The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [46]
‘I don’t have a gun!’ Kit protested as the Englishman set off again.
‘You’ve got a phone, haven’t you? Call the Lyon cops and get them to set up roadblocks!’
The car reached the ramp and raced up to ground level. The road curved away from the Interpol building to join a street to its south. Eddie braked hard at the junction, not sure which way to go until he saw flashing hazard lights to the right - the fleeing Citroën had hit another car. He swung past the stricken vehicle and headed southwest, parallel to the river. They passed a bridge over the Rhône, but more signs of collision and chaos told him the C6 had turned south.
Kit shouted instructions in French into the phone. ‘There’s a unit in front of us,’ he reported. ‘It’s going to cut her off.’
Eddie spotted the C6’s distinctive vertical tail lights carving through the traffic about a hundred yards ahead. The Citroën sideswiped another car, which spun out - he veered on to the wrong side of the road to avoid the scrum of vehicles skidding to a stop behind it.
Flashing lights, a police car shooting out of a side road on to the boulevard. Madirakshi braked hard, the C6 fishtailing to duck down another street to the right. The cops followed, Eddie turning in after them. He crashed down through the gears, trying to recover speed as quickly as possible. Ahead, the police car closed on the Citroën.
Vertical brake lights flared—
The cops crashed into the C6’s back. Glass shattered, the big car’s mangled hatchback flying open - but the pursuers came off worst. The police car veered off course and hit a lamppost head on, folding around it with a shattering crunch that echoed through the street. Kit gasped what Eddie assumed was a Hindi obscenity.
One of the C6’s rear lights was still working, a single red slash speeding away. Eddie followed, sounding the horn. A near miss at a crossroads as the Polo swerved wildly to avoid a van cutting across their path, then back in pursuit. The closely packed apartment blocks, candles flickering in their windows, gave way to open space. They were back at the river, multicoloured searchlights waving skywards on the far side where the waterfront buildings were illuminated in every colour of the rainbow.
Eddie had no time to appreciate the sight. Madirakshi was heading for a bridge. He realised her plan: to disappear amongst the tourists flocking to see the spectacle of the Festival of Lights.
Another police car tried to block her path across the bridge. She didn’t slow, deliberately aiming for its back end and smashing it out of the way. The crumpled police car whirled like a top, spinning on to the pavement and scything down a pedestrian.
Kit gasped again. ‘People are getting killed - we’ve got to break off !’
‘No, wait!’ They were gaining quickly on the Citroën; the second crash had caused serious damage. ‘She’s slowing down. We’ve got her!’
The struggling C6 cut straight across the avenue at the far side of the bridge, more people scattering as the woman drove on to a broad footpath. Horn a constant wail, the Polo followed in the wake it had cleared through the crowd.
A large plaza opened up ahead, more tourists heading to the city’s heart. Two people were knocked down by the Citroën as Madirakshi swerved on to a swathe of lawn, but her car was in its death throes, steam billowing from the bonnet. She braked and skidded in a shower of earth and torn grass, ploughing the car into the crowd. Screams filled the plaza.
Eddie stopped the Polo, jumped out and saw her sprint into the shocked onlookers. He raced after her, Kit following. ‘Place Louis Pradel, vite!’ the Indian said into the phone, before yelling ‘Police!’ and gesturing furiously for people to clear the way.
More shouts of protest and alarm as Madirakshi clawed through the crowd told Eddie the direction she was heading. The narrow street he entered was illuminated by a canopy of lights overhead, thousands of tiny bulbs sparkling