Текст книги "Plague Ship"

Автор книги: Clive Cussler

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“Why do people let it happen?” Eddie asked, but he already knew the answer. It was the same in Chinatown when he was a kid. The pressure to join a gang was intense, and, once you did, they never let you go.

“Loneliness, a sense of disconnect from the world. The Responsivists make them feel they are part of something much larger than themselves, something important that can give them meaning. It’s pretty much the same symptoms that lead others to drugs or alcohol, and the rehabilitation is similar. So you have successes as well as failures.”

“According to his mother, Kyle’s been involved with Responsivism for only a few months, so I think he should be okay.”

“Duration has nothing to do with it,” Jenner countered. “It’s how deeply he has allowed them to poison his mind. I had a case once where a woman had been going to Responsivist meetings for only two weeks when her husband became concerned and hired me. She ended up leaving him and is now the secretary to the director of their Greek retreat where you rescued your son. Pattie Ogdenburg. Funny how you remember the names of your failures but never those of your successes.” Max and Eddie nodded in unison. They had shared many of each together.

“I’m curious,” Eddie said into the gathering silence, “how does someone as successful as Donna Sky get mixed up in something like this?”

“Same as everyone else. Just because she has awards and accolades and an entourage doesn’t mean she’s any less lonely than anyone else. Oftentimes, celebrities are more estranged from reality than most and are easily swayed. Out in the real world, she’s mobbed by fans, but within the organization she’s just Donna. And yet, her fame helps recruit new members all the time.”

“I will never understand any of this,” Max groaned.

“Which is why you hired me.” Jenner spoke in a bright voice to lighten the somber mood. “You don’t need to understand it. All you have to do is be ready to show your son how much you love him.”

“Do you know anything about a Responsivist center in the Philippines?” Eddie asked to change the subject.

Jenner paused to think about the question. “Not specifically. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had family-planning clinics there, but . . . No, wait, that’s right. There was talk about them opening another retreat. I believe they have bought land someplace, but nothing’s been built. Or very little anyway.”

“What about leasing a cruise ship?”

“You’re talking about the Golden Dawn? What a horrible tragedy. I suspect that is what they call a Sea Retreat. They have done that a number of times over the past couple of years. They often lease out an entire ship, or book at least half the cabins, and hold meetings and discuss the movement. I went on one just to see what it was all about. It seemed to me that it was a recruiting tool to get at lonely widows still flush with their late husbands’ pensions.”

Jenner stood. “I should go check on Kyle.”

When he was out of the room, Max crossed to the sideboard where bottles of liquor were lined up like soldiers on parade. He splashed some whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler and indicated to Eddie if he wanted one, too. The former spook declined.

“This isn’t a mission,” Max said, taking a sip. “You don’t need to teetotal.”

“Just the same. So what do you think?”

“I think we hit the jackpot with him. He certainly knows what he’s dealing with. You?”

“I agree. Linda did a great job finding him, and I’m sure that Kyle will be fine.”

“Thanks for babysitting us,” Max said, but there was much more behind the words.

“You’d do the same for any of us.”

Max’s cell phone purred. He reached into his pocket for it. The caller ID read CHAIRMAN.

“We’re here, safe and sound,” he said by way of greeting.

“Glad to hear it,” Cabrillo replied. “Was Jenner there?”

“Yes. Eddie and I were just talking about how lucky we feel to have found him.”

“Good.”

“How’s everything on the Oregon?”

“I just got off the phone with Langston. I think I need Julia to install a colostomy bag, because he ripped me a new one for driving the ship through the Corinth Canal.”

“Little angry, was he?”

“Oh, my friend, angry was not the word. Through back channels, he’s trying to convince the Greeks it wasn’t some terrorist plot to destroy the canal. They want to call out NATO, for heaven’s sake.” Max winced. “What did I tell you about you and your damned plan Cs.” Juan chuckled. "If any future operation requires a plan C, you can have my resignation.”

“I heard that, and Eddie’s my witness.”

Cabrillo turned serious. “How’s Kyle doing?”

“He’ll be coming out of the drugs pretty soon. We’ll know then.”

“You’ve got a whole boatload of people pulling for the both of you.”

“This has been tough,” Max admitted. “A lot tougher than I had realized.”

“He’s your son. Even if you two aren’t close, you still love him. Nothing changes that.”

“It’s just that I’m so angry.”

“No, Max, you’re guilty. Two separate things, and you’ve got to get over it or you won’t be able to help him. Life happens the way it happens. Some things we can change and some things we can’t. You just have to be smart enough to know the difference and act accordingly.”

“I feel like I let him down, you know?”

“And there isn’t a parent in the world who doesn’t feel that way about their kids at some point in time.

That’s all part of the process.”

Max digested what Cabrillo said and nodded. Realizing Juan couldn’t see the gesture, he grudgingly said,

“You have a point. It’s just . . .”

“Tough. I know. Max, when we’re on an op, we plan out every detail, every possible contingency, so we’re never surprised. And, even then, we get thrown curves. Think about trying to do that in the other parts of our lives. It’s impossible. You’re doing what any good parent does. You’re there for Kyle now.

You can’t say that this would or wouldn’t have happened if you’d been around when he was growing up.

Just deal with the here and now. Okay?”

“You’re going to make a hell of a father someday.”

“Are you kidding me?” Juan laughed. “I know how rotten the world is. I wouldn’t let a kid out of his bedroom until he was at least thirty, and even then I’d only let him go as far as the fenced-in yard.”

“Where are you guys now?”

“Almost due south of you. We’ll hit the Riviera late tomorrow night and have full surveillance of the arms dealer in place by the following morning.”

“I should be with you.”

“You should be with Kyle. Don’t worry about anything. Take all the time you need. Okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie gestured for the phone. “Hold on, Eddie wants to talk to you.”

“Juan, I was talking with Jenner, and he mentioned the Responsivists have hired cruise ships in the past.”

“And?”

“Could be a wild-goose chase, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Eric and Mark cross-reference those voyages to see if anything weird went down.”

“Not a bad idea. Anything else?”

“He said there are rumors they are building a new retreat in the Philippines. If there was something like four hundred Responsivists on the Dawnwhen she sank, I think they’re further along in construction than Dr. Jenner knows. Might be worth checking out.”

“Two for two,” Cabrillo remarked.

Jenner stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. In a stage whisper, he said, “Kyle’s coming awake. I think it’s best if you two leave us for a while.” He went to his medical bag and withdrew a cylindrical object about the size of a soup can. “This is a locking device that goes over the suite’s doorknob so it can’t be opened from the inside.”

“Juan, we have to go,” Eddie said into the phone and cut the connection.

Max was on his feet. “For how long?”

“Give me your cell phone number and I will call you. Probably an hour or two. Kyle and I will talk some, and then I will administer a sedative.”

Max looked at the closed bedroom door and at Jenner, conflicted about what was right.

“Trust me, Mr. Hanley. I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay.” Max jotted down his number on a piece of hotel stationery. He let Eddie lead him out of the suite and into the richly paneled elevator vestibule. Eddie could see the concern in Hanley’s face even in the distorted reflection of the polished brass doors. Behind them, they heard Jenner slipping the clamshell lock over the doorknob.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I think I’m in the mood for Italian,” Max quipped, to show he wasn’t totally out of it.

“Sorry, mate. Chinese food or nothing.”

CHAPTER 18

AS THE OREGON DROVE THROUGH THE DARK WATERS of the Mediterranean at a little over twenty knots, far below her true capabilities because there were dozens of other vessels plying the shipping routes, there was almost no sensation of movement in her tastefully appointed dining room. If not for the background hum of her magnetohydrodynamic engines and her pump jets, Cabrillo felt like he could be sitting at a five-star restaurant on some fashionable boulevard in Paris.

Juan wore a summer-weight sports jacket over a custom dress shirt open at the collar. His cuff links were tiny compasses and his shoes were Italian leather. Across from him, Linda Ross wore cargo pants and a black T-shirt, and, even without makeup, her skin glowed by the candlelight, highlighting the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

Juan twirled the stem of his wineglass and took an appreciative sip. “If Maurice is going to have his staff prepare a special dinner, the least you could do is dress for the occasion.” Linda slathered a piece of still-warm bread with unsalted butter. “I had brothers growing up. I learned to eat fast and as often as there was food around. Otherwise, I’d go hungry.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Ever watch one of those nature shows when sharks are in a feeding frenzy or a pack of wolves have taken down a deer? My oldest brother, Tony, would sometimes even growl at us.” She smiled at the memory.

“My parents insisted on table manners at all times,” Juan said. “I’d get grounded for putting my elbows on the table.”

“Our only rule was, utensils had to be used on the food and not each other.”

“Are you sure about tomorrow?” Juan asked, turning the conversation back to work. Even in these sumptuous surroundings, the specter of their chosen profession was never far off.

“I’ve been cramming all day. I might not be ready to lead a Responsivist revival, but I can more than hold my own in a conversation with one of them. I have to admit that the more I learn about them, the weirder it gets. How anyone can believe that an alien intelligence from a parallel universe can control your life is beyond me.”

“It takes all kinds, I suppose,” Juan said. He’d always believed that as long as it didn’t hurt others, people’s belief systems were their own individual choice, and he wasn’t one to judge. “You know that after what we did to them, their security is going to be on heightened alert.” She nodded. “I know. They may not even let me in, but it’s worth the risk.” Juan was about to respond when four people appeared at the dining room’s double-door entrance. Julia Huxley wore her lab coat, as always, while, flanking her, Mark Murphy and Eric Stone had cleaned themselves up. Both sported jackets and ties, although the tails of Mark’s shirt were sticking out. Eric’s naval background had given him a sense of deportment, but he was clearly uncomfortable in his clothes.

Or perhaps it was the fourth in their party that made him uneasy.

Julia untied the scarf from around Jannike Dahl’s eyes that had kept her from seeing any part of the ship, other than medical, and now the mess. Juan had relented, giving her a temporary reprieve from the infirmary, but had insisted on the blindfold. Janni wore a borrowed dress from Kevin Nixon’s Magic Shop, and, despite her weakened condition, Juan could understand how young Masters Stone and Murphy could be so vexed. She was a lovely, delicate woman who could leave even the most cynical player tongue-tied. Now that she had lost her pallor from being ill for so long, her normally dusky complexion had returned. Her hair was an obsidian wave that swept off her head and across one bare shoulder.

He instinctively got to his feet as they approached. “Miss Dahl, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Captain Cabrillo,” she replied, still trying to get her bearings in the room.

“I apologize for having you blindfolded, but there are sensitive parts of this ship I couldn’t have you seeing.” He smiled to himself, while Eric and Mark were in a pushing match to be the one to pull out Jannike’s chair.

“You and your crew saved my life, Captain. I would never question your wishes.” Her voice and accent had a charming lilt that captivated all three men. “I am just grateful to be out of bed for a little while.”

“How are you feeling?” Linda asked.

“Much better. Thank you. Dr. Huxley is able to control my asthma, so I have not had any more attacks.” Eric won the honor, so he got to sit to her left. Mark glared as he circled the table to take a chair next to Linda.

“Unfortunately, there was a mix-up in communications with the cooking staff.” As the words left Cabrillo’s mouth, waiters, led by Maurice, marched out from the kitchen bearing trays. The Oregon’s chief steward blamed Juan for the gaffe. “Somehow,” Juan continued, pointedly eyeing Maurice, “they were under the impression you were from Denmark rather than Norway. They had wanted to make some of your native dishes, but we have a traditional Danish meal instead.”

“That is very thoughtful of you all,” Janni said, smiling. “And the two are so close that I won’t even notice.”

“Hear that, Maurice?”

“I did not.”

“I believe we’re having herring,” Juan said, “which is the traditional start to any meal, followed by fiskeboller, which I understand to be fish dumplings. Then there is roast pork loin with red cabbage and browned potatoes, followed by your choice of pandekagerpancakes with ice cream and chocolate or ris à la mande.”

At this, Janni’s smile widened. “That is a rice dessert,” she explained to the others, “With cherry sauce. It is my favorite in the world. We have it, too.”

“Are you from Oslo?” Linda asked as the first dishes were laid on the linen tablecloth.

“I moved there when my parents died, but I was born in the far north, in a small fishing village called Honningsvad.”

That explained her darker complexion, Juan thought. The native Lapps, like the Inuit of Alaska or the indigenous people of Greenland, had evolved darker skin as protection from the relentless glare of sunlight off the ice and snow. She must have some native blood.

Before he could ask a question, he spotted Hali Kasim framed in the dining-room entrance. His hair stuck up in tufts at the side of his head, and even at a distance Juan could see the plum-colored circles under his eyes and the fatigue that made his flesh look like it was slipping off the bone. Juan stood.

“Would you all please excuse me?”

He strode across to his communications specialist. “You’ve looked better.”

“I’ve felt better, too,” Hali agreed. “You said you wanted the results of my work cutting through the static jamming our bug as soon as I finished. Well, here it is.” He handed a single sheet of paper to the Chairman. “I even used the sound-mixing board Mark has in his cabin. This is the best I could do. Sorry.

The numbers in parentheses are the elapsed time between words.” I DON’T . . . (1:23) YES . . . (3:57) ’BOUT DONNA SKY . . . (1:17) (ACT)IVATE THE EEL LEF

. . . (:24) KEY . . . (1:12) TOMORR(OW) . . . (3:38) THAT WON’T BE . . . (:43) A MIN(UTE) . . .

(6:50) BYE.(1:12)

“That’s it, huh?” Juan struggled to not show his disappointment.

“That’s it. There are a few unidentifiable sounds that the computer wouldn’t give more than a ten percent certainty of their meaning. Heck, it gave Donna Sky’s name only a forty percent chance of being right, but I’m pretty sure it is.”

“How long was Martell’s conversation with Severance from the time he turned on the scrambler to when he said good-bye?”

“Twenty-two minutes six seconds.”

Cabrillo read through it again. “The four things that stick out are Donna Sky, a key of some kind, and the word fragments eeland lef. What’s the computer probability on the accuracy of those last ones?”

Having spent countless hours poring over the data, Hali didn’t need to refer to his notes. “Sixty-one percent. Key was ninety-two.”

“Eel, lef, and the key came within forty-five seconds of one another, so it’s a fair bet they’re related. And coming a minute seventeen seconds after mentioning Donna Sky, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think she’s somehow connected, too.”

Hali gaped at him. “I stared at this piece of paper for hours before noticing that.”

“That’s because you were trying to deduce meaning from the words rather than the pauses.”

“I do have one more thing.” Kasim slipped a microcassette recorder from his pant pocket and hit PLAY.

Juan heard the same static as before, and then it suddenly stopped. “End transmission,” a voice said clearly.

“Who the hell was that?”

“I ran it through the computer. English isn’t that guy’s native language. Best it could come up with is Middle European, and it put his age between thirty and fifty.”

“Ah,” Juan said, remembering the snippets of conversation they had managed to record before the jammer was activated. “I bet this is Zelimir Kovac. Come on.” They returned to the table, where Mark Murphy was stammering his way through a joke that wasn’t going well. He seemed relieved when Juan interrupted. “Eric, did you manage to find anything on Zelimir Kovac this afternoon?”

“Nada, zip, and zilch.”

“I think I know this man,” Jannike said. “He was on the Golden Dawn. He is an important person with the Responsivists.”

“He never showed up on any of their websites, payroll, or anyplace else,” Eric responded, as if she’d insulted his research abilities.

“But he was there, I tell you,” Janni said defiantly. “People never talked to him but always about him. I think he is close to the group’s leader.”

Cabrillo wasn’t concerned that Kovac hadn’t come up on their radar. He was thinking about how he had been aboard the ill-fated cruise liner and now shows up in Athens. Then he remembered that one of the Dawn’s lifeboats had been missing from its davits when the Oregonfound the ghostship. “He killed them.”

“What did you say?” Julia asked with her fork poised halfway to her mouth.

“Kovac was on the Golden Dawnand now he’s at the Responsivist retreat in Greece. He escaped the ship on one of her lifeboats, and the only reason he would have done that is if he knew all those people were going to die. Ergo, he killed them.” He turned to Janni. “Could you describe him?”

“He was very tall. Almost two meters.” That put him at six foot five. Big dude, Juan thought. “He looked very strong and serious. I only saw him a few times, and he never smiled. In truth, I was a little frightened of him.”

“Would you sit down with Eric and Mark and try to create a picture of him?”

“I can’t draw.”

“We have a computer that will do that for you. All you have to do is describe him and they will do the rest.”

“I will do anything you ask if it means he gets punished for what he did.” She started sobbing as the memories of that horrible night welled up. Eric put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him.

Juan gave him credit for not beaming at Mark Murphy.

Julia Huxley dropped her fork and tossed her napkin on the table as she stood. She was at Janni’s side in an instant. “That’s enough excitement for one night. Let’s get you back down to medical.” She helped the stricken young woman to her feet.

Mark and Eric looked like they were going to help.

“Gentlemen,” Juan said in a warning tone, and they both sank back into their seats, dejected. “There is a time and place. This is neither.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, like contrite children. Had Juan not been occupied by all the information he’d gotten in the last couple of minutes, he might have smiled at their display.

He sat, turning his attention to Linda Ross. “Your mission’s scrubbed.”

“What? Why?”

“I won’t let you go into that compound unarmed knowing Kovac is there.” She flared. “I can handle myself.”

“This isn’t open for discussion,” Juan said, his voice flinty sharp. “If I’m right, then Kovac is a mass murderer on an unimaginable scale. You aren’t going in there. Period. Hali scrubbed our recording further, and Donna Sky’s name featured prominently in Martell’s conversation with Thomas Severance.

We know she’s a notable Responsivist and may have information on what’s going on. That’ll be our conduit into their plans.”

“If she’s a hard core believer, then she won’t talk to us,” Linda said.

“She’s an actress, not a trained agent. Five minutes with her and she’ll tell you everything you want to know. We just have to find her and get to her.”

“She’s arrived in Germany to film a movie recently.” Cabrillo was surprised Linda had that kind of information at her fingertips. He arched an eyebrow.

His vice president of operations blushed under her freckles. “What can I say—I’m addicted to Hollywood gossip.”

Eric Stone leaned forward in his seat. “As for getting to her, I have an idea. Kevin Nixon worked in Hollywood for years before coming to us. I’m sure he knows someone who knows someone.” Nixon had been an award-winning effects and makeup artist for one of the big studios. He’d turned his back on that part of his life when his sister was killed during the 9/11 attacks. He had offered his unique talents to the CIA when Cabrillo poached him from the Agency.

“Good thinking. If he can get access to her on the set, maybe we can finally get a handle on what the hell’s going on.”

“Just playing devil’s advocate here, but what if she doesn’t know anything?”

“Pray that she does, Linda, because I’m not sending anyone into their retreat.”

“Speaking of sending people places, did you want me to go with you to the Philippines?”

“No, Mark. Thanks for the offer, but I’m taking Linc.”

“Spreading us kind of thin, aren’t you, boss?” Eric remarked.

Cabrillo didn’t disagree. “Of course Max is tied up for as long as he needs, but Eddie will be back from Rome the day after we reach Monaco. That will give us four of the senior staff including Julia. Linda, you won’t be gone for more than a day or two, and Linc and I will be back within three. Besides, the surveillance job is straightforward and passive for the most part, so I’m not concerned. Now, let’s enjoy our traditional Danishmeal.”

Juan said this loud enough for Maurice, hovering by the kitchen door, to hear.

The steward scowled.

CHAPTER 19

EDDIE WAS LEANING AGAINST THE ELEVATOR’S REAR wall when the car reached the lobby.

Max was to his right. When the doors opened, he pushed himself off the wall as two strangers in suits charged inside.

Eddie thought nothing of this lapse in elevator etiquette as the men brushed against him. Then he felt one of them reach a hand into his coat pocket and start to lift the Beretta hanging in his shoulder holster. He turned to react, and a gun fitted with a silencer was pressed between his eyes. Max was just as quickly disarmed. It took all of two seconds.

“Either of you move and you’re dead,” the larger of the two men said. His English was accented.

The close quarters negated most of Seng’s power martial arts moves, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to put up a fight. He tensed fractionally, and the gunman somehow sensed it. The pistol was rammed into Max’s gut, expelling his breath in an explosive whoosh.

“That is your last warning.”

The doors whispered closed and the elevator began to rise.

As Max struggled to reinflate his lungs, thoughts swirled through Eddie’s mind. He wondered how they had been tracked so easily and quickly, and if he should reveal that he suspected this was Zelimir Kovac, the man mentioned on the bug Juan had planted at the retreat. He also wondered why Kyle Hanley was so important to the Responsivists that they would take a chance like this to get him back. It didn’t make sense.

“You’re going to have to kill me,” Max was finally able to say. “You’re not getting your hands on my son again, Kovac.”

The Serb appeared surprised that Max knew his name, but the look quickly faded. He must have deduced they had heard the tape from the bug. Despite Kovac’s thuggish appearance, Eddie realized he wasn’t a stupid man.

“That is the most likely outcome,” Kovac agreed.

Not until you know who we are, Eddie said to himself, and how much we’ve already learned.

As bargaining chips went, it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. If he was in Kovac’s shoes, he would need to know how deeply the Responsivists’ security had been penetrated. How much time that would buy them depended on how they were interrogated. And what they could do with that time was a whole separate issue. He and Max were on their own. There would be no rescue, and the hotel staff had already been informed that their guests in the top-floor suite weren’t to be disturbed for any reason.

By the time the elevator reached the sixth floor, Eddie had come to the depressing realization that Kovac had them boxed in.

That meant he and Max had to split up if they wanted to get out of this alive. Max had been a hell of a war fighter in his day, and Eddie put him up there with the Chairman when it came to cunning, but he wasn’t physically up for an escape, and, with his son hanging in the balance, he wasn’t there emotionally either.

The elevator doors opened. Kovac and his silent partner stepped back, motioning with their weapons for Eddie and Max to precede them. The two Corporation operatives exchanged a glance that conveyed their thinking had been on a parallel course and had come to the same conclusion. Just the tightening of Max’s eyes and the barest of nods told Eddie that Max knew they had to make a break for it on their own but that he wouldn’t leave his son behind. Eddie saw Max’s permission to go, as well as his acceptance of the consequences.

They walked down the hallway to their suite. They paused at the door. Eddie considered attacking again.

Kovac’s lieutenant was close enough to kill with one blow, but the Serb was several paces away. It was clear he understood the dynamics of moving prisoners.

“Using your left hand, remove your key card,” Kovac ordered.

Again, Eddie understood that most right-handed people would put the key in their right pocket. It would be awkward reaching for it with the off hand.

Eddie turned to partially face Kovac and said, “There is a special lock on the door. We can’t get in.”

“I am familiar with such a device. You can still enter. Talk again and I shoot your left kneecap.” Eddie jammed his left hand in his right pant pocket and fished out the electronic key card and used it. The insert light on the lock flicked from red to green, and he could turn the handle.

“Step back,” Kovac ordered.

Eddie and Max did as ordered. Kovac’s partner entered the suite. In just seconds, they heard Dr. Jenner cry out, “What is the meaning of this?” The gunman ignored him as he made the demand again. Twenty seconds later, the partner shouted out to Kovac, in clear American English, “Suite’s secure. Only the deprogrammer and the kid.”

Kovac flicked the gun barrel, and Max and Eddie entered the room. The Serb inspected the lock Jenner had placed around the door knob and smartly didn’t let the door swing closed.

“Dad?” Kyle Hanley stood from the sofa, looking none the worse for the drugs that had been coursing through his veins for the past twenty-four hours.

“Kyle.”

“How dare you do this to me?” Kyle shouted.

“I did it because I love you,” Max said helplessly, conflicting emotions wrenching his words.

“Silence!” Kovac roared.

He strode up to Jenner, towering over him. Jenner seemed to shrink into his skin, and his latest protest died on his lips.

When the Serb assassin spoke, his rage was barely contained.

“Mr. Severance gave me express orders not to kill you, but he didn’t say anything about this.” He slammed the butt of his pistol into the psychiatrist’s head.

Two things happened at that instant. Jenner started to collapse to the floor, the wound pumping blood, and Eddie Seng took off running, using the momentary distraction to its fullest.

The French doors leading to the balcony were ten paces away, and he’d covered three-quarters of that distance before anyone knew he was moving. Max instinctively shifted a foot to the right to block the second gunman’s aim while Kovac continued to gloat over the collapsing shrink.

Eddie hit the doors at a full run, hunching his shoulders at the last second as he burst through the delicate wood mullions and antique panes of bevel-cut glass. Shards ripped at his skin as a bullet whizzed by, striking the building opposite in a puff of brick dust.

He barely slowed as he reached the railing. Using just his legs, he vaulted over it and twisted around in midair so that he was facing the building as he started to fall. He grabbed two of the countless wrought-iron spindles, his hands slick enough with sweat to allow him to slide down smoothly, while seventy feet of nothingness separated him from the traffic crawling below.

His hands smashed into the concrete deck just as the tips of his toes touched the fifth-floor balcony railing. Without a moment’s hesitation, he let go and stepped back, falling all over again in a headlong plunge toward the sidewalk. As the fifth-floor balcony whipped by his face, he reached out and clutched two of the wrought-iron bars again, slowing himself just enough so that he was in constant control of his descent. It was an awesome display of strength, balance, and a total lack of fear.

He was teetering on the fourth-floor railing, centering himself for the next plummet, by the time Kovac reached the suite’s balcony. At first, expecting to see Eddie’s corpse sprawled on the asphalt, Kovac didn’t spot Seng until he stepped back from the baluster below. The Serb opened fire, raining down a storm of bullets.

Eddie felt the shots ripple the air around him as he slid down the spindles. His hands slammed into the concrete. No matter how he stretched his body, he couldn’t quite reach the next balcony down. His wrists were screaming with the strain, so he let go, falling just an inch before he found purchase. He wind-milled his arms for a second before dropping again. If his hands weren’t broken by the time he reached street level, he’d consider it a miracle.