The Bloodline Cipher by Stephen Cole Page A

of Coldhardt’s contacts, customised with special bull bars designed to concentrate and multiply the force of collision. She’d calculated a speed of at least fifty to smash through the iron security gates, but so much depended on where she hit them and from which angle … It wasn’t an exact science.
    She only had one shot at getting it right.
    Tye poured on the gas as they thundered along the wooded lane. ‘Hang on tight.’
    â€˜Duh!’ replied Motti as he buckled up and wedged his feet against the dashboard, bracing himself.
    The pick-up lurched as they roared and skidded round the corner. The fort came into sight.
    And there were the heavy-duty gates – standing wide open.
    Tye took in two uniformed bodies, face-up in the gravel with bolts in their bellies. Just beyond them, she saw a huge, white limousine parked on the drive, blocking their way. She stomped on the brakes, spun the wheel, muttered a prayer as she swerved to try and avoid the limo. But the pick-up was like a big red missile and it was going too fast to stop.
    There was a kind of sick grace to the collision as they smacked loudly into the back of the car; the limo’s boot and bumper crumpled like paper and it leapt into the air like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’s posher cousin.
    The impact flung Tye forward in her seat, the safety belt biting into her ribs. Moments later, she had unbuckled and was racing outside. Every bone in her body seemed to rattle as she ran, and there was a prickling thickness throbbing through the back of her neck.
If anyone was inside that limo, they could be dead as those two guards
. The realisation stopped her running. She was suddenly afraid to see.
    Motti reached the car first. ‘No one,’ he reported, glancing back towards the fallen guards. ‘And that’s all security here terminated.’ He shook his head. ‘But if this is Lady Bowfinger’s getaway vehicle, I think she’ll be leaving on foot.’
    A woman’s scream echoed distantly from inside the fort.
    Motti turned at the sound. ‘Maybe that’s her now.’
    â€˜Sounds like someone’s terrified,’ said Tye.
    â€˜Do we care? It wasn’t Con,’ Motti noted. ‘And Patch and Jonah can’t reach a note as high as that.’
    Tye took a deep breath. ‘Well, gates or no gates, we’ve announced our arrival. Let’s get inside and take a look.’ She led the way across the drive, kicking up gravel as she ran for the nearest window.
    â€˜No!’ Jonah felt his world tilt, felt his legs start to shake as he tore up the remaining stairs to where Patch lay unmoving. He reached him just as Con did. ‘Is he OK, is he –?’
    Patch’s eye flickered open and scrunched the blanket he was clutching in front of him around the bolt. ‘Good stuff, this titanium foil,’ he croaked. ‘Don’t think she broke the skin.’ Jonah tried to help Patch up, but the boy shook his head a fraction. ‘Just make out I’m dead and leave her to me.’
    Jonah blinked. ‘To you?’
    Patch winked. ‘Eye for an eye.’
    â€˜Murdering bitch!’ Con shrieked, turning in a fury back to Sadie.
    The girl had negotiated the slippery floor and was running towards the stairs, grim-faced. There was no sign of Sorin. Sadie swung up her arm ready to fire at Con, but then had to dodge aside as Jonah chucked a large vase down at her from the top of the stairs.
    He grabbed Con’s wrist and yanked her away along the landing, panting for breath. The floors and walls were black up here, with strange markings and crude geometric designs scratched into the ceiling, like strange stars overhead. The landing turned at rightangles, and once they’d rounded the corner, they stopped running.
    â€˜Hope Patch knows what he’s doing,’ said Jonah. Con nodded, wiped drying blood from her swollen lip.
    Cautiously, Jonah peeped out from