The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [45]
They ran from the office, hurrying to the elevators. Eddie jabbed repeatedly at the call button before losing his patience and barging open the stairwell door, clattering up it with Kit right behind.
Seventh floor. They raced for the security gate, getting startled looks from Interpol personnel as they ran past. Another frustrating delay as they waited to have their IDs checked, then they rushed to the interrogation room—
The woman had been there, all right - but not to free Fernandez. He was still cuffed to the chair, but now his head lolled horribly, mouth no longer curled in a smirk but gaping in breathless terror. His neck had been sliced open almost from ear to ear, dark blood still flowing from the deep wound.
‘Shit!’ Eddie gasped, pushing past the startled Kit and running back to the gate. ‘That woman - black hair, scar down one eye - where is she?’
‘She left just before you came back,’ said the guard, confused. ‘What’s going on?’
‘What’s going on is that she just strangled one of your fucking prisoners!’
Kit ran up. ‘I want a full security alert - lock down the building! Nobody gets out until we find this woman. Now let us through!’
‘Yes, sir!’ The guard hurriedly opened the gate, then picked up a phone to raise the alarm.
‘How many ways are there out of here?’ Eddie demanded as they pounded back along the corridor.
‘The main entrances are on the east and west sides, and then there are the fire exits, the underground car park . . .’
‘She won’t be trying to get away on foot.’ Interpol’s headquarters were close to the southern bank of the river Rhône, a nearby lake limiting possible escape routes. They reached the elevators; one had stopped at a basement level. Eddie hammered at the call buttons again before going for the stairwell.
A siren blared as they reached the third floor. ‘Lockdown, lockdown,’ said a man over the PA system. ‘Security personnel, seal off designated exits. All other personnel, remain where you are.’ The message was repeated in other languages as they continued their descent.
Basement level. Eddie kicked open the door - to find a uniformed man sprawled in front of the elevators in a pool of blood. The holster on his belt was empty.
‘She shot him with his own gun,’ he told Kit, dropping into concealment behind the parked cars and signalling for him to do the same. ‘Which way’s the exit?’ Kit pointed. ‘Okay, you get more people down here - I’ll try and find her.’
‘Be careful, Eddie,’ warned Kit as he went to the emergency telephone by the elevators.
‘What do you bloody think I’m going to be?’ Hunched low, he checked for any signs of movement before scurrying towards the exit. A door slammed, but the echoes of the car park made it impossible to tell where. He weaved through the ranks of vehicles to a concrete ramp leading up to ground level. Yellow and black striped barriers blocked both exit lanes.
Still no movement. Maybe she was trying to get away on foot, doing the unexpected . . .
‘Eddie!’ Kit called. ‘The guards are on their way!’
The shout spurred their quarry into action. A big Citroën C6 peeled out of a bay and sped towards the exit - then swerved at Eddie.
He dived on to the bonnet of a Renault Clio as the Citroën ripped off the smaller car’s bumper, then crashed into one of the security barriers. The windscreen cracked as the obstacle rode up the car’s bonnet, but the C6 had built up enough momentum in its charge to smash through, the broken barrier clanging to the concrete.
Eddie ran back to Kit. An elevator disgorged a trio of armed guards. ‘We need a car!’ he told them. ‘Someone give me your keys, quick!’ One of the men fumbled in a pocket. Eddie snatched the keys from him and pushed the button on the remote. Lights flashed a few rows away. He ran for the vehicle, an ageing, dented little Volkswagen Polo - not his ideal choice to pursue a large and powerful executive cruiser, but all that was available.
He started the car and pulled out.