Another burst of fire, but this time the spent brass sprayed over his shoulder as he forced the gun upwards. Eddie kicked at his legs, trying to trip him—
A shrill screech came from a pipe below, followed by an earth-shaking thud and a thunderous roar of flame.
The bullets had damaged one of the pumps, gas escaping through a cracked valve . . . and igniting as more red-hot rounds flashed through it.
Nina and Macy exited the taxi – and jumped in shock as an explosion rattled the vehicle, a fireball boiling skywards from the pumping station. Beneath it, a forty-foot-long line of fire blasted out almost horizontally from the machinery, the force of the flame seething against a complex knot of pipes.
Stikes and Sophia recoiled from the heat. The two fighting men were almost directly over the burning gas jet – which was acting like a blowtorch, slicing into the neighbouring pump’s pipework.
‘Time to leave, I think,’ said Sophia. She reached for the case – but Stikes was quicker. The former soldier snatched it up and opened it, moving as if to tip its contents over the guardrail.
‘Do we have a deal?’ he demanded. ‘Because if not, I’m going to throw these things into the fire and get the hell out of here before this whole place goes up!’
Sophia gave him a sour look, then nodded. ‘We have a deal.’
‘Excellent. Then I’d appreciate a lift!’ He looked at the helicopter, which was already rising from an idle to takeoff revolutions as its pilot realised the danger.
‘Well, it does seem that I have a spare seat.’ She hurried up the steps with Stikes behind her, passing Mikkel’s body without a second glance.
Racing through the open gate, Nina saw someone jump into the helicopter. A man, blond hair standing out in the firelight: Stikes? The brief glimpse wasn’t enough for her to be sure.
Macy, behind her, looked fearfully around the compound. ‘Do you see Eddie or Kit?’
Dismay filled Nina’s voice. ‘Oh, yeah. I see them.’
‘Where?’
She pointed above the flame as she ran faster. ‘Take a guess!’
The detonation had knocked both Eddie and Kit down – with the Indian landing on top. He threw another punch at Eddie’s face, knocking the Yorkshireman’s head back against the walkway’s grillework floor. Eddie’s grip slackened, and Kit managed to prise one of his hands off the SCAR. He struck at the Englishman’s face again, bloodying his mouth, then rolled back on to his haunches, pulling the gun with him.
He turned the bulky weapon round, pointing it at the man who had been his friend—
The conflict in his mind made him hesitate, just for a split second. He didn’t want to do this, but he had to – Eddie had deduced the truth of what happened to Mac, had seen him with Stikes and Sophia Blackwood. It was the only way to maintain his cover at Interpol and prevent anyone else from learning of his involvement with the Group.
The only way, he told himself. Finger on the trigger—
One of Eddie’s legs lashed upwards, striking the rifle just as it fired. Two shots exploded from the barrel, whipping just above his head – then the SCAR clicked impotently, its magazine empty.
Eddie didn’t hear it; the gunshots, practically in his face, had left him deafened and half blind from the flash of the muzzle flame. But he could still see well enough to slam his other foot hard against Kit’s chest. Kit fell backwards, head smacking against the guardrail.
Spitting out blood, Eddie kicked the other man again before using the railing to pull himself to his feet. The heat from the flame jet was like standing at an open oven.
He looked along the catwalk. Stikes and Sophia were gone - as was the case containing the statues. The chopper was at full power, about to take off. No way he could stop them from escaping.
That left Kit.
Even as part of his mind protested at leaving Mac’s killer unpunished, Eddie knew he would have to bring Kit in alive. He was the only link to whatever the hell was going on, the only way to learn the truth behind the Scot’s murder. He grabbed Kit by his black hair and slammed his head against the railing again, then hauled him upright—
A sudden noise, loud enough to break through even his addled hearing. Straining metal, something giving way under immense heat and pressure . . .
Nina was almost at a ladder up to the catwalk, Macy a few yards behind, when