La Rochelle, France
A
cton continued to struggle, the heavy Bible causing the front tire to swing wildly as he failed to gain enough speed. Laura was well ahead of him, turning back and urging him to hurry.
“It’s the terrorists!” yelled someone in French. “Stop them! It’s the terrorists!”
His heart sank at the words. If these people thought they were involved, and they recognized them, then that meant the world knew. As did every police officer in Europe. And that meant their lives were in serious risk if they were to encounter any type of law enforcement.
He propped the Bible on the handlebars, then leaned forward, pressing his chest against the massive tome, squeezing it between himself and the bars, finally stabilizing enough to get several good pumps in as their pursuers sprinted after him, the nearest uncomfortably close.
As he continued to pump his legs and pick up speed, the fastest among those offended at their thievery continued to gain until he reached a gentle downslope that allowed him to pick up speed rapidly, his and the Bible’s extra weight closing the gap with Laura quickly.
They soon had some serious distance between them and their pursuers, and after several quick turns, they were out of sight and safe for the moment. Laura came to a stop and let him catch up.
“That was close.”
He agreed. “Too close.”
She held out her hands. “Give me the Bible. I’ll put it in my basket.”
He frowned as he handed it over. “I wish you had thought of that earlier.”
She shrugged as she placed it inside. “Sorry, it’s only my second robbery.”
