Hunt Among the Killers of Men by Gabriel Hunt Page A

trying to figure out which way to abandon ship when Gabriel came soaring at them from the hatchway in a flying tackle. Expertly catching both women by the neck in the crooks of his arms, Gabriel used his momentum to take them over the observation deck edge and tumbling down into the drink.
    The water was clammy and stale.
    Gunners were already shooting at them from the upper deck—automatic swath-fire that sent bullets down into the dark water like deadly snail darters.
    Qingzhao had kicked off her heels and was already stroking for the surface, swimming toward one of the patrol boats. Gabriel saw her since she was three feet away. But when they had splashed down, he’d lost his grip on Mitch and had no idea where she was. Hetried to see her through the murky water, tried to reach for her, but it was hopeless.
    Current was pulling them, still submerged.
    “Help!” A voice that blurred as Gabriel surfaced and water decanted from his ears.
    It was Qingzhao, ploshing about to attract the attention of one of the security men on a skiff. His face was split in a grin of rough good fortune; here was an enticing female delivered unto him by the sea!
    When Qingzhao got a grip on his extended hand, she swung her gun out of the water and shot him.
    Modern technology had some advantages, Gabriel conceded. Wet guns could still fire. Modern cartridges had to be submerged for some time to become useless. Otherwise, nobody could ever have a shootout in the rain.
    Qingzhao used her leverage to tumble the perforated guard into the water. She quickly took control of the boat, as though this had been her exit strategy all along.
    There was still no sign of Mitch, and other boat sentries were catching up in a big hurry.
    Gabriel felt a sting at his temple as a bullet passed within millimeters. Enough.
    He swung one arm over the side of the skiff and pulled himself in just as Qingzhao floored it. Gabriel was hurled indecorously back against a padded vinyl seat as Qingzhao throttled the boat up full.
    “Sit down,” she barked over the howl of the engine.
    With at least three speed-skiffs behind them, they were ramrodding into a tighter section of the waterway, dodging sampans and houseboats. Qingzhao could not bank fast enough to avoid hitting a hua-tzu —one of the smaller, narrower, canoe-like boats used byfishermen. The steel-reinforced ramming prow of the skiff cut the hua-tzu in half as Gabriel saw the occupant jack-in-the-box himself skyward in panic.
    Their pursuers chopped through in their wake, destroying what was left.
    Gabriel felt the sea air cool the sweat on his forehead. The skiff was headed at high speed directly for an elaborate floating restaurant in the middle of the harbor. It was the size of a city block, lit up like a Christmas tree with strung lights, and completely encased in a service latticework of bamboo.
    Diners inside enjoying the splendid view of the river were no doubt dismayed by the sudden sight of a speedboat rocketing toward them with no possibility of detour, followed by a contingent of similar boats firing lots and lots of bullets in the direction of the windows.
    Qingzhao banked the craft hard, attempting a bootlegger’s reverse, but the skiff crashed gratingly into the bamboo superstructure and got hung up with its prow sticking through a shattered window.
    Gabriel had a flashpop-image of Qingzhao jamming an extra magazine from the skiff pilot’s pistol into her décolletage. Then she was diving into the eatery, the patrons and staff of which had taken some small notice of their cacophonous arrival. Gabriel plunged in after her.
    Cheung’s men were already coming in the shoreline entrance.
    As Gabriel pounded through the swinging double doors of the kitchen, he saw Qingzhao jam the extra magazine of bullets into a flaming brazier.
    An instant later, the bullets began exploding. Cheung’s men collided with each other in their hasteto find sparse cover and evade what they thought was ambush