The Einstein Pursuit (40 page)

They made their way down a long hallway lined with photos. The story of Harrison Zidane, told in pictures. School graduations. Big game fishing. Posing with politicians and celebrities at various awards ceremonies. All the best moments of his life were represented.

They passed offices and bedrooms, each furnished with the trappings of opulence. Fifteen-hundred-dollar Aeron desk chairs. Four-thousand-dollar Charlotte Thomas bedding. Priceless works of art on every wall. No expense had been spared.

They continued toward the farthest door, checking each room as they passed. When they reached the end, they found a spacious library that had been transformed into a makeshift treatment center. Payne had seen intensive care units that were less equipped.

The first person they spotted was Tomas Berglund. He was standing in the back half of the room in front of two large canisters of oxygen and a third filled with an unknown gas. He had a terrified look on his face, a reaction to the chaos he had heard unfolding outside.

Beside Berglund was Harrison Zidane. One of his hands was resting on the desk in front of him, as if he needed its support to remain upright. His other hand was at his side, partially obscured by the desk itself. His skin was pale, but his eyes were bright and hopeful. He showed none of the fear that Berglund exhibited, as if gunfights were commonplace on his property.

Payne and Jones raised their weapons, but both knew they couldn’t risk a shot. Not without the possibility of their bullets going through Zidane and rupturing one of the tanks behind him.

‘Where’s Hendrik Cole?’ Payne demanded.

‘Dead,’ Zidane replied. ‘I am told he was wounded in Rakovnik and that he didn’t survive the trip to Italy.’

‘Did you see him die?’ Jones asked Berglund.

‘My face was bound in some sort of covering,’ Berglund answered. ‘I could not see or hear anything until we made it to the villa. But I have not seen him since we arrived.’

‘I know that men in your profession cannot be certain of anything until you see the body for yourselves,’ Zidane stated, ‘but I am afraid that in this instance such a meeting simply cannot be arranged. Cole’s remains were disposed of en route. No one but the men involved could give you an exact location, and I am afraid they are now dead as well.’ Zidane nodded toward the carnage that was strewn about his patio as he sat down at his desk.

Payne lowered his weapon as Zidane placed both hands where they could be seen.

‘Cole’s death was inevitable, really,’ Zidane continued. ‘He was never part of the long-term plan.’

‘Which was?’ Payne asked.

‘A partnership,’ Zidane said. ‘One that would bring us unimaginable wealth, not to mention extra years to spend it.’

Jones laughed. ‘You need to check your meds. I think you’ve lost your mind.’

‘Actually, my friend, I never lose.’ Zidane flashed his best smile. ‘I am offering the chance of a lifetime. The breakthroughs Tomas has made will revolutionize the human body. No more disease. No more weakness. The perfect machine, customized to your choosing.’ He glanced at their weapons. ‘Imagine the military applications. The healthiest, most advanced fighting force the world has ever seen, with the ability to heal themselves on the battlefield.’

‘You’re talking about super-soldiers,’ Payne said.

‘Exactly! With this technology we can create an entire army of such men. There’s no limit to what people would pay for such an advantage. Your military. Mine. The rest of the world. We could sell the technology to the highest bidder, then we could tweak the science and sell it again.’

‘Immortality to the highest bidder,’ Jones concluded.

‘While
we
control the balance of power,’ Zidane stated.

‘Who is we?’ Payne asked, egging him on.

‘Your company and mine,’ Zidane smiled. ‘The power will remain solely with us.’

Payne smiled and lowered his weapon. ‘In that case …’

Zidane moved to congratulate the men he now saw as his partners. ‘Excellent! I knew you could be convinced. Believe it or not, Jonathon, we are a lot alike. We come from wealth, yet we yearn for more.’

Zidane offered his hand to seal the deal, but Payne used it against him. He gripped it hard then squeezed it harder until Zidane fell back into his chair. As he did, the smile on Payne’s face turned into a menacing scowl.

Payne glared at Zidane, his hold still firm. ‘You’re a sick son-of-a-bitch responsible for the death of dozens of innocent people. You and I are
nothing
alike.’

Zidane’s face grew pale as his reality began to sink in. For the first time in his life, he had met someone who could not be swayed by money or power.

‘How long do we have?’ Payne asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Zidane replied.

Payne squeezed until he could feel Zidane’s knuckles begin to pop. ‘How long …
do we have
?’ Payne demanded.

From the moment Zidane had sat down, Payne had sensed his ploy. Zidane was stalling. He was buying himself precious minutes, waiting for whatever was to happen next. Payne had sensed exactly what was going on, but he’d chosen to take advantage of it. If Zidane was going to offer information about his master plan, Payne was willing to listen. Now that he had heard enough about Zidane’s grandiose vision, all he wanted to know was how quickly reinforcements would be arriving.

A moment later, he had his answer.

Payne and Jones knew they had to move the moment they heard Masseri’s voice through their earpieces.

‘You guys have company!’ Masseri announced. ‘A yacht just pulled up at the dock, and whoever’s on board is in one hell of hurry.’

‘Can you cover us?’ Jones asked.

‘Negative,’ Masseri answered. ‘The boat is blocking my shot. It’s directly between me and the house. You’re on your own.’

With a jerk of his arm, Payne pulled Zidane to his feet. In the same motion, he spun Zidane around and pinned his hand behind him. ‘The stairs to the boathouse,
now
!’ Payne ordered as he pushed Zidane in front of him.

Jones grabbed Berglund by the belt and ushered him after Payne and Zidane. It wasn’t an act of aggression, but it was forceful enough to let Berglund know that Jones’s directions should be followed without question.

Payne and Jones were in charge.

Berglund needed to trust them if he wanted to survive.

Payne knew from the reconnaissance file that Raskin had produced – which included everything from satellite footage to construction blueprints – that the house had a stairwell just off the main hallway leading down to the boathouse. As they pushed through the lower door, Payne saw what he was looking for. The boathouse stored a jet boat in its covered dock. Payne smashed the lockbox mounted on the wall nearby with the butt of his gun and tossed the keys to Jones.

‘Get them out of here,’ ordered Payne, whose main priority was bringing Berglund to safety and Zidane to justice. He would stay behind and cover their escape to make sure they got away.

‘You’re taking a later train?’ Jones asked.

‘Not quite,’ Payne said as he pointed through the open waterfront doors of the boathouse. ‘I’m taking one of those.’

Jones turned to see the opulent yacht that was parked alongside Zidane’s dock at the front of his estate. Two WaveRunners were suspended in cradles on the aft deck. These high-speed personal watercrafts could be lowered to the lake by a small crane that was also used for loading palates of food and other supplies.

‘Nah, man, screw that!’

‘Screw what?’

‘You get to zip out of here on a water Harley, and I’m stuck chauffeuring a white dude across the lake like I’m Morgan Freeman in
Driving Miss Daisy
? What kind of racist bullshit is that?’

‘First of all, you’re Morgan Freeman
with a
gun,
which is pretty bad ass.’

‘True.’

‘Secondly, I’m your commanding officer, and I say—’

‘Wait! You’re my
what
? I hate to break it to you, but we’re retired.’

‘
Retired
? We just jumped out of military plane and shot a squad of armed men. That doesn’t sound like retired to me.’

Jones growled as if he were going to turn the situation into a standoff, but only for a moment. As much as he loved to give Payne a hard time, he knew when to relent.

‘Fine!’ Jones snapped as he jumped into the open bow and shoved Zidane toward the front of the boat. ‘But
you’re
driving. That’s right, Miss Daisy, I’m your worst nightmare. I’m Hoke with a fuckin’ gun.’

Payne laughed as he pushed the boat away from the dock.

‘No funny stuff,’ Jones warned as he tapped the steering wheel with his pistol. ‘Head north, and don’t stop unless I tell you to. Understood?’

Zidane nodded.

‘What about me?’ Berglund asked.

‘Stay low and stay out of my way,’ Jones replied.

‘I’ll try.’

The boat was not designed for safety; it was made for excitement. Its gunnels were no more than eighteen inches above the water and offered little protection to hide behind. Even slouched as low as he could go, Berglund’s head and shoulders were still exposed.

‘You’ve got ten minutes to catch up,’ Jones shouted to Payne as the boat floated toward the open water. ‘Any longer and I’m coming back to save your ass.’

‘From what?’

‘From yourself.’

Payne smiled and retreated toward the door as the jet boat’s engine roared to life. A moment later, Zidane dropped the throttle and the boat rocketed forward like a dragster at the starting line. The sound was so loud it attracted the attention of every surviving guard on the property, which was exactly what Payne had been hoping for.

The more he killed on land, the less he would have to worry about on water.

Payne steadied himself at the bottom of the stairwell. The passage was narrow, forcing people to descend one at a time. It was the perfect chokepoint for Payne to lie in wait.

When the door finally opened, three of Cole’s soldiers hustled down the tunnel in succession. Payne peeked around the bottom corner of the stairwell and opened fire. His first bullet caught the lead man in the throat – an instant kill shot. In the close quarters, the remaining men were unable to raise their weapons in time. Payne leveled his pistol and squeezed the trigger again. The second man fell dead and tumbled forward, which left the third standing in the clear. Payne fired once more, and the confrontation was over a few seconds after it had begun.

Payne took a deep breath and checked his ammo. As he did, he heard the distinctive roar of the jet boat moving farther and farther away. Payne assumed everything was fine until he heard a second engine rumble to life. Then another. Then two more. Suddenly concerned, he sprinted back into the boathouse and peaked outside toward the source of the sound.

In front of the mansion, four more WaveRunners were being launched from a hidden hold in the stern of the yacht. Payne cursed loudly as he watched four gunmen speed away in pursuit of Jones’s jet boat. He knew that with three passengers on board, it wouldn’t have the speed to keep its distance from the lighter, faster WaveRunners.

His friend was about to be out-paced, out-manned, and out-gunned.

In the early-morning light, Jones could see Zidane’s villa growing smaller and smaller in the distance. They were almost a mile away, but they were by no means safe. Not yet. Not with four WaveRunners closing in on them.

‘We can’t outrun them,’ Jones announced.

‘Of course not,’ Zidane replied in a smarmy tone. ‘You’re only prolonging the inevitable.’

‘I don’t need the commentary,’ Jones shouted back. ‘Just keep driving.’

He knew Zidane was right. The WaveRunners would eventually catch them, and when they did he would have no choice but to engage in a one-sided firefight from a boat that offered very little protection.

Jones heard the telltale
pop-pop-pop-pop-pop
of an automatic rifle, but the riders in pursuit were unable to compensate for the WaveRunners’ heaving motion as they sped over the swells and whitecaps on the lake. A series of tiny splashes erupted in the water to the side of the jet boat as the bullets fell harmlessly wide of their target. Another round whizzed by overhead. Range was not the issue for the high-powered assault rifles; it was their aim that could not be controlled.

In the midst of the gunfire, Jones watched as the lead soldier suddenly tilted his weight and veered sharply. The action caused the nose of the watercraft to dip below the surface, which in turn forced the rear into the air. A massive plume of water sprayed from the vehicle and soaked the two soldiers to his left. He then repeated the action in the other direction and doused the soldier to his right. Now that he had everyone’s attention, he swung his gun from one side to the other, squaring the men in his sights while violently shaking his head.

‘Why’d they stop?’ Berglund asked as he brazenly stuck his head up to see what was happening behind him. Ever the scientist, he deemed the reward of knowledge greater than the risk of being shot in the face.

‘One of them just figured out that if they shoot Miss Daisy, they’ll be going home without a paycheck,’ Jones explained. ‘But don’t worry, they’re still trying to kill
us
.’

‘On the contrary,’ Zidane said. ‘Tomas is of great importance to me. His life is to be spared at all costs. I’m afraid that the only person they’re trying to kill is
you.
’

Jones studied the men in the distance. He knew they wouldn’t risk shooting their employer, and he knew he could use that to his advantage. If he let them get in range, he could end their pursuit once and for all. ‘Slow down. Bring them closer.’

Zidane was a smart man, and he quickly figured out what Jones had in mind. He also realized this was probably his best chance to get away. Rather than slowing down, he forced the throttle into neutral, pulled the key from the starter, and dove over the side of the boat.

Jones started cursing before Zidane even hit the water.

But what could he do?

With the boat now bobbing lifelessly, the soldiers would attack in a matter of seconds. He knew there wasn’t enough time to dive in after the keys, and without Zidane’s presence on the boat, he and Berglund were sitting ducks. Jones pulled the scientist to the floor and prepared to make the best of a bad situation.