Empire of Gold_A Novel

  A mummified skull smashed down on the mercenary’s head.

  Nina stood behind him, wincing at the pain in her hand. “Dammit, that really hurt! Oh, crap,” she added as Baine recovered from the shock and glared over his shoulder at her.

  “Yeah, that did fucking hurt, you bitch!” he snarled, spitting out more blood. He turned to face Nina. Behind him, Eddie slumped to the water-covered floor, more burial artifacts clattering around him.

  Nina brandished the skull before realizing that without the element of surprise it was all but useless as a weapon. She backed toward the exit. “Great, I had to pick frickin’ Yorick and not a gun …”

  Baine advanced, face full of fury—

  “Oi!” said a gravelly voice from behind him. “Twat!”

  Baine spun—and Eddie plunged an ornate golden dagger into his stomach. The mercenary roared as the Yorkshireman twisted the tumi, forcing the blade deeper into his body.

  But despite the agony, Baine wasn’t incapacitated. He caught the still-winded Eddie with a savage punch, knocking him down. Another kick hammered into Eddie’s stomach, then Baine pivoted to smash his steel-capped combat boot into his face—

  The skull cracked down on his head again, shattering into fragments. Baine slumped to his knees, falling forward. Eddie rolled out of the way—and the mercenary splashed down face-first, driving the knife all the way into his abdomen. He let out a long, bubbling moan, then was silent. A red circle swelled in the water around him.

  Eddie sat up. “He’s got a tumi in his tummy,” he groaned.

  Nina was too worried to complain about the terrible joke. “Oh my God, Eddie? Are you all right?”

  “Help me up, and we’ll see if any bits fall off.”

  Nina stepped over Baine’s body. “Sorry about your friend,” she said to the remaining mummies as she pulled Eddie to his feet.

  With the water level dropping all the time, Macy had been able to increase her pace through the city. She had spotted first Mac, then Nina, hurrying down the hill and decided to follow them, but so far hadn’t seen any further sign of anyone. And the two gunshots she had just heard prompted her to duck into hiding. Were Pachac and his people still around?

  It was obvious that Stikes and his men were leaving, though. The helicopter rose above the plaza, making a careful half turn before heading for the cave mouth. One less set of assholes to worry about, then, but she still felt far from safe.

  Macy looked cautiously around, seeing nobody, then moved out and continued down the slope. The Hind was approaching the cavern’s entrance. Once it left, she might actually be able to hear if there was anyone nearby—

  She rounded a corner—and found a gun pointing at her.

  Shock and fear quickly turned to relief as she realized it was Kit, who seemed equally startled. “Jeez!” she gasped, unable to hold back a nervous giggle. “You scared me!”

  For a moment, the gun remained still … then Kit relaxed and lowered it, “Sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Have you seen Nina or Eddie? Or Mr. McCrimmon?”

  “No … no,” he said, the repetition more firm. “Eddie went after Stikes—I’m looking for Mac.”

  A flight of steps nearby led up to the tower. “I saw him not long ago—I think he was heading that way.” She started toward them.

  Kit shook his head firmly, moving to block her. “No, I saw some of Pachac’s men go up there.” He pointed to a nearby building. “Wait in there and keep out of sight until it’s safe. I’ll … look for Mac.”

  Macy reluctantly did as she was told while Kit ascended the steps. “Take care,” she called to him.

  He didn’t reply, or even look back.

  “How are you feeling?” Nina asked Eddie as they left the tomb.

  “Lighter.”

  “Huh?”

  “ ’Cause I just had the shit kicked out of me.”

  “Very funny.”

  They looked up to see the Hind clearing the cave mouth. “Buggeration and fuckery!” Eddie growled. “Stikes got away.”

  “Well, good!” said Nina. “If he’s gone, we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “He’s got your statues.”

  “What? Oh. Oh! God damn it!” She scowled after the departing aircraft as it powered away. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Does it matter?” Eddie asked as he started to limp back up the slope. “He can’t do anything with ’em, and they helped us find El Dorado—what else can they do?”

  “That was kinda what I wanted to find out!”

  “Well, you can worry about it when we get back to New York. For now, we still need to get out of here. Let’s find the others.”

  “Mac had the rocket launcher—he said he was going to try to shoot down the helicopter.” Eddie stopped. “What?” Nina asked, reading concern on his face.

  “He didn’t even try—we would have heard it.” He looked around for the most likely spot from which to launch an attack. “Up there,” he said, indicating the tower. He set off again. “Mac! Mac, can you hear me?”

  Kit had halted once he was out of Macy’s sight, mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt—until Eddie’s shout snapped him back to full awareness. It wouldn’t be long before the Scot was found—

  An idea, the Interpol officer acting upon it the instant it formed. He hurried back into the tower. Mac lay unmoving on the floor, blood pooling around him. Kit sat against the wall behind him, fired two shots into the air—then moved the gun to point at his upper arm.

  He braced himself—and pulled the trigger.

  Eddie broke into a run at the sound of gunfire. He reached the steps, seeing Macy peering fearfully from a nearby building. “Stay out of sight!” he warned her.

  “Eddie, wait!” Nina cried behind him, but he pounded up the steps and raced for the tower, the pain of his beating forgotten. Past a junction, up another flight of steps—

  He stopped at the top as if he had slammed into an invisible wall. Kit was slumped on the floor, clutching a bloody wound to his left arm—but all Eddie could think about was Mac. His friend lay facedown by the wall overlooking the city, the RPG-7 beside him. There were two bullet wounds in his back, lines of blood oozing from them.

  “Mac?” He took a clumsy step closer, feet as heavy as lead. The figure didn’t stir. Another step. “Mac!”

  Nina ran up behind him. “Eddie—oh, God.”

  Kit moaned. “Pachac,” he said weakly. “It was Pachac … caught us by surprise, then ran …”

  Eddie reached Mac and stood over him, statue-like. Even through his horror, part of his mind was still functioning with trained, robotic clarity, assessing the injuries. The wounds were close together on the left side of his back. They would have hit the lung, probably also the heart. From the amount of pooled blood, there would also be a much larger exit wound in his chest. Even with immediate surgical intervention the chances of survival were extremely low.

  But there would be no surgery. They were miles from any help.

  He knelt, the blood soaking into the material of his jeans. Movement—slight, but definite. Mac was still breathing. He reached down, finding that his fingers were shaking. A hesitant touch on the older man’s shoulder. “Mac? Can you hear me?”

  Silence for several seconds … then a faint sigh of drawing breath. Little bubbles formed in one of the bullet wounds. Mac slowly, painfully, turned his head, one half-closed eye blearily focusing on the man beside him. “Eddie?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. It’s me.”

  The Scot moved his hand, trying to reach up but lacking the strength. Eddie gripped it. The skin already felt cold. “I’m sorry …”

  “For what?”

  “Stikes … Had him right in my sights before he took off, but … not fast enough. I let him get away …”

  “No, you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “Look, I’m—I’m gonna try to stop the bleeding.” He knew it was fut
ile, but he had to do something. “Hold still, and I’ll—”

  “No, Eddie.” Mac groaned, more bubbles rising from the blood-filled holes. “Not … worth it.”

  “It is worth it!” His voice cracked as he spoke.

  “No, not going to …” Mac’s whole body trembled. His hand now felt like stone. He whispered something.

  Eddie leaned closer, desperate. “Mac, I can’t hear you. Stay with me, stay with me!”

  With a last agonizing effort, Mac turned his head farther so he could look up at his friend with both eyes. He spoke again, forcing out the words. “Fight to the end … Eddie.”

  Then nothing. The sagging of his body was so slight that it was barely noticeable, but it was all Eddie needed to know without a doubt that he was dead.

  “Mac,” he said anyway, pleading for him to return. “Mac, come on. Mac!”

  Tears beading in her eyes, Nina crossed to him. “Eddie, I …,” she began before stopping, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry,” she eventually whispered, touching his shoulder.

  He didn’t look up at her, instead staring silently at the man who had shaped so much of his life, the man he had respected and admired above all others. He reluctantly let go of Mac’s hand, then reached over and gently closed his eyes. “Fight to the end,” he echoed, voice hoarse.

  Running footsteps. Nina looked back in alarm, but it was only Macy and Osterhagen hurrying up the steps. “I heard shots …,” Osterhagen said before trailing off at the sight of the tableau.

  Macy raised her hands to her mouth, horrified. “Oh no. Oh God. Is—is he okay? Is he …”

  Eddie abruptly stood and turned. Nina almost flinched at a frighteningly unrecognizable new aspect to his familiar features. His eyes were wide, clear, intensely focused—but his face was utterly, chillingly blank, devoid of expression. Stone cold. “He’s dead,” he said flatly, pushing past Nina to go to Kit. He picked up the gun from the floor beside him and ejected the magazine. Nine rounds left, plus one in the chamber. He snapped the mag back into place and headed for the stairs, almost barging Macy and Osterhagen aside.

  “Eddie, wait!” Nina shouted. “There are too many of them, they’ll kill you!”

  But he was gone. “Shit!” she cried, rushing down the steps after him. “Leonard, Macy, stay with Kit!”

  “I’m coming with you,” Macy insisted, following. Osterhagen went to the wounded Indian to examine his injury.

  Eddie ran through the abandoned city, eyes sweeping like radars, hunting for threats. For targets. Nobody there; they had all evacuated the cavern. He reached the reservoir, skirting the top of the entrance shaft to the great gap where the defenses had collapsed. He pressed himself against the edge and checked outside.

  The jungle’s colors were muted, clouds having descended. A great pile of broken rubble was strewn across the pool. On the far bank, about fifty yards away, were two of Pachac’s men. Both held AK-47s.

  The knowledge that he was outgunned didn’t cause even a fraction of a second’s hesitation. Eddie whipped around the wall, locking the Steyr onto the center of mass of the man on the left with mechanical precision. He squeezed the trigger three times. The first shot narrowly missed, kicking up a clod of earth from the ground, but he had already compensated. The second and third bullets hit the rebel in the arm and stomach. He dropped.

  The other man raised his AK. Too late. This time, all three rounds hit their target. The revolutionary fell, blood spurting from his chest.

  Eddie ran down the pile of stones and splashed through the pool to the bank. The first man was still alive, writhing in agony. Without the slightest emotion, Eddie shot him in the head, then shoved the Steyr into his jacket and scooped up an AK-47 before continuing into the jungle.

  Nina reached the ruined wall just in time to see him disappear into the trees. She called his name, but knew she wouldn’t get a response. “What’s he doing?” Macy asked as she caught up.

  “He’s going to kill Pachac,” Nina answered grimly as she began to pick her way down the unstable slope. “And everyone with him.”

  Pachac, in the Hummer’s passenger seat, looked back sharply at the distant echo of gunfire. The shots weren’t the distinctive thump of an AK-47—and the lack of returning Kalashnikov fire suggested that the two men he had left to guard the cave were dead.

  He tried his phone. No signal. Even though they had reached the road, there was still no reception; the nearest cell mast was several miles away in the village down the winding mountain valley. That meant the survivors of the archaeological team couldn’t call for help, but he couldn’t summon support for his much-diminished force, either.

  “Stop the car!” he ordered the driver. The H3 came to a halt. Pachac got out as the other two 4×4s pulled up behind him. “Somebody’s coming after us,” he shouted to his men. “Make sure they don’t catch up.”

  They got the message, readying their guns. Pachac climbed back into the Hummer, and the convoy set off again.

  Eddie reached the spot where the expedition had parked. Their three off-roaders were still there—as were the corpses of the two soldiers who had been left to guard them. A rumble of engines from the direction of the road told him that the revolutionaries had left—probably going to get backup to raid the incredible wealth of El Dorado before the Peruvian authorities could secure it.

  But their purpose didn’t interest him. All he cared about was catching them.

  He ran to the military jeep, the lightest and fastest of the 4×4s. No key. Who had been driving? One of the privates, he remembered; he quickly searched their bodies and found it. He jumped in and started the engine, reversing into a slithering half turn on the muddy ground. Flattened bushes to one side marked where Pachac’s men had left their own vehicles. Three of them, the tire tracks told him.

  Eddie powered down the slope. The jeep bounced over rocks and roots, the suspension crashing to its limits. He ignored the rough ride—and the jolts of pain it sent through his body. All that mattered was his new mission: Catch the rebel convoy.

  Pachac would almost certainly be in the lead vehicle. Eddie would have to fight past the other two to get to him.

  No problem. He had enough bullets for everyone.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Nina and Macy reached the vehicles. “Oh Jesus,” said Macy at the sight of the dead men. “Why are we going after these guys? We should be trying to get a long, long way away from them!”

  Nina ignored her, running to the Nissan Patrol. Eddie had left the key in the ignition. “If you don’t want to come with me, then wait here.”

  “No, no, I’m coming,” said Macy, the presence of the corpses making her decision easier. She got in beside Nina. The redhead turned the key, then guided the big off-roader down the hill.

  Pachac looked at his phone again. Still no signal. Once he got into range of the cell tower, though, he would be able to call in more men within hours. The True Red Way had an active membership of close to a hundred, and several times as many sympathizers. It would be tough to remove the Punchaco before government forces reacted, but the longer he could prevent word of El Dorado’s existence from getting out, the better …

  The road narrowed at a bend beneath an overhang of rock ahead—with a truck coming the other way.

  “Mother of God!” the driver blurted as he braked hard. Maoism and religion may not have been complementary, but some things were too deeply ingrained to remove. Both vehicles stopped. He leaned out of the window. “Hey! Back up!”

  The sweating, overweight truck driver scowled at him. Under the unwritten rules of the mountain road, the bigger vehicle always had right-of-way. “You back up!”

  “We don’t have time for this shit,” Pachac growled, drawing a gun and firing it out of his window. The truck’s windshield shattered. “Get out of my way or I’ll kill you!”

  The terrified driver decided that unwritten rules were made to be broken and put his truck into reverse, backing up as quickly as he dared. “Move,??
? Pachac told his own driver. The H3 set off again, almost nose-to-nose with the lumbering transport. The road widened around the bend, and the driver moved to let the convoy pass.

  Even as far over as the truck could possibly go, the gap was actually an inch or two narrower than the Hummer, nothing but air beneath the rims of its left-side tires. Pachac’s driver cringed as he edged past the truck, looking down at the near-vertical drop into the clouds below. The H3’s chromed wing mirror scraped against the other vehicle’s cab and broke off. The driver gave his leader an apologetic look. “Maybe we should have stolen something smaller?”

  “Just get going,” Pachac snapped once they were clear.

  Eddie saw a bright yellow Hummer disappear around the overhang about a quarter of a mile ahead, another two vehicles trundling in a line behind it: an old Land Cruiser and a big American pickup truck. Pachac and his men.

  He put his foot down, the jeep jolting over the rutted road. He would soon catch up.

  The Land Cruiser slowly followed the Hummer. Even though it was several inches narrower than the American behemoth, its two occupants still tensed as they crawled along less than a handbreadth from the precipice’s ragged edge. Next, the pickup truck squeezed through, the rebel in the cargo bed leaning out and shouting instructions to the two men in the cab.

  The F-150 disappeared from Eddie’s view behind the overhanging cliff. The time the larger vehicles had taken to squeeze past the obstruction meant that he was now almost upon them.

  He slowed to pass the stationary truck, then readied the Kalashnikov.

  “There he is!” Macy cried, pointing ahead.

  Nina saw the jeep go out of sight around a narrow bend. “I just hope we can reach him before he gets himself killed,” she said, guiding the Patrol in pursuit.

  The man in the F-150’s pickup bed looked back along the road—and saw a military jeep coming after them. Fast. He banged on the cab’s rear window. “Hey! He’s catching up—tell Inkarrí!”