The King's Deception

Off to his right, and above, he spotted a blue Mercedes turn onto the encircling avenue. He hoped it wasn’t the same car, but when Norse climbed out he realized they were in trouble. Their position below the street and by the canal was not good. Escape options were limited to front and back since water flowed to their right and a stone wall rose to their left.

He saw that Gary realized their predicament, too.

All they could do was run down the towpath and follow the canal, but Norse and Devene would certainly catch them. He knew that once they left the basin it would be nearly impossible to escape the canal’s steep banks, as property fronting the waterway was fenced. So he rushed toward a set of stairs and leaped up the stone steps two at a time. At the top he turned right and dashed across an iron bridge that arched over the canal. The span was narrow, pedestrian only, and empty. Halfway toward the other side the Mercedes wheeled up and screeched to a halt. Devene climbed out and started toward the bridge.

He and Gary turned to flee the way they’d come and were met by Norse, who stood ten meters away.

Their pursuers seemed to have anticipated their move.

“Let’s stop this foolishness,” Norse said. “You know what I want. Just give me the drive.”

“I threw it away.”

“Give it to me. Don’t piss me off.”

“Where’s my dad?” Gary asked.

Ian liked the distraction. “Where is his dad?”

“That Yank’s not your problem. We’re your problem.”

Norse and Devene were creeping toward them. The bridge was only two people wide and both ends were now blocked.

His pursuers were less than ten meters away.

To his left he caught sight of the beefy man with black hair motoring his boat away from its moor. Apparently he was heading for the Thames early. The boat’s bow swung left, straight toward the bridge. He needed to buy a few moments so he thrust his right hand into his jacket and lunged toward the iron rail.

He quickly withdrew his hand and plunged it over the side. “Not a step closer or what you want goes into the water.”

Both men stopped their advance.

Norse raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now, there’s no need for that. Give it to us and we’ll be done with you.”

He silently breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, neither man had seen that his closed fist contained nothing. He kept his arm pushed below the railing where the angle did not allow Norse or Devene to discover his ruse.

“How about fifty pounds,” Norse said. “Fifty pounds for the drive and you can go away.”

The chug from the boat’s motor drew closer and the bow disappeared on the far side of the bridge.

This was going to be close.

“Make it a hundred,” he said.

Norse reached into his pocket.

“Jump over the side,” he whispered to Gary. “Onto the boat that’s coming.”

A wad of money appeared in Norse’s hand.

“Do it,” he breathed.

With Norse deciding what he was going to pay and Devene taking his cue from the one clearly in charge, Ian grabbed the iron rail and hurled his body up and over.

He fell the three meters down, hoping to heaven the longboat would be there. He slammed onto the cabin roof feetfirst, then recoiled, losing his balance. He grabbed onto a short metal rail and held on as his legs swung out into open air. His feet grazed the water but he managed to pull himself up as the boat cleared the bridge and continued its cruise down the canal.

The big man with black hair stood at the stern navigating the wheel. “Thought you could use some help.”

He glanced back and saw Norse leap into the air, trying to duplicate what he’d just done. The man’s body hurled down the three meters and found the stern. But the boat’s owner rammed an elbow into Norse’s chest, sending the phony inspector into the water.

He watched as Norse surfaced and climbed from the canal onto the bank.

The lighted bridge was now fifty meters in the distance.

It disappeared as the canal doglegged right.

The last thing he saw was Gary Malone in the clutches of Devene. Why had Gary not jumped? He couldn’t worry about that now.

He had to go.

He searched the path ahead and spied another lit bridge. This one wider, stronger, made of brick. Cars moved back and forth above. As the boat eased toward it he leaped off onto the grassy bank. He heard his rescuer call out as he rolled onto the towpath.

“Where you going? Thought you wanted to sail?”

He stood and waved goodbye as he scampered toward a metal ladder and climbed to the street. Traffic whizzed by in both directions. He crossed the roadway and found refuge in the doorway of a closed pub. Two potted plants shielded the niche from traffic.

He shrank to the ground and gathered himself.