Private Games (Private 3)

Thank God no one heard the bomb inside the arena, because more fans were now moving towards the exits and would have caused a stampede. An Wu dropped to the floor suddenly, bleeding also and adding to the building terror.

And then, right there on the nearest screen on the security console, Knight spotted the sandy blonde and the redhead leaving the north arena along with a steady flow of jittery sports fans.

Though he could not make out their faces, the redhead was definitely limping. ‘It’s her!’ Knight shouted.

The men monitoring the security station barely glanced at him as they frantically tried to respond to questions flying at them over radios from all over the arena. Realising they were being overcome by the rapid pace of developments, Knight bolted for the door to the security pod, wrenched it open and started pushing though the shocked crowds, hoping to intercept the women.

But which way had they gone? East or west?

Knight decided they’d head for the exit closest to transportation, and therefore ran down the west hallway, searching among the stream of people coming at him until he heard Jack Morgan shout, ‘Knight!’

He glanced to his right and saw Private’s owner hustling out of the inner arena.

‘I’ve got them!’ Knight cried. ‘Two women, a sandy blonde and a redhead. She’s limping! Call Lancer. Have him seal the perimeter.’

Jack ran with him, trying to use his phone while weaving through the crowd that was trying to leave.

‘Damn it!’ Jack grunted. ‘They’re jamming mobile traffic!’

‘Then it’s up to us,’ Knight said and ran faster, determined that the two women would not get away.

In moments they reached the section of the north hallway he’d watched on camera. There was no way they could have got past him, Knight thought, cursing himself for not taking the east passage. But then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of them several hundred feet ahead: two women going out through a fire-exit door.

‘Got them!’ Knight roared, holding his badge up and yanking out his Beretta. He shot twice into the ceiling, and bellowed, ‘Everyone down!’

It was as if Moses had parted the Red Sea. Olympic fans began diving to the cement floor and trying to shield themselves from Knight and Jack who sprinted towards the fire-escape door. And that was when Knight understood.

‘They’re going for the river!’ he cried. ‘They set off a bomb as a diversion to pull the River Police away from the arena!’

Then the lights flickered and died, throwing the entire gymnastics venue into pitch darkness.

Chapter 63

KNIGHT SKIDDED TO a halt in the blackness, feeling as if he was tottering at the edge of a cliff and struck with vertigo. People were screaming everywhere around him as he dug out a penlight on the key chain he always carried. He snapped it on just as battery-powered red emergency lights started to glow.

He and Jack sprinted the last seventy feet to the fire-escape door and tried to shoulder it open. Locked. Knight shot out the lock, provoking new chaos among the terrified fans, but the door flew open when they kicked it.

They hurtled down the fire-escape stairs and found themselves above the arena’s back area, which was clogged with media production trucks and other support vehicles for the venue. Red lights had gone on here as well, but Knight could not spot the pair of escaping women at first because there were so many people moving around below them, shouting, demanding to know what had happened.

Then he saw them, disappearing through an open door at the north-east end of the arena. Knight barrelled down the staircase, dodged past irate broadcast personnel, and spotted a security guard standing at the exit.

He showed his badge and gasped, ‘Two women. Where did they go?’

The guard looked at him in confusion. ‘What women? I was—’

Knight pushed past him and ran outside. Every light at the north end of the peninsula was dead, but thunder boomed and lightning cracked all around, giving them flashes of flickering vision.

The unseasonal fog swirled. Rain was pelting down. Knight had to throw up a forearm to shield his eyes. When the next flashes of lightning came, he peered along the nine-foot chain-link fence that separated the arena from a path along the Thames that led east and south to the river-bus pier.

The sandy-blonde Fury was crouched on the ground on the other side of the fence. The redhead had cleared the top and was climbing down.

Knight raised his gun, but it all went dark again and his penlight was no match for the night and the storm.

‘I saw them,’ Jack grunted.

‘I did too,’ Knight said.

But rather than go straight after the two women, Knight ran to the barrier where it was closest, pocketing the light and stuffing the gun into the back of his jeans. He clambered up the fence and jumped off the top.