The Hunt For Atlantis

TWENTY-EIGHT

Nina watched in horror from the Mercedes as the plane plunged into the side of the fjord and exploded. “Jesus!”

“Qobras’s people-it has to be!” Kari shouted. “They’re making a last stand!”

“Well, hoo-ray for them!” Nina twisted to look out of the rear window. The last of the parachutists were now on the ground. “I hope they blow the place to hell, and your father with it!”

Slap!

Nina reeled. Kari had hit her! The hot sting across her cheek wasn’t so much painful as humiliating, but somehow that actually made it worse.

Kari issued orders as the Mercedes approached the bridge. “Call the security center and warn them that we have fourteen intruders heading for the biolab! And you,” she added, turning to the driver, “get us to the plane, now!”

“Melt the Frost?” Starkman said in disbelief as the team ran towards the biolab. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Since Tibet,” Chase admitted. He assessed the tactical situation. The open ground provided little cover-for Frost’s men as well as for Starkman’s. The buildings would give their opponents some protection, but it would be easy to outflank them.

The Stinger had been fired from the security building at the northwestern corner of the facility. If Frost’s men had any other heavy weapons, that was where they would be.

“Jason! Six men, cover!” He made a chopping gesture towards the security block. Starkman nodded and passed on the order.

The team of six split off from the main group. Chase quickly advanced on the lab’s entrance. The biolab didn’t have many exits-aside from the main doors and the security entrance, the only other ways in or out were through fire escapes and the ramp leading to the underground garage. Which meant that the closest place any of Frost’s forces could emerge was…

The dark glass doors of the main entrance flew open, uniformed guards rushing out. Armed guards, equipped with MP-7s. Armor-piercing rounds, like the ones Chase himself had used in Tibet.

“Hit ’me!” he shouted, diving to the ground and bringing up his UMP. Starkman and the other six men did the same. The front wall of the biolab erupted with fountains of dust as they raked the building with.45-caliber fire. The doors burst into black shards, blood spraying among the glass as the guards fell.

More MP-7 fire crackled off to Chase’s left as another group of guards ran from the security block. They were better prepared than their late colleagues, and also had more cover, ducking behind the walls on either side of the steps.

Starkman’s second team was about thirty yards distant from them, out in the open with the road still to cross. They had split into two groups of three, one group diving to the ground to give the other covering fire as they raced for the nearest building.

The security forces fired back, trying to catch the running men before they reached cover. One of the guards put his head too far above the wall and had a chunk of his skull blown away by a.45 round, gore sluicing through the air as he fell backwards.

But the others kept firing.

One of the running men fell, bloody wounds blossoming across his chest. His companions didn’t even break their stride until they reached the building and flung themselves into cover.

The guards turned their fire on the men lying on the ground. Clods flew up into the air as bullets thudded into the earth. Chase saw a line of spraying dirt advancing on one man like a snake at its prey, but there was no way he could warn him.

Red blood spouted into the air among the churned-up soil.

The guards redirected their fire, trying to pin down the other men on the ground-

A pair of grenades arced through the air, tossed with precision by the team in the cover of the building. They exploded at head height over the steps and showered the guards with lethal shrapnel. Every window within thirty feet shattered under the double blast.

“Main doors!” yelled Chase, sprinting towards the entrance. Starkman and the others followed, spreading out to provide cover.

Chase reached the wrecked doors, flattening himself against one side and glancing into the building’s interior. The horseshoe-shaped reception desk was unmanned, the guards staffing it now dead at his feet.

Starkman took up position on the other side of the doors. Chase moved into the lobby, backed up by another of the American’s men. Beyond the desk was the entrance to the glass-roofed central corridor; to one side, stairs led up and down.

A door opened, and Chase snapped up his gun. A young blond woman emerged, freezing in fear as she saw him.

“Hi,” said Chase, waving for Starkman to hold fire. “You speak English?”

The woman nodded, wide-eyed.

“Okay. Get out of the building. There’s going to be a fire. Well, more of an explosion, actually, but…” He spotted a fire alarm on the wall nearby. “Anyone else in there?”

She nodded again, too frightened to speak.

“Okay, tell them to get out… and run like hell!” He smashed the glass covering the alarm with the stock of his UMP. Bells rang. Chase winced at the noise-it would make it harder to hear any approaching guards-but the faster the civilians were out of the building, the better.

Because in five minutes, there wasn’t going to be a building.

He moved past the door-keeping his weapon aimed at the people running out, in case any of them were armed-and kicked open the next one. A security station. Empty.

But he knew there were more guards elsewhere in the building…

Starkman and the rest of his men clattered into the lobby as the civilians fled. “Set charges in there!” Chase shouted over the clamor of the fire bells, pointing at the door from which Frost’s employees had come. “Make sure all the civvies get out first!”

“This is gonna get messy!” Starkman complained. People from the floor above were hurrying down the stairs. “If there’s any guards mixed in with the staff-”

“Then aim! You Yanks do remember how to do that, don’t you?” Chase shot Starkman a sarcastic smile before taking cover behind the desk, watching the stairs and the central corridor as the biolab employees rushed through the lobby. Scientists, technicians…

And guards! Shoving through the crowd, MP-7s coming up-

Chase hoped the civvies had the sense to keep their heads down. He fired a three-round burst, deliberately aiming high, before ducking. People screamed. MP-7 fire echoed through the lobby, the expensive marble top of the reception desk splintering as armor-piercing rounds ripped into it.

More gunfire, the deeper thudding of UMPs as Starkman and his men fired back. More screams, and the firing stopped. Chase peered over the desk, and was relieved to see that only the guards had been hit.

“You were right!” Starkman called. “That whole aiming thing really does work!”

Chase grinned, then gestured to the people on the stairs, directing them towards the doors. “Everybody out! Jason, get your guys to plant some more charges on the support columns in the garage-we can drop this whole place into the ground!”

“What about you?” asked Starkman.

Chase nodded at the central corridor. “Frost’ll have the virus in the containment area-we need to collapse the hillside and make sure it stays in there!”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll cover you. Aristides, Lime, with me-the rest of you set your charges in the basement, then get out!”

Chase checked the corridor. More people were running up it, trying to escape the building. “Come on!”

He ran into the corridor, Starkman and the others following. The men and women coming the other way reacted with predictable fear to the sight of four armed men in body armor charging towards them, and desperately tried to get out of their way, cowering by the walls.

“Get out of the building!” Chase roared. “Go!”

“We got company!” Starkman yelled, pointing down the corridor. Chase saw two uniformed men crouching behind the security post at the far end, taking aim-

He threw himself sideways as a spray of bullets flew down the corridor, cutting down one worker who had been trapped in the middle of the passage, paralyzed by his own fear and indecision.

“Shit!” Chase spat. The civilians were still scurrying helplessly across the corridor, blocking his aim, and the guards weren’t bothered about casualties among the workers.

A bloody wound burst open in the shoulder of a woman a few yards from him, bright red spots staining her face as she fell.

No choice.

He raised his UMP and fired a burst at the security station, trying not to hit any of the panicking civilians. The guards ducked as bullets cracked around them.

“Cover fire!” shouted Chase. A man tried to run past him; he grabbed him and pointed at the injured woman. “Get her out of here!” Terrified, the man nodded, then dragged the woman along the corridor.

Chase fired another burst to keep the guards occupied, then rushed down the corridor, staying to one side to give Starkman a clear angle. He jumped over a man cringing in a doorway, the heavy doors of the first airlock not far ahead.

The gunfire behind him went from three guns to two, then one as the others reloaded. Frost’s men would take that as an opportunity to pop up and start shooting back. Right on cue, one of the men sprang up from behind the counter, MP-7 at the ready-

Only to fly backwards against the wall in a spray of blood as Chase emptied his magazine into him.

Chase dived, the spent magazine ejected even before he hit the polished floor.

The second guard jumped up.

At least three seconds to reload…

The guard saw him and brought around his MP-7-

His head snapped back, a single shot from Starkman’s UMP catching him in the forehead.

Chase looked back to see the other men jogging towards him. He reloaded his gun, then got up. “Nice shot.”

“Yes, very nice,” said another voice.

Chase whirled.

Frost!

He fired at the figure on the other side of the doors at the same moment as Starkman, their UMPs now on full auto and unleashing a savage burst of firepower at the glass.

Tink. Tink.

The flattened bullets fell harmlessly to the floor at the base of the door. The transparent aluminum armor wasn’t even scuffed.

“Son of a bitch!” Starkman muttered.

Frost stepped forward. His voice emerged from a speaker below the thumbprint reader. “Mr. Chase. I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you.”

“You owed me some back pay,” said Chase, looking for a way to open the door. Maybe there was an override at the security station…

“Don’t bother,” said Frost. “This section of the lab is completely sealed. There’s no way you can get in.”

“Maybe we can’t get in, but I’m gonna make goddamn sure you don’t get out,” Starkman told him. He opened one of the packs attached to his belt and took out the contents. “CL-20. Two pounds of it. We’re gonna bring the place down on you just like you tried to do to us in Tibet.”

Frost merely smirked. “I wish you luck.” He turned his back on them and started to walk away.

“Frost!” Chase shouted. “Where’s Nina?”

Frost paused, glancing back at him. “Dr. Wilde is with my daughter. Kari persuaded me to keep her alive-she hopes to convince her to see reason and join us before the virus is released.”

“And when’ll that be?”

“In however many minutes it takes their plane to reach thirty thousand feet.” Chase and Starkman exchanged shocked looks. “Yes, it’s already happening. You’re too late, Mr. Starkman. Qobras failed to stop me, and so have you. You might want to reflect on that… before you die. Which no matter what happens will be sometime in the next twenty-four hours.” He smirked again. “Good-bye, gentlemen.” With that, he walked away. The second set of doors slammed decisively behind him.

Starkman angrily fired another burst at the door, which remained unscathed. “Motherfucker!”

“If there’s one thing I hate,” said Chase, “it’s a smug bastard.”

“You think he was lying? About the virus, I mean?”

“If the plane hasn’t taken off yet, we still have a chance. If it has, we’re fucked, and so’s the rest of the world. Either way…” He took out his own CL-20. “We do what we came here to do-and blow this place to fuck.”

The Mercedes stopped beneath the massive wing of the Airbus A380. The huge cargo plane was waiting on the runway apron outside its hangar, engines idling. Kari pushed Nina up the boarding steps, the two guards following.

The A380 had three decks; on an airliner model the middle floor they entered would have been the lower of the two passenger levels, but all three decks of the cavernous freighter version were designed for cargo containers. They entered the crew room. A door at the rear opened into the hold. Nina glanced through it. The windowless deck was about a third full.

Somewhere among the containers, she knew, was the virus, waiting to be released…

A steep flight of stairs led up to the top deck. Kari directed her up it. Nina expected to see another huge cargo space, but was slightly surprised to emerge in a luxurious cabin.

“My father installed a private office,” Kari explained. She unfastened Nina’s handcuffs. “Please, sit.”

Nina reluctantly did so, looking around. Portholes lined each side of the cabin, and a door in the rear wall presumably opened into the upper hold. An L-shaped desk had a computer monitor and a pair of telephones built into it.

Kari sat facing her on a leather sofa. The two guards hadn’t come up the stairs with them, staying in the lounge below. Nina wondered if she might be able to overpower Kari and flee the aircraft before it took off… but dismissed the idea even as it took form. She had no chance of beating Kari in a fight.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish,” Nina said. “If you think I’m going to happily go along with what you’re doing…”

“I don’t expect you to come around with a click of the fingers. I know the whole thing is hard for you to accept. But you have to accept it-it’s going to happen.”

“You are deluded! No, you’re insane! Do you seriously think I want anything to do with you, ever again?”

Kari looked wounded. “Please don’t be like that, Nina! Don’t you understand? You’re one of us. You’re a true Atlantean, the very best of humanity! You deserve to be one of the rulers of the world!” She rose and came across the cabin. For a moment Nina thought she was going to hit her again, but instead she knelt down before her. “I don’t want to kill you, I don’t! Just say that you’ve changed your mind-you don’t even have to be telling the truth! Once everything changes, then I know you’ll come around, that you’ll realize we were right. But you have to say it if you want to stay alive.”

“You’d still kill me even though I’m one of the best of the best?” sneered Nina.

“I can’t disobey my father. I won’t.” Kari tried to reach for Nina’s hands, but she pulled them away. “Just one word, that’s all I ask. Lie! Please, I don’t care!”

“Not a chance,” Nina told her.

The low noise of the engines rose in pitch. The lights flickered, then the A380 shook itself from its torpor, starting to move.

“The first batch of the virus will be released about fifteen minutes after takeoff,” said Kari, going back to the sofa. “That’s how long you have to change your mind. Nina, please. Don’t make me kill you.”

Nina turned away to stare through the starboard portholes at the landscape across the fjord, feeling lost.

Chase could hear intermittent gunfire from outside as he, Starkman and his companions ran for the exit. His gun was in his hands, but he wouldn’t have time to aim it at anybody when he emerged. All that mattered now was getting as far from the biolab as possible.

They sprinted into the open. Chase saw the last of the civilians running away across open ground, a pair of white Jeep Grand Cherokees parked to block the road two hundred feet away. Taking cover behind them were a number of uniformed guards, a couple of bodies lying on the ground nearby. They were shooting at the two other surviving members of Starkman’s team.

And across the fjord, he saw an aircraft slowly moving towards the runway, a gleaming A380 freighter.

The virus was on board-maybe there was still a chance to stop Frost’s plan.

Nina was on board as well.

He didn’t have time to think about it. The guards behind the Jeeps had seen them, and were shooting at the men running from the biolab. Chase fired back one-handed, knowing that the chances of hitting them while running were almost zero-but he only needed to keep them off-balance long enough to get clear of the building.

Lime crashed to the ground as a bullet ripped into his hip. Every ounce of Chase’s training told him to go back and drag him to safety, but in this case there was no safety.

The CL-20 would detonate any second now-

One moment, Nina was looking numbly at the distant biolab buildings. The next, she jumped in her seat as the complex disintegrated, multiple explosions pulverizing it and sending tons of debris spinning hundreds of feet into the air. A torus of dust swept outwards like the shockwave of a nuclear bomb. “Jesus!”

Kari leapt up and ran to the portholes. “Oh my God!”

“That’s one hell of a last stand,” Nina said triumphantly. Qobras’s men had succeeded!

Then it hit her. It didn’t make any difference.

The virus was already out of the lab, on the plane. In fifteen minutes, it would be released. The Brotherhood had destroyed the wrong target!

Ears ringing, Chase staggered upright. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the hailstone-sized pieces of debris still dropping from the sky and looked around.

Nobody was shooting at him anymore. Both Jeeps had been caught sidelong by the blast and flipped over, crushing the men behind them.

The biolab had been almost completely obliterated. What few sections remained were smashed beyond recognition, walls jagged and tilting like broken teeth. Bent and twisted steel girders protruded from the rubble.

Chase squinted through the drifting cloud of shattered concrete, trying to see how much damage had been caused to the underground containment area. Its entrance was blocked by debris.

But that wouldn’t take long to clear-and to his dismay, he saw that the exposed part of Frost’s office farther up the hill was more or less intact. While the facade was cratered and cracked, it was still all in one piece-and even the windows had survived the blast, apparently made from the same transparent armor as the airlock doors.

That meant Frost and the virus had also survived.

The virus…

“Shit!” He looked across the fjord. The A380 was still trundling towards the eastern end of the runway. Once there, it would turn and accelerate down the long concrete strip, taking off and heading along the coast to release its deadly cargo.

Starkman groaned nearby. Aristides was several yards behind him, eyes wide in death. Chase rushed over and grabbed the American, hauling him up. “Come on! The virus is on the plane-we can still stop it!”

Starkman wiped dirt off his face. “It’s heading for takeoff, Eddie.” He indicated the bridge spanning the fjord. “We’ll never get there in time.”

Chase jerked a thumb in the direction of the house. “I know where to find a very fast car…”

The monitor on the desk came to life, casting a glow onto Kari’s worried face. “Ms. Frost,” said a woman’s voice, “I have your father on videolink.”

“Oh, thank God!” Kari exclaimed. “I thought you were dead!”

Frost’s voice emerged from the cabin speakers. “I’m fine. The containment area survived almost totally intact.”

“Was it Qobras’s people? I saw men parachuting into the grounds.”

“It was Starkman-and Edward Chase.”

Kari looked stunned. “What? But you said Qobras had-”

“Eddie!” Nina jumped up and ran to the desk. “You mean he’s alive? What happened, is he okay?”

“You might want to remind Dr. Wilde that she isn’t helping her case by sounding so pleased about that,” Frost said, voice acidic. “Chase was working with Starkman against us.”

Kari frowned at the screen. “You lied to me! If you knew he wasn’t dead-”

“None of this matters,” Frost cut in. “All that does matter is that they’ve failed. We still have the virus cultures in the containment area, and Schenk is moving our security teams to make sure they can’t get across the bridge to attack your plane. I thought Chase and Starkman were already dead-they soon will be for sure.”

“Nice wheels,” said Starkman, impressed. He and Chase stood in the garage beneath the house, before Kari’s collection of cars and motorcycles. “What’s the fastest one? Lamborghini? McLaren?”

Chase shot open the cabinet containing the keys to the vehicles. “No, we need a convertible-the Ferrari.” He pointed at the bright scarlet F430 Spider, noticing that Kari’s racing bike was no longer in its neighboring parking spot, then hunted for the right key. It was easy to find-the black and yellow prancing horse logo was instantly recognizable from his schoolboy fantasies.

“A convertible? Why?”

“Because I’m going to need to shoot from it. There’ll be more guards on the way-they’re not just going to let us drive straight across the bridge!” He tossed the keys to Starkman. “Come on! You’re driving!”

“What the hell are you planning?” Starkman demanded as Chase jumped into the Ferrari’s passenger seat.

“I don’t know, I’m making this up as I go!”

“Always the wise-ass, weren’t you?” Starkman climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. The Ferrari’s engine crackled to life with an almost animalistic growl. “You think you can bring down the plane with just a UMP?”

“I don’t want to bring it down-Nina’s still aboard! Okay, go!”

The Ferrari peeled out of its bay with a shriek of tires as Starkman overrevved the engine. “Whoa! Little touchy!” He eased off and turned for the main door, which started opening automatically as they approached. “You’re going to try to save her? What’re you gonna do, jump onto the plane while it’s taking off?”

“If I have to!” Chase looked at the gear on Starkman’s back. “Give me your grappling gun.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” Starkman objected. But he handed the device to Chase anyway.

The door rose high enough for the low-slung Ferrari to fit beneath. Starkman stomped on the accelerator, the engine howling. The car blasted forward like a bullet. “Holy shit!”

“I always wanted one of these!” Chase checked the load on his machine gun, then looked ahead. The driveway from the house zigzagged down the hill to join up with the road leading to the bridge-where another pair of Grand Cherokees had been positioned into a roadblock. Beyond them, halfway across the bridge itself, was a silver BMW X5.

Starkman pointed; more of Frost’s security forces crouched behind the Jeeps. “Hate to tell you this, but Ferraris aren’t bulletproof!”

“Nor are Jeeps! You ready?” The F430 swooped into the last curve.

“As I’ll ever be!” Starkman hefted his UMP in his left hand, holding the steering wheel with his right. The Ferrari straightened, the makeshift roadblock directly ahead-

“Fire!”

Chase opened fire as the Ferrari accelerated, sweeping his shots across the right-hand Jeep at window height. Starkman extended his arm from the side of the car and blasted away at the other SUV, spent bullet casings clinking off the windscreen.

The Jeeps shuddered under the onslaught, glass exploding and metal panels cratering as shots ripped through them. Chase saw a man fall. He didn’t expect to take out all the guards-he just needed to keep them down until the Ferrari could blast past.

“Get on the pavement!” he yelled.

“What?”

“The sidewalk, sidewalk!” The SUVs had blocked the two-lane roadway, but there was a pavement for pedestrians on the right.

“We won’t fit!”

“Yes we will!” Not that they had a choice-in a collision between a lightweight Italian sports car and a two-ton American SUV, there was no doubt which would come out worse.

Starkman swerved the Ferrari to the right, both men still firing at the Jeeps. Chase’s gun clicked empty. Bullets clonked into the side of the F430 as the security men shot back.

“Shit!” cried Starkman. “We’re not gonna fit!”

“Just go!” screamed Chase, bracing himself as the F430 hit the curb. The front spoiler splintered on impact-then the low-profile wheels slammed against the unforgiving concrete with a bang that pounded up his spine like a hammer blow.

Chase’s side of the car screeched against the bridge’s railing while the front wing on Starkman’s side clipped the rear of the Jeep and crumpled back like tinfoil. Both wing mirrors were sheared off, spraying the two men with glass.

“Duck!” Chase shouted as Starkman swung the Ferrari back onto the road. More bullets struck the car as they hunched down in their seats, one clanking against the hooped rollbar just inches behind Chase’s head.

Starkman accelerated again. Chase was shoved back in his seat as the Ferrari blasted away from the Jeeps. He let out an involuntary whoop of excitement at the sensation. “Bloody hell!”

“Good choice of car!” Starkman called over the rush of the wind. “Okay, so-”

The windscreen shattered.

Starkman spasmed as blood sprayed from a wound in his chest, a ragged hole blown right through his body armor. The engine note dropped abruptly as his foot slipped from the accelerator. The Ferrari coasted, slowing fast.

“Jesus!” Chase cried. He grabbed the steering wheel, trying to keep the F430 from hitting the parked BMW ahead.

Standing beside it, a gleaming gun in his hands, was someone Chase recognized instantly.

Schenk.

He recognized the gun, too. Frost’s chief of security had just shot Starkman with a Wildey.

His Wildey.

Chase brought up his UMP, remembering too late that he needed to change clips. Schenk aimed the long silver barrel at him-

He released the wheel and flung himself bodily over the top of his door. The distinctive boom of the Wildey reached him as a Magnum round blew a fist-sized hole in the back of his seat. He hit the ground hard and rolled.

Another boom. A chunk of asphalt flew into the air inches from his legs. He rolled again, the awkward shape of the cable gun digging into his back. There was a crunch of metal as the slowing Ferrari banged into the side of the SUV and came to a halt. The engine stalled. Schenk jumped back, taking cover behind his vehicle.

Chase sprang up and ran for the BMW. Schenk saw him and fired again, but Chase dived behind the X5, fumbling for a new magazine.

Shit!

Touch alone told him something was wrong. The open end of the clip was crooked, bent out of shape. He’d crushed it under his own weight when he rolled over the road. It wouldn’t fit into the UMP’s receiver.

Chase dropped the useless magazine, instead flipping the UMP in his hands and sweeping it at ankle height as Schenk rushed around the side of the X5, the Wildey ready in his hand-

The German’s shot went wide as Chase hooked one foot out from under him with the UMP’s stock. Schenk grunted as he was knocked off balance, and staggered, arms windmilling.

Chase rugby-tackled him, driving him back until he crashed against the guardrail, trying to force him over.

But Schenk was a solid slab of muscle, too big even for Chase to overpower by brute force. He realized the danger he was in and bent at the knees, dropping his center of gravity below the top of the railing. His arm swung, and the butt of the Wildey smashed down on Chase’s neck, felling him with a bolt of pain. Schenk’s boot cracked against the side of his skull. Chase dropped onto his side. Head swimming, he looked up.

The Wildey was pointed straight at his face. Beyond it, Schenk came into focus. The German grinned-

Blam!

Chase flinched.

But it wasn’t the Wildey that had fired.

It was Starkman’s UMP, the last bullet in its magazine gouging a bloody hole in Schenk’s right shoulder. The Wildey dropped from the German’s hand as he lurched back against the railing.

Chase caught his gun and flipped it around. “I think this is mine.”

He fired. The bullet hit Schenk in his left eye, the eyeball bursting in a revolting spray as the shot continued through his brain and exploded out of the top of his skull. His head snapped back with the impact and he toppled over the railing, falling hundreds of feet to the icy waters below.

Clutching his aching head, Chase staggered to the Ferrari. Starkman was slumped over the door, bubbles of blood dripping from his mouth. For a second Chase thought he was dead, but then his one eye twitched, looking up at him.

“Bet you’re glad you didn’t kill me now, huh?” Starkman said weakly. He pulled himself upright and flopped back into the seat. “Come on, you got a plane to catch…”

Chase opened the door to lift him into the passenger seat, but Starkman shook his head. “Leave me… I’m fucked, and company’s coming.” He looked in the direction they had come. One of the Jeeps from the roadblock was already chasing them, and more vehicles were speeding up the road from the corporate buildings. “I’ll stop ’em…”

“With what?”

Starkman somehow managed a half-smile and held up a block of CL-20-the timer already running.

“Just make sure you’re off this bridge in twenty seconds,” he wheezed, with his last ounce of strength forcing himself out of the Ferrari to lie on the road at Chase’s feet. “Fight to the end, Eddie…”

“Fight to the end,” Chase repeated as he jumped into the Ferrari and restarted the engine. He jammed it into reverse and pulled away from the BMW, then clicked into first and poured on the power.

Riding in the passenger seat didn’t even remotely compare to the experience of controlling 483 horsepower. The acceleration was so fierce it felt like taking off in a jet. By the time he remembered to change up a gear, he was already doing over sixty miles an hour, the engine wailing like a banshee behind him.

Into third, now doing eighty, snicking the gear lever through the gleaming chrome gate…

In the mirror he saw that the Jeep had almost reached Starkman, the other vehicles now pouring onto the bridge.

The other end of the bridge was coming up fast, but he could only guess how much time he had left before the explosive detonated. Just moments.

One hundred miles an hour and accelerating, but still a few seconds from solid ground-

The image in the mirror disappeared in a flash of light. A moment later came a huge crack like a thunderbolt, immediately followed by a lower, more sinister rumble.

The flat plane of the bridge suddenly became a slope-

It was collapsing!

Starkman’s bomb had blown out the center of the sweeping arch, the two halves of the structure plunging into the river below. All Chase could do was keep his right foot jammed to the floor and hope the Ferrari reached the end of the bridge before the whole thing dropped out from under him!

He was now driving uphill, speed falling alarmingly as a wave of jagged cracks swept past up the road surface. “Oh shit-”

Everything tilted, and the road disintegrated beneath him-

The Ferrari shot off the end of the collapsing bridge as it tumbled into the fjord, crashing down onto solid ground. The exhaust pipes were torn away as the underbody hit the road, the engine note becoming a raw, ragged rasp.

Chase fought to keep the car under control as it slewed around. He stamped on the brake. The Ferrari juddered as the antilock system kicked in, but it was skidding sideways, tires straining, threatening to burst.

He hauled at the steering wheel. The car spun backwards towards a wall.

Foot off the brake, and accelerate-

With a shriek of tortured rubber, the Ferrari came to a stop in a cloud of acrid tire smoke barely a foot from the airfield’s perimeter wall. Chase coughed as the swirling mist blew past him. Through the smashed windscreen he saw another cloud, a ghostly line of dust marking where the bridge had been. The security forces pursuing him were gone, having plunged into the river with their boss.

And Starkman.

Chase paused to give his ex-comrade a silent word of thanks.

Then he turned to look down the runway. In the distance, he saw the hulking white shape of the A380 against the dark backdrop of the surrounding hills, about to turn around.

About to take off.

He put the battered Ferrari into gear, then set off with a screech of tires.