Page 45 of French Escapade

Élodie

“Élodie!” Gun in hand, Ted is right behind me.

“Arkady’s on the run. He’s got Madison!” I yell, without slowing down. I can still see the Russian mobster. I can’t let him go.

With his shoulder, Arkady pushes open the door leading to the party rooms. I do the same, a few seconds later. Music is blasting and people are moving on the dance floor without paying any attention to what’s happening around them.

Still, a man barging into the room with a girl on his shoulder and a gun in his hand is a striking sight. Especially when he’s followed by two other people who look like they mean business.

“They have guns,” someone yells.

Even if only the people in their immediate proximity hear the scream, it’s enough to create a panic among the guests. Some start running toward me to escape the unseen menace. I bump into one of them and push him away roughly. No time for manners.

It’s enough to make me lose sight of Arkady, and the crowd rushing around doesn’t help.

“This way!” Ted yells, pointing to the large bay window overlooking the terrace on the sea side of the building.

We reach it and face a bar in the middle of the lounging rooms. The pinkish light is great for creating a cozy ambiance, not so much for spotting someone trying to hide. I barely have time to catch a glimpse of Arkady.

He’s running toward the beach. Over his shoulder, Madison looks like a ragdoll. Did he knock her out? I have to admire the man on one point. He’s in great shape to be moving so fast with that much deadweight on his shoulder.

I hear a whistle in the air. We have a new problem.

“Down!”

A bullet flies by my arm and buries itself in the wall of the building.

I hide behind one of the terrace sofas. A glance in Ted’s direction shows me he’s found cover as well.

More bullets, and the few people around rush away screaming. “They’re shooting at us!”

It’s not Arkady. Must be his men. I quickly assess the situation. I count two of them. For now…

I look in Ted’s direction and he raises two fingers and points toward one of the guys to tell me he’ll be taking care of him. Good, I’ll handle the other.

I raise my gun and let my training take over. This is the sort of situation where thinking is counterproductive. Instinct, built by hours of training, is my best ally. I aim. It’s a near miss. I breathe. I try again. This time I get him. I put a bullet in his arm.

Ted shoots his guy down with his first try. It’s nice to work with a sniper.

“Go. I’ll cover you!” he yells, as other police officers arrive with their weapons drawn.

I run toward the beach. From where I am, there aren’t that many possibilities. He’s not going to try to go anywhere swimming, especially not at night. The only other option is the harbor.

When I reach the docks, there’s no one in sight. That’s to be expected. At this time of night, the action can be found in the opposite direction, by the restaurants. The fishermen’s boats move gently with each wave.

If I was Arkady, I would hide. It would be suicidal to rush toward the Croisette. The area is swarming with cops.

I slow down, listening for unusual noise and looking for unnatural movement. I still have my phone, so I send a quick message to Christophe and Ken to tell them I suspect Arkady is on one of the docks. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I would sure appreciate some help.

That’s when I hear “Help!”

I can’t say it’s a scream because the voice is not very loud. It’s clear it’s the voice of a woman in distress. It must be Madison, and if my ears don’t deceive me, they’re on the other side of the docks.

I quickly make my way between the yachts and smaller sailboats as silently as I can. I think my bare feet are bleeding now. Still boosted by adrenaline, I don’t feel a thing.

Muffled cries now. What the hell? Is Madison fighting back? I get closer without showing myself. Now is not the time to let Arkady or one of his goons shoot me down.

I finally see something shifting on a Zodiac about ten meters away. I recognize the silhouette moving about.

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