copied everything to her phone. She would get to the bottom of this. Dodger didn’t look like he was on emergency leave.
He looked like he was on a mission of life and death.
6
Dodger looked over at the iPad in her hand. “Bloody hell. This is going to be a race.” He drove for a bit, then pulled over. “What’s the next part of the clue?”
Anna picked up her phone. “Spans healing and prophecy.”
“Bridges span?”
“Right, but there are hundreds of bridges in Prague.”
“Your best guess. We’re on a timetable here.”
“Charles Bridge. It was commissioned by King Charles, one of the most famous in Prague, and it’s the closest to Prague Castle.”
“That sounds like a good guess, but what about the “healing and prophecy” part?”
She brought up a search engine and put in the information. “There’s a statue on the bridge for Saint Lutgardis. She was considered to have gifts of healing and prophecy. The Saint thing fits with Miller’s MO. The iPad I found was under the hem of Saint Agnes’s robe.”
“We need to find that statue on the bridge. Look it up.”
She worked her phone and then said, “It’s the twelfth one on the left starting from the Old Town Bridge Tower, and it’s actually a sculptural group.”
“What side of the bridge are we on?” Dodger asked, looking across the river.
“The wrong side. We need to cross over so we’ll be closer to the statue. It’ll take too much time to run across from this side.”
“It’s a walking bridge?”
“Yep, open only to foot traffic. It’s a nine-minute walk from the Old Town Square. Park there.”
“Bloody hell.” He put the car into gear and navigated to the other side of the river and they left the car at the square at a run. They reached the bridge in half that time and stepped onto the sandstone bricks flaring out in neat rows, washed by moonlight and the light farther down the span.
“Looks like we’re the first ones here,” Anna said.
Dodger looked around and felt a moment of relief. He had no desire to engage in a gun battle on the streets of Prague. He’d only brought a nine-millimeter. It was tucked into the waistband of his pants. And his knife, of course. He never went anywhere sketchy without his knife. He’d been lucky the cop hadn’t found him intimidating enough to search him. That’s why he sang the carol at the top of his lungs like a drunken fool. It had stopped the cop in his tracks.
They moved onto the bridge and Anna started counting. When she got to the twelfth statue, she headed toward it, but Dodger had forgotten she said it was on the left side of the bridge and he’d moved toward the right.
He was a dozen steps away from her when she exclaimed, “I found it.”
He turned in time to see a man emerge from the shadows and grab her just as she slipped her hand through the strap of the waterproof case. He recognized him as the Lebanese man from the hotel. To his horror, their battle went very close to the edge of the bridge. Anna struggled with him as Dodger sprinted toward her, but he was too late. The man punched her, and, still grasping the iPad, she flew over the railing and disappeared from sight.
With an anguished cry, Dodger shouted, “Anna!” He leapt into the air and came down with all his might to throat punch the guy, who gurgled and staggered away, landing on his back on the stone. Then Dodger went immediately into a swan dive, arrowing off the span, the dark water below rushing up at him.
He hit the water, only noting it was cold as hell. He’d been in colder water, but with the blow to her face, he worried that Anna was unconscious and drowning. He went deep, then immediately started swimming for the surface. The current was strong, but adrenaline pumping through him propelled him forward. In the dark water, he couldn’t see a thing. Then he saw something white and swam toward it. It was the iPad still encircling Anna’s wrist. The woman was a marvel. He grabbed it, then found the delicate bones of her wrist and latched around it. He dragged her to him, covering her mouth and giving her his air. Then, holding onto her, he power-kicked to the surface, dragging her with him.
He felt the surge of the current and his lungs clamored for air, which only made him clamp down harder.