King Solomon's Curse

  The threat from the parent was over . . . but that of its child still remained. Brice had the Shamir – and the British agent had also brought his boat safely over the tidal wave. ‘There’s Brice!’ she said, pointing ahead.

  Eddie powered after him. ‘His boat’s faster,’ he warned. ‘He’ll get away – unless—’

  ‘Unless what?’ asked Nina, sure she would not like the answer.

  ‘Unless we cut some corners.’ He altered course. The rushing wavefront had broken the banks on both sides of the river, flooding the swampy lands downstream. Brice was still following the waterway’s curves to stay clear of the trees – but Eddie was already angling to cut as closely as he could around the inside of the next bend.

  ‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said, eyeing floating debris in their path.

  ‘You want him to get away with that thing?’

  ‘No, but I don’t want to crash either!’

  The boat bounded over Brice’s wake, broken wood clattering against the prow. ‘I can try not to crash into anything big. That do you?’

  ‘Not really, no!’ she cried as they surged around the bend. One side of the hull scraped against what had been the riverbank, spraying up mud – then Nina saw vines hanging from a low branch rushing at her. ‘Aah! Duck!’

  They both hurriedly dropped, the dangling creepers whipping at the top of Eddie’s head as they roared beneath. He glanced back, cringing. ‘See? Doddle.’

  ‘Doddle, my ass!’ Nina retorted.

  He grinned, then looked past her at the river ahead as he pulled away from the waterlogged bank. His plan was working; they had made up ground on the fleeing spy. If they cut a few more corners, he would soon be in effective rifle range of the other Englishman . . .

  Brice came back into view – closer than Eddie had expected. He wasn’t taking the shortest possible route through the curves, instead following the deeper, safer middle of the waterway. The Yorkshireman realised why. The spy’s full attention wasn’t on piloting the boat because he was multitasking, one hand raised to his head—

  Holding the satellite phone. ‘Shit! The bastard’s calling for help!’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Brice barked into the phone. ‘Get that chopper to me ASAP. If Sir Robert kicks up a stink, remind him who set up his deals in the first place. Just get it done!’

  He disconnected and pocketed the phone – then heard another engine. He looked back.

  A boat was following him, two familiar figures – one bald, the other red-haired – aboard. ‘Really?’ he said with a faint huff that was as much grudging admiration as exasperation. ‘What does it take to kill you, Chase?’

  The engine at full power, he changed course to cut more tightly through the river’s bends. Another look back as he sliced around a muddy bank. Chase’s boat disappeared behind trees.

  Confident that he would reopen the gap, he checked his watch. The helicopter he had summoned should reach him within half an hour, less if his contacts hammered home the urgency of its mission.

  And once he was airborne, he could arrange to take care of any loose ends – including those pursuing him.

  27

  Eddie glared after Brice’s craft. Now that the British agent had seen he was being pursued, he was cutting corners himself to maintain or even open the gap—

  ‘Eddie!’ They turned to see Fortune’s boat behind them – and the Insekt Posse in pursuit. ‘They’re catching up!’ Paris called.

  Only one of the three enemy craft had more than two people in it, yet ironically this also seemed the fastest. ‘It’s Luaba!’ Eddie said, recognising the hulking figure in the sleek black-and-gold speedboat’s prow.

  ‘Mukobo’s buddy?’ asked Nina.

  ‘Yeah. And he’ll probably be pretty pissed off about what happened to his mate!’

  ‘Oh, you think?’

  He looked ahead as Brice went around another curve, then back . . . ‘Take over,’ he said.

  Nina blinked. ‘You want me to drive?’

  ‘You want to shoot instead?’

  ‘I’ll drive.’ She hurriedly switched places.

  He tipped the AK to drain any water that had collected in the barrel, then lined it up on their pursuers. The leading boat was well within range – but the man in its front seat had an identical weapon to his own—

  Fire flashed from its muzzle. ‘Split up!’ Eddie shouted. Fortune sent his boat to the right, Nina peeling left as rounds kicked up little geysers in the water between them.

  He fired back, scoring a hit on the first boat. The gunman flinched as splinters flew at his face. Luaba’s craft pulled out to overtake, the huge man readying his own gun. ‘Paris!’ the Yorkshireman called. ‘You take the—’

  ‘Eddie!’ Nina cried in alarm. ‘No way through!’

  Toppled trees bobbed ahead, forming a literal logjam. A churned line of froth showed where Brice had slalomed between them, but his wake had moved the obstacles, closing the gap—

  ‘There!’ Eddie shouted, pointing. The flood wave had inundated another swathe of low-lying marsh – and he glimpsed the curving line of the river beyond its far side. ‘Take a shortcut through there, quick!’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ she protested. ‘We’ll hit a tree!’

  ‘You’d rather get shot?’

  Nina didn’t like either option, but the only alternative was slowing to pick their way between the logs – which at the rate the Insekt Posse were closing would get them killed. She turned towards the drowned bank.

  Fortune took another route, however, heading straight for the obstruction. ‘Fortune! What’re you doing?’ Eddie yelled. ‘You’re gonna crash!’

  The Congolese kept going, Paris scrambling into the boat’s rear and shouting for Rivero to follow him. The overweight American clambered to the stern . . . and Fortune released the throttle. The sudden deceleration pitched the bow downwards. Rivero lost his balance and fell – as the mercenary jammed the outboard back to full power. The combination of the surge in speed and Rivero’s landing flipped the boat’s nose back up, out of the water—

  It hit the tree, the keel rasping across the wood like a saw blade as the vessel rode over its top. For a moment it seemed too tail-heavy to clear it . . . until Paris threw himself forward, landing beside the shrieking Lydia and bringing the boat see-sawing over the downed trunk.

  Eddie stared in astonishment. ‘He is the luckiest bloody . . .’

  The Insekt Posse raced around the bend behind them. The leading boat’s driver saw that Fortune’s craft was not yet back at full speed and swerved to follow, assuming that if one boat could clear the log, so could another—

  He was wrong.

  The speedboat’s prow hit the tree – and caved in.

  The vessel somersaulted into the air and sent its occupants flying. One hit another floating trunk, a broken bough punching through his torso. His companion splashed down just ahead of Fortune’s boat. The Congolese twitched the tiller to drive over him. The thunk from beneath the hull as his head bashed against it was followed by a muffled crunch as his face met the propeller.

  Eddie winced. ‘That’s one way to get a really close shave!’

  Nina was about to respond with distaste when she realised the other two boats had turned to avoid the blockage – and were coming after them. ‘Okay, that’s not fair!’ she said instead as she drove into the floodland.

  The boat vaulted over the submerged bank into the muddy new lagoon. The water was deep enough for it to traverse – but only just, the craft lurching as earthen humps beneath the surface punched at its underbelly. She struggled to guide it between the trees as Eddie took aim at the Insekt Posse.

  Shots cracked between the boats. Luaba was in the front of the leading craft. He blasted away with his AK, bullets closing on their target—

  Nina gasped and
ducked as rounds hit the hull, then looked up again. ‘Whoa!’ she cried. A stand of trees loomed before the bow. She swerved hard left to avoid it. The sharp turn threw Eddie sidelong, sending his shots wide. ‘Sorry!’

  She straightened out, only to find the way ahead blocked where a huge tree had fallen. No choice but to take the long way back around the stand—

  The militia cut right to intercept her.

  Luaba’s speedboat emerged on the other side, not far behind Nina’s – and the faster vessel quickly drew level and swept in for an attack. Eddie fired at the militia leader, but hit only air as his boat bucked through the shallows—

  The two boats collided.

  The Englishman was thrown to the floor, landing amongst the expedition’s spilled supplies. Nina managed to keep hold of the tiller and angle away. She saw Luaba recovering, about to fire at Eddie—

  She shoved the outboard hard over. Her boat’s bow slammed against the other vessel’s stern – and kicked it into a spin.

  Luaba was almost flung overboard, sheer muscle power keeping him inside. The driver frantically cut the throttle, the whirling boat stopping just short of a tree. The big man bellowed French obscenities and pointed after the fleeing couple as the other militia overtook them. The outboard roared again, sending the craft back in pursuit.

  Eddie opened fire again – then his magazine ran dry. He looked for the replacement, but it was lost amongst the scattered cargo on the floor. ‘Bollocks!’ he snarled, throwing items aside to search for it. ‘Nina, keep ahead of ’em until I can reload!’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying—’ Her sarcastic rejoinder was cut off as bullets lanced past. She dropped behind the engine, realising she had completely lost her bearings. Where was the river?

  A glimpse of Fortune’s boat through the trees gave her the answer. She turned towards it, carving a serpentine course through the flooded marsh.

  The other boats followed, rapidly closing, still shooting.

  Eddie threw aside a canister of camping gas, finally seeing the spare magazine under a seat. He slapped it into place—

  A Kalashnikov roared. Nina shrieked and threw herself flat as bullets smacked against the outboard, smashing its casing – and puncturing the fuel line. Gasoline spurted out, the engine stuttering.

  Eddie raised his head, but the gunman in the nearest boat’s bow saw him and fired, forcing him to drop again. Pinned down—

  Something he had discarded moments earlier rolled back before him.

  ‘Nina, stay down!’ He clicked the AK’s selector to full auto, then grabbed the gas cylinder and lobbed it over the stern – and sent a wild spray of bullets after it.

  Most went wide . . . but he only needed one to hit.

  And one did.

  The little gas tank blew up ahead of the leading speedboat. The fireball swept over the gunman, searing his face and setting his hair alight. He screamed and fell backwards, Kalashnikov blazing blindly into the air. The startled driver ducked to avoid both kinds of fire, turning hard—

  His boat hit a half-submerged log and launched from it in a corkscrew roll – straight into the thick trunk of a towering moabi tree. The speedboat exploded, showering blazing wreckage across the flooded jungle.

  Eddie sat up. Another enemy down, but Luaba’s boat was still gaining. He fired again – but the Kalashnikov’s bolt clacked on an empty chamber after just a few rounds. Out of bullets . . . and there were no more magazines.

  The outboard’s cough worsened, the boat slowing. The speedboat rapidly closed in. Luaba grinned in vicious triumph as he aimed at Eddie and pulled the trigger—

  Nothing happened. He too had burned through all his Kalashnikov’s ammo.

  Eddie groped inside his jacket for the revolver, but Luaba had a replacement weapon closer to hand. He snatched his bloody machete from his belt – and made a flying leap into the other vessel.

  He landed with a bang in its rear, the huge man’s weight violently tipping the boat. The gun thunked to the floor as Eddie was almost pitched overboard. The speedboat pulled alongside, the driver steering with one hand as he fumbled to raise up his AK with the other.

  Nina shrieked and rolled as Luaba slashed the machete at her. Its edge thunked an inch deep into the gunwale just above her head, the boat’s sway throwing off his aim.

  He yanked it out for another strike—

  Eddie dived at him, catching the African in a tackle that would have sent any other man over the stern. But Luaba was so solidly built that he only staggered. Nina scrambled clear as the Yorkshireman drove a punch into Luaba’s stomach. The militia man grunted, but in mere discomfort rather than pain. He retaliated by swiping a pan-sized fist at his opponent’s head. The blow knocked Eddie on to one of the seats.

  Luaba hefted the machete, about to cleave it down into the other man’s skull—

  ‘Tree!’ yelled Nina.

  Her cry was aimed at her husband, but Luaba reacted to it, seeing a towering kapok rising directly ahead. He hurriedly grabbed the tiller and swerved away from the obstacle – hitting the speedboat side-on.

  The other craft’s driver had just targeted Eddie when he was jarred from his seat. Bullets spat from his flailing gun—

  One hit the other boat’s outboard – and ignited the leaking fuel.

  Flames leapt up from the stern. Luaba jumped away in fright. Eddie also scrambled clear – but not quickly enough. ‘Ow, fuck!’ he cried as fire danced over his shin. He clapped his hands over his jeans, but the blaze refused to be extinguished. ‘Shit, fuck, wank!’

  Nina looked in horror between her husband and the view over the prow. The river was not far ahead, but more trees blocked the way. Ten seconds, less, before a fatal crash – but Eddie would already be dead as Luaba recovered—

  The boat’s steel anchor sat in a coil of rusty chain inside the bow. She snatched it up and hurled it over her husband. It hit Luaba squarely in the chest and dropped to the deck with a dull clang.

  He reeled back. Nina darted to help Eddie, throwing water over his leg. The flames lessened, but didn’t die.

  Luaba snarled at the couple – then saw the new danger in their path. Self-preservation overcame anger and he leaned over the flames to pull the tiller. The boat missed the trees by a foot. He hefted his blade again—

  Eddie snatched up the anchor and swung it at Luaba’s knee. Rust-scabbed metal cracked against cartilage. The Congolese roared as his leg buckled – but still didn’t fall, clutching the outboard for support.

  ‘What does it fucking take?’ the Yorkshireman demanded. He grabbed the chain, then whirled the anchor above his head like a slingshot—

  Luaba thrust the machete at his heart.

  The point stabbed into Eddie’s pectoral as he threw himself backwards. The anchor missed its target and whipped behind the bigger man’s back, looping around him before the chain snagged on itself. The steel weight crashed on to a seat, rusted links clattering down on top of it.

  Nina saw a flash of gold under a seat. The revolver. She snatched it up – as a thump from beneath the hull warned her they were crossing shallower water.

  She looked ahead. Open river was only seconds away – beyond the half-submerged remains of an old fallen tree.

  Luaba raised the machete for a final swing—

  ‘Eddie!’ Nina yelled. ‘We’re gonna crash!’

  Luaba froze as he saw the log rush at them. Eddie took full advantage of his hesitation to lunge for the anchor and hurl it over the stern—

  The burning boat hit the tree – and rode up over it, vaulting out into the river.

  The anchor’s prongs thunked deep into the rotten wood behind it. The chain snapped taut—

  Luaba’s terrified scream was abruptly cut off as the rusty metal carved through his torso like a chainsaw’s blade, his upper and lower halves spinning out of the boat in oppo
site directions amidst a fountain of blood and entrails.

  But Eddie and Nina were still far from safe. The anchor chain was fixed to the bow – yanking the boat to a halt mid-jump and flipping it over.

  They both screamed as they were catapulted skywards, arcing towards the muddy water . . .

  They splashed down – as the burning boat blew up behind them. Its propeller skipped over the water like a razor-edged stone, barely missing Nina as she sank into the filthy depths.

  She fought through her panic and righted herself, then kicked upwards to breach the surface. ‘Nina!’ Eddie gasped, swimming to her. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she spluttered, ‘but I think I’ll need every antibiotic shot they have once we get out of—’

  An outboard motor roared behind them.

  The speedboat burst from the flooded marsh, its furious driver bringing his craft about to mow down Luaba’s killers.

  ‘Split up!’ Eddie barked, throwing himself towards the far bank. Nina went the other way. The onrushing boat swung after the Yorkshireman.

  He swam harder, but knew he couldn’t escape—

  The driver’s head blew apart.

  Nina had brought the golden Magnum above the water and fired. The dead man slumped over the tiller. The speedboat veered away from Eddie, spinning in decreasing circles until centrifugal force threw the corpse over the side. With nothing holding the throttle open, the outboard dropped to an idle putter, the craft slowing.

  Fortune caught up and guided his boat towards the bobbing couple. ‘Eddie! Nina!’ he called. ‘Wait there, I will get you!’

  ‘Thanks!’ Eddie replied – then he regarded the abandoned vessel. ‘No, wait!’

  ‘What do you mean, “wait”?’ demanded Nina, tossing away the empty gun. ‘Haven’t you seen The African Queen? I want to get out of the water before we’re eaten alive by leeches!’

  ‘We still need to catch Brice before he gets away with the Shamir,’ he said, swimming for the drifting craft. ‘And that boat’s the fastest thing on this river!’