“They won’t grant us clearance,” Sydney said. “We’ll need another way.”
And right as she said it, she saw Winter nod in the rearview mirror and point at himself. “The other way,” he said.
Sauda’s eyes skipped to him. “Can you get them out?”
Winter thought for a second, then nodded. “I once had to get out of France after a volcanic eruption in Iceland grounded most flights. France granted me an exemption.”
Sauda nodded. “Singapore will have less reason to suspect a superstar. They might let you through.”
“Let’s say they do,” Sydney said. “Then what?”
“There’s a private airfield about fifty kilometers northwest of where you currently are,” Sauda said. Her hologram disappeared briefly to make way for a map. “In Kampung Ladang, Malaysia. As it’s across country borders, it is still operational, last we checked.” The map disappeared, and Sauda came back. She looked at Winter. “Tell Claire to send your private plane there.”
“How do we get across the border?” Winter asked.
“They’ll be on alert, too,” Sauda said. “But you’re the superstar. See what you can do.”
“Are you serious?” Tems muttered.
“Do you want to leave the country or not?” Winter snapped.
“Enough,” Sauda interjected. “Get there as soon as you can.”
“What about Niall’s killer?” Sydney said. They had avoided bringing him up, as if not mentioning him could somehow make his death a fiction. The thought was unbearable to her. “What about what happened?”
“Get yourselves to safety first,” Sauda said brusquely, and Sydney stopped short. Sauda rarely lost her temper. In her words, she could hear an unspeakable grief. “Let’s not add to the body count.”
The transmission cut off before Sydney could say a proper goodbye. She put down her phone and glanced in the rearview mirror again. There were a few more vehicles on the road now.
Then one of the cars caught her eye. She went cold.
“I hate to burst everyone’s bubble,” she said quietly. “But that white car’s following us.”
Immediately after she said it, the white car suddenly accelerated toward them. At the speed it was going, it would collide with their bumper.
Tems didn’t hesitate. He stepped hard on the gas pedal, then swerved wildly across the lanes, wedging them in front of a series of trucks. “If someone’s after us,” he said over the screeching of tires, “they’re going to guess where we’re going. We can’t go to the airfield right now. Winter’s plane isn’t even ready. We need to lose them first.”
“Can we do it?” Sydney asked him.
“Let me find a shortcut,” he said.
As an exit ramp appeared, he careened down it, hugging the curve tightly until he reached an intersection. He didn’t even hesitate at the stoplight—instead, he blew through it, leaving two cars spinning out of control. One nearly collided with them, but Tems swung the car sideways, drifting it through a narrow gap between the two cars, before steadying it again and hurtling down the road.
It looked like an industrial park, with a side road blocked off with road closure signs.
“Not closed anymore,” he said. Then he rammed right into the signs.
They flew apart, and the car went skidding through a construction site. Workers shouted at each other to jump out of the way as they zoomed through.
Sydney glanced behind them. The white car pursuing them had fallen out of view, but a second car was tailing them now—the same police car that they’d seen at the roundabout near the gala building.
“Tems,” she said, nodding behind her.
“I know, I know,” he answered.
They made a sharp turn at the end of the construction site. The car’s wheels lurched as they drove right inside a concrete pipe, the sound of their engine suddenly echoing against the stone walls. When they emerged from the other side, they were speeding toward a flimsy wire fence secured with a padlock.
Tems smashed right into it, sending the gates flying as he went.
