The Pursuit of Emma by Dave Moyer (novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

out in all directions. He didn’t really stand a chance with a broken nose and two opponents to fight. He had a choice between grabbing his radio or his gun. Survival told him to reach for his gun but he had barely wrapped his fingers around it when Emma had kicked it clean out of his hand. I threw my fist as hard as I could into his abdomen and I felt him recoil, but he was still standing. I tried again with a punch but he blocked. In doing so he had moved into Emma’s range and she floored him with what looked like a ‘karate chop’ to the back of the neck. I didn’t know they really worked! The whole fight had taken no more than a minute and three guards lay unconscious but still breathing on the museum floor. Time to go.

‘Come on,’ I yelled, grabbing her arm and trying to run.

‘Wait,’ she called out, pulling me back. ‘They said ten more are coming. We can’t go that way.’

‘So which way do we go?’ I asked.

Emma didn’t reply but she looked at the window.

‘Are you serious? I came to save you from jumping.’

‘We have no choice.’

‘Shit... You know I hate heights!’

‘Quickly!’

Emma raced to the window and pulled it open. There was just about enough room for a human to fit out and I lifted Emma up onto the ledge.

‘If I ever make it to an old age, I’m sure I'll look back on this... fondly,’ I muttered quietly to myself.

‘There is water down there. I’ll take the ewer and hold it above my head. It'll be fine. You follow straight behind. I love you,’ she shouted, and kissed me quickly. She gave me one her many looks and disappeared. I watched her enter the water. She even managed to look graceful when falling from the top of a building into water. I breathed deeply and pulled myself up onto the ledge. Looking down I could see where the water came from. The museum is surrounded by deep lakes which make it appear grander if that’s possible. The water was a long way below me and I had concerns that I would mess my aim up and end up hitting the concrete. Emma had made it look so easy.

A few seconds had already passed and I hadn’t jumped. I knew I had to but my legs were frozen with fear. Ever since I was a child the thought of heights has scared me beyond belief and Emma knew it. It had taken me three days to build up the courage to bungee-jump in South Africa. We had spent a whole afternoon arguing over whether I should go up the Eiffel Tower, last time we were in Paris. Or the last time I was in Paris. She had been there recently. Stealing.

Just jump you coward. After everything you have been through are you honestly going to let a bit of water scare you? Then I realised it wasn’t the water I was afraid of but the huge drop into a lake that may be too shallow and just break my legs or worse. I understood why I was scared. Just jump!

I could hear voices around the corridor. I had three seconds and then ten armed men would be here, witness their colleagues on the floor and see who was responsible for it. Three...two...

I threw myself out of the window. I used all my strength to stop myself screaming out. I picked up some incredible speed, falling faster and faster. At first, I thought I'd misjudged it but as the water loomed in closer I knew it was fine. This was going to hurt.

My feet broke the surface of the water and I plunged down into the lake. I felt an instant, stabbing pain in my ankle and the cold water was making breathing almost impossible. I was sore and uncomfortable but I was alive! More importantly, I was out of the museum. From under the water a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me in the direction they wanted me to go. I followed, holding my breath for as long as possible before resurfacing. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. ‘Follow Emma,’ was my only thought.

*****

The panic around Amsterdam was incredible. Emma had led us out and found Vlad before the Dutch authorities could find us. We had handed over the vase, which incredibly was still intact and Vlad gave us back our money and passports (which we'd stored in the van) before he disappeared. Alex was nowhere to be seen and after the vase disappearing they weren’t going to let him out for a while. But he had done nothing wrong and they would have to let him go... eventually. Our job was done. Now we just had to get back to London.

We hailed a taxi and got as far away from the museum as possible. Our clothes were soaking although Emma was darkly-dressed and hers looked better than mine did. As we drove off we could see vast numbers of police arriving at the scene. We needed to get dry quickly.

After fifteen minutes of driving, we asked the taxi driver to stop. I waited in a public toilet whilst Emma nipped to the nearest clothes shop and bought us some essentials. I managed to get my hair dry with the hand dryer, attracting some interesting looks from public toilet users. I ignored them. What were they going to do?

Eventually Emma returned and we slipped into our new clothes. Mine were pretty standard jeans with a black t-shirt but they were dry and comfortable so I was grateful. Emma managed to find herself a summery dress and a towel so she could dry her hair. Twenty minutes later we were dry and dressed, having stuffed our wet clothes in a plastic bag to carry. I wanted to dump them but Emma said they could be used as evidence if found. We decided to stop and buy a holdall so we could take them back with us on the plane. Then it was straight to the airport, even though we were hours early, to eat and rest before the flight.

We retraced our steps to make sure we would get away with it. The cameras were (hopefully) all destroyed so they would be not be able to use any video evidence against us. The ewer was now not on our possession and we had worn gloves the whole time, so we couldn’t have left fingerprints. The guards would have a witness report but it was too circumstantial. They would describe a medium built, average-height male and a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties. It could be anyone. If we could make it back to London then we were safe, the fake passports meant we had never left the country, at least according to the airline reports. We were going to get away with it.

By the time the two of us had paid for our overpriced airport burgers we were almost too tired to talk. I used this time to attempt to understand what I was feeling. There were so many emotions floating around inside me. I was terrified. I think that was a key emotion. I was scared of what I had just done and how close I had been to being either shot, drowned or arrested. This was not normal life. The biggest crime of my old life used to be me being an Arsenal supporter. This was worlds apart from everything I knew.

There were other emotions on there too. I was elated. I knew, whether I wanted to or not, I'd had to do it. It was the only way I had a chance of keeping Emma alive. We had also managed to complete a mission that before had seemed so difficult it was almost not worth doing. Emma had now stolen four out of the five ewers. I had absolutely no idea how, but I was sure we could get that last one and somehow bargain it for our freedom. We could do it. I truly believed it.

There was something else. There was guilt inside me. It wasn’t for stealing or lying (I was getting used to those). It was for the three guards we had beaten up. I had never purposefully hit anyone before and felt awful that these three men, who were just doing their jobs, would have suffered a lot of pain because of us. They were in the right and we were (momentarily) the bad guys. The worst feeling was that I enjoyed it. Of course, I hated hurting another human but to get out of that situation and fight off three armed guards was an achievement; yet another time this new me had succeeded my own expectations. It was liberating, if a bit scary.

The airport security was increased dramatically since earlier that morning but what could they do? We had nothing illegal on us and we had legitimate (looking) passports. We didn’t even get stopped momentarily. As the sun set over a London skyline we were arriving home, safe and sound and in the clear. Chapter Twenty-Seven

‘We have a big problem!’

The phone had woken us up before the clock had even reached five in the morning. We were so tired from the previous day’s activities that we headed straight home, assuming we'd wind our way mid-morning to the Kozlov’s to discuss the final vase. I wanted a lie-in but I wasn’t getting one.

‘We have a big problem!’ shouted a voice from the other end of the phone. It was Jack and he was not happy.

‘Do you know what you have done?’ he asked but didn’t leave time for me to reply. ‘I don’t know how you did it but you got the vase out, didn’t you? And now you’ve caused a world-wide scandal. It’s gone international!’

‘Jack, slow down. What is going on?’ I muttered, no longer feeling sleepy.

‘The Chinese government have gone mental. Relationships with the West are the most strained in years. They are furious with Paris, Milan, Amsterdam and America. They think it’s a big conspiracy or something. They are holding talks now!’

‘OK, so what does that mean?’ I stuttered. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this. I knew there would be repercussions but I had never really thought this far ahead.

‘This isn’t about you anymore. Do you get that? This is way bigger than you and Emma.’

‘I get that but it doesn’t change anything, right?’

‘You’re not getting it. Damn it! It changes everything!’ he shouted. He was really worried. I could tell.

‘Why?’

‘They are moving the last ewer. Today! In a few hours, in fact. It’s over.’

‘What? We still have time. I thought we had a couple of days? You said we had time.’

‘You did but everything has moved on. After Amsterdam the Chinese are moving it right now, it will be out of the country by lunchtime. You have to come in. We can put you in witness protection or something. We'll work it out.’

‘No way. You know we can’t. Let me think. Wait!’ I was desperately trying to think of something. It was too late to stop. We'd come so far, I wasn’t going to lose now.

‘You don’t have time. It’s on the