King Solomon's Curse

  Something touched her forehead. She flinched, then looked up to see flecks of grit falling from a crack in the ceiling. In the panic of the escape, she had forgotten the Mother of the Shamir’s rising rumble – but now its effects were becoming all too apparent.

  Rivero and Lydia arrived, the cameraman aiming his light at the crack. ‘It’s going to cave in!’ exclaimed the frightened sound woman. ‘Get out of the way, we’ve got to move!’

  ‘No, wait!’ insisted Nina, watching the falling dust intently. ‘Jay, hold still, just for a second.’

  He kept the camera upon her. ‘What’re you—’

  ‘Shush! Don’t move! I need to see this . . .’

  She stared at the motes dropping through the spotlight beam – then pointed right. ‘That way!’

  ‘How do you know?’ Rivero asked.

  ‘Remember how I found the map room in the First Temple?’ she said as she started down the passage. ‘Same thing – the dust’s being blown the other way, so the fresh air must be coming from down here.’

  ‘Hope you’re right,’ said Lydia as she followed. Rivero stayed just beyond the intersection to provide light for those behind.

  ‘Yeah, me too. Eddie, right tunnel, right tunnel!’

  More ear-splitting gunfire from the two Congolese as they forced back the regrouping militia – then Paris tossed away his AK. ‘I’m out!’ he yelled. ‘Mr Fisher! Give me your gun!’

  Fisher waited for them, but rather than hand over his weapon, gestured for Paris to overtake him. ‘You go on!’

  ‘Mr Fisher, that is a very bad idea,’ Fortune told him firmly. ‘Our job is to protect you, not—’

  Fisher held up the stump of his right arm. ‘Sorry, but the job? Kinda failed! And I’m in charge of this expedition, I’m responsible for everyone else.’ More quietly: ‘Make sure Lydia gets out of here. Please.’

  Paris exchanged looks with Fortune, neither man happy, but then the shorter Congolese nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll look after her.’ He hurried downhill.

  Nina led the way through the new tunnel. She reached its corner, finding to her relief that it sloped downwards beyond the turn. The feeling was quickly tempered by concern as she saw more dust-spitting cracks in the ceiling and walls. ‘We’ve got to move faster! The whole place is going to come down!’

  ‘Like we don’t have enough going on,’ said Eddie as he reached the first junction. Rivero moved ahead, lighting the way with the Sony. ‘Doc, how are you doing?’

  ‘Not . . . very good,’ Ziff replied weakly. ‘Oh, it hurts . . .’

  Paris caught up. ‘Mr Pinkett, I can take him. You catch up with the others.’

  ‘Where the fuck’s Fisher?’ Eddie demanded. ‘You’re supposed to be protecting him!’

  The Congolese took Howie’s place, the young American hurrying on past Rivero. ‘He wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘That’s no fucking excuse!’

  ‘It’s my decision!’ Fisher shouted as he and Fortune approached. ‘I’m in charge here, not you!’

  ‘There’s a time for heroics and a time for saving your own arse,’ Eddie objected, ‘and this is an arse-saver!’

  The two trailing men reached the junction. ‘I agree,’ said the director, ‘so you make sure everyone—’

  ‘Grenade!’ Fortune cried, grabbing him and diving into the left tunnel. Eddie rushed back and dropped to the stone floor, Ziff gasping in agony as the Englishman covered him. Paris threw himself after them as a hard metal object clacked down the sloping passage—

  The detonation obliterated all senses.

  Eddie had managed to cover his ears, but still only heard a piercing, ringing sound for several seconds before other noises gradually returned. None were reassuring. Echoes of falling rock faded, smaller bangs and clunks of stone telling him that rubble was still dropping. The blast had brought down part of the ceiling!

  He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw in the light from Rivero’s dropped camera was Ziff, face screwed up in pain. The cameraman himself groaned as he clutched at his head. Eddie forced himself up to check on the others.

  Paris was behind Ziff. ‘Oh, ma putain de tête . . .’ he gasped, before jerking upright in alarm. ‘Fortune!’

  ‘I am okay, I’m okay,’ coughed Fortune from several yards away.

  ‘What about Fisher?’ Eddie asked. He looked for him, but saw only darkness. ‘Steven! Can you hear me?’

  ‘Here, I’m . . .’ The director’s reply was slurred, as if half-asleep – then he screamed. ‘Oh God, oh my God! My leg!’

  ‘Jay!’ Eddie barked. ‘I need your light over here!’

  Rivero crawled to his camera. He brought it about – and its light revealed a large chunk of fallen stone on the junction’s far side, partly blocking the other passage.

  Fortune appeared in the gap. ‘Eddie! His leg is trapped!’ He tried to move the rock. Fisher cried out as it shifted, but it was too heavy to lift.

  The Yorkshireman moved towards him. ‘I’ll help you—’

  He jumped back as bullets cracked off the wall at the slope’s foot. Above, stuttering muzzle flash lit the way for the Insekt Posse. The crazed whoops and howls of earlier had been replaced by something more chilling: an angry chant of ‘Le Fauchet! Le Fauchet! Le Fauchet!’

  They were out for revenge.

  The obstruction shifted again as Fortune made another attempt to lift it, but with no better result. ‘Too – heavy!’

  ‘Run,’ gasped Fisher. ‘Fortune, go! I’ll – I’ll hold them off.’

  ‘They’ll kill you!’ Eddie protested.

  ‘They’ll kill us all in a minute! I’m . . . not going anywhere.’ That last was said almost with resignation.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Steven!’ said Rivero. ‘We can’t leave you!’

  ‘I call the shots, Jay.’ Somehow, the words held a hint of humour. ‘Fortune, sit me up so I can see over the rock.’

  The Congolese reluctantly did so, Fisher letting out another keening cry as the movement shifted his crushed leg. ‘Have this,’ Fortune said, placing his AK beside the American. ‘Two guns – two sets of bullets. Make them count, my friend.’

  The director propped his own Kalashnikov on top of the stone, aiming it up the tunnel. ‘I should say something cool,’ he said, seeing Rivero’s camera pointed at him, ‘but – oh God, I’m scared.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Eddie. ‘You’re a brave man, Steven.’

  ‘Th-thanks,’ Fisher replied, drawing in a deep, tremulous breath. ‘Okay. Go on, then, go! They’re almost here!’

  Fortune’s expression was one of shame at having to leave him behind. ‘I am sorry, Mr Fisher. I am so very sorry.’ He bowed his head to him, then looked back at Eddie and Paris. With bullets still screaming down the tunnel, he couldn’t cross the junction to reach them. ‘I will see you outside. I hope.’

  ‘So do I,’ Eddie replied. ‘Fight to the end, Fortune.’

  ‘Bonne chance, mon ami,’ came the reply, then with a last sad glance at Fisher, he disappeared into the darkened passage.

  ‘Take the Doc and get moving,’ Eddie ordered Rivero and Paris. They picked up Ziff and set off as the Englishman returned to the junction. ‘All right, you fuckwits,’ he growled, switching his rifle to full auto, ‘have some of this!’

  He thrust the AK around the corner and pulled the trigger, sweeping it across the tunnel in a final blaze of fire. Screams echoed from above as bullets ripped into the Insekt Posse’s leading ranks. A clack as the bolt closed on an empty chamber, but Eddie had counted his remaining shots and already dropped the rifle to scurry after his companions—

  The walls behind him shattered under a furious onslaught of fire. Even retreating, he was still in danger as ricocheting bullet fragments shrilled after him. He ducked as low as he could and scrambled around the corner.

  The shooti
ng stopped as the militia realised he had discarded his weapon. The horrible chant resumed as they ran to catch their now-defenceless prey—

  ‘Fuck you!’ Fisher yelled, opening up with his own rifle. ‘Yeah, fuck you, you motherfuckers!’ More screams as he cut down the leading attackers. The gun ran dry; he threw it away and fumbled for Fortune’s weapon. ‘Cut off my hand? I’ll cut off your fucking balls, you bunch of—’

  He brought up the AK, getting off a shot that blew away half the face of a man rushing at him – only for another behind him to open fire. Two rounds hit the American’s shoulder, slamming him to the floor. Blood spouting from the wounds, he lay helpless as the Insekt Posse swarmed around the corner and threw themselves over the rock. Machetes hacked viciously at him, his final scream almost drowned out by demented howls of triumph.

  25

  The sound echoed down the passages below. Lydia froze. ‘Oh God! Steven!’

  ‘We can’t stop!’ Nina told her. ‘Howie, help her.’

  ‘Come on, Lids. Come on,’ Howie said, taking the New Zealander’s hand. Numbed, she followed him.

  The whole tunnel was now reverberating as the Imashamir absorbed ever more energy through the breached lead sarcophagus. Nina’s light revealed another turn ahead. She rounded it. The passage sloped more steeply – and she felt a distinct breeze on her face. ‘Wait, wait a second,’ she told Lydia and Howie as she flicked off the torch. They dropped into darkness . . . but below, a dim glow was visible. ‘I can see daylight!’ she cried, hurrying downwards. ‘We’re almost out!’

  The others picked up the pace behind her. ‘Nina! How far?’ Eddie shouted from the rear.

  ‘Almost there!’ she replied. One last crooked bend in the passage would bring her to its end. She rounded it, finally able to stand upright. Cut stone was replaced by raw rock. Squinting into the near-blinding daylight, she ran through the opening—

  And lurched to a panicked stop as her eyes adjusted just in time to reveal what awaited her.

  The drainage tunnel emerged from the promontory above the river – close to a hundred feet over the turgid water. ‘Oh, crap!’

  Lydia almost ran into her. ‘Whoa!’ gasped Howie as he pulled her back. ‘Not good!’

  ‘No kidding,’ said Nina. The drop was near-vertical; probably climbable, given time, but that was a commodity they didn’t have. Nothing to her left but an inhospitable rock wall – but on the right—

  ‘This way!’ she said, sidestepping on to a narrow ledge.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ Lydia squealed. ‘It’s like – an inch wide!’

  ‘One inch is better than none!’ The New Zealander was underestimating, but not by much. Even with her heels against the wall, Nina’s toes overhung the edge. She moved along it as quickly as she dared. ‘We can do it – come on!’

  ‘But what if it stops around the cliff?’

  ‘Then we got thirty feet farther than we would have!’

  A brick-sized chunk of stone clattered down from above and smashed on the outflow’s edge. Howie hurriedly passed Lydia and started after Nina. ‘No offence, but I’m gonna go for it even if you’re not,’ he said, gripping the slim laptop tightly with one hand as the other groped along the cliff face.

  Rivero and Paris brought Ziff into the daylight. ‘Hey, where’d the others go – oh,’ the cameraman said in dismay. ‘How the hell are we gonna carry David along there?’

  ‘You . . . you’re not,’ Ziff said weakly. ‘Leave me. Please. Save yourselves . . .’

  Eddie arrived behind them. ‘We’re not leaving anyone else,’ he said firmly. ‘Paris, Lydia, get your arses along that ledge. Jay, you an’ me’ll take him. And leave that bloody camera!’

  ‘No way,’ Rivero insisted. ‘It’s made it this far, and it’s still recording.’

  ‘Well, the last thing it ever records might be you falling off a fucking cliff – and taking me and the Doc with you!’

  ‘Jay, I’ll take it,’ Lydia said, to their surprise. ‘Hey, I’m already carrying all my audio gear and the backups.’ She glanced at her backpack. ‘Might as well complete the set.’

  ‘Professionals,’ Eddie sighed as Rivero handed her the Sony. ‘They’re all the bloody same . . .’

  He waited for her to get clear, then with the cameraman leading, started to carry Ziff along the new path. The subterranean rumble became more evident as his back pressed against the rock. He dropped his chin to keep falling grit out of his eyes – but knew it would not be long before larger debris started to cascade down the cliff.

  And there was another threat almost upon them. The Insekt Posse’s echoing shouts grew louder. ‘Jay, we need to move faster!’ he warned.

  ‘I’m going as quick as I can!’ Rivero replied through gritted teeth. The bulky man’s injured back was scraping along the rock wall.

  ‘I’m telling you . . . leave me . . .’ Ziff whispered. He was barely able to hold his head upright, the hand held to his stomach now drenched in blood.

  ‘Not going to happen,’ growled Eddie. ‘Stay with us, Doc.’

  Ahead, Nina edged around an outcropping. The huge boulder rising from the river came into sight – and between it and the cliff, until now hidden from view, was a steep, narrow slope. It looked as if it would intersect the path linking the ruined city and the river . . .

  A jolt almost pitched her over the edge. She threw herself back against the rock wall, only to feel the entire escarpment trembling. It wasn’t an earthquake’s aftershock, though – rather, the precursor. The Mother of the Shamir was waking from her long sleep.

  And she was angry.

  Howie yelped as a dry waterfall of stones and dust fell past him. ‘Holy shit!’

  ‘Keep going!’ Nina cried as she moved on. ‘If we can reach that path down there, we can get to the boats!’

  ‘If we can reach it!’ said Lydia. ‘The whole bloody cliff’s going to collapse!’

  Eddie glanced back at a shout from the drainage outflow. The first of the Insekt Posse appeared. He saw the Yorkshireman and smiled evilly as he raised his gun—

  An explosive bang came from above him as rock sheared from the crumbling cliff.

  The African looked up – and was crushed flat by a hunk of stone the size of a car. Gore splattered out from beneath it.

  Startled cries came from the tunnel. Eddie saw an arm grope around the fallen boulder, but there was not enough room for anyone to squeeze past. The precariously balanced stone wouldn’t hold them for long, though. ‘Keep going!’ he urged Rivero.

  ‘I’m almost there!’ Nina shouted back to the others. The drop to the steep path was still too far to risk, but she would soon reach a point where it was survivable – probably. She pulled into a concavity in the cliff. ‘Howie, get past me. Drop down to that slope as soon as you can.’

  ‘What’re you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Waiting for Eddie.’

  He gave her a dubious look as he squeezed past. ‘You think he’d want you to do that?’

  ‘I’m his wife, why would I do what he wants me to do?’ She managed a grin. ‘Go on, get to the boats.’

  Lydia reached her next, the other woman giving her only an angry look before going by. Nina was about to make a cutting comment, but remembered just in time that her lover had been murdered minutes earlier; there was no need to make matters worse. Instead, she waited for Paris. ‘Where’s Eddie?’

  ‘On the way,’ the mercenary assured her.

  She looked past him to see Rivero edge around the outcropping, supporting Ziff. To her relief, Eddie soon followed. ‘What about Fortune?’

  Paris gave her a grim look as he moved on. ‘I don’t know. We got separated.’

  ‘Oh, God . . .’ She watched the three men approach. ‘Eddie! Where are the militia?’

  ‘The first guy’s feeling a bit flat,’ he replie
d. ‘A rock fell on him and blocked the tunnel. Won’t take the rest of ’em long to shift it,’ he added, cutting off her premature hope. ‘Why are you waiting? Keep going!’

  ‘I’ll take over from Jay and help you carry David.’

  ‘I can do it,’ Rivero insisted in a strained voice.

  ‘No, you’re hurt! The way your back’s torn up, I’m amazed you haven’t passed out already.’

  ‘What can I say? I’m just that tough,’ said Rivero through a pained smile, though he surrendered the Israeli to Nina.

  One look at the pale, barely conscious Ziff filled her with alarm. ‘David, can you hear me?’

  A reply took a moment to come. ‘Yes. And . . . I think you’re insane for . . . not leaving me.’

  ‘That’s the way I work,’ she told him. ‘You should be used to it by now!’

  They set off again. She looked along the ledge. ‘Howie! How long before we can get down?’

  ‘Not far!’ Howie answered. ‘Past those little trees, I reckon—’

  A loud crash came from behind – followed by exultant cries. ‘They’ve moved the rock,’ Eddie warned. ‘We’ve got to get down to the ground, now!’

  ‘We’re too high up!’ said Rivero. ‘We’ll break our legs – or our necks!’

  Howie passed some small trees clinging to the slope below. ‘Okay, I’m gonna chance it,’ he announced. He lowered the laptop as far as he could before releasing it. It fell into a bush, branches crackling as they caught it. ‘Thank God for solid-state hard drives, huh?’ he said before clambering over the edge, hanging by his fingertips for a moment before letting go. A thud and a loud ‘Oof!’ came from below – but then he jumped upright. ‘I’m down!’

  Lydia passed him, traversing the ledge for another twenty feet before fearfully dropping. Her fall was shorter, but she still cried out on landing. ‘The camera okay?’ Rivero asked as he prepared for his own descent.

  ‘He ought to marry that bloody camera,’ Eddie muttered – only to clutch at the rock wall as a tremor shook the cliff. Stones broke loose from above, Nina crying out as a fist-sized lump hit her shoulder.

  Cracks ripped through the ledge, a yard-long section just behind them sliding away to smash on the slope below. The subterranean rumble grew ever louder. ‘It’s gonna go any minute!’ said Nina. ‘We’ve got to jump!’