Panic (26 page)

The Cobra approached the traffic spikes and Jerome slowed down slightly. The police officers held fast behind their vehicles, handguns drawn. Leopold braced for impact. The Cobra hit the spikes at fifty miles per hour, and he heard the loud
pop
as the front tires were shredded, followed by another
pop
as the rear set were torn apart. The car veered from side to side as they lost traction and Jerome just managed to keep them out of a spin. They were just a few meters from the gates now, and the bodyguard put the car into a low gear and urged the car forward, sending sparks flying from the bare wheels beneath them. The sound of screeching metal was all Leopold could hear as the rims struggled to grip the asphalt.

He watched as Jerome wrenched the steering wheel sharply to the left and right, giving the wheels some extra grip, and the Cobra lurched forward, grinding its way toward the heavy metal gates that led into the cemetery. The speedometer reluctantly hit twenty miles an hour, and the bodyguard coaxed the crippled speedster down the wide paths that led into the center of the park, leaving the bewildered police officers behind. Thanks to the number of pedestrians in the area, Leopold knew it was unlikely the authorities would follow by car. That would at least buy them some time.

Less than a minute later, they pulled up near to a large crowd of mourners, all dressed in dark colors and standing with their backs to the road. The sea of people was huge, and their attention seemed to be focused elsewhere, so nobody noticed the battered Cobra approach, screeching to a standstill just a few dozen feet away from the edge of the congregation.  

A few town cars were parked nearby and Leopold could see that one of them carried the flag with the Presidential seal. He looked around for any sign of disruption, and his heart leapt as he realized they might not be too late. They both flew out of the car and ran into the mass of people, pushing their way through the throng in an attempt to reach the procession in the center of the crowd.

Leopold took the lead and finally caught a glimpse of the casket, carried on the shoulders of the pallbearers a hundred feet ahead.  A few seconds more, and he could make out Christina, sat close by and holding a large bouquet of white flowers. Just a little further, and he could see the President walking slowly toward her. He sat down on an empty chair and put one hand on her shoulder. This was the moment that Stark would be waiting for.

They were still too far away, out of range of the scrambler. Leopold made one final, desperate attempt to claw his way through the thickening crowd. No use. He took the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hurled it forward, praying it would land within range. That’s when he heard the explosion.

Chapter 46

Everyone hit the ground. Leopold covered his head with his hands and screwed up his eyes, lying face-down on the lawn. They were too late. Just a few seconds earlier and everything would have been all right. Now he knew Christina was dead, and the leader of the most powerful nation on Earth was just a corpse on the grass. Snuffed out in an instant.

The ringing in Leopold’s ears faded. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. At least two hundred people were sprawled on the grass, many of whom began to lift their heads and look around. Nobody appeared to be shouting or screaming. Three black-suited men were sprinting toward him from the direction of the President, who was also lying on the floor a good twenty feet away from Christina and surrounded by bodyguards. He was breathing.

Leopold turned his head and looked behind him, confused. Jerome was standing tall, his gun in his hand and pointed at the sky. The barrel was smoking. As Leopold realized what had happened, Jerome was tackled at full speed by the black-suited men, who wrestled him to the ground and pulled his weapon off him. As he went down, Jerome caught Leopold’s eye and winked. He had provided Leopold with the perfect diversion and now the President was out of harm’s way, separated from Christina by his Secret Service bodyguards and out of range of the explosives.

Leopold turned his attention back to the President, who was getting to his feet, and realised that the men who had brought down Jerome had left the Commander in Chief exposed, with only two security officers now remaining by his side. The pair of towering bodyguards seemed to have the same concerns, as they edged in closer to each other while ushering their charge toward the town cars.

They neared the safety of the vehicles, and the taller officer was suddenly thrown backward. A spray of crimson erupted from his shoulder as he fell, and what sounded like a thunderclap echoed across the park. The wounded bodyguard hit the floor hard and stayed down. The other dived on top of the President, knocking him to the ground and rolling them both behind the President’s town car and out of harm’s way. Two of the men who had wrestled Jerome to the floor joined them and took up defensive positions behind the vehicle, handguns drawn.

It looked like Stark was reverting to plan B.

Leopold got to his feet and ran toward Christina, his path clear now that everyone was down on the grass, and grabbed his cell phone from the ground as he passed. He reached her and thrust the device into her hands.

“Keep this turned on and with you at all times,” he said hurriedly, “it will keep you safe.”

“Safe? Safe from what? What’s going on?” said Christina.

“Your injuries. Stark implanted explosives under your skin. This cell phone will jam the detonator. I have to go find him.”

Her eyes widened in horror as the consultant’s words hit home and she stared in revulsion at the raw scars on her exposed skin. Quickly, she pulled herself together.

 “He’s here? You can’t go after him alone. You know what he’s capable of.”

“There’s no time to explain to the Secret Service. Even if they don’t shoot me, by the time they realise I’m not a threat, Stark will be long gone.”

“But he’s got a rifle – you’ll be killed,” said Christina, eyes wide and imploring. 

“He’s not going to stick around, not now the President is safe. He had his chance, and he blew it; retreat is the only option. By the time he shoots his way through the Secret Service, the police will be here.”

“This place is huge. How can you expect to find him?”

“There’s only one vantage point with a direct line of sight within range. The sound of the shot came less than a second after the bullet hit its target, which puts Stark not more than about a thousand feet away. If I were him, I’d be up there.”

He pointed at a white marble mausoleum standing atop a set of steps that ascended a small hill in the mid-distance. The mausoleum was sheltered by thick trees and bushes stretching out almost the entire width of the park on each side. It was the only possible place Stark could get a good view of the funeral procession anywhere within range. Before Christina could say anything to stop him, Leopold sprinted in the direction of the steps, hoping that Stark hadn’t decided to stick around and pick off anyone coming after him.

He reached the top of the steps in less than a minute and paused to catch his breath, scanning the surrounding area. Walking slowly toward the entrance to the mausoleum, he noticed boot prints in the grass. Stark had definitely been here.

He heard a faint rustle to the right, coming from somewhere inside the long strip of trees that ran most of the width of the park. The cover was dense enough to hide anyone wanting to get in and out of the cemetery without being seen. Leopold ran into the trees, cursing himself for not bringing a gun and hoping that Jerome managed to convince the Secret Service he was on their side.

Fifty feet in, the cover of leaves blocked out most of the direct sunlight, except for the occasional ripple that made its way through to the dry ground. Other than this, the dense undergrowth was dark enough that Leopold couldn’t make out a clear path, and he had to slow his pace. He heard another rustle ahead of him, louder this time, and he crouched, ready to defend himself.

The cover of leaves burst open as a dark figure shot out and knocked him to the ground. Within a second he was back on his feet, just in time to see a large dog disappear around the corner, dragging its leash along behind. False alarm. Stark was probably long gone by now.

Leopold wheeled around as he heard twigs snapping behind him, expecting to get knocked to the ground by whatever animal had decided to make a quick exit in his direction. Instead, the consultant met the savage gaze of Jack Stark, his face set in frustration and fury. The colonel was dressed in full camouflage, with a rifle case strapped to his back and a handgun holstered to his belt. Leopold heard his pulse throb in his ears again and he tensed his muscles, ready to defend himself. He had to keep Stark occupied long enough for Jerome to convince the Secret Service to get up here and take him down. Leopold hoped he could last that long.

Stark crossed the distance between them in a single step and caught hold of Leopold, pulling him close. The consultant knew he was outclassed. This was a man who could hold his own against Jerome, and that was something he had never seen before. He didn’t stand a chance. But maybe, just maybe, he could hold him off long enough. Leopold’s brain was still spinning when Stark hit him, the force of the blow landing like a freight train. The spark of hope that he had kept in the back of his mind vanished immediately, as he realised he wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Chapter 47

Leopold felt his brain turn in his skull as the force of Stark’s punch wrenched his head to the side and blanked out his vision. He felt himself hit the ground just before his eyesight came back again, and the first thing he saw was his opponent’s heavy right boot fly toward him, slamming into his side. The impact knocked him on his back and he heard something snap. Probably another rib.

He gasped as he landed and tried to roll away, but Stark aimed another kick at his back. The blow landed hard to his shoulder and Leopold was on his front again. He managed to get up onto one knee and look up at his attacker, who was grinning. All the cold, calculating demeanor had vanished, replaced with a look that was almost gleeful. Leopold knew the look of revenge when he saw it. The colonel pulled out his handgun.

The fight was over. Leopold knew it. But he just had to hold on a little longer, just enough to let Jerome find his tracks and get the Secret Service up here. He got to his feet, swaying slightly as he stood. He raised his fists. Stark laughed.

“I was going to make this quick,” said Stark. “But you’ve caused me enough grief that I think I might enjoy some sport. The idiots down there have no clue what’s going on, so we have a little bit of time to spare. I’ll give you one free shot. Hit me anywhere you like. If I go down, I’ll admit defeat.”

Leopold knew it was a genuine offer. Stark really didn’t think he could possibly lose. The consultant considered his opponent, tall and thickly built, and knew that his fists would be almost useless. He would need a better plan. The colonel holstered his weapon and beckoned him forward.

Leopold charged at Stark, trying to gain enough momentum in his body to lend extra weight to his attack. He clenched his right fist and threw it with as much force as he could manage at his opponent’s exposed throat. Leopold felt Stark choke as the blow landed and watched him stumble backward, gagging for air. The consultant attacked again, making the most of the advantage he had just won, and aimed a kick at the colonel’s groin, with the hope of putting him down. Before he could connect, his opponent lashed out with the back of his right hand and hit him across the face with enough force to knock him off course. Leopold stumbled and fell into a tree, hitting his head and falling to his knees. He looked up at Stark, who was laughing.

The camouflaged giant walked casually over and drew the handgun from his belt. He pulled the consultant to his feet with one hand and brought the butt of the gun across his skull with the other. Leopold felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. Stark lashed out twice more, and the gun came away dripping with blood. Leopold felt hot liquid dripping down the side of his face and felt dizzy. His legs gave out underneath him, but his opponent’s impossibly strong grip kept him held up. He knew it wouldn’t be long now. There was only one more move to try.