The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [92]
Eddie and Nina exchanged worried looks. ‘Mac,’ said Eddie, trying to pick the Scot out through the waving banners as another run was scored, ‘trouble.’
‘Colonel McCrimmon will not be able to help you.’ Eddie whirled on Khoil in shock at his use of the name. ‘Yes, I know who he is - and where he is sitting. He cannot interfere. Qexia provided a list of your friends, and it was a simple matter to cross-check with Indian immigration files - my company wrote the software, so we planted back doors in the code - to see if any of them had recently arrived in the country.’
‘Mac!’ Eddie shouted. Through the earpiece he heard the grunts of a scuffle.
‘Some of my larger employees are making sure he does not leave his seat,’ said Khoil. ‘And as for your friend Mr Jindal from Interpol . . .’
Eddie jumped up and twisted to give Kit the signal to run. Kit stood - and immediately slumped back into his seat as the huge bearded figure of Mahajan, directly behind him, smashed a fist down on his neck like a hammer. A crack as a ball was hit for a four, and the stadium erupted in cheers, drowning out his cry of pain.
Adrenalin surged through Eddie’s body. Two immediate threats: the man in black and the guy with the teeth, who had just grabbed Nina from behind. But they would have no choice but to back down if their boss was in danger.
He whipped out his gun, shoving the Wildey’s long barrel into Khoil’s face—
But Tandon was faster, one hand jabbing with blinding speed. His knuckles hit Eddie on the side of his neck - and the Englishman dropped as if his bones had turned to jelly, collapsing at Khoil’s feet. He tried to move, but all he could do was twitch, nerves blazing where Tandon’s attack had struck a pressure point and induced instant paralysis. The gun clunked to the concrete. He heard Nina scream his name, but couldn’t even turn his head to look.
Khoil’s expression was far from its usual state of bland neutrality, though; it was now one of wide-eyed fright. He staggered back, almost falling over his seat. The spectators behind him hurriedly helped their boss back upright.
‘What’re you doing?’ Nina screamed at them. ‘Help us!’
No one did. ‘Get - get them out of here,’ said Khoil, shakily straightening his glasses. ‘Quickly!’ As Tandon recovered Eddie’s gun, Mahajan arrived, bearing Kit’s bag. Greed replacing shock, Khoil looked at it. ‘Is the Codex inside?’ Mahajan nodded.
‘Excellent.’ He followed Singh and the shrieking and struggling Nina up the steps. Mahajan gave the bag to Tandon, then effortlessly picked up Eddie in a fireman’s lift and strode after them.
The eyes of everyone in the grandstand remained firmly fixed on the game.
Mac had been shoved back down by the two big men in the neighbouring seats when he tried to respond to Eddie’s urgent call. He managed to strike one a painful blow to the chest with his elbow - only for the other to press a sharp knife against his abdomen.
He could do nothing but watch helplessly as Eddie was knocked down, then hoisted like a sack of potatoes. What had happened to Kit, he had no idea - his view of the Interpol officer’s seat was blocked by one of his hulking captors.
‘Bastards!’ he snarled, struggling to break free, only to feel the knife tip pierce his skin. Blood swelled on his shirt.
Khoil, his servants and his prisoners were now all out of sight. He had to get after them - but first he needed to deal with his captors . . .
Another crack from the pitch as a ball was hit clean over the boundary for a six. The crowd’s reaction was even wilder than the previous shot - frenzied roars and cheers filled the stadium as thousands of excited fans leapt to their feet.
Jostling Mac’s attackers.
The knife was knocked away, just for a second—
Mac wrenched himself from