Lifeguard - James Patterson [59]
“Someone double-crossed him, Mrs. Stratton. I think you may know who. Who took the art? Who set this in motion? Was it you?”
“Me?” Liz’s mouth twisted into an amused smile. “You want to know what a prick my husband is, well, you’re about to find out. The art wasn’t stolen.” A glimmer of revenge flared in her eyes.
“Only one painting was.”
Chapter 69
ONLY ONE PAINTING was stolen. Ellie and I blinked at her, perplexed. “What are you saying?”
Suddenly I heard the roar of an engine coming from down the block. Champ, bent over the bars of his Ducati, was gunning the cycle straight for us. He decelerated in a flash, screeching to a stop next to our Crown Vic. “Time to go, Kemo Sabe. Posse’s on our tail. About a block behind.”
I looked up the street and saw a black Mercedes making the turn, speeding directly toward us.
“It’s me they want,” Liz said, looking at Ellie. “You don’t know these terrible people. They’ll do anything for my husband.” She turned to me. “You’ve got to go!”
She pushed open the car door and, before we could stop her, climbed out and started to back away. “Here’s what I’ll do. Come to the house,” she said. “Around four. Dennis will be there. Then we’ll talk.”
“Liz,” Ellie said, starting after her, “just tell me what you meant, only one painting was stolen? There were four.”
“Think about it, Agent Shurtleff,” Liz Stratton said with a smile, backing farther away. “You’re the art expert. Why do you think he calls himself Gachet?”
The black Mercedes veered toward Liz and started to slow down. “Come to the house,” she said again with a thin, fatalistic smile. “At four.”
Two men jumped out on the run and grabbed Liz Stratton. They glared angrily at us, stuffing her roughly into the backseat. I didn’t like leaving her, but we didn’t have a choice.
“Uh-oh, Neddie.” Champ glanced back up the street. He revved the Ducati. “We’ve got trouble.”
There was a second vehicle behind the Mercedes—a black Hummer—speeding directly for us. And this one showed no signs of slowing.
“Ned, get out of here.” Ellie started to push me out the door. “They’re after you, remember.”
I squeezed Ellie’s hand. “I’m not leaving you.”
“What can they do to me?” Ellie said. “I’m with the FBI. But I can’t be here with you. Go!”
“Ned, c’mon,” Geoff urged, revving the Ducati to a deafening pitch.
I jumped out of the driver’s seat of the Crown Vic and hopped on the back of Geoff’s cycle. Ellie waved. “I’ll call you when we’re clear.”
“Don’t worry about her, mate,” Champ said. “Worry about us!”
I locked my arms around his waist. “Why?”
“You ever been in an F-15?”
“No.” I looked behind. The Hummer was bearing down on us. It wasn’t slowing. In about three seconds it would be right on top of us.
“Neither have I.” Champ said, redlining the Ducati, “but hold on. I’m told it feels something like this.”
Chapter 70
THE FRONT WHEEL kicked up, the g-force threw my head back, and with what seemed like a supersonic blast, the Ducati rocketed away.
I felt as though I were being dragged by a jet taking off, holding on for dear life. I pressed myself into Geoff’s back, certain that if I loosened my arms for a second, I’d be hurled onto the concrete like a bouncing ball.
We flew down the street in a tuck, headed in the direction of the lake. I took a glance behind. The Hummer didn’t even stop. It was coming after us for sure.
“Get out of here! They’re coming!” I shouted above the roar into Champ’s ear.
“Your wish is my command!”
The Ducati’s engine exploded and I was thrown back hard as we shot past homes at a hundred miles an hour. My poor, abused stomach tightened in a knot. A stop sign was coming up pretty quick. Cocoanut Row. The last intersection before the lake. There was only one way to go down here, north. Champ slowed just a little. The Hummer was barreling fast behind.
‘Which way?” Champ shouted, glancing back.
“Which way? There is only one way,” I said. Right. We were still only a block or two from the poshest shopping