King Solomon's Curse

  ‘I don’t know what it is. And to be honest, I think it would be better for the world if we didn’t try to find out.’

  He chuckled. ‘Your entire career has been based on unearthing things that would have been better left buried. I know that the IHA’s real purpose wasn’t to protect archaeological finds – it was to control them, make sure your discoveries never fell into the wrong hands. But wouldn’t the world have been safer if you’d never found them at all?’

  ‘Wouldn’t the world be safer without you selling guns to people like him?’ Eddie countered, nodding towards Mukobo.

  ‘That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it, Chase?’ Brice’s voice oozed condescension. ‘You really do want to save the entire world, when frankly there are large parts of it that don’t deserve to be “saved”. We need forest fires every so often to clear the rotten wood.’ He regarded the warlord, though his expression was more calculating than admiring. ‘I’m just giving Philippe a match.’

  ‘Or a flamethrower,’ said Nina.

  One by one the treasures were removed, Howie and Fortune also climbing, until only the Shamir remained. ‘Bring it up behind us,’ ordered Mukobo. ‘We will climb out now. It will be good,’ he told Brice, ‘to be in the light again. There is something about this place that is . . . wrong.’ He started to climb the stone ladder, Brice behind him. Luaba waited until they were clear before gesturing with his gun for Nina and Eddie to ascend. Resigned, they followed their captors to the top of the tower.

  They finally emerged into daylight. Shafts of sun penetrated the leafy canopy overhead, but the atmosphere was still oppressive – all the more so as they saw Mukobo’s look of malevolent expectancy. The only thing keeping the warlord from killing them both on the spot was the prospect of making the Yorkshireman suffer first. ‘Go down,’ he told them.

  Nina looked over the tower’s side. Some of the Insekt Posse were on the palace roof, lowering the stolen treasures to the ground. Her companions were already below, reunited with Fisher, Rivero and Paris under armed guard. She started to climb down as the men at the top of the shaft began to haul up the Shamir. Eddie followed once she reached the roof, then the couple descended to the foot of the wall.

  ‘You are still alive,’ said Paris, relieved, as they reached the other prisoners.

  ‘For now,’ Eddie replied. ‘Probably not for much longer unless we can do something, though.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Nina asked Paris and Fisher. Both men’s severed arms had been crudely bandaged, spots of blood soaking through.

  The director listlessly raised his head. ‘Yeah. Great. As good as can be expected considering I had my goddamn hand chopped off.’ A flicker of anger broke through his numbed mask, directed not at Nina but Luaba as he climbed down behind her.

  Lydia was with the American, trembling as she held him. ‘What’s going to happen now?’

  ‘I would imagine nothing good,’ said Fortune. ‘Unless you have any ideas, Eddie?’

  ‘I’ve got loads,’ he said with a bleak smile. ‘Problem is, they all start with me having an AK.’ He eyed their guards’ weapons.

  ‘We think alike, my friend.’ Fortune too managed a small grin, which vanished as Mukobo and Brice reached the ground. Above them, the men on the roof readied the Shamir for the final stage of its descent.

  ‘How can you make jokes?’ demanded Lydia, starting to cry again. ‘We’re – we’re going to die!’

  ‘We’re not dead yet,’ Nina reminded her. ‘There’s always a chance, we just have to be ready for it.’

  ‘Fight to the end,’ Eddie added.

  The sound woman was not cheered. ‘Oh, stupid platitudes, that’s just what we need!’

  ‘Better than just giving up,’ snapped Nina – before something made her pause.

  She wasn’t sure what it was at first. But then she caught the confusion of the men lowering the Shamir. She was not the only one to have felt it . . .

  ‘Lydia,’ she hurriedly said, ‘your sound gear – check it, quick.’

  ‘What good’s that going to do?’ asked the New Zealander.

  ‘Just do it! That weird noise – what’s it doing?’

  Lydia reluctantly regarded her sound mixer . . . then reacted in surprise. She hurriedly donned her headphones. ‘It’s – it’s getting stronger,’ she announced. ‘A lot stronger.’

  Rivero cautiously pressed a hand against the palace. ‘I can feel it! The wall’s . . . humming.’

  Nina looked back at the descending stone. ‘It’s the Shamir, it must be!’

  The same thought had occurred to others. Mukobo regarded it with alarm, then marched to his prisoners, stabbing an angry finger at the redhead. ‘What is happening? If you have tricked me—’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Nina protested.

  A noise became audible, an almost impossibly deep rumbling. ‘It’s really spiking!’ said Lydia. ‘The intensity’s climbing, it’s shooting through the roof!’

  A moment later, her words became literal – as an entire section of the palace exploded.

  20

  The Shamir’s wider end had scraped down the palace wall while it was lowered, cracks appearing in the pale blocks as the strange sound reached a crescendo – then stone shattered as if blasted by tons of dynamite.

  Debris bombarded those below. The prisoners, against the wall to one side, were the least exposed – but the Insekt Posse nearer the treasures took the full force. One man was smashed flat by a flying hunk of rock as others were pummelled by smaller pieces.

  Brice took a blow to the shoulder that knocked him down – and a lump the size of a fist struck Mukobo’s head. He fell.

  Part of the roof collapsed into the widening hole. The men above plunged screaming after it. The Shamir tumbled out of the swelling dust cloud to land in the rubble not far from the prisoners. It stopped with its blunt end pointing towards the jungle. A militia man staggered upright in front of it, raising his gun—

  A shrill buzz, the man reacting as if his rifle had been electrified – then the weapon shattered, metal shredding his arms and chest in a storm of razor-sharp shrapnel. Behind him, the ancient bricks of a ruined wall burst apart.

  ‘Jesus!’ Eddie gasped. How, he had no idea, but the Shamir was shooting out some invisible force with catastrophic effects on steel and stone.

  It didn’t seem to affect people – but he saw something that would. One of the fallen guards had dropped his Kalashnikov. Eddie dived for it. He snatched up the rifle just as the man lunged to reclaim his weapon—

  Too slow. The bullet punched through the guard’s outstretched palm and hit him in the face, blowing a bloody chunk out of his cheekbone.

  Eddie jumped up. ‘Fortune!’

  The Congolese was already moving, delivering a crushing karate chop to another reeling militia man’s throat. The youth staggered back, choking. Fortune kicked his rifle out of his hands, snatching it from the air in a single smooth movement and whipping it around to shoot him.

  ‘Nice!’ Eddie shouted. He was about to tell his companions to run for the river when he saw some of the Insekt Posse who had taken loot to the boats hurrying back uphill. ‘Get inside!’ he ordered instead.

  ‘Inside where?’ Nina yelled back – then she saw what he meant. The dust was clearing, revealing a gash in the palace’s wall.

  Eddie gunned down another militia man, then pointed at the hole. ‘Everyone go!’

  Nina started towards what she fervently hoped was sanctuary. The other expedition members followed – with one exception. ‘David!’ she cried, seeing the Israeli running not for the opening but the nearest dead enemy. ‘Come on!’

  Ziff didn’t waver, snatching up the fallen man’s Kalashnikov – then he changed direction, arcing towards the hole as he loosed a couple of shots. One of the Insekt Posse scrambled for cover as a round narrowly missed
his head.

  Eddie started after Nina as Mukobo sat up with a hand to his bleeding head. The warlord spotted the former SAS man and groped for his golden revolver—

  The Yorkshireman snapped the AK around at him and pulled the trigger, making Mukobo flinch – but nothing happened. ‘Shit!’

  Kalashnikovs were famed for their ability to keep working under the most extreme conditions, but they were not infallible, and this one was both old and ill-kept by someone more concerned with looking tough than proper maintenance. By the time he cleared the jam, Mukobo would have shot him—

  Instead he charged, swinging the rifle like a club.

  The Congolese had just drawn his revolver when the AK smacked against his head. He yelled in pain, falling again. Eddie grabbed the Magnum, jamming its muzzle against Mukobo’s cheek. ‘Fortune! Grab this arsehole!’

  Fortune didn’t need to ask why, knowing that the militia leader was more valuable as a hostage than a corpse. He let off several more rounds to force the Insekt Posse into cover, then he and Eddie dragged the stunned Mukobo after the others.

  The Yorkshireman glanced back, seeing Brice dart towards the remains of a building. Eddie raised the revolver, but his target had disappeared before he could draw a bead on him.

  Out of sight – but not out of hearing. The ex-MI6 agent shouted in rapid-fire French. Eddie only understood a few words, but one was perfectly clear: Mukobo. He was warning the Insekt Posse that their leader had been taken . . . and preparing a counter-attack.

  The others were now inside the new opening, Nina waiting anxiously at the threshold. Eddie was sure the gap was defensible – if he and his comrades had enough time to secure their positions. But Brice was not going to give them that time, already barking more instructions over the Shamir’s basso growl—

  The Shamir. It was only yards away . . .

  ‘Get him inside,’ he told Fortune – before letting go of Mukobo and running for the glinting green stone.

  He shoved the revolver into his waistband as he reached the bizarre artefact. Its destructive effect was confined to a fairly tight beam, the now-crumbled wall the only hard object that had been in its path—

  That changed as he hauled up the Shamir and swept it across the ruins.

  The sensation was like holding a pounding jackhammer multiplied a hundredfold, nausea filling him as his bones shuddered and his teeth seemed about to shatter in his skull. But the effect on everything before him was far more severe. Stones detonated like grenades, a wall sheltering one of the militia flying apart as if swept away by a giant’s invisible hand – and the man behind it falling with a horrible scream as his rifle exploded into jagged shrapnel.

  Eddie forced the Shamir around like a fire hose. The Insekt Posse scattered, another man dying in a shower of blood and ripped flesh as his rifle blew apart in his hands. Others realised the danger and flung away their weapons as they fled, the Shamir’s otherwise devastating effect causing them no apparent harm. Some of the discarded guns disintegrated as the beam caught them.

  He was hunting for one particular target, though. Fighting the urge to throw down the Shamir before his bones shook apart, Eddie swung it towards the ruin where Brice was hiding.

  Stonework shattered, the entire front wall collapsing with a pounding crash. The other sides survived mere moments before they too fell, the strange stone’s relentless power tearing them apart—

  Brice sprang out from his toppling cover and ran for the palace’s corner. Eddie tracked him, blasting a low wall to pieces in the other Englishman’s wake. The spy’s gun was in his hand – but he flung it ahead as the disruptive effect caught up. The pistol spun out of sight.

  Eddie stopped as Brice reached the palace wall, not wanting to further damage the building in which his companions were sheltering. Instead he resumed his sweep over the ruins, forcing the remaining members of the militia to retreat as he backed towards the broken opening.

  Fortune was waiting just inside it, covering him with his AK while Ziff held Mukobo at gunpoint. Nina was behind them. ‘Eddie, don’t bring it in here!’ she cried. ‘The whole place’ll collapse on top of us!’ The remains of the roof were hanging precariously atop sagging sheets of lead.

  ‘Long as I don’t point it upwards, we should be okay!’ he replied. ‘It’s like a torch beam, it only comes out of one end.’

  ‘That is no torch,’ objected Fortune. He searched for targets, but the militia had fled in panic. ‘You should leave it out there to keep them away.’

  Eddie ignored him, stepping awkwardly up the piled rubble. He passed under the drooping lead canopy – and to everyone’s surprise, the noise from the Shamir noticeably lessened. He retreated still farther. The vibration eased with each step. ‘It’s stopping!’

  He realised he was in the passage leading to the first chamber. Debris had blocked the stone ladder, but Paris and the others had already safely reached the room at the other end. The Shamir’s sound faded away. It was still humming, but at a much lower level. He cautiously aimed the end of the horn at the strewn debris outside the entrance. Nothing happened. ‘Okay, whatever powers this thing, it’s not getting enough of it any more.’

  ‘The light?’ Fortune wondered.

  ‘Maybe some sort of radiation, if the lead’s blocking it,’ said Nina. She warily touched the stone. ‘It’s still getting something, or it wouldn’t be buzzing like that.’ She saw an exposed layer of torn lead inside the broken wall. ‘If it’s completely surrounded by lead, maybe it’ll stop.’

  ‘Doc, if he moves, shoot him,’ Eddie told Ziff, who was still guarding Mukobo. ‘Nice work out there, by the way.’

  ‘I did my military service like every Israeli,’ Ziff replied with a small but proud smile. ‘I remember how to use a gun.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  The warlord lay on the floor, a hand to his head. ‘You will die for this, Chase,’ he growled. ‘All of you will die! I will gut you, I will—’

  Eddie kicked him hard in the stomach. ‘Shut up. We got anything we can tie this shithead up with?’

  Nina looked towards the first chamber. ‘All the crew’s gear is still in there. There might be something we can use.’

  ‘Great.’ He checked outside to make sure the Insekt Posse were not returning, then assessed his surroundings. The ragged opening was about six feet above ground level. It was a choke point; at most two people could fit through at once, and fallen stones would provide good cover for the defenders. Fortune had already taken up position in one well-protected spot, with a clear line of fire over the ruins. ‘Fortune, Doc, keep an eye on things here. We’ve only got limited ammo so don’t shoot unless you have to, but don’t let any of those bastards get too close.’

  Fortune nodded. ‘If any raise their heads too high, they will not live long enough to regret it.’

  Eddie put down the Shamir, then unslung his AK and ejected the magazine, tugging the charging handle until the jammed round finally spat free. He retrieved it and examined the cartridge. It wasn’t damaged, so he thumbed it back into the mag and reloaded. ‘Spare if you need it,’ he told Fortune, leaning it against the wall and drawing Mukobo’s revolver. ‘I’ll go and tie up this arsehole.’ He pointed the golden gun at its former owner. ‘All right, move.’ When the warlord didn’t rise at once, he added: ‘I had two chances to kill you before, in Rwanda and Tenerife, but I didn’t take ’em. That was a mistake. So I will fucking shoot you dead if you piss me off.’

  Mukobo glared angrily at him, but eventually looked away under the former soldier’s stony gaze. ‘This is not over, Chase,’ he muttered as he stood.

  Eddie didn’t reply, instead directing his prisoner down the passage. Nina collected the Shamir and followed them. ‘So the bad guys can’t get in here, that’s good,’ she said quietly, ‘but how do we get out?’

  Again, he did not answer.

 
‘Luaba!’ Brice shouted, finding the big man in frantic discussion with some of the Insekt Posse. ‘Over here!’

  The militia had retreated to a position in the ruins beyond the expedition’s camp, but it had not been an orderly withdrawal. Luaba had been forced to fire a few shots over the heads of his panicked men to stop them from fleeing to the boats. He gave the Englishman an angry look, but after a moment reluctantly joined him. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded in French.

  Brice replied fluently in kind. ‘They’ve got Philippe – Chase took him inside.’

  ‘And what are we supposed to do about it? That thing, that stone – it’s like a tank gun!’

  ‘So you’re just going to abandon him? Without Philippe, the LEC and the Insekt Posse will be crushed. Any chance of independence for eastern Congo will be gone.’

  ‘I know,’ said Luaba, frustrated. ‘But we can’t help him without reinforcements! There’s an LEC camp in the jungle about fifteen kilometres south-east of here; we can reach it by river, but it’ll take most of the day to get there and back. Even if we leave guards here, they might still escape. Especially if they use that thing again.’

  Brice contemplated the situation. ‘This camp – do they have a radio?’

  ‘Yes. But we don’t, not any more. Philippe had it!’

  ‘I can take care of that. Chase’s people had a satellite phone. All I need is your people’s radio frequency, and I can reach them.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have friends,’ was the smug reply. ‘Bring me the phone, and I’ll get you through.’ Luaba was dubious, even suspicious, but still called to one of his men to retrieve the satphone. ‘Oh, and if they have grenades and explosives?’ he added with a sly smile. ‘Tell them to bring them. All of them.’

  21

  ‘Okay,’ announced Howie, ‘that’s everything backed up.’ He disconnected a solid-state hard drive from one of the team’s laptops and returned it to a waterproof bag.

  ‘Oh, that’s great,’ said Lydia sarcastically. ‘We’re going to die, but at least all our data’ll be intact!’