Empire of Gold

35


The fountains erupted into geysers as the pressure behind them increased a hundredfold. Water exploded around the palace, sweeping over the terrace and down the broad stairways towards the shocked people below.

Mac grabbed Macy, yelling ‘Run!’ She broke into a sprint, the Scot behind her.

Simultaneously, Eddie ran for the closest shelter – the Temple of the Sun. He swatted Osterhagen’s shoulder as he passed him, hoping the German would get the message and follow. Kit, further away, also made a break for the entrance.

‘Evacuate!’ Stikes bellowed, rushing for the steps leading down the temple’s side. His men raced after him.

Pachac and his followers were the least prepared, lacking the understanding of Nina’s plan or the mercenaries’ training. The great wave was almost on them before they broke through their dumbfoundedness and started to move.

Macy leapt on to a wall just as the water thundered past her. Mac, two paces behind and slowed by his artificial leg, was not so lucky. The frothing surge swept him away, also snatching up Pachac and his men, and Kit, bowling them all down the stairway towards the city’s lower levels.

Eddie ran into the temple just as the wave caught him and Osterhagen, throwing them against the inner wall. The two men were tossed like driftwood into the Punchaco’s chamber.

Outside, Stikes and his men changed direction just before the flood consumed them, running on to a narrow ledge along the temple’s flank rather than down the steps. Most of the flow took the steeper, wider route, human flotsam tumbling helplessly within it – but the rearmost mercenary slipped as a pursuing bore of water washed beneath his feet and fell with a scream into the maelstrom.

Choking, Mac managed to bring his head above the water – and saw danger dead ahead. The path down into the city made almost a ninety-degree turn at the bottom of the stairway. He was about to be flung against a wall.

Two buildings abutted each other to one side, a narrow gap between them—

He lashed out with his left leg. His foot wedged into the crack – and his ankle bent at an unnatural angle as he jerked to a stop.

His prosthetic ankle. The joint creaked and strained, the force of the water threatening to rip the straps securing the artificial limb to his knee. Water pummelling his face, he bent at the waist to grab the prosthesis itself with both hands, taking the weight off the bindings.

A hand clamped around his arm. Pachac, his extra weight about to snap the metal bone – then the Peruvian lost his grip and was gone.

Kit also glimpsed the approaching wall. He held his breath, powerless to prevent the collision—

The current swept the fallen mercenary in front of him, the other man taking the full force of their impact with a crack of ribs. Winded and spinning, Kit saw pillars along the front of a building. He grabbed at them, the water’s relentless push forcing his fingers from the first before he managed to get a grip on a second. He hung on as the flood surged past him, carrying the other men away downhill.

Stikes and his remaining men jumped from the ledge as the bore rushed around their feet, landing on the walls of the roofless buildings on the tier below the temple. A waterfall gushed down behind them. ‘F*ckin’ ’ell!’ gasped Baine. ‘That ginger bitch is a f*ckin’ psycho!’

‘Keep moving,’ Stikes ordered, surveying the way ahead. By moving along the rooftops, they would be able to stay above the water and make their way down to the helicopter. He still had the case containing the statues; he checked that it was securely closed, then took the lead across the ruins.

On the plaza, Gurov and Krikorian had broken off from their checks at the sound of the explosion and rumble of water, but neither had been able to figure out what was happening – until the wave burst over the buildings above. Gurov gaped at the oncoming deluge, then scrambled down to the open rear cockpit. ‘I’ll start it up!’ he yelled at Krikorian. ‘You shut the hatch!’ The Russian had opened an inspection panel to access the gunship’s engines. Krikorian climbed up, slamming it closed and fumbling with the locking bolts as the wavefront swept across the plaza, churning against the Hind’s landing gear.

The tsunami swept Eddie and Osterhagen all the way round the chamber’s curved inner wall, slamming them against the Punchaco. Eddie gripped the enormous gold disc’s thick edge with one hand, the other clawing for a hold before finding purchase on the sun god’s open mouth. ‘Hang on to me!’ he yelled. Osterhagen clung to his waist. The water level was rising rapidly in the confined space, more surging in every second—

The wall beneath the window cracked – and broke apart.

Eddie almost lost his grip under the powerful suction of water rushing out through the new hole. It cascaded on to the buildings below, sweeping the broken stones with it – and exposing something beneath them.

From the palace roof, Nina watched the spreading waters, conflicted. The rocket launcher, now slung over her shoulder, had given Eddie and the others a chance of escape – but they were still in danger. She could see Macy fearfully climbing a building, cut off by the torrent, but the rest of the explorers were out of sight. And the ruins themselves were under threat; as she watched, a wall crumbled behind Macy like a sandcastle in a rising tide.

The palace itself trembled under her feet. She spun in alarm. The building was taking the full force of the escaping water – and a chunk of its rear wall collapsed in a waterlogged implosion. Pillars toppled like dominoes, a chain reaction of disintegrating masonry advancing on her—

She screamed and made a running jump off the roof just as it broke apart, landing painfully on a lower wall. Spray and froth crashed over her. She gasped for breath, then looked back at the fallen section . . .

Her pain and fear disappeared, replaced by utter amazement.

Pachac had been right. There was more gold hidden in the ancient city. Quite literally – behind the carefully interlocked stones from which the palace was built, she saw the unmistakable sheen of precious metal, cast into rectangular slabs. The Incas had kept more than the Punchaco hidden from the Spanish, an unimaginable fortune concealed inside the walls. Despite her precarious situation, she actually laughed in genuine delight.

In the temple, Eddie had made a similar discovery. ‘Doc!’ he shouted. ‘Look at the wall!’

Osterhagen found secure footing. He turned – and gasped. Jutting from the edges of the jagged hole were large golden bricks, gleaming in the daylight coming through the cave mouth. ‘The city of gold!’ he cried. ‘It’s true, the legend is true!’

Suddenly, the light became brighter.

The advancing wave hit the great defensive wall. The reservoir was filled in a moment, a huge backwash exploding into the air as the drainage holes were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of water. More plunged down the shaft, sweeping away the bodies of Pachac’s men, but even this was not enough to relieve the pressure.

A huge section of the wall bulged outwards – and toppled with a cacophonous boom. The water rushed down its new escape route, sweeping over the rubble into the drained pool outside. The river channel that had carried away the overflow filled again, a tidal surge charging through the jungle towards the valley.

Almost as if satisfied with its destructive efforts, the flow of water began to ease. Most of the underground reserve had now drained away. The roar fell to a rumbling growl.

Stikes, climbing down to another rooftop, heard the change and looked up the slope. The torrent’s fury was dying. There was still a lot of water gushing through the streets, but no longer with deadly force.

That didn’t alter his objective. Plenty of damage had already been inflicted on the Inca settlement, the thumps of falling stonework echoing all around him. The sooner he got to the helicopter with his prize, the better.

Prizes, plural. Another sound caught his attention: a coughing groan. Not far away, Kit clung to a pillar as the flood washed around him. Stikes drew his gun and pointed it at the Indian. ‘Jindal!’ Kit looked up at him through half-closed eyes, confused - then shocked. ‘Don’t move. We’ve still got some business together.’

The raging water trying to tear Mac loose subsided. He shifted position, keeping hold of his prosthetic leg with one hand as he used the other to grip a jutting block and pull himself higher. Taking his weight on his right leg, he freed his trapped foot, then splashed down to solid ground. The water reached his shins, but was quickly falling.

He sloshed back up towards the square to search for his friends, discovering to his annoyance that he was limping: the strain had bent his artificial foot out of alignment. ‘I’ll have a job kicking anyone’s arse with that,’ he muttered.

Gurov completed his hurried pre-flight checks and twisted in his cockpit seat to look back at Krikorian. ‘Come on, close the f*cking hatch!’

The Armenian was struggling with a catch. ‘It’s stuck, I can’t lock it!’ He bashed at the panel with a fist, trying to force it shut.

Even though the flood seemed to be slowing, Gurov still wanted to get the hell out of the cave. ‘I’m starting her. Just get it closed before we take off!’

He flicked switches. With a whine of turbines, the engines came to life, the heavy rotor blades slowly beginning to turn.

Further down the hill, the bedraggled Pachac pulled himself out of the water up a short flight of steps. Another of his men was already there, panting and clutching his bleeding arm, and nearby he heard moans and calls for help. ‘Comrades! Can you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘Who’s still with me?’

One by one, his remaining followers responded. Eight men altogether – all that was left of his original force of over twenty. ‘What do we do, Inkarrí?’ one asked.

Pachac looked towards the cave mouth. Now that part of the wall had collapsed, it would be easy for them to reach the jungle outside. ‘We need to get out of here and contact the rest of the True Red Way,’ he decided. ‘The Punchaco is here – we can’t let the government get it. We need more men so we can take it ourselves.’

‘But it’s huge, it weighs tons!’ protested another rebel. ‘How are we going to get it down the road?’

‘We’ll steal a truck!’ He pointed at two men. ‘Mauro, Juan, when we get outside you guard the cave. If any of the archaeologists survived and try to escape, kill them.’

Heads turned towards the rising sound of the Hind. ‘What about the mercenaries?’ said the first man.

‘Stikes got what he came for, those statues,’ replied Pachac. ‘If he tries to get anything else . . . we kill him too!’ He regarded the broken wall. ‘The water’s falling; we’ll be able to get out now. Come on.’

Eddie waded to the now open end of the temple. Osterhagen followed. ‘This is incredible,’ said the German. ‘If there is gold behind the whole wall, it would be worth hundreds of millions of dollars!’

‘If I were you, I’d start negotiating for a finder’s fee . . .’ Eddie tailed off, the gold forgotten as he took in the view beyond the opening. On the plaza, the Hind’s rotors were building up to takeoff speed – and closer, on the maze of rooftops between the temple and the helicopter, he saw Stikes and four of his men carefully navigating the walls to reach the aircraft.

With a prisoner. Kit. Baine held him at rifle point.

‘Doc, wait here,’ Eddie ordered. Before Osterhagen could reply, the Englishman had climbed through the hole and jumped down on to the skeletal buildings below. He ran along the thick walls after the mercenaries.

The water flowing beneath Nina’s position finally looked safe enough to traverse. She dropped down into it and made her way to the terrace overlooking the square.

To her relief, she saw a welcome face below. ‘Mac!’ she cried, carefully negotiating the waterfall running down the steps and hurrying to him. ‘You’re okay!’

‘My specialist will probably have some harsh words,’ Mac replied, raising his buckled prosthetic leg out of the water, ‘but apart from that, yes, I’m all right. What about the others? Have you seen them?’

Nina looked to one side. ‘I saw Macy over there somewhere - she’d climbed up on to a building, she looked okay. I haven’t seen anyone else, though. Do you know where Eddie went?’

‘In the temple, I think.’ Mac’s gaze returned to the rocket launcher. ‘Let me have that.’

Nina handed it to him. ‘What are you gonna do with it?’

‘Stikes’s helicopter is getting ready to take off,’ he said. ‘Hopefully, that spare warhead is still where we left it; if it is, I’ll see that he encounters a little turbulence.’

‘I’ll tell Eddie to find you,’ said Nina as she headed for the temple. Mac smiled, then limped as quickly as he could down the hill.

A narrow, flooded alley separated two tiers of buildings. Eddie vaulted it, wobbling as he regained his balance on the lower wall, then hurried after the mercenaries.

All five were still armed, and if any looked back he would be in trouble, but their attention seemed fixed on three things: the waiting helicopter, their prisoner, and navigating the walls without slipping. The only thing on Eddie’s mind, however, was violence. He rapidly gained on them, cutting corners in pursuit.

Stikes, leading, dropped out of sight on to a lower tier, followed by Voeker. Kit, next in line, hesitated at the jump. ‘Get f*ckin’ down there,’ Baine snarled, jabbing his M4 at him. The other two men stopped behind him in a line, unable to get past. Kit glared back at Baine – then his expression changed to one of surprise. Baine turned—

The last man in the line was carrying his rifle over his shoulder. Eddie grabbed it, swung it round, and fired a burst at point-blank range into his back.

The bullets tore through the man’s body, exploding messily out of his chest – and hitting Cagg. Even mangled by their passage, the rounds still had enough force behind them to rip into his torso. The mercenary staggered, eyes wide in shock, then keeled over and fell into the waterlogged room below.

Eddie struggled to pull the rifle free of the dead man as he collapsed. Baine brought up his own gun—

Kit body-slammed him, knocking the rifle from his hands. It clattered off the wall and landed near Cagg’s body. Baine reeled. Kit grappled with him – and threw him off the wall to the next tier down.

Eddie finally wrestled the M4 free, the mercenary’s corpse toppling on to a wooden beam and hanging spread-eagled over it. ‘Kit! You okay?’

‘Yes. Thank you!’ The Interpol officer smiled in relief.

Eddie hurried up to him. Stikes and Voeker came into view below. The ex-officer was still carrying the case. Eddie raised the M4, but before he could fire, Stikes and his companion leapt down to the plaza, shielded by thick stone walls.

Eddie had found a new target, though. The Hind was not yet at takeoff revolutions, needing to be at maximum power to haul itself airborne – and he saw a man in a jumpsuit slam closed a panel on the engine cowling. The forward cockpit’s canopy was open: the gunner.

The man who had brought carnage to Caracas. Without hesitation, Eddie aimed and fired. The jumpsuit’s jungle camouflage blossomed with dark red. Krikorian crumpled, thumping off the Hind’s stub wing and dropping to the ground.

No way to do the same to the pilot; the rear cockpit was shut, impervious to the M4’s bullets. But he could still deal with the pilot’s boss. ‘Get back up to the temple,’ he told Kit. ‘Osterhagen’s in there – see if you can find Nina or anyone else.’

‘Where are you going?’ Kit asked.

‘After Stikes.’

‘Are you going to get the statues back?’

‘No, I’m just gonna kill him!’

As Kit retreated, Eddie moved to the edge of the wall and pointed his gun at the tier below. No sign of Baine. There was a steep alley between the lower buildings, water still draining downhill with some force. He jumped on to a wall and advanced along it, still searching for the ex-SAS trooper – but then any thoughts of Baine vanished as he spotted Stikes running for the helicopter. He raised the rifle, pinning the mercenary’s back in his sights—

Hands clamped around his ankles.

Baine had been hiding, now leaping up to grab him and pulling with all his strength. Arms flailing, Eddie fell.

He landed on top of the mercenary, knocking him backwards. Both men landed in the alley – and were swept away downhill by the rushing water.

Kit made his way back along the rooftops, then realised he had missed the opportunity to arm himself in case Pachac and his men were still around. He was about to turn back to retrieve one of the fallen rifles when a holster on the dead mercenary slumped over the roof beam caught his eye. He pulled out the pistol, a Steyr M9-A1 automatic, and quickly checked that it was loaded with its full fifteen rounds before continuing.

Nina entered the temple to find Osterhagen looking out through the broken wall. ‘Leonard! Are you okay?’

The German nodded. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m fine. Where’s Eddie?’

‘He shot some of the mercenaries – but he just fell off a wall!’

Nina ran to the opening, ignoring the gold as she searched for her husband. ‘Where?’ Osterhagen pointed at a lower row of buildings. She saw Kit picking his way along a wall, arms held out for balance like a tightrope walker, but there was no sign of Eddie. ‘Dammit!’ She ran from the temple, hurrying down the steps.

Macy gingerly lowered herself from her perch. ‘Oh, gross . . . ’ she whispered as cold, muddy water sluiced into her boots. It was now only about ankle deep, the flow like that of a brisk stream, but she was still worried about keeping her footing.

One hand on a wall for support, she started to make her way downhill.

‘Kit! Over here!’

The Indian looked round to see Mac emerging from a building. The Scot was carrying the RPG-7 – which was now loaded with the last of the olive-green warheads. ‘Mac! I’m glad to see you,’ Kit said, relieved.

‘You too.’ Mac noticed the gun. ‘You’re armed, good. Come on, get down here. Nina and Macy are okay – have you seen any of the others?’

Kit jumped from the wall and splashed to him. ‘Eddie rescued me from Stikes and his men.’

An approving nod. ‘Good lad. Where is he now?’

‘He went after Stikes.’

Approval turned to a frown. ‘Sod it! If he’s too close . . .’

‘Too close for what?’

Mac held up the rocket launcher. ‘I won’t be able to use this.’

‘You’re going to blow up the helicopter? But Stikes has the statues.’

‘That’s the least of my worries.’ He indicated the tower the expedition had passed on their way to the plaza. ‘I should be able to get a good shot from there before he takes off. Come on!’ He started a limping jog towards it.

Kit followed, his face betraying his secret concern.

Stikes and Voeker reached the Hind and jumped through the open rear hatch. The mercenary leader grabbed a headset. ‘Gurov! Take off, now!’

‘I can’t!’ came the reply. ‘There’s a problem with the port engine, oil pressure. I need to bring it up to speed slowly.’

‘How long?’

‘A minute. What about the others?’

‘There’s no one left to wait for,’ said Stikes coldly. He put the case down in the empty seat beside him and secured it with the harness straps. ‘Besides, I’ve got what I came for.’

The steep alley ended where it met a wider, shallower pathway, the rush of water bowling Eddie into one of the small tombs. Tightly wrapped mummies, now sodden and waterlogged, crunched underneath him. Bruised and winded by his uncontrollable trip down the hard-sided waterslide, he stood—

Baine slithered into the tomb in a burst of spray and slammed a boot into Eddie’s stomach. ‘All right, Yorkie?’ he cried as Eddie doubled over. He jumped to his feet, delivering another kick to his former comrade’s midsection. ‘Yeah, ’ave some of that! You broke one of my f*cking teeth in Caracas – you know how shit the dentists are down here?’ More kicks. Eddie collapsed in a corner, scattering bones and ritual items. Baine moved closer. ‘Gonna break your f*cking neck—’

Eddie whipped up a length of cloth like a slingshot – with a skeletal arm folded inside it. It smashed against the side of Baine’s head. Eddie followed up with a punch. From his awkward position it didn’t have much power behind it, but was hard enough to make the bigger man retreat. Eddie held in a groan as he pushed himself upright. ‘You couldn’t break a f*cking pencil, you southern ponce.’

Baine balled his fists. ‘Always ’ad some f*cking smart-arse comment, didn’t you? Now me, I stick to—’

He broke off abruptly, driving a fearsome punch at Eddie’s head. The Yorkshireman barely managed to dodge, Baine’s knuckles clipping his ear. His military training had taught him that the mere act of speaking demanded a surprisingly large part of the brain’s processing power, detracting from its ability to react to sudden events – but Baine had the same training and had played on Eddie’s expectations to launch a surprise attack.

Another blow, forcing Eddie back a step to avoid it. Baine advanced, fists raised like a boxer. Eddie, realising he was being cornered, brought up his own hands to defend – and took a brutal blow just inches from his groin from the other man’s foot. Not just a boxer – a kickboxer. Baine had expanded his skill set over the past decade.

The mercenary grinned malevolently. ‘Yeah, weren’t expecting that, were you? Feet an’ fists – I can take you down with either.’ A few feints from both pairs of extremities. Eddie countered, but knew that in the confined space, when the real attack came he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. ‘You’re getting slow, Yorkie! Married life’ll do that, turn you into a useless fat f*cker.’ A glance at Eddie’s hairline. ‘Makes you go bald too!’ He laughed—

Eddie struck, this time landing a solid blow to Baine’s upper jaw. The punch split the skin on his knuckles, but the Essex man came off worse, the inside of his lip tearing against his front teeth and the cartilage of his septum snapping. He staggered back, spitting blood.

This time, it was Eddie’s turn to deliver a kick – but even through his pain Baine still had the reflexes to twist away from a ball-crunching impact. Snarling, he dived at the Yorkshireman. Eddie punched him again, but couldn’t avoid the collision – or stop himself from being driven against the wall.

‘F*cker!’ yelled Baine as they grappled. His greater size and weight gave him the advantage, pushing his opponent further down into the tomb’s corner. He jerked up a knee and hit Eddie squarely in the stomach.

Gasping, Eddie struggled to recover, but Baine shoved his head back against the stone wall with a crack. Dizzied, he tried to rise—

Baine’s forearm pressed across his throat like a steel beam, choking him.

Mac ran up the steps into the tower, Kit behind him. As he had hoped, it gave him an excellent view over the plaza.

The Hind was still on the ground, but the amount of spray being kicked up by its downwash told him that it was almost at takeoff power. He brought up the RPG-7 and looked down the sights. The Russian weapon’s aiming system was crude, but at a fairly short distance against a large stationary target he didn’t need to do anything beyond point it in the right direction and fire.

‘Mac, what if Eddie’s down there?’ Kit protested. ‘You might kill him.’

‘He’s not on the plaza, so he’s safe,’ Mac replied. The Hind was fixed in the sights. ‘Clear behind!’

‘No, Mac – if they know you’ve got a rocket, we can force them to surrender!’

‘Kit, the backblast on this thing will kill you,’ Mac snapped impatiently. The helicopter shifted on its landing gear as the rotors reached full speed. It would lift off in a matter of seconds. ‘This is our only chance – move!’

He saw in the corner of his eye that Kit had moved out of the rocket’s deadly exhaust cone, then turned his attention back to the sights. He flicked off the safety, steeling himself for the jolt of firing as he tightened his finger on the trigger—

Two bullets hit him in the back.

Mac collapsed, searing pain swallowing his senses. Blood gushed from the wounds. The unfired RPG-7 clunked down beside him.

Kit stood frozen, the smoking Steyr clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide in shock at what he had just done. His mouth opened, an apology, a confession, on his lips . . . then it snapped shut. Dismay disappeared, replaced by determination. He ran down the stairs, leaving the dying man behind.