Death Instinct - Jed Rubenfeld [122]
Younger was of course lying: there was no “we.” Or so Younger thought until a little figure dashed up next to him and fought its way through the bars of the fence, which were too tightly spaced for a man, but not for a boy. Younger grabbed Luc by his leather jacket just as he squeezed through. His feet spun like a flywheel, slapping at the ground, but he went nowhere.
The sound of these footsteps had an immediate effect. Evidently believing that he was being chased, Gruber broke for the park gate, ordering his friends to bring the girl. The two men obeyed at once, dragging Colette between them. Younger, yanking Luc back through the fence, sprinted away as well, carrying the boy over his shoulder. He had farther to go, but he reached the motorcycle almost as quickly as Gruber and his friends reached their car.
“Stay when I tell you to, damn it,” ordered Younger, jamming Luc back into the sidecar and this time pinning the boy’s arms and shoulders into the closed interior, so that he couldn’t squirm out. “Brave lad.”
Younger fired up the motorcycle’s engine and pulled out in chase.
Gruber had taken the wheel of his car. He drove savagely through the narrow streets. He didn’t slow when he sideswiped a parked car or even when he sent pedestrians diving out of his way. In fact he sped up once when a man in the middle of the street had nowhere to go; on impact, the man was sent sprawling. In the backseat, Colette was sandwiched between Gruber’s two friends, who held her fast.
Younger pursued, but could not close the distance between them. Suddenly they emerged onto an avenue bordering the river, where Younger, opening the throttle, was able to make up ground. Gruber turned under a Gothic pointed arch onto a medieval bridge, hurtling past twisted baroque statues on either side, again sending pedestrians scurrying away. As they reached the far side of the river, Younger was right behind him.
But Gruber made a sharp turn off the bridge, and though Younger tried to follow, the motorcycle skidded out beneath him, spinning a hundred and eighty degrees and slamming into a shuttered wooden stall. Younger had the bike going again in a moment, but he had lost ground. Down the street, Gruber turned hard again, tires screeching, heading uphill. Following, Younger entered a neighborhood with zigzagging streets that grew increasingly steep. For a moment Younger lost Gruber’s car completely. Then, in the distance, he saw it take a hairpin turn and disappear up a steep alley.
Younger raced to follow. The street underneath turned into a cobblestone ramp lined by houses on one side and a stone wall on the other. They were ascending to a great height. Low steps intervened every fifty feet or so; Younger bounced in the air every time they climbed over one of them, with Luc in the sidecar airborne next to him. They flew by a roadblock, which was broken and swinging: Gruber’s car had obviously smashed through only moments before.
At the summit, Younger entered a huge dark plaza. He stopped the bike. The massive Gothic cathedral of St. Vitus loomed up one side, and the enormous Prague castle on the other, engulfed in shadows.
The plaza was empty, littered with rocky debris and construction equipment. In some places the ground had been dug out in vast holes. In other places mounds of earth were piled twelve feet high. All was silent. Strange oblong shapes broke up the moonlight. There was no sign of Gruber.
Younger didn’t like it. Gruber’s car could be hiding anywhere, while if Younger drove into the open plaza, he and Luc would be exposed—wide-open targets. A flock of birds screamed from a distant corner of the square, rising and peeling away, but Younger heard no motor, nor saw any vehicle lights. “Maybe they aren’t here,” said Younger quietly, not believing his own words.
He killed his headlight. With a light hand on the throttle, he guided the motorcycle around the dug-up terrain, skirting the large equipment and the dangerous pits. Still there was no sign of Gruber. They came to two great conical