Read Online Crescent Dawn by Clive; Dirk Cussler Cussler - Free Book Online

tourists had left and the entrances secured, the thieves collected their weapons and moved on the Chamber of the Sacred Relics, where many of the holy objects were stored.
    The actual assault took barely a minute, as they blasted their way through a side wall with the explosives, then shot and killed a nearby guard. They quickly gathered their desired relics, then escaped through the damaged wall.
    The thieves had carefully orchestrated a series of small, diversionary explosions at various points around the compound as they made their way south on foot. Once past the main gate, they would be whisked off the grounds in the waiting van. It would take only a few minutes from there to reach the maze of Sultanahmet’s winding streets and become lost to the night.
    Police sirens wailed in the distance as two men in black sprinted through Bâb-üs Selâm, each toting a canvas bag. The woman aiming the handgun at Loren immediately barked clipped orders to the men as they approached the van. The two thieves threw their bags in the back, then dragged the semiconscious driver there and laid him out. One of the men hurried around front and climbed into the driver’s seat, while the second man produced his own pistol and leveled it at Loren. The woman barked again at Pitt.
    “You. Away from the van,” she ordered, training her gun on Pitt. “This woman is coming with us. If you wish to see her alive again, you will tell the police we escaped through the Gülhane Park Gate.” She motioned her weapon toward the northeast side of the compound.
    Pitt’s hands clenched into fists, and his eyes nearly shot flames of anger, but there was nothing he could do. The woman sensed his wrath and leveled her gun at his head.
    “Don’t even think about it,” she said.
    The gunman grabbed Loren by the arm and roughly shoved her into the back of the van, then climbed in and closed the door behind them. The woman backpedaled to the front passenger door, holding her gun on Pitt until she jumped inside. The new driver immediately floored it, and the van squealed away with its tires smoking.
    Pitt quickly ran to Ruppé, who had staggered to his feet but wobbled from the blow to his head administered by the woman.
    “Your car,” Pitt said hurriedly.
    Ruppé quickly fished out the keys.
    “You go now. I’ll just slow you down.”
    “Are you all right?”
    “Just a scratch,” he replied with a weak smile, eyeing his blood-smeared hand. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead, and I will inform the police when they arrive.”
    Pitt nodded as he grabbed the keys and dashed off toward the Karmann Ghia. The old Volkswagen fired on the first turn of the key. Pitt immediately jammed it into gear and chirped the tires as he sped off after the van.
    The exterior grounds of Topkapi were laid out in the rough shape of a tilted A , with an entry gate at the base of each leg. Anticipating a more likely police response through the northern Gülhane Park Gate, the thieves headed for the Imperial Gate to the south. Despite a daily influx of tourist buses to the palace, the tree-lined roads through the grounds were narrow, curving affairs that limited speed.
    Pitt took to the main road on which the van had exited, but the van was well out of sight by now. Passing several small side drives, Pitt felt his heart beat faster in the fear that he might not be able to locate the van. Professional thieves were usually not murderers, he tried telling himself. They would probably let Loren free at the first opportune moment. But then his mind flashed back to the image of the museum guard being intentionally run over. They had heard plenty of gunshots over the palace wall as well. An uncomfortable pang hit him at the realization that these thieves were in fact not afraid to kill.
    He pushed the accelerator down harder, eliciting a painful wail from the Volkswagen’s air-cooled motor. The Karmann Ghia was far from a fast car, but its size and weight made it a nimble cornering