Chasing the White Lion James Hannibal (essential reading TXT) 📖

clasped her hands together. “Finn has grabbed the rope.”

Tyler’s jaw dropped. “It can’t be.”

“He’s alive,” the fake Smythe declared for his camera. “Man triumphs once again!”

All eyes watched as the rope slackened, jerked, and jerked again. A gloved hand broke the surface. Finn thrust his head out of the water, sucking in air.

Atan led the charge as the whole group ran to meet him. Using only one hand, the Aussie dragged himself closer to the bank.

“But what of the gold?” Atan asked. “We saw it on the camera.”

Finn lifted a mesh bag heavy-laden with gold and heaved it onto the bank.

It fell open at Atan’s feet. He scooped up a handful of coins and let them fall between his fingers.

Smythe moved in with Winston and kneeled at the water’s edge. “Tell us, brave . . . Mr. . . .”

Finn managed a frown between breaths. “Phineas Scrug. You’ve worked with me every day for a week.”

“And what a week it’s been. Tell us, Mr. Scrub—”

“Scrug. With a g.”

“Of course it is. Tell us, how did you manage to survive that deadly river cave? We all thought you were done for.”

“Survival’s in my nature, mate.” Finn looked past him and gave the camera a smolder. “Even so, I thought my life was over until the ROV arrived. I had no air, but I still had my wits, right? I shoved Eddie’s rig into the silt as a marker for the treasure and clawed my way back to the light.” He gave the line a sharp tug. “This rope saved my—”

In his effort to get a moving shot, Winston the cameraman tripped over the rope, pulled taut by Finn’s untimely tug. The added force jerked the post supporting the other end free of the soil. Winston jumped out of the way. The satellite dish bounced down the bank and splashed into the water. The rope, the dish, and Finn all went under.

The air compressor ran out of fuel, ending the rattle, leaving the bank quiet until Val let out a dismayed cry. “He’s gone.”

“Again,” Eddie added.

A wail of sirens left Atan no time to process Finn’s second disappearance. A moment later, a green police boat appeared at the river bend less than a quarter mile away.

The fake Smythe stuffed two fistfuls of coins into his vest. “Time to go, Winston.” The two ran off, with the cameraman correcting Smythe’s heading as they hit the trees.

As the police boat closed the distance, Janos took cover behind a cluster of boulders and drew his gun. Talia picked up a dive tank and smashed it down on his arm. The .45 dropped into the water.

Janos turned on her, but Tyler bodychecked him and the three tumbled into the mud.

Tyler pushed himself away from the bodyguard. “Are you crazy? This is bad enough without you shooting at the cops.” He grabbed a handful of coins and shook them at Val. “Consider my five hundred thousand your payment for these. I’m out of here. Malcom, wait up!”

Cued by Smythe and Tyler, Atan grabbed the mesh bag with the rest of the coins. “And you may consider my half million payment for these.” In the distance, the Land Rover started up and roared away. The other two had left him behind. Atan shrugged. “Apparently, it is also payment for your van.”

“Our van?” Val asked.

He ran off with Janos. “You should not have left the keys in the visor.”

By the time Talia heard the van motor rumble to life, the boat had coasted up to the shore. A black woman standing on the bow held a rifle pressed to her shoulder.

“Ruce vzhůru! Nehýbejte se!” she said in Czech, then repeated herself in English. “Hands up! Don’t move!”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-

SIX

RABYNĚ HYDRODAM COMPLEX

RIVER VLTAVA

28 KM SOUTH OF PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

“I SHOULDWINAN ACADEMY AWARD for that performance.” Finn piloted the boat while Darcy, still in her Czech police uniform, washed the policie české republikyseals and stenciling from the hull. White water-based paint ran down the sides into the river.

Val snorted. “No. You were amateurish and melodramatic. Conrad deserves the award. He played a real and very public figure in the numismatist community, and Atan bought every word.”

The last of the white drippings faded into their wake. A few fiberglass panels, some forest-green paint, and Darcy’s special white stenciling had turned the lodge’s gray runabout into a police boat long enough for the brush-off with the Albanians. But with a major hydroelectric dam coming into view, the boat had to become civilian again. So did Darcy. She finished her work and flipped her police coat inside out, turning it into a plain denim jacket.

As soon as Atan and Janos had stolen the van, Finn had surfaced, bringing with him the scuba tank and regulator he used to fake his death. The site breakdown took less than an hour, and the crew fled south, away from Prague. They could go no farther than the dam, four kilometers away, but Mac had positioned a second van there to take them to Příbram Airport.

“Keep it moving, everyone.” Val hopped to the concrete dock with the boat still moving. She tied the mooring line to a post. “There’s no telling how much time we have before Atan gets wise.”

“Not long, I am afraid.” Atan came walking down the dock with Janos. He held a 9mm close to his body, out of view of the dam’s control station. “Please. All of you. Step out of the boat and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Talia was the first onto the dock beside Val. “How did you find us?”

“I had a fifty-fifty choice, and thieves run away from their victims, not toward them.” Talia’s arm twitched, and he twisted his gun. “Ah, ah, ah. I said show me your hands.”

Val gave her a nod.

Talia moved the hand into view, holding a .38 Ruger, barrel down.

Scowling, Janos quick-stepped forward and snatched it away, leveling it at the group. The gun was his spare, stolen by Talia when Tyler knocked the