Raiders

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Reaching the top of the Spanish Steps, it was safe to say Jed Mason and Zara Dietrich had attracted the attention of the entire city’s police force. The area was swarming with them, and everywhere they looked, a possible escape route was being blocked off by the authorities.

“We’ve fucking done it this time, Jed.”

“Nonsense, we never screw up a job — ever! And this is just another job, right?”

“If you say so, but this asshole just doesn’t know when to give up,” she said with a glance over her shoulder.

The police bikes began to make progress, making use of shortcuts unknown to foreigners.

Up ahead Mason spied some red lights and a junction.

“Fantastic.”

Zara fired at the police and they skidded out to opposite sides of the road to avoid her bullets before closing back into the center of the lane again. Pedestrians turned to watch the chase in amazement as the flashing blue lights and howling sirens of the police bikes drew the attention of half of Rome to the action.

Mason checked his mirror and shook his head. “Can’t shake them off.”

“Try back over the other side of the river.”

The high walls of old Roman buildings towered either side of them, channelling them down toward a large crossroads and back to the river, but further south this time. They turned a corner and burst out onto a wide road on the east bank of the Tiber. A long hop-on-hop-off river cruiser was sailing slowly beneath the Ponto Vittorio Emanuele II.

They raced for the bridge, hoping to lose Nichetti in the old part of the city, but halfway across the bridge Mason saw the Italian commissario was a step ahead and had called for back-up. On the western bank were another two officers. They were going to catch them in a classic pincer movement.

Mason twisted the throttle and hammered the Ducati over the bridge, ripping over the Tiber like a demon.

“What the hell are you doing?” Zara cried out. “You’re driving right into their trap.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he called back.

He powered along the bridge until they were about halfway across, and felt Zara’s arms squeezing him tighter as they raced along the asphalt. Either side of him, angry drivers were honking their horns and winding down their windows to curse them as Mason weaved the Ducati in and out of the traffic on the busy bridge.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re planning, but it looks like we’re running out of options, Jed,” Zara said.

“We’re running out of lives, more like.”

He hit the brakes and brought the Panigale under control, dropping through the gears as he went. The massive engine growled beneath them as the revs shot up in response to the lower gears, but then fell to a low grumble. Mason steered the bike up on the sidewalk at the side of the bridge and they hopped off.

“Fancy a tour of the river?” he said, trying to slow his breathing.

Zara peered down at the murky brown water.

“It’s now or never, Dietrich!”

“You can’t be serious?” she said, shocked. “Swim in that?”

“Look behind,” he said. “Speedboat heading this way.”

He indicated behind them where a powerful speedboat was racing toward the bridge, its chrome rails and windshield sparkling in the Roman sun.

Zara shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, no, not that…”

He nodded and smiled. “When I say jump, we jump.”

“You’re shitting me, right? Please tell me that you’re shitting me.”

“I’m not shitting you, Z. If we time it right we’ll drop right down into the boat and leave the rozzers far behind.” He opened the pannier and snatched the codex and his bag.

“They’ll call the water police, or a chopper.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“In three, Dietrich. Three, two, one!”

They leaped off the bridge and dropped down through the air like stones, landing with a heavy crash on the rear deck of the luxury speedboat just as it emerged from beneath the bridge.

The captain turned, horrified, but Zara pointed the gun at him and told him to keep going, and to increase speed. “Just keep going, Capitano,” she said. “And I’ll cross your palm with silver. I’m no criminal.”

The man shrugged and pushed the throttles forward. “I cannot lie,” he said stoically. “This is not your typical day in Rome. Where are we going?”

“To the Aeroporto Militare south east of the city!”

The man gave an apologetic smile as Nichetti and his officers gathered on the bridge, cursing and shouting and making frantic radio calls. “This boat can only take you so far.”

“Just get us away from the cops,” Zara said. “That’s half the battle won.”

Mason sighed and rubbed his neck in the hot sun. “Something tells me the battle is only just beginning.”