No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(117)

The girl scampered up over their capsule like a squirrel, using the ladder on the outside. She reached the top and quit climbing. She leapt out, catching the cable running to the center of the wheel. She began sliding along it, moving toward the hub, and Emily said, “Mommy! Did you see that? Look at her!”

The mother did so, seeing the woman slide on the cables, and was relieved that the psychopath hadn’t tried to enter her car. The immediate threat gone, she began to wonder what the climber was doing. And realized they were two hundred feet in the air.

Her face pressed to the window, Emily said, “She’s amazing.”

Emily had no idea why the woman was climbing, or how much danger they were in.

But her mother did.


* * *

Jennifer reached the hub and lowered to the scaffolding on the outside, exhausted. She shook her hands to relieve the pain and keyed her radio. “I’m here. Stand by.”

She heard, “We’re under arrest. They’re coming for you. Go.”

She looked below, seeing a swarm of people, half with the reflective vests of police. She couldn’t pick out Pike or Nung.

She scooted underneath the giant spindle and saw the explosives. She ran to the first one and pulled out the blasting cap, throwing it into the wind. She did the same to the second one, then began scuttling to the far end. To the two cables that held the entire contraption in space.

She saw the timer on the first counting down. Five . . . four . . . three . . .

She ripped out one blasting cap and ran, the final explosive charge going off and throwing her forward.

She slammed into the steel of the hub, seeing stars and beginning to black out. She fought the darkness, now on her hands and knees, the scaffolding cutting her exposed skin. She shook her head to clear the cotton. The world came into focus bit by bit, and she felt the Eye shift. Leaning out into the river. Starting to fall.


* * *

Emily saw the blast and said, “Mommy! Fireworks! They’ve got fireworks here.” The mother felt the shift in the wheel and grabbed her daughter tight. She began praying.


* * *

Jennifer pulled herself upright and saw the damage. One cable gone. The others in place. She keyed her radio. “Pike, get them down. Now. I got three, but one went off. This thing might drop. Start turning the wheel.”

She heard, “Jennifer, I’m under arrest. They’ve taken my phone but left in the earpiece. I can’t get to Blaine. All I have is the last setting. The radio. Call him. Get him to work some magic.”

She did so, explaining what she had and where she was.

He said, “Been working this since you left. Got a direct contact. Stand by.”

She felt the hub shift again and said, “God damn it, tell them to start it up. Get the people off!”

She heard nothing. Then the wheel began turning, much faster than before. She sagged back, resting her head on a flange. The metal hatch to the scaffold flew open, four men wearing body armor spilling out, all aiming a weapon at her.






83




Kylie saw the bearded man sit up tall, staring over the rail, and knew it was time. She had been running escape scenarios through her head for the last thirty minutes, knowing if she was to get free, it would be here, in the heart of the bar. Once she was in the hands of whoever was coming, she was done.

Visibly nervous, Colin said, “That’s them. Don’t do anything stupid. They’re here to help you.”

Four men appeared at the top of the stairs, the lead one looking like something out of a Grimm fairy tale. He had black hair slicked back and a pockmarked face; the menace slid off him, permeating the balcony.

Colin stood, in a faltering voice saying, “Ratko. Hey. I’m here. Like I said I would be.”

The man called Ratko surveyed the balcony, his men separating left and right. He approached and said, “Where are my diamonds?”

Colin said, “Hey, wait, I had nothing to do with that. I told you. That’s Seamus all the way.”

The balcony secure, Ratko looked at him, then hammered an uppercut into Colin’s stomach, dropping him to the floor. The violence exploded so fast Kylie could barely assimilate it. She scrambled to the end of the couch, holding her arms over her head, two men closing on her.

Ratko waved a hand, and they drew back. Colin sat up, holding his stomach. Grimacing, he said, “What the hell are you doing? Here she is. All yours. I had nothing to do with Paris.”

Ratko said, “Where are my diamonds? Where is the necklace?”

Colin pulled himself up, looking at Ratko for permission to sit back in a chair. Seeing no violence, he did so. “I had nothing to do with Bulgari. Nothing. I don’t know where your diamonds are. I saw how bad this was going and called you. I want no part of it. That’s why I called.”

Ratko sat down and said, “So what do you offer to save yourself? This girl?”

He looked at Kylie, sizing her up, and she realized that death was not the worst of her fates. She tried to crawl farther from his gaze, stopped by the man above her.

Colin said, “She’s not just a girl. She’s the fiancée of the American vice president’s son. She’s worth a great deal.”

Ratko said, “I don’t do ransoms. I don’t take hostages. It only causes enemies that want to hunt.”