With a forlorn sigh, Kate leaned her cheek against Finn's broad back. So strong and dependable. Her bulwark against all that evil. And while Finn McGuire was an unrepentant smart-aleck, he would never harm or demean her in any way.

Maybe her strange attraction to Finn McGuire wasn't a form of Stockholm Syndrome so much as an actual stirring of the heart. Not only was he a physically fit male, but he was honourable and courageous. And much smarter than he let on. The fact that he didn't preen or s...o...b..at made him even more attractive. Attractive like a standing stone. Or a towering oak tree. Beautiful and solid and wildly primitive.

But he is so not my type.

Having always dated 'academic' types, it made Kate think that it might be a case of opposites attracting. Like positive and negative poles on a magnet. Or the Yin and Yang of Chinese Finn elbowed her in the ribs. 'We've got a crotch rocket on our six!'

'What?' Kate had to screech to be heard over the top of the sudden roar of a loud engine.

'I'm going to make a sharp left up ahead.'

Uncertain who or what a 'crotch rocket' was, Kate tapped him on the shoulder. 'But, Finn, that's a one-way street. If you turn left, we'll be headed in the wrong '

She grabbed his waist as the scooter suddenly made a very tight turn, the illegal manoeuvre inciting a loud horn blast from a pa.s.sing motorist. Craning her head, Kate caught sight of a silver motorcycle about thirty yards behind them, its rider decked out in head-to-toe black leather.

Menacing? Yes. Dangerous? She hoped not.

Wrapping her arms around Finn's torso, Kate clutched her left wrist with her right hand, locking herself into place. Terrified, she couldn't tell if her heart was beating too fast or too slow.

Finn glanced in the side mirror, his expression grim. 'Hold on tight,' he ordered as he opened the throttle, the Vespa quickly picking up speed.

But not enough speed; the motorcycle was no more than fifteen feet behind them. And gaining.

Accelerating, Finn crossed the heavily-trafficked Boulevard Saint Germain to the accompaniment of blaring horns and foul-mouthed yells. Certain they were going to be hit by a delivery truck, its driver wildly gesturing at them, Kate wrapped her arms even tighter around Finn's waist.

Somehow, miraculously, they crossed the busy thoroughfare without incident.

Glancing behind her, Kate saw that the driver of the hotrod motorcycle had been the recipient of the same miracle.

Directly ahead of them, the view wasn't much better, a green street-cleaning truck hogging the entire lane. In a manoeuvre Kate didn't see coming, Finn jumped the kerb to the right of the truck and pa.s.sed it on the pavement. The motorcycle also jumped the kerb, its front wheel coming off the ground at least two feet as the driver gunned the engine. The sinister theatrics elicited a cacophony of terrified screams, pedestrians running pell-mell to escape the two vehicles.

Seeing a small cl.u.s.ter of people gathered around a vegetable stand, Kate hollered, 'Watch out!'

'I know!' Finn yelled back at her, both of them flinching as someone threw a head of lettuce, the green projectile bouncing off the scooter's winds.h.i.+eld with a resounding thud.

Having successfully navigated around the vegetable stand, Finn took a hard right, narrowly missing a bicyclist. The sudden turn put them on a cobbled street, one of the tiny lanes that made up the labyrinth of pedestrian streets bordering St Severin Church. Motorized vehicles were forbidden, but Finn clearly didn't care about Parisian road regulations.

The same could be said of the driver on the motorcycle, Kate glimpsing a silver flash to the rear of them.

'Oh, G.o.d! Don't hit the pigeons!' she screamed a few seconds later as they sped down a minuscule street that was little more than a fissure between two adjoining buildings.

Finn shot her a warning glance in the side mirror. Kate didn't have to be a mind reader to know she'd just been telepathically ordered to 'Shut up and stop back-seat driving! '

Moments later, as they pa.s.sed the Gothic St Severin, she caught sight of the grotesque stone gargoyles that extended from the gables. For centuries they'd stood sentry high atop St Severin, keeping evil at bay. She offered up a quick prayer, the silver motorcycle still 'on their six'.

As they approached the congested Quai St Michel, Kate knew Finn had only one option turn left or end up in the River Seine. Leaning close as he made the approach, she braced herself for the sharp turn, the Vespa precariously lurching off balance.

Which is when it occurred to her that neither of them wore a helmet. Or any other form of protective clothing.

That realization made her pray all the harder.

No sooner did they make the turn on to Quai St Michel than Finn proceeded to weave in and out of traffic. The silver sports bike zigzagged right along with them, easily keeping pace with their every manoeuvre, the helmeted driver waving at her as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

'Hasn't your buddy Aisquith ever heard of a tune-up?' Finn complained. 'We'd have more power on a tricycle.'

Evidently their pursuer thought the same thing because suddenly he revved his engine. Where before there had been five feet between them, the distance was now reduced to five inches.

Like a high-speed battering ram, the motorcycle b.u.t.ted the back of the scooter.

'Finn!'

'I know! I can't go any faster!' he hollered, veering in front of a taxi.

The motorcycle pulled abreast of them.

Which is when Kate saw the driver remove a weapon from his jacket.

'He has a gun!' she screamed, every muscle in her body tensed, already antic.i.p.ating rigor mortis.

What happened next was a visual blur as Finn abruptly swerved to the right on to an exit ramp an exit ramp that descended to the paved wharf that fronted the Seine. On one side of the pavement there was a two-storey retaining wall that ab.u.t.ted the multi-lane speedway; on the other side was the river.

Finn cut the engine on the Vespa and slammed his booted foot against the kickstand.

'Get off! Quick! He'll be here any second!'

Kate did as instructed, offering no resistance when Finn grabbed her by the hand and ran over to the water's edge. About a hundred yards away a grey-haired man seated in an aluminium deck chair was fis.h.i.+ng, a dog asleep at his side. Fifty yards in the other direction were two parked cars, their owners nowhere in sight. For all intents and purposes, they were alone.

'Okay, it's show time,' Finn hissed, jutting his chin towards the silver motorcycle zooming down the concrete ramp. 'You let me handle this. No interfering. Understood?' As he spoke, he shoved her behind him, s.h.i.+elding her with his much larger body.

'What are you going to do?' Kate asked fearfully, wondering if there was anything he could do.

'I'll tell you what I'm not going to do ... I am not going to retreat.' Unzipping the canvas satchel slung across his chest, Finn removed the Montsegur Medallion from his bag, the gold disc brightly gleaming in the midday sun.

'Drop your weapon!' Finn shouted at the helmeted man on the motorcycle. 'Or the medallion gets hurled in the river!'

26.

'And just so we're clear ' smiling mirthlessly, Finn tossed the Montsegur Medallion into the air, catching it in his left hand 'this has no value to me whatsoever. One wrong move from you and I will not hesitate to fling it like a d.a.m.ned frisbee into the Seine.'

He hoped to G.o.d the bravado worked. If not, they were screwed. Other than the somnolent old man with the hook'n'line dangling in the water, there wasn't a soul in sight. He and Kate were in the open. Completely exposed. Even the old man wouldn't know what had happened until all was said and done; the bad guy's HK semi-automatic had a silencer on the end of it.

Which probably explained why Kate was quaking against his backside.

Or maybe she knew there was one really big c.h.i.n.k in his armour he had no weapon.

In those few seconds before the motorcycle roared on to the wharf, he thought about grabbing the KA-BAR knife. He had a deadly aim and to h.e.l.l with the legal consequences. He always said he'd rather be tried by twelve than carried by six. But at the last moment something made him reach for the medallion instead. He wasn't altogether certain why he did it, other than he had a gut feeling it was the better weapon to draw from his holster.

The helmeted rider, his features obscured by the black-tinted face guard, lowered his weapon, setting it on the ground. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d then did the unexpected and kicked the d.a.m.ned thing into the Seine, the gun hitting the water with a loud splash.

c.o.c.ky motherf.u.c.ker.

Finn raised a quizzical brow. 'You know, I was fully expecting you to play a few more hands before folding. You must want this medallion real bad.' When his adversary made no reply, he said, 'I'll take that as a "Yes". Now that we've got that settled, lose the helmet, a.s.shole. I want to see your face. Slowly. No sudden moves or the medallion will end up next to the HK at the bottom of the river.'

Clasping either side of the metallic grey helmet, the other man complied with the request.

The moment the helmet was removed, Finn sucked in a deep breath, completely blown away.

Holy s.h.i.+t!

Unhurriedly, well of aware of the effect, his adversary shook out a mane of long, silver-blonde hair. Hearing Kate's indrawn breath, Finn could only a.s.sume that she was equally stunned to discover that the person standing opposite them was a woman.

Quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

'Who the h.e.l.l are you?' he demanded to know, still getting over the shock.

'Some call me Angelika; others, the Dark Angel,' the woman calmly replied in a husky French accent.

The Dark Angel!

f.u.c.k!

Finn glared at the leather-clad a.s.sa.s.sin. Although sorely tempted to kill the b.i.t.c.h with his bare hands, he'd vowed that Dixie and Johnny K's murderer would stand trial. That meant he had to have her alive and kicking. She wasn't worth a d.a.m.n to him dead.

'So, which do you prefer ... the Dark Angel or Angelika?'

'I prefer the Dark Angel.'

'What is that, your alter ego?'

'Mais, oui. In the war between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness, the Dark Angel will be triumphant.'

Finn snorted derisively. 'Thanks, Yoda. So, how about telling me how you tracked us. h.e.l.l, we haven't been in Paris but a few hours.'

'While you have many skills, you committed a glaring blunder.'

'Yeah? What was that?'

'You took Fabius Jutier's laptop from his emba.s.sy office.' Her lips curled in a gloating smirk. 'We surmised that you did so in order to mine the computer for information regarding our organization. Information which would have led you directly to our headquarters here in Paris.'

'I didn't steal a d.a.m.ned thing,' Finn said with a shake of the head.

'There's no sense lying. The misdeed is done. Since you are a decisive man, we knew that you would go on the offensive. Which is why we've been watching the airports and train stations around Paris.' The smirk morphed into a come-hither smile. 'If you must know, I had you in my gun sights earlier this morning at Gare du Nord.'

'Why didn't you pull the trigger?'

'Regardless of what you think, the Seven has no desire to see you dead.' As she spoke, the Dark Angel unzipped the pocket on the left arm of her jacket and removed a box of Lucky Strike cigarettes. 'If I wanted you dead, I could have killed you at any time.' She nodded at the Ducati 999R parked a few feet from where she stood. 'Mine is the more powerful vehicle. It would have been child's play to have caused a fatal accident.'

'And the only reason you didn't mow us over with your Italian crotch rocket is because you had no way of knowing whether or not I had the medallion on me.' For d.a.m.n sure, she didn't spare their lives out of the goodness of her heart.

Opening the box of Lucky Strikes, the Dark Angel removed a gold lighter. She then shook a cigarette loose and extended her arm towards Finn. 'Fumez-vous? ' When he shook his head, she lit a cigarette, throwing her head back as she languidly blew out a perfectly shaped smoke ring.

'I'm curious: are you just a hired gun or are you a card-carrying member of the Seven?' he asked, admittedly having a hard time getting a handle on her.

Her brow wrinkled. Either she didn't understand the question or she was playing dumb.

'Okay, I'll put it another way ... are you the proud owner of a Black Sun tattoo?'

'Would you like to see my tattoo?' Looking like a poster girl for sin city, the blonde started to unzip her Joe Rocket motorcycle jacket.

'Not especially.'

Affecting a pout, she released the zipper. 'Perhaps later I could tempt you into taking a peek.'

'Don't count on it,' he snarled, refusing to let himself be affected by his adversary's beautiful packaging.

Just then, Kate stepped out from behind him, taking up a new position on his left flank. 'What do you know about the connection between the Black Sun and the Vril force?' she asked in a quavering voice. Although scared, she didn't lack for gumption.

'Ah, le pet.i.t souris avec les yeux bleus. Ou peut-etre gris.' Tilting her head to one side, the Dark Angel contemplatively a.s.sessed Kate. 'Blue. Grey. It matters not. To answer your question, little mouse, Vril is the force that allows us to escape the prison of the here and now.'

What the f.u.c.k did that mean?

'Okay, next question: who hired you to kill Dixie and Johnny K?' Finn asked, steering away from the mumbo-jumbo.

'I was sent by the Seven Research Foundation.' She lifted a shoulder in an elegant Gallic shrug. 'But then you already knew that.' With an impatient flick of the wrist, the Dark Angel flung her cigarette aside. 'You do realize, don't you, that we have a great deal in common?'

'News flash: We don't have a d.a.m.ned thing in common.'

'Don't fool yourself, Finnegan ... We are both killers, n'est-ce pas?'

'I've only killed out of necessity.'

'And I kill for the sheer pleasure of it, but that doesn't change the end result.'

'What about Dixie and Johnny K? Did you enjoy killing them?'

She wistfully sighed as though recalling a fond memory. 'Oui. Very much so. They were both strong, their will to live immense. Their deaths brought me much pleasure.'

Jesus H! What a f.u.c.king psychopath.

A male a.s.sa.s.sin wouldn't have stood a chance getting through a Delta trooper's front door. But Angelika was the enemy a man didn't expect a drop-dead gorgeous woman.

'I want names and I want them right now. Who hired you?' All he needed to squeeze out of her was one G.o.dd.a.m.n name.