Read Online The Fifth Profession by David Morrell - Free Book Online
Authors: David Morrell
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Savage said.
But the worst had been done. Instead of easing away from the fence toward the road, Rachel had made the car slip sideways onto a mound of earth that snagged the car's drive shaft, propping it up. The tires spun not on mud but air. The car was useless. Two people wouldn't be strong enough to push it off the mound.
The pursuing headlights loomed closer.
Rachel scrambled out of the car. Savage rushed to join her. His boots sank and slid in the mud. He almost lost his balance but managed not to fall as Rachel
did
lose her balance. He caught her, kept a tight grip on her arm, and urged her forward. The sensation was that of a nightmare, racing through mud and yet staying in place.
But they stubbornly gained momentum. Before them, the white cube-shaped houses enlarged as the headlights behind them magnified.
At once, the nightmare of running in place concluded. Rock slabs beneath Savage's boots made him feel as if a cable that restrained him had snapped. He and Rachel shot forward, the solid street providing traction.
The moment they entered the village, Savage realized that the Mercedes would have been useless anyhow. The street they ran along was narrow, winding. It forked, the angles so sharp and confining that the Mercedes could not have maneuvered with any speed. Hearing the engines of the pursuing cars, Savage chose the left tangent and hurried along it, suddenly confronted by two more tangents. Dismayed, he knew that no matter which direction he took, there'd soon be
other
tangents.
The maze of Mykonos, the streets arranged in a labyrinth, a means of confusing pirates in antiquity, of making it easy for villagers to trap marauders. Or for present-day hunters to trap their quarry.
Behind him, Savage heard slamming car doors, angry voices, urgent footsteps echoing along a street. He studied the tangents before him. The one to the left veered upward, the other down. His choice was inevitable. He had to keep moving toward the harbor. Guiding Rachel, he fled to the right, only to discover that the street soon angled upward.
It's taking us back to where we started!
Savage pivoted, forcing Rachel to retrace her steps. Except for the gusting rain and the angry voices of their hunters, the village was silent. Only the white of the houses, occasional lights in windows, and sporadic flashes of lightning helped Savage to see his way.
He found a lane he'd failed to notice when he'd passed this way earlier. The lane led downward, so constricting that his shoulders brushed against the walls. He emerged on a wider lane, horizontal, so flat that he couldn't tell which direction might eventually lead downward. But clattering footsteps to his left made him nudge Rachel and charge to the right.
This time, when the lane ended, there was only one exit —to the right, and
that
led upward.
No! We have to keep aiming toward the harbor!
Savage spun, staring along the lane they'd just taken. The footsteps and curses of the guards sounded closer. Flashlights blazed at the end of the lane. One guard turned to another, his beam revealing the face of the second guard.
The second man was the Japanese. Even at a distance, he still reminded Savage disturbingly of Akira. The Japanese grabbed the first guard's arm and shoved the flashlight away from his face. They rushed along the lane.
In Savage's direction.
They haven't seen us yet, but they will.
Savage's boot struck an object at the side of the lane. A ladder lay against a wall, half of which had a fresh coat of white. He braced it against the wall. Rachel scurried up. As Savage followed, he saw the flashlights checking doorways and alleys, rushing closer.
On the roof, he pulled the ladder up. It scraped against the wall. The flashlights aimed toward the noise. Savage was blinded when a beam revealed him. He ducked back, yanking the ladder with him, hearing the distinctive muffled report of a pistol equipped with a silencer, a bullet zipping past his ear. An instant later,
But the worst had been done. Instead of easing away from the fence toward the road, Rachel had made the car slip sideways onto a mound of earth that snagged the car's drive shaft, propping it up. The tires spun not on mud but air. The car was useless. Two people wouldn't be strong enough to push it off the mound.
The pursuing headlights loomed closer.
Rachel scrambled out of the car. Savage rushed to join her. His boots sank and slid in the mud. He almost lost his balance but managed not to fall as Rachel
did
lose her balance. He caught her, kept a tight grip on her arm, and urged her forward. The sensation was that of a nightmare, racing through mud and yet staying in place.
But they stubbornly gained momentum. Before them, the white cube-shaped houses enlarged as the headlights behind them magnified.
At once, the nightmare of running in place concluded. Rock slabs beneath Savage's boots made him feel as if a cable that restrained him had snapped. He and Rachel shot forward, the solid street providing traction.
The moment they entered the village, Savage realized that the Mercedes would have been useless anyhow. The street they ran along was narrow, winding. It forked, the angles so sharp and confining that the Mercedes could not have maneuvered with any speed. Hearing the engines of the pursuing cars, Savage chose the left tangent and hurried along it, suddenly confronted by two more tangents. Dismayed, he knew that no matter which direction he took, there'd soon be
other
tangents.
The maze of Mykonos, the streets arranged in a labyrinth, a means of confusing pirates in antiquity, of making it easy for villagers to trap marauders. Or for present-day hunters to trap their quarry.
Behind him, Savage heard slamming car doors, angry voices, urgent footsteps echoing along a street. He studied the tangents before him. The one to the left veered upward, the other down. His choice was inevitable. He had to keep moving toward the harbor. Guiding Rachel, he fled to the right, only to discover that the street soon angled upward.
It's taking us back to where we started!
Savage pivoted, forcing Rachel to retrace her steps. Except for the gusting rain and the angry voices of their hunters, the village was silent. Only the white of the houses, occasional lights in windows, and sporadic flashes of lightning helped Savage to see his way.
He found a lane he'd failed to notice when he'd passed this way earlier. The lane led downward, so constricting that his shoulders brushed against the walls. He emerged on a wider lane, horizontal, so flat that he couldn't tell which direction might eventually lead downward. But clattering footsteps to his left made him nudge Rachel and charge to the right.
This time, when the lane ended, there was only one exit —to the right, and
that
led upward.
No! We have to keep aiming toward the harbor!
Savage spun, staring along the lane they'd just taken. The footsteps and curses of the guards sounded closer. Flashlights blazed at the end of the lane. One guard turned to another, his beam revealing the face of the second guard.
The second man was the Japanese. Even at a distance, he still reminded Savage disturbingly of Akira. The Japanese grabbed the first guard's arm and shoved the flashlight away from his face. They rushed along the lane.
In Savage's direction.
They haven't seen us yet, but they will.
Savage's boot struck an object at the side of the lane. A ladder lay against a wall, half of which had a fresh coat of white. He braced it against the wall. Rachel scurried up. As Savage followed, he saw the flashlights checking doorways and alleys, rushing closer.
On the roof, he pulled the ladder up. It scraped against the wall. The flashlights aimed toward the noise. Savage was blinded when a beam revealed him. He ducked back, yanking the ladder with him, hearing the distinctive muffled report of a pistol equipped with a silencer, a bullet zipping past his ear. An instant later,
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