Kingdom of Darkness

3

Eddie dived at the Cadillac and seized the assassin’s arm, shoving the weapon off target. The Hummer’s side window exploded, bullets whapping into the limo’s seats and shattering bottles.

The Englishman tried to rip the pistol from the attacker’s grip. The scar-faced man kept firing, a stray round hitting the Jeep and exploding its front tyre — then the Escalade’s engine roared and the pickup surged away up the street. Eddie was dragged along for several yards before self-preservation forced him to let go. He landed heavily, the EXT’s rear wheels missing his head by inches as he rolled. The pickup sped away.

Nina ran to him. ‘Eddie! Jesus, are you okay?’

He sat up, wincing. ‘I’m fine. What about you?’

‘I’m all right, he missed me.’ She helped him stand. The gunman had decided to flee rather than finish the attempt on her life, the Escalade still powering away. ‘Who the hell was that?’

‘What the fuck, man?’ Hector screeched, scrambling out of the Hummer and staring at the corpse. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Get back in!’ Eddie shouted. ‘We’ve got to go after him.’

The chauffeur waved his hands. ‘No, no, man. Are you crazy? I’m not getting shot!’

‘Then piss off and let me drive.’ The Englishman hurried to the limo and shoved him aside. ‘Macy, stay there,’ he barked, seeing that the young woman was about to return to the Hummer. The homeowner was already calling an emergency number on his phone. ‘Nina, you wait with her where it’s safe.’

‘I’m not letting you go without me,’ she protested, scrambling into the back of the bullet-pocked vehicle.

After three years of marriage, Eddie knew she wasn’t going to change her mind. ‘Okay, then hold on tight.’ He hopped into the driver’s seat, ignoring Hector’s objections.

‘You’re chasing him?’ Macy called in disbelief.

A distant skirl of tyres told him that the Escalade had reached the next intersection and made a high-speed turn. ‘He’s getting away — but if we follow, we can guide the cops to him.’

‘I don’t think a Hummer limo’s the best pursuit vehicle,’ said Nina.

‘Grant didn’t lend us a Lamborghini, so it’ll have to do.’ Eddie slammed his door, then jammed down the accelerator — and the Hummer leapt forward, leaving Macy and the yelling Hector behind. The stretched H2 still had its original mammoth 6.2 litre engine, and kept its four-wheel drive through the use of an extended driveshaft. ‘Hey, that’s not bad!’

‘Yeah, it’ll be great — right up until you have to turn a corner,’ said Nina, taking out her phone. She had dropped the papers, which now swirled in the wind coming through the broken window. The open magazine was also fluttering. A bullet had ripped through the chest of the photo shoot’s subject. ‘Ooh, Macy won’t like that.’

‘Good job she’s got more copies.’ Eddie kept his foot hard down, the speedometer needle surging past fifty. The Cadillac had gone left at the crossroads ahead. He had no idea how the thirty-foot-long SUV would fare around the same turn, but he was about to find out. ‘Hang on!’

Nina grabbed her seat with one hand, trying to hold the phone to her ear with the other as Eddie braked hard and spun the steering wheel. The limousine lurched, its back end sliding wide through the intersection with a wail of tortured rubber.

For a moment it felt as though the vehicle was about to flip on to its side. Nina shrieked, heels scraping at the carpet — then the limo crashed back down on all four wheels. The champagne bottle was thrown to the floor, spewing froth. The bottles of spirits clashed against each other, more of them smashing and showering their contents across the cabin.

‘Nine-one-one emergency,’ said a faint female voice in her ear as she struggled back upright. ‘What service do you require?’

‘All of them!’ she gasped.

Knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, Eddie looked ahead to see that the Escalade had much less of a lead than he’d expected. The next intersection was of the peculiarly American four-way-stop variety. The EXT had been forced to make an emergency halt to avoid ramming into a pink Bentley Continental convertible crossing its path, ending up slewed diagonally across the road. The Yorkshireman accelerated.

Smoke gushed from the Escalade’s wheels as the driver saw him coming and jammed down the gas pedal. The big truck clipped the Bentley’s front wing as it weaved past. The Continental’s driver, a thin blonde woman in enormous sunglasses, stopped and clapped both hands to her face with a shriek of horror.

It was a sound that was about to get louder. The Bentley was blocking the line the stretched Hummer needed to follow around the corner. Eddie hammered on the horn as the limo powered towards the crossroads. The woman gawped at him; he waved for her to get clear. ‘Come on, move!’

Behind him, Nina was through to the police. ‘No, I don’t know where we are!’ she told the infuriatingly laid-back dispatcher. ‘It’s — it’s a street with palm trees in Beverly Hills!’

‘That doesn’t narrow it down, ma’am,’ came the response.

Nina forced back an obscenity — then another escaped her mouth as she looked through the windscreen. ‘Shit! Eddie, we’re gonna hit it!’

The blonde finally got the message, one pink stiletto flying off as she scrambled from the Bentley. ‘Brace yourself!’ Eddie warned. He braked as he spun the wheel to follow the Cadillac, the limousine’s rear swinging out into an uncontrollable skid—

The Hummer cannoned off the Continental’s side, the luxurious convertible acting as a bumper to keep the limo on course. Even braced, Nina was still thrown across the cabin. There was a horrible shrill of steel as the two cars ground against each other, then the H2 was clear.

‘God damn it, Eddie!’ Nina cried as she sat up, senses reeling.

‘You okay?’ he called.

‘Oh, super fine, thanks! Look, stop this thing before someone gets killed!’

‘I’m not letting that arsehole get away.’ The EXT had opened the gap again. Eddie accelerated. The new street headed south to rejoin Santa Monica Boulevard; at its far end, he saw the flashing orange warning lights he had noticed earlier.

But there was another vehicle much closer that could stop the pursuit. For a moment he thought the approaching Chevrolet Impala was a police car, before recognising the name STERNHAMMER emblazoned across the side and realising that it belonged to the private security company. It swerved, trying to block the Cadillac’s path, but the Escalade rode two wheels up on to the grass verge to get past. The patrol car made a noisy handbrake turn, reversing direction and pursuing.

‘Christ!’ said Eddie as the man in the Impala’s front passenger seat leaned out and took a shot at the EXT. ‘They weren’t kidding about rapid armed response.’

Nina was still dealing with the police. ‘No, I don’t know what street we’re on now. Just look for the Hummer limo with bullet holes in it!’

‘This is LA, ma’am,’ the dispatcher replied. ‘I’m afraid that’s still not specific enough.’

The H2 was not the only vehicle with bullet damage. The security guard fired again, hitting the pickup’s tailgate. The assassin responded to the new danger by sending two shots back over his shoulder at the patrol car. One cracked the windscreen, the Chevy swerving as its driver flinched. The passenger reacted by unleashing another six angry shots at the Escalade. That confirmed what Eddie already suspected about the private patrolmen — they were trigger-happy show-offs, who had probably been rejected as real cops for exactly that reason.

The driver’s voice boomed from a loudspeaker: ‘Pull over right now, dickhead!’ The Chevy drew level with the Escalade, the guard taking aim at the truck’s front tyre—

The EXT veered, slamming side on against the Impala. The guard jerked back inside just in time to save his arm from being crushed. The collision briefly slowed both vehicles, letting the limo close the gap. The rentacops swept over to the right to overtake on the Cadillac’s blind side.

The chase was rapidly approaching the intersection with Santa Monica Boulevard, where multiple lanes of traffic were flowing in both directions. Eddie saw a recovery truck on the street corner, orange strobes pulsing; there had been an accident, a Mini Cooper being winched up the ramp on to its rear bed.

Sunlight flashed on polished metal. An eighteen-wheeler, a long tanker truck, crossed the intersection into the path of the trio of chasing vehicles—

The Impala drew alongside the Escalade again — and the heavy SUV slammed savagely against it—

The force of the collision hurled the patrol car helplessly off course. It hit the back of the Mini, sending the smaller vehicle spinning off the recovery vehicle. The Chevrolet was flipped into a corkscrewing roll off the ramp, scything away a chunk of the tow truck’s cab before arcing back down—

It smashed into the tanker’s side.

The truck driver stamped on the brakes, his rig juddering to an emergency stop. Fuel gushed from a rent in the gleaming steel. The Escalade, also braking hard, swerved past the trailer’s rear with barely an inch to spare as flames burst from the Impala’s mangled engine compartment.

A flash of horrified realisation told Eddie that no matter how hard he braked or turned, the speeding Hummer would end up embedded in the burning tanker.

That left only one option.

‘Hang on!’ he yelled as he jammed down the accelerator.

‘Eddie!’ Nina shrieked, but the limousine was past the point of no return. She threw herself flat on the seat as it shot up the ramp—

The Hummer flew off the end and sailed over the tanker — as it exploded in a searing blast.

Churning flames swallowed the Impala and set the recovery truck ablaze. The fireball boiled skywards in a halo of thick black smoke…

Out of which hurtled the Hummer, lancing back to earth like a boxy javelin.

Eddie and Nina screamed as the limo’s nose pounded down on to the road — and the entire vehicle bent in half, the extended chassis snapping and ripping open a ragged gap in the floor and lower body.

The flames clinging to the H2’s skin rushed hungrily inside. They found the spilt spirits soaking the seats and carpet and the alcohol caught light.

Nina jerked back, batting at the singed ends of her hair. The German’s papers were also on fire. She snatched up the few she could reach in the hope of salvaging some clues to whatever the hell was going on.

But the blaze wasn’t the only danger. Sparks and metal fragments spat up at her from the Hummer’s ruptured underside. The driveshaft had broken along with the chassis, the jagged end still spinning furiously as it bounced off the asphalt. Apart from a few overstretched cables and pipes under the floor, the vehicle was now held together entirely by its roof, and even that was buckling.

She raised a hand to protect her face from the shards, belatedly realising that she was still holding her phone. ‘We just jumped over an exploding gas tanker!’ she shouted at the operator. ‘Is that specific enough for you?’

Eddie sat up woozily. As if the impact of landing hadn’t been enough, the Hummer’s airbag had fired. Even though it had protected him from a potentially fatal collision with the steering wheel, it still felt like a punch from a heavyweight boxer.

A car loomed ahead. He swerved to avoid it, finding that the H2’s handling had got even worse. A look back to check on Nina revealed why. The limo was still mobile thanks to its four-wheel drive, even if only the front two were still working, but its half-severed rear end was now acting like an anchor as the floor’s mangled leading edge scraped along the road.

‘Put the fire out!’ he cried, looking for the Escalade. Traffic had come to a panicked standstill following the explosion, and the hulking black truck was easy to spot as it headed south.

‘Oh, thanks, I would never have thought of that,’ Nina shot back. She was already searching for an extinguisher, but if there was one, it was stored out of sight. Instead, she yanked open the fridge and pulled out the little Perrier bottles, cracking their tops to pour fizzy water over the flames. It had roughly the same effect as spritzing a forest fire. ‘The bubbles aren’t helping!’

‘Then get up here!’ Eddie slalomed around stationary cars in pursuit of the Escalade. The street it had taken led into Beverly Hills’ shopping district. Sirens sounded in the distance, but he couldn’t tell from which direction.

Nina hesitated at the sight of the driveshaft thrashing like an enraged snake, but summoned up her courage and hopped over the widening split in the cabin. The limo creaked alarmingly as her weight shifted to its front half. She climbed over the partition into the seat beside her husband.

Pedestrians gawped as the broken-backed Hummer screeched past in a trail of sparks. Farther down the street, the Escalade had been forced to slow by dawdling traffic. The gunman dealt with the obstruction by swinging into the oncoming lane and ramming head on into a car, using his truck’s sheer muscle to force the smaller vehicle on to the sidewalk.

Other drivers made the sensible choice to clear a path for the madman — which in turn left the way open for the H2 to catch up. Fast. ‘Oh, you’re not!’ Nina protested.

‘Yeah, I am!’ They both braced themselves—

The Hummer ploughed into the pickup. The EXT was a hefty vehicle, but the limo was almost twice its weight, sending the Cadillac into a spin that left it nearly perpendicular to its pursuer. Eddie recovered, foot back on the accelerator. If he could ram the truck broadside on, he might flip it over, ending the chase—

Nina saw movement in the Escalade’s cabin. ‘Gun!’

They ducked as the man fired. The windshield burst apart, fragments cascading over them. Eddie tensed, expecting further shots, but instead heard the roar of the Cadillac’s V8 as their attacker raced away.

Nina raised her head. A green sign at the corner told her that he had turned down Brighton Way. She remembered the name from her map; it intersected Rodeo Drive. ‘Don’t suppose this would be a good time to bug out and let the cops take care of things?’ she asked. A growl from their own vehicle’s engine gave her an answer. ‘No, thought not,’ she added as Eddie set off after the truck. The severed driveshaft chittered like a pneumatic drill as they rounded the corner, the Hummer’s back half now flexing horizontally as well as vertically.

The new road was one-way, with no oncoming traffic, but it was also narrower than the last street. The Escalade swerved wildly to thread between other cars. Blaring the horn, Eddie did the same. Anguished creaks of metal came from the roof behind them. Nina glanced back. ‘This thing’s gonna come apart any minute,’ she warned. At least the fire was dying down as the alcohol fuelling it was consumed.

Eddie didn’t reply, eyes fixed on the fleeing pickup. The sirens grew louder — the police were closing in.

No sign of them yet, though. For now, he was the only person who could stop the assassin. Ahead was Rodeo Drive. Traffic waited at the intersection, parked cars on each side blocking any way around. The Cadillac’s brake lights flared as it was forced to slow.

This could be his chance. Foot to the floor—

The Escalade swerved abruptly to avoid a small van backing out of an entrance on the right.

Eddie hauled at the wheel, but the crippled Hummer was reluctant to turn. The word CHANEL filled his vision—

The H2 smashed into the van, sending it spinning like a top. Its rear doors burst open, and hundreds of perfume bottles flew out, exploding like scented grenades. Litres of Chanel No. 5 sluiced over the bifurcated Hummer…

And ignited.

Choking and wiping her stinging eyes, Nina heard a deep and very menacing whoomph behind her. She turned to see the limo’s entire rear end ablaze, the dying flames given a new and highly flammable source of nourishment. ‘Shit! Eddie, we’re on fire! Again!’

Eddie too was gasping for air. Perfume was fine in small doses, but by the gallon it was more like the chemical attack training he had been forced to endure in the army. Blinking away streaming tears, he searched for his quarry. The Escalade had barged a car out of its way to make a skidding left turn down Rodeo Drive. He followed it. Metal shrieked as the H2’s flaming back end swung wide, tearing the overstressed roof like paper.

He spun the steering wheel, just barely countering the flailing oversteer in time to stop the limo’s trailing half from ripping free. But the vehicle was now held together only by a thread…

The engine misfired, sputtering. The fuel line under the floor had finally been severed.

He looked down Rodeo Drive. The Escalade was pulling away. The chase was over.

Wait…

Flashing red and blue lights some distance ahead. The police were setting up a roadblock.

The assassin reached another intersection and started to turn, only to swerve sharply back on to his original course as he saw that the cross-street was also barricaded. He continued past the junction before braking hard, slewing around on trails of black rubber and lurching to a stop.

‘They’ve trapped him,’ said Nina. ‘Okay, you can stop now!’

But Eddie didn’t slow. The Escalade’s door had opened, the driver jumping out, gun in hand.

He aimed it at the onrushing Hummer—

Nina dropped with a yelp as a bullet shattered what remained of the windscreen. Eddie hunched down as more shots clanged against the radiator and engine block. If he turned to escape down the cross-street, he would expose the limo’s sides to the gunman — and the thin sheet steel was no protection against even a pistol bullet.

Instead, he aimed straight at their attacker.

The man instantly changed tactics, switching his aim to the Hummer’s left front wheel as the limo reached the intersection. Two bullets struck the H2’s bumper — then a third blew out the tyre.

The steering wheel jolted in Eddie’s hands. He tried to hold it steady, but the limousine veered at the central divider, where a chromed statue of a human torso stood on a plinth. Instead he yanked the wheel to the left, stamping on the brake to hurl the Hummer into a skid—

The limo hit the plinth side on and was sliced in half, its burning rear end finally ripping loose and bowling down Rodeo Drive…

Straight at the gunman.

The scar-faced man’s eyes widened in fear, and he ran—

The flaming wreckage smashed into the Cadillac. Pedestrians fled as gasoline sprayed from the Hummer’s ruptured fuel line…

Both vehicles exploded, the blast shattering the front windows of the Louis Vuitton and Bulgari stores and setting palm trees ablaze. The cops at the roadblock dropped behind their vehicles as wreckage showered around them. Car alarms wailed, parked Ferraris and Range Rovers reacting in pain to the barrage.

The Hummer’s front half ground to a stop at the bottom of the arcing pedestrian boulevard of Via Rodeo. Shoppers and tourists regarded what was left of the smoking limousine with shock and amazement, phones and cameras clicking.

Eddie sat up painfully, a smear of blood from a fresh cut slowly oozing down his forehead. ‘Ow, fuck…’ he grunted, adding a wincing ‘Christ!’ as a drip of perfume ran into the wound like an acidic bee sting. ‘Nina, you okay?’

‘I think so.’ His wife had ended up in the Hummer’s footwell. She blinked blearily at him, then sniffed her clothing. ‘Oh, that’s… strong.’

‘Macy won’t need to visit the Chanel shop after all — she can just wring out your sleeve.’ He was about to open the door — then froze.

The assassin had been knocked down by the explosion, but he was still alive, crawling through the licks of flame dotting the street towards a metal object.

‘Shit,’ Eddie gasped. ‘He’s going for his gun. Get out!’

Nina pulled at the door release, but it refused to move. ‘It’s stuck!’

He tried his own door. It too was jammed, the frame twisted. The assassin had almost reached his goal—

‘Police! Freeze!’

Two uniformed officers emerged from behind a shrapnel-dented SUV, weapons pointed at the crawling man. He looked at them in alarm, then back at the object in front of him…

And kept moving, one hand stretching out to grab it.

‘I said freeze!’ one of the cops screamed. ‘Stop or I fire!’

Eddie saw desperation on the killer’s face as he finally clamped his fingers around the gun — only the Englishman now realised it wasn’t a gun, but some sort of container, a flask—

Four gunshots echoed around the street, both cops opening fire. The man on the ground jerked and twitched, then fell still. Blood pooled around him. One of the cops ran up and fixed his gun on the unmoving figure as his partner kicked the container out of his hand. It was a flask, about the size of a paperback book, and looking for all the world like something an alcoholic would keep in his hip pocket.

But the assassin’s attempt to retrieve it had cost him his life. Whatever was in the flask, Eddie realised, it was more than mere whiskey or vodka.

Running footsteps caught his attention. He hurriedly raised his hands. ‘Ay up,’ he warned Nina as she clambered out of the footwell. ‘Beverly Hills Cops.’

More officers rushed to surround the battered limo. Nina regarded the guns pointed at her in alarm. ‘So much for our vacation,’ she sighed.