Private Monaco

Chapter 29

I was moving at full tilt, covering the ground between our vantage point and the rock formation I’d spotted a few hundred meters east of the farmhouse. I’d dubbed it the eagle because wind and rain had carved it into the shape of the majestic bird of prey. I just hoped it looked the same from Justine’s perspective and that she saw and understood the Morse code message.

One of the benefits of having a leading forensic scientist on the team was his ability to improvise explosive devices from the gear we’d brought with us. Sci had rigged an IED from the spare lithium batteries and electrical gear he’d scavenged from the drones and surveillance electronics we carried with us in backpacks. He had rigged four flying bombs to drones and they caused the distractions that allowed me to break cover and get down into the valley unobserved.

Mo-bot had already gone back to the car with Duval. The moment there was any shooting Sci was under strict instructions to stop sending the Morse code message with the mirror of an SLR camera and to join them.

I could hear shooting directed at the outcrop where I’d left him, and prayed Sci had the good sense to stick to the plan and make a run back for the car.

According to the map, the eagle was almost halfway between the highest farm and the second one further down the valley. My plan was to take Justine to the lower one and wait for Valerie Chevalier and the cops, who, according to Duval, were on their way. He’d told the inspector that we’d located the gang and there was a crime in progress. That information had been the impetus she needed to take immediate action. She’d assured him she would cut through any remaining red tape and arrive imminently with French police in serious numbers.

I sprinted through the trees, heading downhill, taking great care to keep my footing as I gathered momentum. I hoped Justine had seen the message. She would be casting about, looking for a way clear of this situation, and I had to believe the explosions would have caught her attention. The roof of the highest farmhouse was on fire and the flames were visible from some distance away. The sounds of the gang struggling to bring it under control filled the woods.

I ran on, lungs raw, legs aching, and after another few minutes moving at a speed that took me close to tumbling, I broke the treeline and encountered rocky ground around the eagle formation. I slowed to a walk and crouched down to avoid being seen by the men shooting up the mountainside. I surveyed the rocky terrain around the eagle, looking for any sign of Justine.

After a moment, I saw flashes of movement between the rocks to my right and my heart leaped, but joy rapidly turned to horror as I realized it was a man heading in my direction. It was the guy I’d seen in the farmyard issuing commands to the rest of the abductors. He wore a black T-shirt, jeans and heavy boots, but the most notable thing about him was the sub machine gun he carried in his hands. He was about a hundred feet away from me, coming at an angle, but distance and the rock formations separating us didn’t impede him. He spotted me and fired wildly in my direction, bullets rattling out of the gun and zinging against the rocks nearby.

“Stop!” he yelled, but I ignored his command and sprinted downhill.

Justine burst from behind some rocks about twenty yards ahead of me, and my momentary joy turned to dismay as I realized I’d led her into harm’s way. She had a similar realization when she registered me and then saw the man on my tail.

“Run!” I yelled, and she ducked back under cover.

I did likewise, following her into a narrow gully that twisted and turned across the mountainside. I ran fast, closing the gap between us, until I was only a few feet behind her. She stopped and embraced me.

“Oh, Jack, it’s so good to see you,” she whispered breathlessly.

“You too,” I replied, my heart thundering with a strange mix of fear and relief.

“You think I don’t know Morse code?” the man yelled behind us, his Italian accent unmistakable.

I couldn’t see him, but he didn’t sound too far away, somewhere along the gully. I signaled Justine to climb a small stretch of scree that would take us onto the mountainside and followed her up.

“That’s their leader,” she revealed. “He says his name is Roman.”

“I bet you’re thinking you’re safe, Mr. Morgan,” yelled our pursuer. “That I won’t kill you because I need you. But a good general never relies on one plan.”

Justine and I reached the top of the gully and exchanged fearful glances. Our pursuer had just revealed we were inessential, that he had an alternative method of accomplishing his objective and we were disposable. We had to get to safety but there was no obvious sanctuary.

There was about fifty feet of open field ahead before a patch of dry scrub and then thick woodland. I could hear Roman scrabbling along the gully behind us. We were in a tight spot and would have to gamble.