Unfortunately, the same described a Lamborghini.

All three sports cars left the roadway, angled into the plaza, and closed toward them from both sides.

Gray had no choice.

If it was a race they wanted...

2:23 A.M.

Washington, D.C.

Ensconced before the bank of monitors, Painter stared at the satellite feed from the National Reconnaissance Office. It showed a view of an open plaza in the center of Rome. An ancient amphitheater filled the center. The Coliseum looked like a giant stone eye staring back at him.

"Zoom in closer," Painter ordered the technician.

"Are you sure that's Gray?" Monk asked. He and Kat flanked Painter on either side of the monitor.

"The explosion was a block from his hotel. Reports from the police describe a chase under way outside the Coliseum."

The image on the screen swelled and swept down upon the plaza. Details grew less distinct. But two black cars clearly raced around the periphery of the stone amphitheater. Ahead, a pair of motorcycles sped down walkways and across grassy lawns. One of the bikes shot off the top of a stairway, landed on its back tire, and sped away.

"Yeah," Monk said with appreciation. "That's got to be Gray."

The two cars were rapidly closing the distance.

"There!" Kat said and pointed at the screen.

A third car, coming from the opposite direction, aimed straight for the two bikes. A small explosion erupted near one of the motorcycles, sending a trash can and a section of brick wall high into the air.

"Grenade," Painter muttered.

What was going on?

Pinned on three sides, the two bikes turned and fled along the only path open to them.

Kat's voice turned incredulous. "They aren't...they can't think..."

Monk leaned closer. "Oh, yeah, that's definitely Gray."

Chapter 9

October 11, 8:23 A.M.

Rome, Italy

Gray leaned hard over the handlebars. Rachel hugged tight to him. He aimed straight for the massive stone structure. It rose fifteen stories at its highest point, climbing in towering levels of immense arches and colossal columns. At the lowest level, each archway entrance was sealed by a tall steel gate, but directly ahead was the main entrance, where tourists normally lined up.

Gray shot straight toward it.

The Coliseum was not yet open to the public at this early hour, but the gates were open, and the crowds had already begun to gather in anticipation. The gunfire and blasts had chased most of them clear. Still, clutches of people took refuge wherever they could. A pair of men dressed as gladiators had even climbed one of the plaza's trees.

The presence of tourists and bystanders also kept the armed police who guarded the site wary and cautious, discouraging them from shooting out of hand. The guards had cleared the entrance site.

With the way conveniently open, Gray shot toward the main gate.

A single guard stepped into view, ready to defend the site. He leveled his weapon and yelled a warning at them. Rachel screamed back at him. She waved her arm, holding her carabinieri credentials high.

The man hesitated, his face clouded by confusion.

It was enough.

Gray shot past him as he leaped to the side. Seichan followed. They blasted into the outer passageway that circled the central arena. Lined by archways and held up by columns, the enclosed shadowy space was cavernous. The roar of the cycles echoed off the walls, growing into a deafening crescendo.

A chatter of gunfire drew his attention to the left. One of the Lamborghinis kept pace out in the sunlit plaza. A gunman fired an assault rifle out the passenger window. But the stone walls and steel gates shielded them. Sparks spat off the steel.

A loud splintering crash sounded behind them.

Gray glanced over his shoulder. A second Lamborghini rammed through the gateway and gave chase inside the space. It was unfortunately vast enough to accommodate the small sports car.

A fiery explosion drew Gray's attention back around. One of the steel gates, bent and smoking, blasted into the passageway ahead. The third Lamborghini shot through the wreckage and skidded to a stop, blocking the way.

A dark figure leaned out the window, leveling his smoking weapon straight at them.

"Go right!" Rachel yelled and pointed to a nearby stone ramp.

Obeying, he made a hard turn, leaning out with his knee. The bike skidded, tilted precariously, too precariously. He burned his kneecap across the stone as the bike began to fall. Gritting his teeth, he willed the bike back up.

In the end, the angle saved his life. A loud boom deafened, and a spiraling contrail of smoke shot past the tilted bike, missing Gray by inches. He felt the burn of its passage across his cheek.