Click!
Hunter unclipped his harness. He didn't even have time to retrieve the rope.
Beams of light swept down from the cliff edge, followed immediately by gunfire.
The roar of approaching engines echoed from the road below.
Hunter's heart sank. He sprinted away from the cliff base, dodging the bullets raining down from above.
He summoned his modified motorcycle from his Inventory.
He straddled the bike and kicked the starter.
VROOOM!
The engine roared to life. He twisted the throttle and shot down the mountain road.
Vroom! Vroom!
Behind him, more engines roared.
Steve's men.
Steve hadn't let them inside the villa, but he kept them close.
Hunter leaned into the turn, pushing the throttle to the max.
His bike, with its thunderous exhaust, tore through the winding mountain path like a black arrow.
Vroom!
Two motorcycles were hot on his tail.
They knew these roads.
Hunter glanced at his speedometer. 70 mph.
The mountain wasn't high. Two more turns and he'd hit the main highway. Then he could unleash his bike's true speed.
But the pursuers were gaining, using their local knowledge to cut corners.
Hunter checked his mirror.
His face hardened.
He twisted the throttle again. The new engine, custom-installed by his own hands, screamed.
The bike surged past 100 mph, recklessly charging into the next curve.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Gunfire erupted from behind.
One of the pursuers was riding one-handed, firing a Micro Uzi with the other.
Bullets sparked against the asphalt.
If not for Hunter's [Driving Lv 4], allowing him to weave and dodge with superhuman precision, he would have been Swiss cheese.
Whoosh!
Finally, he cleared the last turn and hit the highway.
Hunter crouched low over the tank, becoming one with the machine. He accelerated again, pulling away from the two pursuers like a rocket leaving the launchpad.
Behind them, Steve followed in his Jeep Wrangler.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He drove with one hand, his other gripping the radio.
"Stay on him! I want him alive!"
"Ten thousand dollars to whoever catches that biker!"
He barked orders, but panic gnawed at his gut.
Eighteen months ago, in Venice, he had worked with Charlie Croker's team.
Handsome Rob.
The team's wheelman. A master driver who could handle any vehicle.
Steve was convinced the biker was Rob, acting as a decoy.
Screech!
Steve slammed on the brakes.
He glared at the disappearing taillights of the three motorcycles.
Then he spun the wheel, executing a U-turn on the highway, and raced back towards the villa.
"Lock down the perimeter!"
"Search everywhere!"
"They stole two massive safes. That bike was a distraction. The safes must still be nearby!"
"Team One, search the villa. Every room. Every corner."
"Team Two, check the cliff. Find out how they got up."
"Check every cave, every bush."
"Don't let anyone slip through."
Steve had miscalculated.
He assumed the thief was Charlie Croker.
He assumed that because the safes were huge and heavy, the biker couldn't possibly be carrying them. It had to be a trick. The safes had to be hidden somewhere close, waiting for a truck to pick them up.
He never imagined a lone wolf with a magical Inventory.
Steve watched his men swarm the property.
He walked to the cliff edge with a few guards. He didn't even glance at the corpses of his dogs.
"Boss. Ropes and pitons here."
A guard shone his tactical light on Hunter's climbing gear.
"They climbed up. And rappelled down."
Steve's face was grim.
Dozens of men were searching, but no safes. No Charlie.
Steve knew those safes. They were top-of-the-line. Even John Bridger, the master safecracker he killed, would need 20 minutes to crack them.
And John was dead. Steve had put two bullets in his chest and one in his heart. He saw the body float.
"Charlie couldn't have found another master cracker that fast."
"The safes must be here."
"Maybe still inside the villa."
Steve looked down at the dark abyss below the cliff, then turned back to his house.
Tonight, he would dig three feet into the ground if he had to.
He would find his gold. And he would find Charlie.
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