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

claws extended. She rolled through water and scrambled up the other bank. With incredible agility, the white lion stayed close, swiping at her. Her blouse ripped at the shoulder. Her skin burned. She made for the spiral stair.

Rounds ricocheted off the steps as Talia climbed. The sparks frightened Lionel enough to throw him off the pursuit. He veered away into the green.

She had escaped the lion, but the catwalk left Talia exposed to Boyd’s fire. At the top, shoulder smarting, she panned her Glock across the foliage. A third volley hit the steel grate at her feet, and she ran, crouching. Boyd didn’t have a good angle, but that wouldn’t last long. She made for the concealment of the waterfall.

“VAL,” EDDIE SAID, turning serious after the fun he’d been having with the drones. “Talia needs backup. Boyd got the drop on her.”

“I’ll try the elevators.” Val stepped over Rudenko’s body on her way to the bridge. She resisted the urge to stomp on his head, but only just.

“Also, I think his pet lion is loose.”

“His pet what?” She didn’t press for an answer. Another familiar straggler had survived the drone attack. Atan. As Val crossed the sky bridge, he glanced over his shoulder, frantically punching the down button.

He must have escaped his guards when the gun drones struck. When Val reached him, he clasped his hands in beggar’s gratitude. “I take it your drones spared me on purpose, correct? Of course they did. You and I are practically partners. The exploding coin gag, very good.” He seemed to think all this was another coup, like Milos. “I will make this worth your while. I promise. With the White Lion’s resources, we’ll be—”

He blathered on, and Val frowned through the windows at the office across the plaza. “Eddie, Talia needs me. We don’t have time for this.”

“Sorry. Here you go.”

A drone rose from behind her and popped Atan with a single round. He collapsed.

Val nudged his limp arms out of the way with her foot. “Thanks.” She tried the up button. Nothing happened. “The elevators are locked down. Can you hack in?”

“Negative. They run on a local server.”

“What about the stairs.”

A pause. “I can’t find you a route to the Atrium from that location. For now, Talia’s on her own.”

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-

EIGHT

GOLDEN TIGER PLAZA

TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

BANGKOK, THAILAND

ONCE VALCONFIRMED the guards and patrons at the Grand Bazaar were down, Tyler signaled his colonel friend and sent in the Thai Rangers. He, Mac, and Finn were jogging behind the platoon, heading for the western tower entrance, when he heard the exchange between Eddie and Val. The grifter couldn’t get to Talia.

“We can’t leave her hanging up there, Eddie. Give me options.”

“Already working on them. Option One—I can reroute a police chopper to your position, which will take time.”

“Is there an Option Two?”

“Look right.”

Option Two sat on a stage at the base of the eastern tower, part of the technology exhibition.

Tyler nodded. “I love the way your mind works, kid.” He caught the arm of a young officer in the rear echelon of rangers, slowing him down. “Hang on a sec, Lieutenant. You speak English?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You’re with me.”

Backed by six armed rangers, the thieves ran to the rope line surrounding the quadcopter. The salesman who met them wore a petrified smile.

“Good evening . . . ah . . . gentlemen,” he said in broken English, wringing his hands. “You have interest in Thanfa Aerotech Falcon Medical Transport? Lightweight materials. Room for one pilot and two paramedics plus locking gurney for patients. Maximum altitude is—”

Tyler held up a hand to stop the sales pitch. “Lieutenant, ask him if the batteries are charged. Tell him we need to borrow this thing.”

The lieutenant relayed the first part, and the salesman gave a nodding reply in his native tongue. But at the second part, his words grew rapid and heated. He waved his arms in the universal sign for No way, Jose.

They were burning precious time. Tyler frowned. “Tell him it’s a matter of life and death.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant held up a fist and gave it one pump. With a series of rattling clicks, he and his five companions levelled their machine guns.

The salesman raised his hands and stepped out of the way.

“Right.” Finn stepped over the rope. “That’s not exactly what he meant, but—you know—whatever works. Cracking on.”

“Can you fly this thing?” Tyler asked Mac on the way up the platform steps.

“She’s a quadcopter. Any monkey can fly her.” The Scotsman squeezed his great form into the open cockpit. “I can make her dance.”

MORE GUNFIRE FORCED TALIA BACK from the waterfall. She tried retreating, but a fragment from the final round nicked her calf. She fell to her wounded shoulder, twisting to aim a return shot, and saw her target.

“Wait!” Boyd had reached a second staircase, half hidden by the falls. He held his gun ready. With the other hand, he held out a smartphone. On the screen were two simple buttons—CANCEL and EXECUTE. “Keep shooting and I’ll set them off.”

She used the railing to pull herself up, never lowering the Glock. Down below, Lionel paced the synthetic grass, growling. “Set what off?”

“Your cutthroat game is all an act.” Boyd walked up the steps. “Mine, however, is authentic. I’m always prepared to cut my losses and disappear.” He waggled the phone. “I had my people place incendiary devices in my warehouse—and in the office above us. They’ll burn away all trace of my involvement here, including all witnesses.”

“The children.”

“And my hosts and buyers—a hard but acceptable loss. The doors will lock. They’ll be trapped. Ceramic panels in the walls and ceiling will contain the flames.” Boyd made a face. “The effect is like an undertaker’s furnace. By the time emergency personnel detect the fire, there’ll be nothing left but unrecognizable cinders. Cutthroat, Miss Inger. The only way to play.”

He walked forward, slowly, holding his thumb over the button. “If you shoot me, if you so much as scratch me, those children die.