The Sacred Vault (7 page)

The road led uphill, the rising line of streetlights telling him it got steeper ahead. The incline wasn’t affecting the Nemesis, though - the red eyes were smaller, fainter, pulling away.

 

‘I don’t know who he is,’ Fernandez said into the radio as the Nemesis powered up Taylor Street, swinging across all three lanes to overtake traffic, ‘and I don’t care. Just take him out!’

Ahead, the lights of the team’s bikes danced like fireflies as they dodged obstacles. Two of them flared, the Hondas and their riders materialising from the fog as they braked.

Fernandez watched the mirror as the Nemesis overtook them, the bikes falling back to intercept his pursuer.

 

Eddie was forced to swing wide to avoid a car pulling out of a parking space. He glanced back at the near-miss before returning his full attention to the road. Where was the Nemesis?

Twin red lights, not far ahead—

They split apart.

Bikers!

They had slowed, waiting for him to catch up. One went to each side of the street, a pincer movement to trap him.

Another intersection flashed past, an angry horn dopplering away behind. The bike to Eddie’s right was closer. He drew almost level, seeing the rider’s blank mirror-mask looking across at him.

Left hand reaching for something—

Eddie swerved sharply away as the rider drew an MP5K. He ducked as fire burst from its muzzle. A crash of glass came from the sidewalk as the bullets shattered a window.

But he couldn’t retreat any further, blocked by a line of parked cars - and the other bike was directly ahead, pinning him in the gunman’s sights.

Another intersection—

Eddie made a hard left turn, slipping between two cars waiting at the junction and riding up on to Taylor Street’s sidewalk. A pedestrian ahead - he jerked the handlebars, passing so close that his arm brushed against her.

The second biker dropped back to get a better firing angle. Head low, Eddie shot past another startled pedestrian. A green glow in the mist ahead - traffic lights at a crossroads. The biker would have a clear shot as he crossed the junction.

A shape in the fog, a man with an umbrella—

Eddie snatched the umbrella from his hand as he passed. The slipstream immediately snapped it inside out as he held it up to the wind. It flapped behind him like the broken wing of a bat.

Intersection—

Eddie swung back on to Taylor Street proper, crossing directly in front of the other bike. He whipped the ruined umbrella into the rider’s face. With his helmet and heavy leathers as protection, its flimsy spokes and fluttering fabric couldn’t hurt him . . .

But it could block his vision.

Only for a second, as he raised his gun hand to bat away the obstruction—

Eddie didn’t even need that long. Braking fiercely, he swerved to shoulder-barge the other man into a parked van.

There was a huge bang as the Honda came to an abrupt stop, its rider flipping over the handlebars to slam spread-eagled against the van’s flat back. He hung for a moment like a pinned butterfly, then dropped twistedly on to the mangled bike.

Eddie didn’t look back - the noise of impact was enough to tell him he had nothing further to worry about from that quarter.

The dead biker’s comrade was another matter. He swept towards Eddie, gun at the ready.

 

‘They’re heading north on Taylor!’ Boyce breathlessly reported as Nina turned and accelerated up the hill, the siren encouraging confused drivers who had become embroiled in the chase to move out of their way.

‘Roger that, Mr Mayor,’ said the dispatcher. ‘Units are moving to intercept.’

‘Where does this road go?’ Nina asked.

‘To the top of a big hill . . . and then down again,’ said Boyce, checking his mental map of the city. ‘But they could be going anywhere from here.’

Nina wasn’t sure about that. The robbers had a reason for taking this particular route. But as she didn’t know San Francisco’s geography, it eluded her. All she could do was keep following, and hope the SFPD would trap them.

 

Over the snarl of the Bowler’s engine, Zec heard sirens ahead - distant, but closing. ‘What if they beat us to the top?’

‘Make sure they don’t,’ Fernandez told him. Zec got the message and pushed the accelerator harder. The Nemesis overtook a crawling Volkswagen Beetle and powered up a steep section of the hill, an intersection approaching fast—

The blocky bulk of a cable car loomed through the fog to their right on a collision course.

‘
Srati!
’ yelled Zec as the Nemesis shot over the hill crest and went airborne. The cable car’s driver saw its headlights just in time and yanked the brake lever, sparks flying from the metal wheels. The 4x4 flew across the vintage tram’s track, clearing it by an inch before crashing back down. Fernandez gasped in relief.

Behind, the cable car screeched to a stop in the middle of the crossroads, blocking the street.

 

Eddie and the biker ducked and swerved in a deadly two-wheeled dance. The MP5K spat fire; Eddie heard - and felt - a burst of bullets crack past as he veered back across the street.

The other man tried to cut behind him. Eddie braked and swung the other way. If the raider got on his tail, it would expose him to an attack from behind. But if he slowed too much, he would make himself an easy target.

The road ahead steepened sharply, the front forks of both bikes compressing with a
whump
as they hit the incline. The other rider, tracking Eddie, was less prepared for the impact. His bike lurched.

Eddie saw his chance.

He blasted past the other man, racing up the hill. A VW was in one lane at the top; he moved to pass it. He needed to open up a gap on his enemy and catch the Nemesis. If he got close enough to the 4x4, it might deter the other man from firing.

An intersection was just ahead—

And a cable car right in his path!

T
here was no way Eddie could turn fast enough to avoid the tram - and if he stopped, his pursuer would kill him.

If he couldn’t go
round
—

He twisted the throttle as far as it would go and aimed at the sloping rear of the Beetle, pulling the bike into a wheelie. The Honda slammed into the back of the Volkswagen - and continued up over it. The rear window shattered, metal buckling under the bike’s weight, but Eddie was already clear, flying skywards . . .

Over the cable car.

The biker was less lucky, not seeing the tram through the fog until it was too late—

He smashed into its side at over sixty miles an hour.

The XR650R disintegrated into a mangled scrap as it hit the tram’s heavy steel chassis. Its rider was thrown through antique wood and glass panels, bursting from the cable car’s other side to crash down in the intersection of Taylor and California Streets - minus an arm, which spun past and bounced along the road.

A painful impact pounded up Eddie’s spine as he landed. He swerved violently to avoid the severed arm. Headlights loomed in his path. This section of Taylor Street had two-way traffic, increasing the risk of a head-on collision. He yelled and swung to the right, bringing the bike back up to speed after the retreating lights.

‘Car 643, 643,’ said the dispatcher. ‘LoJack shows you on Taylor approaching Pine, please confirm.’

‘This is the mayor,’ said Boyce into the handset. ‘I confirm.’

‘Be advised of a traffic incident at California and Taylor, use caution. Units are setting up roadblocks ahead of you. Other units about to enter pursuit from both sides of Washington.’

‘Excellent work, dispatch, thank you,’ said Boyce, voice switching effortlessly from panicked passenger to patronising politician.

‘What does that mean?’ Nina asked.

‘It means,’ he said with rising excitement, ‘they’re completely boxed in. We’ve got them!’

 

The Nemesis shot across the junction of Taylor and Washington. Zec glanced nervously to his right, seeing red and blue strobe lights cutting through the fog towards him. Another SFPD cruiser was powering down the hill to the left, further away.

‘Just stay ahead of them,’ said Fernandez, voice tense but confident. ‘Only four more blocks . . .’

 

Eddie heard multiple sirens ahead, getting louder. If they could cut off the Nemesis—

No such luck. Flashing lights swept out of a street to the right
behind
the speeding off-roader.

He eased off slightly, considering his options before deciding to keep going. The cops might be able to stop the Bowler - but they would still need to be warned about the other bikers. If they turned and came back to rescue their leader, it could be a bloodbath.

Twisting the throttle again, he followed the police car through the intersection—

‘Fuck!’ He hauled the Honda hard over to avoid a second police car that screeched round the corner to his left, almost scooping him up as a hood ornament.

‘You on the bike!’ a voice boomed from the cruiser’s loudspeaker. ‘Pull over, right now!’

‘Not me, you dozy twats!’ Eddie shouted, jabbing a hand at the cars ahead. ‘Go after
them
! I’m the good guy!’

They couldn’t hear him - and in hindsight, he realised that making a gesture which could easily be mistaken for flipping the bird had probably been a bad move. ‘I said pull over, smartass!’ the cop growled.

‘Buggeration and fuckery,’ he muttered, going faster.

 

Nina swung the Charger around the stationary cable car, Boyce regarding the hole smashed through the historic vehicle with dismay. A small crowd of gawpers in the road scattered at the police car’s approach, revealing a leather-clad body lying on the tarmac. She swerved away from it - seeing a smaller object through the fog too late to avoid running it over.

‘What was that?’ demanded Boyce.

‘Uh - I think a bad guy left his parts in San Francisco,’ said Nina, cringing. The mayor gave her a dirty look.

‘All units, all units,’ said the radio, ‘high speed pursuit heading up Taylor towards Broadway. Roadblocks now in position, further units moving to intercept.’

Boyce stared ahead. ‘If they keep going on Taylor, there’s no way they can escape.’

‘They
must
have something planned,’ Nina said as she accelerated. ‘Why would they be using dirt bikes and a big-ass dune buggy unless they were planning to go off road?’

‘There’s nowhere they can do that on Taylor Street,’ said Boyce confidently - then his face fell. ‘Except for Coolbrith Park . . .’

 

The bikes leading the pack slowed as they approached the summit, the Nemesis quickly catching up. Ahead, Taylor Street dropped away sharply, a steep hill leading down to the intersection with Green Street - where a roadblock was waiting. For a two-block stretch, there were no other exits.

For cars, at least.

But running eastwards was a small park. Named for California’s first poet laureate, the tiered slope was a little oasis of greenery amidst the surrounding condominiums, carefully tended flowers and bushes adding to the idyll . . .

Which was shattered as the bikes roared off the road, some of them taking the clear but bumpy route down the steps flanking the park while others simply ploughed through the vegetation, knobbly tyres ripping up soil and grass.

Behind them, Zec slewed the Nemesis into a skid that left it pointing at the park entrance. He quickly engaged the low-range gearing, then used the 4x4’s high ground clearance and oversized wheels to mount the tall kerb. The Bowler tore through a flowerbed and continued rapidly down the slope, all four wheels clawing for grip.

The first police car reached the hilltop and slithered to a halt, but there was no way it could follow. A cop jumped out and drew his gun, about to fire after the disappearing vehicle—

‘’Scuse me!’ cried Eddie as he whipped past, swatting the gun out of the officer’s hand to avoid getting a bullet in the back.

Dodging trees, he bounded down the park’s tiers in the wake of the Nemesis as it smashed through the foliage - then heard a loud bang, followed by the roar of its engine speeding away. The robbers had reached another road. Not knowing what to expect, Eddie braced himself as he brought the bike through the flattened bushes - and found himself briefly in freefall, riding off the edge of a terrace. A slam of impact, then he was back on tarmac on Vallejo Street.

He could still hear sirens - behind him. For now, the robbers’ plan had succeeded. They had shaken off the police.

But they hadn’t lost all their pursuers. Eddie revved the engine, racing downhill after the Nemesis.

 

A radio report confirmed Boyce’s fear: the raiders had driven through Coolbrith Park, leaving the police with no choice but to take the long way round to catch up.

Nina had no intention of letting them escape that easily. ‘Which way to intercept them?’

‘They’re going east, so right,’ Boyce told her. An intersection ahead; she turned the wheel sharply to make the turn. ‘No, not
this
right! It’s a one-way—’

A single headlight in their path—

They both screamed as Nina swerved on to the sidewalk to dodge the cable car clanking up Jackson Street. The Charger’s side scraped a wall, sending up a shower of sparks and smashing the wing mirror as the tram rumbled past.

‘Okay,’ Nina gasped as she straightened out, ‘you tell me things like that
before
I turn from now on, okay?’ A car was also coming up the hill, but the strobes and siren prompted it to dart out of her way. ‘You know the city - where are they going?’

Boyce had gripped the shotgun rack for support, and forced himself to release his clenched hands. ‘I - I don’t know. If they want to get out of the city, the only routes from here are the Bay Bridge or the Golden Gate - but they’re not heading towards either of them.’

‘So what’s in the direction they’re going?’

‘Just the marina. We’re less than a mile from it.’

‘They must have a boat,’ Nina realised. She indicated the radio. ‘Tell the cops they need to get to the waterfront!’

 

The robbers followed a zig-zagging course across the city grid before heading east again, now speeding up Union Street. The road ahead rose steeply as it climbed the western flank of Telegraph Hill, a park topped by the white pillar of Coit Tower at its summit.

Fernandez checked the mirror. The Honda’s headlight was still behind them in the fog, an irritating gnat that just wouldn’t go away. The Spaniard had been over every centimetre of the route before; he thought for a moment, then picked up the radio to issue a command.

 

Even the mighty XR650R was labouring on the incline, but Eddie saw the hilltop ahead. The Nemesis crested it, engine growl fading. He eased off on the throttle, not wanting to make a flying leap into the unknown when he reached the summit.

The fog was lighter on the hill’s eastern side, the lights of the Bay Bridge dimly visible in the distance. The road forked, to the right making a ninety-degree turn, the left route continuing a short way downhill before doing the same.

No sign of the Nemesis. Which way had it gone?

Eddie could still hear the raw snarl of its engine somewhere below. He went left. Lights blinked ahead, warning of construction and remodelling work on a house built on the steep hillside. He turned the corner—

And rode into a storm of gunfire.

Bullets blazed from an MP5K, a biker stationary in front of a smashed fence at the road’s end. Eddie glimpsed the Nemesis disappearing down the steep wooded hill beyond it - but the only thing on his mind was staying alive. No time to turn and retreat.

He twisted the throttle - and crashed the bike through a barrier, flashing lights scattering as he ripped through plastic sheeting into the house.

The raider tracked him, plaster and lath no obstacle for 9mm sub-machine gun rounds. Debris stabbed at his face and hands, tools and paint cans scattering under his wheels.

The bullets got closer. As did the far wall—

He didn’t stop.

Another sheet of plastic burst apart as he ploughed the Honda through it into open air, the hillside whirling below him . . .

He landed with a painful slam on the roof of another house, the next in a steeply stepped terrace running down the hillside. But he knew even as he clenched the brake levers that he was going too fast to stop before the edge.

Falling—

A hard landing on another house. The tyres tore at the roofing felt, skidding, but he still couldn’t stop . . .

‘
Shiiiiiit
—’

Eddie hit the last roof, finally halting less than a foot from the edge. He looked down at the treetops below, suppressing a shudder.

Noise to his right, glimpses of lights bouncing down the hill through more trees. He projected their course to a street at the foot of the hillside. Above, police sirens wailed in useless confusion as the cops arrived and once more found themselves with nowhere to go.

Eddie surveyed the rooftop. Where could
he
go?

A balcony jutted from the wall below, giving the house’s occupants a panoramic view of the bay. Steeling himself, he blipped the throttle and rode the bike off the edge of the roof, dropping on to the balcony with a bang that shook the extension so hard he was afraid it would tear from the wall.

But it held. Relieved, he turned his head to see that the house was occupied, a man and woman goggling at him from an expensive sofa.

He knocked on the glass. The couple looked at each other, then the man hesitantly slid open the door. ‘Hello?’

‘Evening,’ said Eddie. ‘Can I come through?’

Another uncertain exchange of glances, then the man stood back. Eddie guided the bike inside. ‘If you need to get the carpet cleaned,’ he said, noticing he was leaving a dirty track, ‘bill the International Heritage Agency. Tell ’em Eddie said it was okay.’

‘I’ll . . . I’ll do that,’ the man said. The woman opened a door, guiding him into a hall. A second door led outside. Steps headed back up to the road above, but Eddie realised he could cut across the steep hillside to reach the path the robbers had followed.

He looked down the hill. The lights were almost at its foot. Thanking his hosts, he hauled the Honda round and started after them.

 

The bikes reached the bottom of the slope. A tall chain-link fence separated the rough ground from Sansome Street, but Fernandez had prepared the way by cutting the padlock securing a gate. The lead Honda bashed it with its front wheel and the gate flew open. The other bikes streamed through. The Nemesis’s exit was less subtle, Zec simply smashing down the entire fence.

Fernandez glanced back up the hill. No sign of the pest. He smiled, checking the street to the north. They had a clear run to the marina, and the police would have to go many blocks out of their way to round the natural barrier of Telegraph Hill.