Private Monaco

Chapter 39

“Call the police!” I yelled before I raced after him.

He had a decent head start but I heard Marc yell to his staff, telling them to stop Michel. He raced past the first few people, who reacted to Marc’s instruction with bemusement, but once the surprise had passed, other riggers and marshals lunged for the running man and he had to dodge their tackles and attempts to grab him, which slowed him down.

The memory of him shooting at me on the mountainside propelled me on. I sucked in air like a turbo-charged engine and closed the gap as Michel climbed up the side ladder of a rigging truck and ran across the roof.

From there he leaped onto the metal canopy of a cafe, startling staff and customers below as he thumped across the swaying structure and bounded in through an open second-floor window.

I followed, clambering up the ladder, racing across the truck and sprinting over the canopy. I jumped through the window and my instincts saved me when I sensed movement to my right.

I ducked and rolled as Michel swung a metal floor lamp at me. The heavy base hit the window and shattered the glass. As I got to my feet, he tried to swing it the other way, but I tackled him and he dropped the lamp as we grappled with each other.

We traded blows and ended up on the floor. I blocked his efforts and hit him in the face a couple of times. He rolled away, dazed, and staggered to his feet. I pursued him as he rushed for the door. He flung it open and set off through an open-plan office full of people, who were surprised to see two men engaged in a chase through their previously peaceful workspace.

Michel was bleeding from a cut above his eye and his face looked a mess, adding to people’s unease. They rose from their desks and backed away from him as he darted around the office furniture and headed for the exit.

There were cries and shouts, but no one tackled either of us. I followed the fugitive as he barreled through a green fire door and chased him into a concrete stairwell, bounding after him, as we both leaped down multiple steps at a time.

He reached the landing above the ground floor and I took a gamble, jumping directly from the flight above. My bet paid off when I landed on him, sending him crashing into a wall. He lashed out instinctively with a vicious elbow to my chin, and I saw stars.

Dizzy, I backed off and he punched me in the gut before bolting down the last flight.

I caught my breath and ran after him, racing through the open door, which led into a large reception area.

Michel sprinted past a security guard and yelled something at him in French. The hefty uniformed man closed in on me threateningly while Michel raced through the main doors and ran onto the street.

I didn’t have time to deal with the misguided security guard, so I vaulted the barrier by the reception desk, swerved to avoid his clutches and hurried outside.

There was a sudden blast of sirens further along the street and I was pleased to see two police cars round the corner directly ahead of Michel, but he kept running while the cars drove on, passing him without slowing.

They screeched to a halt a few meters from me and a uniformed officer jumped out of the passenger seat of the leading vehicle. He yelled, “Jack Morgan, you are under arrest. Stop where you are!”

“Wrong guy,” I replied dejectedly, but I slowed to a halt and raised my hands in surrender.