The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [93]
The knifeman struck at him as he twisted and kicked—
The blade stabbed deep into his left leg below the knee with a dull thud. Expecting a shriek of pain, the knifeman froze in confusion - and took a savage chop of the Scotsman’s hand to his throat. Tongue bulging from his gaping mouth, he let out a strangled shriek of his own as Mac yanked the knife out of the prosthesis and stabbed it down through the Indian’s hand, pinning it to his thigh.
Mac jumped up, punching the broken-nosed man out of the way as he pushed past. People in nearby seats responded in shock at the sudden flurry of violence, but he ignored them, looking for his friends. He spotted Kit slumped in his seat, but Eddie and Nina were gone.
He hurried to Kit, who was groggily stirring, one hand clutching his aching neck. ‘Kit! Are you all right?’
‘Someone hit me from behind,’ Kit gasped. He felt beneath his seat - and realised the case was gone. ‘What happened?’ he demanded, rounding on the man next to him. ‘I had a bag - where is it?’
‘I saw nothing, I was watching the game,’ the man mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
‘What? How could you not—’
‘They’re all Khoil’s people,’ said Mac. ‘He told Eddie he bought three hundred tickets for his employees. Two of the larger ones were sitting beside me.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘They’re still there. I doubt they’ll be getting up for some time.’
Kit saw that Eddie’s seat, and those around it, were empty. ‘Eddie and Nina! Where are they?’
Mac’s face was grim. ‘He’s got them - and I don’t know if Eddie was alive or dead. Where would he be taking them?’
Kit shakily got to his feet. ‘He’s got an estate to the east of the city.’
‘Then we’ve got to follow them. Come on.’
‘And do what? I told you I wouldn’t be able to get much support from the local police without proof, and none of these fools will testify against Khoil.’ He waved an angry hand at the crowd. ‘And the Khoils have a lot of security. Armed security.’
‘We’ll worry about that when we get there.’ Mac started up the steps, limping on his artificial leg where it had been loosened during the struggle. Cricking his neck, Kit followed.
By the time Eddie could move again, he and Nina were on their way to Khoil’s estate. They were in the back of a Range Rover, Mahajan driving and Tandon covering them with Eddie’s own gun. Khoil was in an identical 4x4 ahead, chauffeured by Singh. Nina helped her husband sit upright. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No, I feel fucking terrible.’ He squinted at Tandon. ‘What the hell did you do to me?’
‘I hit one of your snayu marma pressure points, paralysing the nerves,’ said Tandon. ‘I could have killed you, but Mr Khoil wants to do that somewhere more private.’
‘So we’ve got something to look forward to, eh?’ He eyed the gun, wondering if he could move fast enough to grab it.
Tandon smiled thinly and drew the Wildey back a little, knowing what he was thinking. ‘I wouldn’t try it. It will take about twenty minutes before you’re fully recovered. And by then we’ll be at the palace.’
From the painful stiffness in his muscles, Eddie realised he was right. He slumped back, leaning against Nina for support. ‘Palace? Your boss thinks he’s a king, does he?’
‘I think it’s more like Vanita fancies herself as a queen,’ said Nina.
The gun jabbed towards her. ‘Do not speak against the Khoils,’ Tandon said, scowling. ‘They are great people.’
‘Oh, yeah, they’re lovely from what I’ve seen of ’em,’ said Eddie.
The little convoy eventually turned off the road, passing through a guarded gate in a high wall. Beyond, a lengthy drive ran parallel to the runway. The two Range Rovers stopped at the far end. The Khoils’ private jet was still parked on the tarmac; Nina saw that the odd little aircraft she had seen earlier was being loaded, wings folded, into a shipping container, a forklift standing by to lift it on to a truck.
Vanita Khoil waited for them, accompanied by a pair of armed guards. She glared at Nina