighter jets rocketed overhead, and a helicopter approached from the north. Zeus and Christian followed Solt into the building. She walked quickly through the hall, ducking right. She’d obviously been here before.
“That way,” she said. “Meet in the lobby in five minutes.”
“They all have locks,” hissed Christian, spotting combination locks on the row of metal boxes. “What the hell?”
Zeus started opening the lockers that didn’t have locks, but gave up after finding a few empty. He looked at one of the combination locks. It was a simple device, the sort common in high schools and junior high schools across America. He knew they were fairly easy to pick, but he had no idea how to do it.
“Clothes!” yelled Christian near the back of the room. He sounded like a kid who’d found an unexpected cache of toys under the Christmas tree. What he had found was nearly as good: a box of items that had been left behind over the past few months. He began sorting through them, pulling out a pair of jeans. They were loose and not exactly fashionable, but they fit.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Zeus, deciding his clothes, though damp, would do.
“Wait — you trust her?”
“Solt? Why not?”
“I got a bad feeling,” said Christian. “She brought us in here. All the lockers are locked — ”
“If she was going to kill us, she could have done it in the water.”
“Maybe we’re her prize,” said Christian. “The way the ship was to the marines. If she’s working for the Chinese.”
“I don’t think so.”
Christian frowned, but followed Zeus out to the lobby It was a large, marble-walled space, with soaring ceilings and four pairs of golden chandeliers. Solt wasn’t there. Zeus walked as nonchalantly as he could to the couch farthest from the registration desk.
“Where is she?” whispered Christian.
“Don’t know. You got your passport?”
“Shit yeah.”
“Emergency money?”
“A hundred bucks ain’t gonna get us off the island.”
It wouldn’t get them a night at the hotel, either. But they could call the embassy, maybe, have some emergency money wired in.
There’d be lots of questions, and not just from the Chinese. But what was the alternative?
Solt appeared across the hall. She was wearing an ankle-length silk dress that seemed to be made for her. It was supported off her shoulders by two thin straps and hugged her breasts and sides.
She’d covered the purple welt on the side of her head with makeup. Zeus guessed she must still be hurting, but you couldn’t tell from the way she walked.
“She’s damn hot, I’ll give her that,” said Christian. “Matala Hardy or whatever that woman’s name was.”
“Mata Hari,” said Zeus, referring to the famous spy.
To Zeus’s surprise, she came over and kissed him. It happened so quickly he could barely enjoy it.
“We should leave quickly,” she whispered.
“Yes, let’s go.”
“How come you get the kiss?” muttered Christian as they walked out the front door.
Solt glanced around the horseshoe-shaped drive, then started down the sidewalk to the right. Zeus and Christian followed.
A taxi came up the driveway.
“Let’s take the cab,” said Zeus, stepping into the road. “Get us away from the harbor.”
Solt went to the driver’s window. He had been dispatched for another guest, but one of Zeus’s fifty-dollar bills easily changed his mind. Within a few minutes they were on the highway, Solt in the front, Christian and Zeus in the back.
Solt told the driver to pull off at the second exit. Zeus didn’t understand the directions until they went off the highway.
“What are we doing?” he asked.
“I need to make a stop.”
