Necropolis

reflected, maybe that was what he deserved.
    "This is the Hong Kong police. Heave to…"
    The voice echoed out of the water, amplified through a megaphone. There was a man standing on the bow of the nearest boat — except he looked far too tall to be human. He was black and was dressed in the uniform of a senior officer in the Hong Kong police. But it was obvious he was no policeman. He was like something out of a nightmare, with his bald head and empty, staring eyes. It was freezing cold out on the water, but he wasn't shivering. He showed no feeling or emotion at all.
    Richard lunged forward, grabbed hold of the steering wheel, and slammed down the throttle. Matt felt the floor tilt beneath him as the cargo boat surged forward. Captain Machado had been standing there, dazed, as if unsure what to do, but now he seized hold of Richard, and the two of them began to grapple for the steering wheel.
    "Get rid of him, Jamie," Matt said.
    "Jump overboard," Jamie commanded.
    Machado let go of Richard and lurched out of the cabin, moving in a trance. There was shouting, a shot, then a splash as Machado was gunned down even as he hit the sea. The Hong Kong police had assumed he was trying to escape. Or maybe they knew who he was but had decided to kill him anyway. Machado floated facedown in the water. He didn't move.

    Richard had control of the cargo boat. He spun it round, taking the police by surprise. Seconds later, he burst through them, weaving round one of their boats, heading for the central side of Hong Kong.
    "The gun!" Richard shouted.
    Matt snatched it up and handed it to him. Then Jamie shouted and pointed. "Watch out!"
    A face had appeared at the window, glaring at them with furious eyes. For a moment, Matt thought one of the policemen had somehow boarded
    Moon Moth.
    Then he remembered the single crewman — Billy — who had sailed with them from Macao. He was holding a gun, bringing it round to aim at the cabin. Richard shot him through the window, a single bullet between the eyes. The boat lurched crazily. The wheel spun. The crewman disappeared.
    Then the nearest police launch opened fire. The noise was deafening as the bullets smashed into the metal plates of the cargo boat, cutting a line along the bow and ricocheting back into the water. One of the windows shattered and Richard ducked as tiny fragments of glass showered down onto his shoulders and back. The cold night air rushed into the cabin, carrying with it the spray of water and the foul, decaying smell of the pollution.
    Moon Moth surged forward. Richard was fighting with the wheel, trying not to be shot. Matt looked back. The police launches were regrouping, preparing to come after them. The man at the front suddenly opened his mouth and howled, a sound that split the night, louder than all the boats put together. Matt knew at that moment that he wasn't a man at all.
    "We're going to have to jump!" Richard shouted above the roar of the engines and the raging wind.
    "Jamie, can you swim?"
    Jamie nodded.
    "I'm going to take us in as close as I can." He turned to Matt. "If we get separated, meet at —"
    But Matt didn't hear the rest of the sentence. There was another burst of gunfire, this time strafing the stern and the cargo hold where the fireworks were packed.
    "Now!"
    Richard abandoned the wheel, and the boat began to zigzag. Matt needed to ask him what he had just said, but everything was happening too quickly. Richard snatched up his backpack and forced it over his shoulders. Jamie was right next to him. The five police boats were getting closer, only a few yards behind.
    "Go!" Richard shouted.
    Jamie hurried out to the deck and disappeared over the side of the boat. But Richard hadn't followed. He had climbed down from the cabin and was balancing himself, clinging to a handrail as Moon Moth, its engines screaming on full power, swerved drunkenly through the sea. Blood and water streamed down his face and his eyes were wild. Matt had never seen him like this before. Gritting his teeth, he brought the gun up and fired into the crates of fireworks, again and again, emptying the chamber into the same spot.
    Nothing happened until the final shot. Then there was a flare of magnesium, burning through the tarpaulin. Richard noticed that Matt was still there, that he hadn't jumped overboard. "Jump!" he pleaded.
    Matt jumped.
    Even as his feet left the deck, the fireworks went off. There were thousands of pounds worth in the hold.
    A ton of