Eddie looked down the shaft, seeing a glimmer of a reflection from his torch. ‘It’s a long drop – seventy feet, easy.’
‘But the rope’s about thirty feet long. If someone hung from the end before letting go, that would cut the drop to not much more than thirty feet. And they’d be landing in water.’
‘We don’t know how deep it is,’ said Jared. ‘If it’s only shallow, they’d break their legs.’
Eddie picked up a hunk of broken stone and lobbed it over the edge. The sound of a loud splash rolled up the shaft. ‘It’s more than a foot deep,’ he said, ‘or we would’ve heard it hit the bottom. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be a soft landing for whoever tries it. Who, let’s face it, will be me.’
Jared hobbled to the edge. ‘No, I can do it.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Stabbed,’ he told the Israeli. ‘Pregnant,’ he said to his wife. ‘Wanker,’ he concluded, jabbing a thumb at the affronted Dalton. ‘I’m the only one who can do it.’
Nina was already having second thoughts. ‘If there isn’t a way through to the sinkhole, or it’s too narrow to fit through, you’ll be trapped down there.’
Jared looked back towards the throne room. ‘I’ll probably be struck dead for suggesting this, but we could tear up the tapestries to make a longer rope. Or maybe take down the Tabernacle—’
‘And how long’ll that take?’ Eddie cut in. ‘Cross’ll be on the way back to his helicopter by now. Once he’s gone, we’ve lost him – and the angel.’ He tested the hanging rope again. ‘Buggeration and fuckery. I’m actually going to have to do it, aren’t I?’
Nina tried desperately to think of an alternative, but came up with nothing. ‘Eddie, just . . . don’t die. Please. In fact,’ she continued, pleading giving way to determination, ‘you’re not allowed to die. Your daughter needs you.’
The torches weren’t pointing at his face, but his smile still lit up the shaft. ‘We’re having a little girl?’ he exclaimed, delighted.
Nina beamed at him. ‘Yeah. I know you wanted it to be a surprise, but if there was ever a time when you should know . . .’
‘We’re having a girl!’ he cried, embracing her. ‘Holy shit, we’re having a daughter. That’s amazing!’ He kissed her.
‘Well, it was that or a boy, a fifty-fifty chance,’ she reminded him with a grin.
Jared clapped him on the back. ‘Well done, old man.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Dalton, with considerable sarcasm. ‘Now maybe we can try to get out of here?’
Eddie released Nina. ‘Okay, you’re right,’ he told her. ‘No fucking way am I going to die before I see her. And preferably not for a long time after that.’ He pocketed his gun and flashlight, then took a firm hold of the rope and moved to the edge. ‘We’re getting out of here. I mean, I’ve got to be there to take her ice-skating at Rockefeller Center, intimidate her first boyfriend . . .’
‘Be nice,’ Nina told him. ‘And be careful!’
‘Always am. Usually. See you soon.’ He blew her a kiss, then stepped backwards to begin his descent.
The damaged rope was rough to the touch, scraping his palms. He could feel the fibres straining under his weight. But he was now committed to the climb – either it would hold, or his drop would be even longer than expected.
He had made many such descents before, and this one was no more challenging than any other. The only complication was the sheer smoothness of the cenote’s wall, forcing him to bring his feet up higher than he liked to maintain grip with his soles. But he made quick and steady progress, until . . .
‘I’m out of rope!’ he shouted. He took all his weight with his left hand as he wound the line’s severed end around his right, then held himself in place as he took out the torch and directed it downwards.
A black pool shimmered below. It filled the entire shaft. No protruding rocks broke the surface, or even debris from the destroyed bridge, but he couldn’t tell how deep it was. He could judge the distance to the surface, though: it was still a thirty-foot drop, about as far as an Olympic high-dive. A simple landing if the water was deep enough. If it wasn’t, or he hit wreckage, his bones would shatter.
‘Can you make it?’ Nina called from above.
‘Going to have to!’ Eddie brought his feet up until he was almost perpendicular to the wall. Landing on his back would hurt, but it would bring him to a stop at a shallower depth than if he dropped vertically.
Assuming he didn’t hit something first.
But it was either that or climb back up and remain trapped in the tunnels. ‘Okay,’ he said, taking a deep breath as he psyched himself up. ‘One, two—’
The rope snapped – and he fell.
29
A brief sickening feeling of free-fall and fear—
Impact.
Pain flared through Eddie’s back – then the water crashed over his face, causing a moment of panic before he regained his senses. He thrashed his limbs. No sharp agony from broken bones. Relieved, he tipped himself upright and breached the surface to draw breath, probing with his feet. They touched an uneven floor about five feet below, strewn with debris. Landing flat had saved his life; if he had dropped straight down, he would have hit solid rock and broken both ankles.
‘Eddie! Are you okay?’ cried Nina.
‘I’m fine!’ he shouted, straightening to his full height and bringing the waterproof flashlight above the rippling surface. The water was littered with splintered wood and mushrooms stripped from the walls by the explosion.
The latter reminded him what he was looking for. He surveyed the walls. The cenote widened out at its base to form a bulbous, lopsided cavern, but there were no exits above water level. He lowered the torch under the surface and submerged again.
Nothing was visible. The falling wreckage had churned up the pool, disturbing long-settled sediment. He resurfaced, swearing under his breath. He would have to search blind . . .
Or would he? ‘Nina! Switch off your light!’ he called, clicking off his own torch.
‘You sure?’ she asked.
‘If there’s a way through to the sinkhole, I might be able to see daylight.’
‘Okay!’ Her light went out. Eddie closed his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness, then opened them again.
At first he saw only blackness. But then a vague cyan haze took on form to one side. He waded closer. The ghostly sheen gradually became more distinct. Dropping below the water, he saw a rough rectangle of dim light lower in the wall. ‘I think I’ve found a way out,’ he told the others after surfacing.
‘Big enough to get through?’ asked Jared.
‘I’ll find out in a minute!’ He swam across the pool, then submerged again.
There was a passage through the rock, around five feet wide – but far shallower, two feet high at most. That he could see daylight on the far side suggested the tunnel was not long, but if he got caught on a jutting rock . . .
He resurfaced. ‘Okay, I’m going to try to reach the sinkhole. If I get through—’
‘When you get through,’ Nina corrected. ‘Daughter waiting, remember?’
‘When I get through, I’ll fetch the rest of our gear, then try to push that rock out of the way so I can throw another rope across to you.’
‘See you soon,’ she said. He switched his torch back on and waved it at her, then took several deep breaths and plunged back under the water.
The passage took on form, a pale blue void in the surrounding darkness. He swam into it, finding the highest point. Even that was uncomfortably claustrophobic, and it quickly became even tighter as he advanced. Stone scraped his head. He angled downwards, but within seconds felt rock brush his chest.
He switched tack, using his hands as much to pull himself forward as to swim. The light ahead grew brighter, but the ceiling and floor continued to close in. His heels struck the stone above, forcing him to slow and switch to a more frog-like kick.
The end of the underwater tunnel was now in sight, though. He kep
t kicking, dragging himself along—
An overhanging protrusion caught his shoulder. He tried to drop under it – only to find he had no more room to manoeuvre, his chest flat against the floor. He shoved himself sideways, but found his way blocked in that direction as well.
He backtracked, heart starting to race as the remaining oxygen in his lungs was consumed. A crab-like crawl across the passage, then he started forward again. This time the floor rose up to meet him, pushing him against the ceiling. Rock nudged his body from above and below.
He was running out of air! Clawing at the floor, he hauled himself through the fissure. The slabs of stone squeezed more tightly against him, his clothing catching on rough edges—
His other shoulder became wedged.
No time to back up and try another route. It was either onwards – or nowhere. A fist clenched around his lungs. He dug his fingernails against the rough surface and pulled, writhing as he tried to break loose . . .
His pinned shoulder shifted slightly, jacket slipping against the rock – then with a jerk he pulled free. He squirmed past the obstacle and kicked out of the passage.
The sinkhole waited above, a near-perfect circle of blue. He swam to it, breaking the surface with a gasp—
And immediately clamped his mouth shut as he heard voices.
Heart thudding, breathing heavily through his nostrils, he eased himself to the pool’s side. He had emerged near the cave dug out below ground level – and somebody was inside it.
Eddie brought his breath under control, then carefully moved along the pool’s edge until he could see into the cavern. Two of Cross’s men, armed with MP5s, stood within. Both thankfully had their backs to him, watching the tunnel leading to the cenote. A rearguard.
He looked up at the lip of the sinkhole. Nobody else was there, as far as he could see. But he couldn’t hear any engine noises either. For a moment he was worried that Cross had already left, but decided, based on the time between the helicopter’s arrival and the bad guys entering the temple, that they had not yet made it back to their aircraft.
As much as he wanted to help Nina, she and the others would be safe where they were for now. If there was a chance to prevent Cross from leaving, he had to take it. But he would have to deal with the sentries first.
He held on to the ledge with his left hand, then quietly drew the Desert Eagle and brought it above the surface, tipping it to drain the water from its barrel and receiver. He knew he ought to eject the magazine and rack the slide to make sure the mechanism was fully cleared, but doing so would make a noise that the guards couldn’t possibly miss.
He would just have to take his first shot – and hope the second didn’t jam.
The two men were halfway between the pool and the tunnel entrance, both facing away from him, though the man on the left had turned his head towards his companion as they talked. He would be the quickest to react – which made him the first target.
The Englishman raised himself higher in the water, then aligned the Desert Eagle’s sights on the man’s back. A .50-cal shot would go right through him at this range, but it was the second guard who concerned Eddie. If the guy was quick, he might be able to spin around and retaliate before the Englishman could recover from the recoil of firing the huge gun one-handed . . .
Eddie steeled himself – and pulled the trigger.
The gun’s boom was near-deafening, resounding like the striking of a massive bell. Even with his arm tensed, the recoil kicked it backwards. But the impact on the first guard was far greater. A great burst of gore exploded from the exit wound, blood and viscera splashing over the walls. Already dead, he crumpled to the floor.
The second man jumped in shock, but recovered almost instantly, whirling to face the threat—
The Yorkshireman hauled the gun back down and unleashed a second ear-pounding gunshot. The bullet shattered the man’s shoulder, almost severing his left arm. He was flung backwards, sending a wild spray of fire against the cavern’s ceiling.
Eddie pulled himself from the water. His opponent was down, but not out. The MP5 flailed towards him—
A third thunderous shot – and the man’s head burst apart as if a bomb had detonated inside his skull, only his lower jaw and tongue remaining intact amidst the carnage.
‘Don’t think I’ll be telling my kid about this bit,’ Eddie said as he lowered the smoking Desert Eagle. He glanced at the tunnel leading back to Nina, then reluctantly collected the first dead man’s MP5, slinging it over his shoulder before jumping to grab the lip of the cavern’s overhanging roof. Water dripping from his clothes, he pulled himself up and looked around, spotting boot prints in the dust. He started uphill after them.
He had barely gone twenty yards before hearing the distant whine of an engine. Cross and the others had reached the helicopter. ‘No you fucking don’t,’ he muttered, checking that the MP5 was ready for action as he ran.
The climb was steep and rocky, but he saw flatter ground some way above. He hurried up the slope, hearing the chop of rotor blades picking up speed. It would be at take-off revolutions soon; once it left the ground, it would be out of his weapon’s range very quickly.
Dust billowed over the edge of the rise as the noise reached a crescendo. A moment later, the red and white aircraft rose into view, already tipping into flight away from him . . .
Eddie whipped up the MP5 and fired on full auto.
A stream of bullets arced into the air after the chopper. He was at the limit of the weapon’s effective range, but sheer firepower was enough to score several hits. Sparks spat from the fuselage as rounds struck home, punching through the thin aluminium to strike more vital components beneath. A puff of smoke came from one of the exhausts. ‘Yeah!’ he yelled as the helicopter lurched. ‘Get back down here!’
Cross grabbed his seat for support as the Bell jerked violently. Paxton wrestled with the controls, an alarm shrilling urgently in time with flashing warning lights. ‘I’m losing oil pressure in number two engine!’ the pilot shouted. ‘I’ll have to shut it down!’
‘Can we still fly on one engine?’ demanded Simeon, holding Anna in place.
‘Yeah, but it’ll be tricky. We should make it back to Ovda, though.’
The landscape swung past the windshield as the helicopter slewed around. Cross spotted something on the hillside below – a figure in dark clothing. ‘It’s Chase!’
‘I told you I should have killed him!’ Simeon snarled.
Cross shot him an angry look, but he had bigger concerns than insubordination. The Englishman fired another brief burst. Norvin flinched, but no more bullets came. ‘He’s out of ammo!’
‘Take us back around,’ said Simeon, grabbing his MP5. ‘I’ll deal with that son of a bitch!’
‘No, we need to get out of here!’ Paxton countered, knuckles white as both hands gripped the shuddering controls.
‘Take us back to the airbase,’ Cross ordered, to Simeon’s disappointment. He looked back at his right-hand man as the aircraft gained height. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t get out of there.’ He reached for the radio. ‘Time to call in a favour.’
Eddie glared after the chopper as it stabilised and headed into the distance. ‘Bollocking fuck-nuts!’ he said, discarding the empty MP5 and squishing back down the mountain. He didn’t know where the helicopter was going, but Israel was only a small country; Cross and his remaining people would probably be on a jet with the angel within the hour.
He dropped back down into the cavern, retrieving the climbing gear before returning to the cenote. The rock blocking the mouth of the passage proved to be as precariously balanced as he had thought; it only took a couple of minutes to force it over the edge. It fell to the foot of the shaft with a booming splash. ‘Eddie!’ said Nina with relief from across the gap. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, but Cross got away,’ he said glumly. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m fine. Jared’s stable, but from the way he’s been acting, you’d think he was
fit and ready to run a marathon.’ The Israeli, sitting against the open door, grinned. ‘And Dalton’s been a moaning prick, but that’s nothing new.’
The politician was hunched against the tunnel wall. ‘You know, I’m getting really tired of your attitude.’
‘And I’m getting really tired of your continued existence. Now, Mr President, kindly shut the fuck up.’ She put both hands to her bump. ‘Mommy doesn’t normally use rude words, hon – that’s Daddy’s department – but sometimes they’re justified. Don’t you use them, though, okay?’
Dalton rolled his eyes. ‘Nauseating.’
‘Yeah, I bet you were a fun dad,’ Eddie snarked. ‘Okay, Jared? We’ll rig up a Tyrolean traverse and use the harness to bring you over.’
He pounded new pitons into the rock and fixed ropes to them, then threw the rest of the coils across the chasm. Jared and Nina caught them and pulled them in. The Englishman then lobbed over the hammer and more steel pegs. Once one rope was secured on both sides, the other was tied to Nina’s climbing harness so it could be pulled back across, then she, Jared and finally Dalton made their way over. ‘Thank God!’ the latter gasped as his feet made contact with the floor.
‘Thank Nina,’ said the Englishman. ‘I would’ve left you over there.’ He set about retrieving the climbing equipment. ‘We’ll need this to get back down to the Landie.’
‘Great,’ grumbled Dalton. It’ll take us hours to drive out of this desert.’
‘If only we’d had access to the CIA’s black funds for a helicopter,’ said Nina sarcastically. ‘You know, Mr President, they really should have revoked your access to all that stuff when you resigned from office.’
‘And you don’t work for the IHA any more, yet they seem happy to fund your whims at the drop of a hat. It’s high time the United Nations had its funding brought into check—’
Eddie jabbed a finger at his face. ‘Oi! Mr Pussy-dent!’ Nina let out an involuntary guffaw at the sheer childishness of the insult, and Dalton’s outraged reaction to it. ‘You know how she told you to shut the fuck up? Shut the fuck up.’ Dalton seethed, but bit his lip at the Yorkshireman’s menacing stare.