Curse of the Pharaoh: A Brock Stone Adventure

7 Just in Time

Alex watched as Trinity turned onto the grass and headed in the direction of the Smithsonian Castle. The convertible fishtailed and skidded as it shot along the manicured lawn. The limousine followed.

Alex sprinted out onto the mall, aiming to cut them off. He waved his arms, but Trinity and Constance took no notice. To them, he must have looked like another angry pedestrian. They zipped past him in a shiny black blur.

The limousine was closing in on them. A pistol appeared out the driver’s side window. The driver leveled it at the fleeing DeSoto. Alex did the only thing he could think of. He took aim with his hook and fired.

It was a perfectly aimed shot. It knocked the pistol out of the driver’s hand. Unfortunately, the hook caught on the door handle.

“Uh oh.”

Alex was yanked off his feet and dragged across the soft grass. The Desoto skidded into a hairpin turn in front of the castle and headed back in the direction of the museum. The limousine driver made a wide turn and Alex slid in a wide arc. He fought to free himself, but he had designed the hook too well. It held tight.

As he swung wide, he caught a glimpse of more men in dark suits running out of the museum and onto the lawn. A few seconds later, he heard gunshots and the sound of breaking glass.

The DeSoto made a sharp turn and the limousine followed suit. Once again Alex was swept across the slick grass, toward the sound of gunfire. He had a moment to catch a glimpse of three surprised gunmen, and then the cable attached to his hook cut their ankles out from underneath them and sent them tumbling like bowling pins.

“Picked up the spare!” Alex said.

Bullets flew in every direction. Pedestrians screamed. The limousine fishtailed and then slammed into an old oak tree.

Alex slid to a halt on the soft ground. His bones felt like broken glass. He climbed to his feet and looked down at his ruined suit. His jacket was torn to ribbons, his white shirt streaked with green.

“Are you all right?” a bystander shouted.

“Just peachy.” Alex hobbled over to the limo and freed his hook before retracting it. The driver lay slumped against the steering wheel. Blood trickled from his ears and nose.

“Have a nice nap,” Alex said. He looked around for Trinity and Constance. The DeSoto was farther down the mall, being chased by men on foot.

“Get yourselves out of here, ladies,” he said under his breath.

“They say talking to yourself means you’re crazy,” a voice said behind him.

Alex turned to see the goon named Max standing behind him. Before he could react, the man seized him by the wrist in a powerful grip. His hands were huge!

“And you’d have to be crazy to steal from John Kane,” the thug continued.

“I didn’t steal anything. And last I heard, John Kane doesn’t own the museum, nor its contents.”

“Don’t get clever.”

“I can’t help it. I have a superior brain.” He gulped as the big bruno grabbed him around the neck.

“If I squeeze hard enough, those clever brains will pop right out of the top of your skull.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Alex wheezed.

“He thinks he’s funny.” Artie, Max’s partner, staggered up to them. “Give him a smack.”

“You all right, Artie?” Max asked.

“Been better, been worse.” Archie cracked his knuckles. “I’m in the mood to hit somebody. I suppose Ginger will do.”

“Don’t rough him up too much. Mister Kane will want to question him.”

Alex thought fast, considered his options. There had to be a way out, but he couldn’t see it. Down the mall, Kane’s men had broken off their pursuit of Trinity and Constance and were headed this way. He was about to be severely outnumbered. Not that he was a match, physically, for either of these toughs.

“Let’s not be hasty, fellows,” Alex wheezed. “I can be of help to you.”

“As a punching bag.” Archie grinned.

The roar of an engine startled the three men. They looked to see a powerfully built man on an Indian Scout motorcycle come flying toward them. Alex seized the moment. He drove his knee into Karl’s groin. The big man barely flinched but he loosened his grip enough for Alex to break free and run.

The rider dropped his motorcycle into a skid, upended the surprised thugs, who fell flat on their faces. Before they could recover, the man righted his bike, caught up to Alex, and slowed his bike enough for him to hop on back. He gunned the engine and they left Kane’s thugs in their dust.

“It’s about time you made it,” Alex said to Brock Stone.

“I came as soon as I got your message. Why did you come alone when you knew John Kane would be here?”

“Trinity,” Alex said simply. It was all he needed to say.

Stone laughed and gave a shake of his head. “I understand. Sometimes you don’t get a choice.”