The Curse of Medusa

As for him, he still needed nothing else to drive his pursuit and neutralization of Schwartz other than the thought of his children being exposed to the bacteria. He knew he had only one duty to them, and that was to kill her and secure the canister. He speeded up as fast as he could, pounding along the sand of Santa Monica State Beach toward the pier.

Angelika vaulted over the car park fence and sprinted to the pier, slipping under the pedestrian walkway. Vincent aimed and took a shot, but missed and smashed a chunk of concrete from one of the walkway’s support beams. He cursed and powered forward, once again straining in the dark to see where she had gone.

“I can’t see her!” Kim screamed. “The bitch has got away… Damn it all!”

Then the German woman gave her position away by shooting at them and striking Kim in the shoulder. Vincent spun around just in time to see his partner fly backwards with the force of the round and collapse in a heap against one of the car park’s toll booths.

“Go on without me!” she screamed.

The Frenchman had no time to think and instantly dived for cover in the shadows beneath the pier to escape the same fate as Agent Taylor. At least in wounding Kim, Angelika had given her position up, he thought grimly, and climbed up the steps to the boardwalk.

Now, silence fell as he moved forward along the pier. The only sound was the gentle hum of occasional curfew-breaking traffic on Ocean Avenue somewhere behind him. He felt the eerie atmosphere of the pier — bustling with laughter and joy in the day, but now deserted by everyone and everything except a psychopath and a night wind. And somewhere close-by that psychopath was hiding in the shadows.

He moved cautiously forward, gun-raised and ready to fire in a heartbeat. He weaved his way forward to the end of the pier — he knew she was here somewhere. As he went, he checked the stalls and restaurants — now locked up and empty — for any signs of break-ins, but there was no sign of her.

He checked behind a Coke vending machine as he made his way forward but it was clear just like everywhere else. He peered inside the Ice Cream and Treats bar, but still nothing. Angelika Schwartz would be getting a treat very soon, he thought.

Then he saw her at the base of the Ferris wheel. She was moving slowly in the shadows, trying to get around behind him so she could escape back to the beach. He fired a shot and it struck her in the shoulder. She spun around one-eighty and he thought he’d done the job, but then she scampered to her feet and disappeared once again into the night.

He vaulted over the fence where people queued for tickets and saw her at once — she was trying to climb over the rail at the end of the pier. As she clambered over the rail she dropped the canister. Pausing for half a second to retrieve it, Vincent saw his chance and seized it.

He fired and the bullet hit her in the center of her head, just as she had done to Pauling. She dropped like a bag of concrete over the end of the pier landing with a splash in the Pacific below. Vincent ran forward as the canister rolled slowly to the edge and snatched it up in his hands.

He sighed with relief. His boys, wherever they were sleeping, were safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Scarlet appeared on the deck wearing a gas mask and holding the Medusa box. At once she saw Kiefel register what had happened while at the same time half a dozen military helicopters flew over the water and surrounded them.

Kiefel, now trapped like a wounded wolf, was more dangerous than ever. Scarlet watched in horror as he dragged the injured President at gunpoint to the edge of the yacht. The German’s desperate swivel-eyed stare told her he knew what would happen if he could no longer use Grant as a human shield.

“It’s over, Kiefel!” Doyle screamed. “Just let the President walk away and you can live.”

“Get away from me!” The German’s head craned wildly as he strained to monitor the latest military chopper arriving on the scene, shining its powerful Xenon short-arc lamp down on him and tracking him as he moved closer to the edge.

“Give it up, Klaus!” Scarlet shouted, keeping her gun aimed squarely at Kiefel’s throat. She knew from her training that putting a nine mil through his throat was the quickest way to cut the nerve signals from his brain to his trigger finger. “You’re lit up like Christmas — you can’t get away!”

“I said get away from me, you animals… and put that gun down at once or I shoot the President.”

“Fine with me,” Scarlet said. “In fact, why should you have all the fun?”

Without wasting a second she moved her gun to the right and shot President Grant in the shoulder. He spun out of Kiefel’s grip and fell overboard.

Doyle gasped in horror. “What the hell?”

“Save your President, Doyle. He hasn’t got long with that wound.”