aluminum magazine clanging against the cement as the gunmen reloaded.
The German shifted the vehicle into drive and stepped hard on the accelerator. They’d gotten the drop on him, but they had made one mistake. They’d mounted their attack from within a car that was very fast, but also very small.
There was just enough clear glass left on the windshield to see the gunman’s eyes get big as the SUV raced toward them. The Range Rover T-boned the Mini with a satisfying crunch. Lars’ vision was filled with white nylon as the vehicle’s airbags deployed, enveloping him and Zhu in a warm, if brief, hug. Even as the airbags deflated, he kept the vehicle’s forward momentum. He hadn’t gotten enough speed to completely demolish the car in one fell swoop, but he had enough weight and momentum to push the wreckage up against a cement column.
Lars threw the SUV in reverse. The Mini looked like a crumpled soda can. As he had hoped, the right front wheel was bent hopelessly inward, and the driver’s-side door was crushed against the column. The assailant’s left foot extended out from below the passenger’s side door. He’d put down his weapon and was devoting all his energy to trying to free himself. Lars wasn’t going to let that happen.
He backed the vehicle up further down the empty aisle this time, making sure that he could get enough ramming speed. He was astonished by how small the airbags had become after deployment. They simply rested against the steering wheel and dashboards, scarcely larger than deflated birthday balloons.
Up ahead, he saw that the second gunman was halfway out of the passenger side window. He was crawling out headfirst. “Oh my God,” Lars said as he watched one of the assailants climb over the other one to escape. “Brace yourself. No air bags this time.” Lars stepped on the gas for his second attack.
As the force of the impact breached the Mini’s interior, Lars could have sworn that he heard the sound of the driver’s head being crushed against the Range Rover’s grill. Zhu’s helmeted head was thrown against the side window in the collision, but his seatbelt held. When Lars tried to put the Range Rover in reverse, the engine stalled.
“Are you all right, Mr. Zhu?”
Zhu pulled his helmet off. He looked dazed. “No, I’m not all right. I just wet my pants.”
“ A minor inconvenience, all things considered. Let’s go.”
He found his own door jammed shut. Zhu’s was sealed as well. He grabbed his TEK-9, crawled over the back seat and exited via the rear hatch. Then he went around front, getting his legs under him as he surveyed the crash scene.
The driver’s grisly torso and the gunman’s decapitated foot were visible in the hulk of twisted metal. But he could not see the gunman’s head or hands. There was no sense in taking chances. He aimed his weapon at the driver’s side door and pumped four rounds into it. One of the men groaned. Lars shot through the door again. This time, there was no sound.
“ Hey!” Zhu called out. “I think I hear sirens!”
Before moving on, Lars needed to know who had attacked them. He stretched his driving gloves tight over his hands, and then gripped the arms of the mangled corpse, dragging it out of the car until it was flat on the cement. He inspected the man’s pockets and found nothing. Moving on to the jacket, he unzipped a long pouch that went diagonally across the man’s chest.
Inside, he found a piece of black fabric – about the size of a cocktail napkin – with red stripes. It was octagon-shaped, and it had obviously been made with high-quality silk. On the flip side, the octagon’s edges were stitched in golden thread, with the phrase ad majorem dei gloriam beneath it . The other side read, Paratus enim dolor et cruciatus, in Dei nomine . He was fluent in German and English, but he had never studied Latin. Dei, he surmised, had to be something having to do with God. The rest was a mystery. He pocketed it.