King Solomon's Curse

  ‘You are expecting trouble?’ his friend asked.

  ‘No, but I want to be ready for it. If anybody gets hurt, we’ll need to get them out quickly – and our radios won’t work through walls this thick even if they weren’t lined with bloody lead. So we might have to shout up to you.’

  ‘Somebody will always be here on watch,’ Fortune assured him. He issued instructions to Paris and the porters, who descended the ladder.

  Rivero had by now switched on his camera. ‘Nina, if you could give us a speech to camera about descending into the unknown?’ said Fisher as she put on a head-mounted light and prepared to enter the shaft.

  The redhead gave him an impatient look. ‘I’m about to descend into the unknown,’ she said, before starting down the ladder. Eddie laughed as the director sighed in annoyance. ‘Okay, here I go.’

  The initial climb was easy, boosting her confidence. She paused a few feet down to examine the underside of the entrance. There was no accumulated dirt or evidence of water damage; the slab had been tightly sealed. As Ziff had suggested, it was entirely plausible that it had not been opened since Solomon’s time.

  She continued down the stone ladder until darkness surrounded her, then switched on her head torch. The beam followed her gaze, revealing that the stonework was cut with incredible precision. Again, she was reminded of the interior of the First Temple in Jerusalem.

  The remainder of the descent was straightforward. Nina finally stepped down at the bottom. Fine dust crunched under her soles. More had accumulated within the lowest stone rungs, as if it had been blown from somewhere below. She turned to see a passageway with a thin layer of the same residue on its floor. Were there openings beyond to let in air from outside? None had been visible on the palace’s exterior . . .

  ‘Nina!’ Ziff, his voice echoing down the shaft. ‘What do you see?’

  She looked up to the little square of light above. ‘There’s a passage leading into the palace. Everything looks safe. Come on down.’

  Some jockeying for position took place at the ladder’s top, Eddie reluctantly ceding his place to let Ziff start down before him. Nina moved clear of the shaft, unable to resist the temptation to explore further. She took out her flashlight to complement her head torch and advanced down the tunnel.

  A chamber opened out ahead. She entered the new space – and stopped, both in awe and a suspicion born of painful experience. Eight stone slabs resembling doors were set into the walls around the room, but the only open way out was a narrow passage. A prominent inscription in Old Hebrew had been carved above its entrance, and as she moved closer she spotted horizontal slots set into both walls of the tunnel. At the far end, some fifty feet away, was another chamber. All she could see inside it was a squat statue of a male figure, its mouth gaping open. Her torch beam picked out silver glinting within.

  The wall slots were what had triggered her sense of lurking danger. She had encountered more than enough booby traps in the past to guess that something would sweep out of them at anyone trying to pass. Checking the floor, she saw that the individual flagstones forming its first half gave way to a single large slab at the other end. A channel of the same width was set into the floor of the room beyond.

  Deciding to hold off on investigating the passage for now, Nina instead examined the doors. They seemed to be relics of the lost civilisation, inscriptions in an unknown language set into their surfaces. She cautiously touched one, but it didn’t move. Moving to the next, she was about to test it when a thump of feet on stone told her that someone had reached the bottom of the ladder. ‘David?’ she called.

  ‘Yes, I’m here,’ Ziff replied, switching on a flashlight. ‘Have you found anything?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  The Israeli made his way to her as Eddie dropped down behind him. ‘Oh . . .’ gasped Ziff as he entered. ‘I see what you mean.’ He shone his light at the inscription above the narrow passageway, then moved for a closer look.

  ‘Don’t go in there,’ Nina warned. ‘I’m getting a nasty feeling of “booby trap” from it.’ He stopped sharply.

  Eddie entered. ‘What was that about a booby trap, and why am I not even the slightest bit surprised?’

  ‘That would fit with the inscription,’ Ziff said as he gazed at the text on the wall. ‘It says . . . “The great King Solomon has decreed that those who wish to reach the Mother of the Shamir must prove their worth. This test of wisdom is the first of three. Only the dead shall pass alive; the living who enter shall die.”’ A rough translation, admittedly.’

  ‘It gets the point across.’ Nina went as close to the entrance as she was willing. ‘Have you seen what’s at the far end?’

  Ziff directed his torch beam down the tunnel. ‘Ah! Another part of the legend! Solomon found an idol with a silver tablet in its mouth bearing a message from the former ruler Shaddad, son of ’Ad.’

  ‘So dad ’Ad ’ad Shaddad?’ said Eddie. Both archaeologists shot him stony stares. ‘I’ve ’ad that look before. What was the message?’

  ‘A reminder of man’s mortality,’ Ziff continued. ‘For all his achievements, all his conquests, Shaddad couldn’t escape death in the end.’

  ‘Nope, not ominous at all,’ said Nina ruefully.

  ‘Wait, whatever you’re doing, wait,’ said Fisher as he hurried into the chamber. ‘We need to film whatever you find as you find it, that’s kind of the point of the show. Oh, wow.’ He looked around. ‘This is impressive. What’s behind all these doors?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Nina answered. ‘I haven’t tried opening them yet.’

  ‘Okay, you can have a go once Jay and Howie get here with the cameras.’ He saw the idol in the beam of Ziff’s flashlight. ‘Hel-lo! Who do we have here?’

  ‘Don’t go down there,’ said Eddie. ‘Nina thinks it’s booby-trapped.’

  Fisher regarded the corridor dubiously. ‘Is that likely?’

  ‘You did actually watch my first series, didn’t you?’ Nina said. ‘But yeah, the Hebrew text above the entrance is a pretty big warning sign. So we’re not going down there until we know what we’re dealing with.’

  Fisher held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay. This is the part where you’re the expert.’

  Rivero and Lydia entered, Howie trailing behind them carrying the drone’s case and a bag of equipment. ‘What’d we miss?’ asked the cameraman.

  ‘Dire warnings of death, the usual,’ Fisher replied dismissively. ‘Howie, let’s set up some lights. Flashlight beams are cool if you’re making The X-Files, but we need more visibility.’ The crew started to take out lighting gear.

  ‘What do we do while we’re waiting?’ Eddie asked Nina. ‘Try the doors?’

  ‘We could, although I’m a lot more wary about touching anything after David read that little note from King Solomon,’ she replied.

  ‘It does seem to refer specifically to that exit, though,’ said Ziff. ‘Which door did you try?’ She pointed. He tested it as well, with no better result.

  Eddie examined it. ‘Want me to have a go?’

  ‘I don’t think it would help.’ Ziff aimed his light at the door’s edge. ‘I’m not even sure if there is anything behind this. It looks as if . . .’ He flinched in annoyance as Rivero switched on his camera’s spotlight and shone it at his face. ‘As if it has been fixed directly to the wall.’

  ‘I did wonder if they were more like exhibits, or prizes, from Zhakana,’ said Nina, nodding. ‘Solomon might have rescued them from some important building in the ruins.’

  ‘The design definitely doesn’t match the rest of the palace,’ the Israeli noted. ‘And as for this text . . .’ He peered at the inscriptions over his glasses. ‘I thought at first it was a completely unknown language, but actually . . .’

  ‘Proto-Ge’ez?’ Nina offered. ‘Some of the characters are similar.’

  ‘Very close, ye
s. Perhaps with Sabaic influences, they both have South Semitic roots . . .’ Rivero retreated, clearly bored, as the two archaeologists continued talking, turning to film other parts of the room.

  Eddie went to the neighbouring door. ‘We could try the others. They might not all be fake.’

  ‘Maybe, but not just yet,’ said Nina, still intrigued by the ancient writing. ‘I’m wondering if this . . .’ She stopped, registering on the edge of her vision that Rivero was continuing away from her—

  Into the passage.

  She whirled in alarm. The Hispanic cameraman had gone through the opening, regarding the slots in the wall with indifference before fixing his gaze upon something more attention-grabbing – the idol. He quickened his pace towards it. ‘Hey, you guys seen this?’

  ‘Jay!’ Nina cried, rushing after him. ‘Stop, get out of there! It’s a—’

  Rivero reached the large floor slab – which shifted under his weight, sending him stumbling.

  A deep, crunching rumble came from behind the ancient stonework. The others stared in shock as the walls at the passage’s far end began to move, closing in on each other.

  The slab beneath Rivero dropped farther into the floor. He regained his balance, regarding the narrowing space around him in disbelief before his fear response kicked in. He turned to flee, vaulting up over the deepening step and charging back towards the first chamber.

  A new sound, a dry metallic rattle. Chains scraped over each other, catching for a moment on the accumulated dirt of three millennia – then jerking free.

  The brief pause gave Rivero enough respite to run farther along the passage . . . but not enough to clear it. Metal poles with savage hooks at their ends whipped out from the wall slots, lashing at him as he passed—

  And tearing into his body.

  13

  ‘Jay!’ Nina screamed as Rivero crashed to the floor, blood spurting from ragged wounds across his back. His camera skidded across the stones, spinning to a stop with its spotlight glaring back at his anguished face.

  The hooked poles hit the limit of their movement with a clang, then swung back into their slots. Behind, the closing walls reversed direction and retreated to their original position. The stone slab rumbled back upwards until it was again flush with the rest of the floor. It stopped with an echoing crunch.

  Eddie ran to join Nina, the couple dragging Rivero clear. He cried out in pain. ‘Oh my God!’ Lydia cried in horror as she saw the red trail behind him.

  ‘Get me some more fucking light!’ Eddie barked. Fisher hurriedly raised a torch as Nina snatched up the camera and shone its spot over its fallen owner. Rivero’s clothing had been ripped open. The Yorkshireman lifted away the bloody material to see the extent of his injuries. The cameraman’s lower back had been slashed in three places as if by a giant claw.

  ‘How bad is it?’ Nina asked fearfully.

  ‘It got him pretty deep here,’ he said of the largest wound. ‘The other two probably look worse than they are. I’m more worried about tetanus or some other infection. I dunno how rusty those hooks were, but we’re in the middle of the jungle as well. We’ve got to get him cleaned, closed and covered before any fucking bugs start making a meal of him.’

  ‘I thought there weren’t many insects here,’ said the stunned Howie, trying to overcome his shock by fixing on something mundane.

  ‘Only needs one fucking botfly to lay eggs in a wound and you’re in deep shit. Where’s the first-aid kit?’

  ‘I’ve got one.’ Nina shrugged off her pack.

  ‘I’ll get started. Someone shout to Fortune, tell him to radio the others and bring more rope. We might have to lift him out if he can’t climb.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Fisher. He ran back towards the entrance as Nina gave the medical kit to her husband.

  ‘Will he be okay?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Eddie told her. ‘I need some water.’ Nina put down the camera and passed him a canteen. He cleaned his hands as best he could, then carefully washed the wounds before unrolling a length of sterile gauze and laying it over the deepest laceration. Rivero gasped. ‘Jay, can you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ the cameraman said, voice strained.

  ‘I can’t tell how deep you’ve been cut around your spine. Can you move your legs?’

  Another gasp as Rivero shifted position, his toes scraping on the dusty floor. ‘Thank God,’ Nina said in relief.

  Eddie nodded. ‘That’s something, at least. Fucking hell, that could have been really nasty if that trap’d worked a bit quicker.’

  Fisher hurried back in. ‘They’re on their way.’

  ‘Good.’ He applied more gauze. ‘Normally I wouldn’t move you until you’ve been bandaged up,’ he told Rivero, ‘but I really don’t want to stay down here.’

  ‘No arguments from me,’ Rivero replied through clenched teeth.

  Nina was not so sure. ‘I don’t think we’re in any immediate danger. Taking him up too soon might do more harm than good.’

  ‘No, I . . . I think we should get him outside too,’ said Fisher. ‘We came here to film you finding a lost city, not get caught in killer traps! I’ve got to put the crew’s safety first. As soon as we’re out, I’ll call for a medevac on the satphone.’

  ‘How long will that take?’ asked Ziff.

  ‘It’ll have to go via the company’s offices in LA, but I’d hope they can get a chopper to us pretty fast. I was once on a shoot where someone broke their leg in a fall, and he was airlifted out in less than ninety minutes.’

  ‘Where was that, though?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘The Arizona desert.’

  The Yorkshireman shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the only chopper within two hundred miles is that mining company one in Butembo – and I bet they won’t be too keen on loaning it out.’

  ‘We’ve got to get him out of here, though,’ said Lydia. She swapped her sound gear for a torch.

  Rivero moved again, trying to bring himself up. ‘No, stay still!’ Nina warned.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s okay,’ he rasped. ‘I wanna . . . get out of here. My camera, someone get the camera.’

  ‘Forget the fucking camera,’ Eddie snapped, but too late as Howie picked it up. ‘God. Archaeologists, photographers – you’re as bloody obsessive as each other!’

  ‘Wouldn’t be . . . here if we weren’t,’ said Rivero. With great effort, he levered himself to a kneeling position. ‘Ah! Jesus fuck, that hurts!’

  ‘What did you expect?’ complained Nina. ‘You just got slashed by a death trap.’ She glanced back at the passage. ‘Although . . .’

  ‘What is it?’ said Ziff, picking up on her change of tone from concern to curiosity.

  Eddie heard it too. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. We’ve got an injured man here, and you’re already thinking about how to get past the trap that whacked him!’

  ‘I know what my priorities are, thank you,’ she said, annoyed. ‘It’s just that . . . it is a death trap. If you go forward, you get squashed when the walls close in – but if you turn back, the hooks get you. The only reason Jay wasn’t killed was because the mechanism was jammed by dirt and didn’t spring fast enough. If someone else tries it now, I expect they’d be torn apart.’

  ‘Saved by . . . bad housekeeping, then,’ Rivero said, attempting a smile as he tried to straighten. It faded almost instantly.

  ‘Just keep still,’ Eddie ordered. He examined the cameraman’s back.

  ‘Solomon’s inscription suggests that there is a way through, though,’ Nina pressed on, directing her light at the ancient Hebrew text. ‘It says, “Only the dead shall pass alive.” That’s got to be significant.’

  ‘Maybe it is, but it doesn’t matter, because we’re not going to try again,’ Eddie said with irritation. ‘Jay, I’m going to lift the gauze. It’ll pro
bably hurt, so be ready for it.’

  ‘If it’s gonna hurt, any chance you could, you know, not do it?’ replied Rivero. The Englishman ignored him. ‘Ah, aah! Oh, you – you fucker! God damn.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Eddie gently replaced the bloodied gauze. ‘It hasn’t stopped yet, but it’s bleeding less than I thought it would be. I think it’s ’cause you’ve got a lot of fat down there.’

  Fisher laughed, a release of nervous tension more than actual humour. ‘Wow, Jay. Who would’ve thought that all those burgers and burritos would end up saving your life?’

  ‘Ha ha ha,’ Rivero responded with an equal lack of amusement, before giving the director the finger. ‘Fuck you.’ This time, Fisher’s laugh was genuine.

  ‘He’ll be okay?’ Lydia asked hopefully.

  ‘He won’t bleed to death,’ Eddie told her. ‘Still needs treatment, though. Got to sterilise it, then he’ll need stitches, antibiotics, all of that. I can do it in the field, but it’d be a lot better to get him to a hospital and let the professionals handle it.’

  Rivero nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, yeah. I definitely want it done by a guy in a white coat rather than a guy in a leather jacket!’

  A shout from the entrance shaft: Fortune. ‘Eddie! The others are coming.’

  ‘Great,’ said Rivero. ‘Let’s go.’ He tried again to stand, this time – with the help of Howie and Fisher – managing to push through the pain and bring himself upright.

  The Yorkshireman acknowledged Fortune, then looked back at Rivero. ‘We should carry you – walking might make things worse,’ he warned. ‘You really want to risk it?’

  Another nod. ‘I don’t wanna spend another minute in this hole.’

  ‘Then let’s go. You got a good hold on him, Steve?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got him,’ Fisher replied.

  ‘All right. Howie, use that light so we can see where we’re going. Nina, make sure none of the gauze comes off.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Nina, ‘I think it’d be better if David and I stay down here.’