Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [48]
As it began blaring, he charged for the lobby. He encountered a security team of two. He fired close enough to scare the hell out of them, but not anywhere near enough to hurt them. They retreated momentarily back in the direction they had come.
The next team was waiting just beyond the chaos of the lobby. With the fire alarm and shots fired, guests ran in every direction. There were four security men between Harvath and the cars outside.
He saw a young woman hiding behind one of the couches in the lobby and he grabbed her. She screamed as he pushed her forward and tried to lash out at him. As soon as he had his pistol up underneath her chin she stopped.
“I promise I won’t hurt you, but you’ve got to cut that out and cooperate.”
He had no idea if she spoke English or not, but she seemed to understand. Shoving her toward the door, he encountered no resistance.
Harvath hoped that the security men outside were as professional as the ones upstairs had been. As he stepped through the doors with his hostage, the men exchanged quick remarks and lowered their weapons as they backed away.
Looking for his car, Harvath saw that it was blocked in by two large Bentleys. Idling in the drive was a Saleen S7. While the paint job was a little flashy for his taste, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Pushing his hostage through the driver’s side into the cramped cockpit, he pulled down the gull wing door and took off.
Even though he didn’t need to look in his rearview mirror to see what was going on, he did so anyway. Commands were being shouted as the security team scrambled for their vehicles.
“You’ve made a big mistake,” said the woman sitting next to him. She had a thick accent.
“It probably won’t be my last.”
“Don’t be so sure. You’ve stolen something very valuable.”
Harvath gripped the steering wheel and turned hard onto the street at the end of the drive. “At $400,000, you’d think this car would corner a bit better.”
“I’m not talking about the car,” said the attractive blonde as she buckled her seatbelt. “I’m talking about me.”
“And who are you?”
“My name is Eva, but it’s my husband’s name you should be concerned with.”
Downshifting, Harvath took another tight turn and accelerated. Knowing the Russians, they wouldn’t call the police. Just like the thieves infamously dropped from the helicopter out in the ocean, they’d want to handle him personally. The thing was, Harvath was in no mood to go swimming.
The security men were going to come after him hard. But fast was going to be a little tough for them. They were creatures of habit, trained to follow orders. It wouldn’t occur to them to grab several of the guests’ sports cars. Instead, they’d pile into their heavily armored SUVs and wend through the narrow streets of Antibes as fast as their enormous tanks would allow.
Hitting the Boulevard du Littoral south toward Cannes, Harvath tried to focus on the traffic and not the tanned, toned legs projecting from the woman’s exceptionally short skirt next to him. “I don’t even want to know your husband’s name,” he said as he overtook the car in front of them. “As soon as we’ve put enough distance between us and the men from the hotel, I’ll let you out.”
“That’s going to be difficult,” said Eva as she produced what looked like an iPod Nano.
“Your husband monitors you with a tracking device?”
“He’s very jealous,” she said. “And very insecure.”
“Okay, I’ve changed my mind. Who’s your husband?”
“Nikolai Nekrasov.”
“Never heard of him.”
“The Russian billionaire? Owner of the Hotel du Cap.”
Now he knew why the guards had been so quick to lower their weapons. “Sorry,” he replied. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but in all fairness to your husband, I’ve fallen behind on my Forbes lately.”
Eva smiled. “So this isn’t a kidnapping?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.” Rolling down the window, she tossed out the device. “That should buy us a little time. If you’re hungry, I have a friend who runs a wonderful restaurant in Cavalaire-sur-Mer.”
Either this woman was extremely unhappy with her husband or this was the world’s quickest case of Stockholm