Death Run. Justin Richards

       4

      “I am not swimming,” Jade said. “Got that?”

      “Not a lot of choice,” Rich told her.

      “There’s always a choice,” Dad shot back. He was in the lead, running full pelt across the jetty – heading straight for the canal. And when he got to the edge, he kept running.

      Rich was waiting for the splash, but as they reached the edge of the jetty, he could hear Dad yelling at them to hurry up. Somehow – impossibly – Dad was standing on a narrow strip of pathway further along the canal. He looked completely dry.

      Three strides on to the wooden jetty and Rich could see what he’d done. There was a line of five gondolas moored next to the jetty – a bridge across to where Dad was standing. Except the gondolas were bobbing in the water and there was a gap of a metre or more between each.

      The boards were wobbling under their feet, but Rich and Jade ran faster – right to the edge of the jetty. And jumped.

      “Oh, my God!” Rich said. His foot jarred painfully as it hit the bottom of the first boat. The gondola heaved beneath him and he almost fell. Water in the bottom of the shallow boat washed over his shoes. Jade clutched at him as she landed too. They both leaped for the next in the line.

      Again, it was a jarring moment as they landed. But immediately they were on to the next. Rich could hear the thump of heavy footsteps on the wooden jetty behind them. He did not look back.

      On the third gondola, Jade sprawled forwards and Rich grabbed her, dragged her to her feet. He was breathing heavily. “Nearly there.”

      “You think?”

      Rich turned to see what she meant. There were two more gondolas to go. The next one was decked out with garlands of white flowers. A black coffin lay in the middle of it – right in their path. On the middle of the coffin, there was a single wet footprint.

      “Oh, great,” said Rich. He took Jade’s hand and together they jumped again.

      The coffin was polished and slippery and Rich felt his foot slide from under him. He pushed off as best he could. But he knew at once that he wasn’t going to make it across the next gap. The final gondola was moving. It wasn’t moored like the others – there was a man in black trousers and a striped shirt sitting back in the boat close to the single large oar. He was staring in open-mouthed astonishment at Rich and Jade as they flailed in the air.

      The gondolier grabbed the oar and heaved hard. The boat swung sideways. Somehow Rich was almost on it. His foot caught on the side and he was flung forward into the boat. His wrist cracked painfully on the side of the boat. Jade landed heavily beside him. A moment later two large, heavy feet landed squarely between them. A familiar voice shouted in Italian at the gondolier.

      Dad hauled Rich and Jade to their feet. “Good idea,” he said.

      The gondolier was on his feet now and working the oar like his life depended on it. Maybe Dad had told him that it did. The gondola moved surprisingly fast through the water. The skull-faced man was on the boat next to them and, with a shout of rage, launched himself across the canal straight at Rich.

      Again the gondolier heaved sideways on the oar. Skull-face landed on the boat, and the whole gondola tipped under his weight. The gondolier heaved again, and Skull-face, off balance from his landing, staggered backwards. He fell over the side with a stream of angry Italian followed by a loud splash.

      “Oh, yuck!” Jade wiped her sleeve across her wet face.

      The gondolier laughed and shouted something to Dad, who laughed back. “Grazie, Giuseppe,” he said.

      “You know him?” Rich asked in surprise. He rubbed at his wrist, annoyed to see the impact had cracked the glass of his watch.

      “I do now.”

      Two angry men in suits were standing on the jetty watching them as the gondola moved lazily away. A third was helping Skull-face out of the water into one of the moored gondolas.

      “Where are the others?” Jade wondered.

      “Well, it was curtains for Ralph,” Rich said. “Don’t know about the other guy.”

      “I do,” Dad said. He was pointing to a steeply-arched bridge in front of them. On it stood a tall thin man in a dark suit. Next to him was Ralph, slowly clapping his hands.

      “I think you can drop us just here, Giuseppe,” Dad said to the gondolier, indicating a point at the side of the canal before the bridge.

      But Ralph and the Mafia man with him had realised where they were heading and were already running from the bridge.

      Dad thrust a few Euro notes at the gondolier as they all three leaped off.

      “Keep the change,” Rich told him.

      The point where the Grand Canal doubles back on itself is called the Volta. Cutting between high, impressive buildings they found that they were in the area inside the curve of the canal.

      “This way,” Dad yelled, leading them between yet more buildings.

      They passed a line of dustbins and Jade paused to pull several over. Dead flowers and old chicken bones strewed across the passageway, but the bins themselves would slow down their pursuers.

      Rich could hear Ralph shouting somewhere behind them. “We need to lose ourselves in the crowds!” he said. The heat was getting to him and sweat was running down his face.

      “Yeah – what crowds?” Jade was right – the narrow side streets were almost deserted.

      “We’ll find some,” Dad promised. “San Marco is this way. Loads of people.”

      They emerged into yet another small square. There was a church on one side, a small shop on the other. Its window was full of colourful Murano glass – vases and bottles, ornaments and figures.

      “If we get that far,” Jade said.

      There were two other streets leading off the square. Two of the men in suits were coming down one of the streets. The skull-faced man, soaking wet, and another of his Mafia colleagues were coming down the other.

      “Back the way we came?” Rich suggested.

      But as they turned, Ralph and the man who had been with him on the bridge appeared round the corner behind them. Rich wondered if they could get to the church and find another way out. But Skull-face was already too close – they’d never make it.

      “Let’s go shopping,” Dad said quietly. Then louder: “Now!”

      They sprinted to the shop doorway and dashed inside. The shop was full of expensive glassware, all arranged on shelves and plinths. There were statues and vases, ornaments and sculptures. Dad was reeling off rapid Italian to a little old lady standing behind a low counter that boasted a cash till and a roll of floral wrapping paper. Without a word she pointed to the back of the shop.

      “Grazie,” said Dad.

      “Ciao,” Rich told her.

      There was a door at the back of the shop and Dad barged through it. He held it open for Rich and Jade, then slammed it shut. They were in a small courtyard.

      “Hang on,” Jade said. She