“But …” Nina took hold of the hilt, and the blue glow returned. It took almost no effort for her to slip Excalibur back out of the granite.
She rounded on Mitchell as Chase knelt to take a closer look at the damage she had done to the stone. “Okay, if you have a new theory. I really, really want to hear it!”
“Actually, I do—but it can wait. Give me the sword.” Taking great care to hold the blade away from him, she passed it to Mitchell. The glow vanished when she let go. “This is what we came for. The rest of the site, you can get a full archaeological team to survey it, but we need to get the sword to DARPA for analysis as soon as possible.” Mitchell carefully ran a finger along the blade, then whistled admiringly. “We did it. You did it, Nina. You found Excalibur. Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” Nina replied. She walked toward the door to the main chamber. “But for now, how about we get out of here and put on some dry clothes, huh?”
“Yes, something sexy,” said a Russian-accented voice from outside.
Nina froze. Standing in the chamber was the longhaired man Chase had thrown out of the window of Staumberg Castle—Zakhar. Beside him was a broad-shouldered, shaven-headed thug with an ugly scar running across his throat practically from ear to ear. Both were armed, the bald man with a pistol, Zakhar with a compact MP-5K submachine gun.
“Hello again, sexy lady,” said Zakhar with a crooked smile, running his free hand through his hair. “Come out here. And you, Jack.” He looked past Nina, gesturing with the gun for Mitchell to follow her.
Nina risked a glance back as she left the tomb chamber. Chase had moved as soon as he heard the new arrivals, and was now crouching in the cover of Arthur’s coffin. But it wouldn’t take much for the Russians to spot him.
Fortunately, they were more interested in what Mitchell was holding. “Ah!” said Zakhar. “Good, you have sword.”
Mitchell raised it, as if preparing to enter battle. “Care for a rematch, Zakhar?”
Zakhar smiled again and shook his head. “I do not think so. Besides, I already beat you once. Now, put down sword and move over there.” He nodded in the direction of the back wall.
Mitchell reluctantly placed Excalibur on the floor before following Nina across the room. She looked back at the tomb again. Chase was nowhere in sight—and the two Russians apparently thought only she and Mitchell were there.
“There’s more here than just the sword,” she said to Zakhar, indicating the opening. “That room’s the tomb of King Arthur—and it’s full of treasure. If you let us go, you can have it. You can have it all.”
“Treasure?” said Zakhar. He looked at the door, seeming disappointed by what he saw beyond. “I see no treasure.”
“It’s in the coffins. All of King Arthur’s royal gold and jewels.”
The two Russians exchanged glances. “Stand by wall,” said Zakhar, directing Nina and Mitchell back with his gun. He nodded to the other man. “Orlovsky?”
The bald man grunted and moved to the tomb entrance, peering inside and seeing the two stone coffins. He glanced back at Zakhar, then stepped through—
Chase’s hand whipped around from the other side of the opening and smashed the chunk of cut stone into Orlovsky’s face, sending teeth showering out in a cascade of ivory. The Russian let out a gurgling scream and fell backward, spitting blood from his ruined mouth. His gun bounced from his hand and skittered across the stone floor.
Zakhar gasped in surprise, then whirled and fired his MP-5K at the doorway as Chase lunged back into cover. In the confined space the gunfire was almost deafening. Nina yelled and pressed her hands to her ears as Mitchell dived at Zakhar. He saw him coming and brought the gun back around, still firing. Chips of stone exploded from the walls as the bullets hit. Nina ducked, the line of holes stitching just over her head.
Mitchell grabbed Zakhar’s gun hand, stopping the weapon short just before it reached his face. Zakhar snarled and fired again anyway. The muzzle flame scorched Mitchell’s temple, the American screwing up his face in pain. Zakhar wrenched the gun from his grip, taking aim at Mitchell’s head—
Nothing came from the MP-5K but a dry metal click. The magazine was empty.
Chase heard the sound and ran into the chamber, vaulting over the fallen Russian. “Nina, go!”
“What about Jack?” she cried, seeing Mitchell struggling with Zakhar. The empty gun clattered to the floor beside the protruding figures of Lancelot and Galahad.
“Just go!” He shoved her toward the exit, then turned to join the fight in the center of the room.
One eye still squeezed closed, Mitchell was unable to react fast enough to block Zakhar as he twisted around and slammed his elbow into his temple. Mitchell staggered back, and Zakhar immediately took advantage, delivering a crunching kick into his stomach. Mitchell crashed against the side wall and dropped to the floor, winded.
Zahkar smiled in triumph, then turned to face Chase.
Who had snatched up the sword and was swinging it at his head, about to cleave it in two—
The Russian’s hands flashed up with shocking speed, palms clapping together to arrest the blade’s swipe just above his forehead. A drop of blood fell from the edge of the sword. For a moment, the two men stared at each other, eye to eye.
Then Zakhar moved.
Chase knew the kick was coming but, despite his best efforts, wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid it as Zakhar spun and lashed out a foot, cutting his legs out from under him. Chase stumbled, landing hard in the center of the painted Round Table. He lost his grip on Excalibur as he fell—and realized to his shock that Zakhar had kept hold of it, bloodied hands still squeezing the blade.
Zakhar flipped the sword over and caught it by the hilt, hands raised high over his head. He looked at Chase, ready to plunge it down like a stake into the Englishman’s stomach—
A bloody hole burst open in his left shoulder.
The chamber rang to the echoing boom of Orlovsky’s gun—now in Nina’s hands. Zakhar lurched around, Excalibur flying from his grip to land at the side of the room. Clutching at the wound, he staggered backward … and tripped over the figure of Lancelot.
The key turned.
A harsh scrape of metal came from beneath the floor as some ancient mechanism, held in check since the twelfth century, was finally released.
“Oh, bollocks,” muttered Chase.
Nina looked up as a rush of wind came from the nearest of the holes in the ceiling—air being driven ahead of the deluge that was about to come. But there was another, more menacing sound just behind her as the huge slab above the main entrance began its grinding descent. “Come on!” she yelled. Mitchell was getting to his feet, Excalibur not far from him, Chase still on his back in the center of the chamber …
Dirty brown water erupted from the holes above with punishing force, hard enough to sweep up Orlovsky and slam him against the wall. Zakhar fell, landing with a splash and a screech of pain. The chilly torrent hit Chase from all sides at once, making him splutter and choke as he tried to sit up. Only Mitchell, bracing himself against the side wall, was able to pull himself upright. He fumbled for Excalibur, pulling the dripping sword from the muddy froth.
The churning flow surged around Nina’s legs, knocking her back against the edge of the door and jarring the gun from her hand. It vanished into the flood. The slab was still dropping, five feet above the floor, less … She ducked under it into the passage outside. “Eddie! Jack!”
Mitchell kept moving around the edge of the room as the water rose. “Nina, get out of here!”
“Not without Eddie!”
Battered by the plunging columns of water, half blinded by spray, Chase rolled onto all fours to raise his head above the water. But it wasn’t by much—the room was filling with frightening speed.
And it would fill much faster once the door finally closed …
Mitchell reached the exit. Three feet and falling. He dropped to a crouch and leapt through.
“Eddi
e!”
The panic in Nina’s voice drove a surge of adrenaline through Chase’s body, punching through the numbing effects of the cold onslaught. He got his bearings, saw the gap reducing to just two feet, eighteen inches, almost touching the surface of the water …
Last chance—
Chase sprang upright—then immediately dived forward, landing on his stomach a few feet short of the door and being carried along by the rush of water through the rapidly shrinking gap. The bottom edge of the stone scraped against his heels as he shot through. Over the thunder of the deluge he heard a last terrified scream from Zakhar—then both sounds were abruptly cut off by a ground-shaking bang as the stone slab slammed closed.
The rush of water immediately died down to a trickle, the torrent that had already escaped the chamber sluicing away down the passage. Chase sat up, gasping for breath as filthy water streamed off him.
“Eddie, are you okay?” Nina asked, helping him stand.
“Jesus!” he spluttered, wiping his face. “What is it with you and places full of death traps? Nice shooting, though. He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t tapped him in the shoulder.”
“I was aiming for his head.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Well … no,” she admitted. “I just thought that would sound cool. I kind of fired in his general direction.” He smiled and squeezed her shoulders.
Mitchell leaned against the wall, panting. “Damn, that was close.” He straightened, then picked up Excalibur.
“Thanks for your help, by the way,” said Chase with unconcealed sarcasm.
“This isn’t the time, Eddie,” Nina said, moving to stand between the two men. “How the hell did they find us, anyway?” That thought instantly led to another. “Oh my God. Chloe. What if there’re more of them outside?”
“We’d better get moving,” said Chase, shaking as much water from his sodden clothes as he could and giving Mitchell another glare before they hurried back through the tunnels. Most of the water had drained from the trial of Nivienne, but the revolting stench of flammable gas from the chamber housing the carving of Merlin now permeated the entire system, spreading outward once the tomb was open to the outside air.
They retrieved their belongings from the edge of the pool. Nina removed Mitchell’s shirt and put on her clothes, then picked up the walkie-talkie. “Chloe, are you there?” Silence. “Chloe, can you hear me?” Still no response. “Shit!”
They continued toward the entrance, Mitchell taking the lead with the sword. The smell of gas finally started to fade as they reached the foot of the slope. Daylight glared down from above. Nina peered around Mitchell in the hope of seeing Chloe, but all that was visible was sky. She was about to call out Chloe’s name, but Chase put a hand on her arm in silent warning.
“I’ll go check it out,” whispered Mitchell as he clambered up the incline. “Wait here.”
Nina and Chase watched as he dropped to a crouch, cautiously looking over the lip of the entrance. He paused, apparently seeing nothing, then advanced another step, leaning forward to check each side—
Suddenly, he was seized by a pair of huge hands, yanked out of the tunnel, and thrown to the ground. Maximov loomed over him, a white Band-Aid across the center of his forehead. Another man stepped up beside him.
Nina knew the face from the photos Mitchell had shown them. It was Vaskovich’s right-hand man, Kruglov. “Jack Mitchell,” he said with distaste, adding something in Russian. Mitchell began to reply, but Kruglov kicked him in the side, silencing him. The Russian looked down the hole. “Dr. Wilde! I know you are down there, so show yourself.”
Nina had moved back into the darkness, pressing against Chase. “Shit!” she whispered. “What do we do?”
“Dr. Wilde!” Kruglov repeated impatiently. “Show yourself now, or I will kill your friends.”
“Oh, God,” said Nina, fear rising. “He’s got Chloe as well.”
“Gimme your camera. Quick!” Chase ordered. Confused, Nina pulled it from her pocket and passed it back to him. “Go on.”
“What?”
He fiddled with the camera’s controls. “I’ll be right behind you, just buy me a few seconds. Go!”
Reluctantly, Nina stepped into the light. Kruglov’s wide mouth spread into a smug smirk. “Good. Thank you for finding Excalibur for us.” He gestured for her to climb the slope.
“Where’s Chloe?” Nina demanded as she slowly ascended. Like Zakhar, Kruglov clearly had no idea that Chase was in the tomb.
“She is here. Yorgi, bring her.” Kruglov signaled to someone; a moment later, Chloe appeared, shoved into view by the man with the topknot whom Mitchell had knocked out at the castle. He stood behind her, gripping her arm.
“Chloe,” Nina said, stopping a few feet short of the entrance. “Are you okay?” Chloe didn’t reply, only managing a terrified nod. “Let her go. You don’t need her anymore.”
“No, we don’t,” Kruglov agreed. “Yorgi.”
Yorgi grinned—and Chloe convulsed, throwing her head back and gasping. He released her arm … and she dropped face first to the ground, an ugly knife protruding from her back.
“No!” Nina screamed. “No, you bastards! You didn’t have to kill her, she didn’t do anything!”
Maximov seemed to share her feelings, obviously objecting in Russian. His boss cut him off with a dismissive wave of one hand. “Come out of the hole,” Kruglov ordered, taking out a gun. “Now!”
Nausea rose in Nina’s throat as she advanced, seeing Chloe on the ground, red running down the yellow of her jacket. “Oh, God,” she whispered as she emerged into daylight, seeing the Russians surrounding the entrance. Maximov, Dominika, Chloe’s killer, three others she didn’t recognize. Mitchell was sprawled on the ground at Kruglov’s feet, Excalibur beside him.
No way to escape.
Unless Chase could do something.
Forcing back his shock at what had just happened outside, Chase found what he’d been looking for—a sharp stone protruding from the sloping tunnel wall. He stepped out of cover and smacked the camera against it, breaking the glass covering the flash. Kruglov heard the sound, snapping around to find its source.
Chase pushed the shutter, and tossed the camera back down the tunnel behind him. He began a mental countdown. Ten, nine …
“You! Out!” Kruglov yelled, raising his gun.
“All right, I’m coming,” said Chase, raising his hands and quickly climbing to the entrance. He saw Mitchell on the ground, Nina kneeling beside the unmoving Chloe—and Kruglov’s people clustered around their leader. He gave Nina a look, his eyes momentarily flicking downward. Understanding crossed her face. “But do you know what goes ‘quack’?”
Kruglov stared at him, puzzled. “What?”
“A duck!” He dived to the ground, Nina also dropping flat.
At the bottom of the tunnel, the camera’s timer reached zero.
It clicked, the cracked flash firing …
And the electric spark ignited the methane in the air.
TWENTY
The concentration of gas was barely high enough for it to catch fire—but it did, within an instant the thin flame leaping through the tunnels to the much denser pockets of methane deeper inside the tor. They erupted, a chain reaction blasting the shockwave of expanding fires back toward the entrance—
A hot wind burst from the tunnel, showering Kruglov and his thugs with dirt and sending them reeling—followed a moment later by a fireball that exploded into the open air like the breath of an enraged dragon. Kruglov managed to dive away, shielding his face, but one man fell screaming as his clothes and hair were set aflame.
Chase jumped up into the hot air of the dissipating fire, slamming a punch into Yorgi’s face and knocking him backward down the steep hillside. Mitchell snatched up Excalibur and rolled to swing it at Dominika, smacking her gun hand with the flat of the blade and knocking the pistol into the grass. He grabbed it and sprang to his feet.
/> Nina was also up, seizing a shovel and swinging it like an axe into the groin of another goon. He let out a choked scream and stumbled over the edge of the terrace. She was about to brain Kruglov with the spade when Mitchell ran past and pulled her away. “Come on! We gotta go! Now!” She flung the spade at another Russian, knocking him down.
Chase realized that Kruglov had dropped his gun and was about to dive for it when he saw Mitchell practically dragging Nina away along the terrace. “Eddie, move it!” the American yelled.
Chase hesitated, then ran after them. “You have a gun!” he shouted at Mitchell as he caught up. “Shoot them!”
“There’s too many of them! We’ve got to get out of here!”
Chase didn’t agree—they had the advantage of numbers, but Kruglov’s people had been thrown into confusion, and were only now starting to recover. But since Mitchell had the gun, Chase had no choice now but to go along with his decision.
They raced along the terrace, heading toward the steep northern face of the tor. Despite the terrain, several cows stood on the hillside ahead of them, startled by the noise. Chase looked back as they skirted the nervous animals. Kruglov was on his feet, bellowing orders. His subordinates gave chase. “Jack, shoot!”
“You want to shoot the cows?”
“No! Shoot over them, scare them!”
Mitchell pointed the gun back and fired three rapid shots into the air. The cows immediately panicked, breaking into clumsy gallops away from the noise …
Straight at the Russians.
Kruglov saw the approaching stampede and without hesitation leapt from the terrace, rolling down the hill. The others were slower to react, Dominika after a moment following Kruglov’s example and flinging herself down the slope. Maximov stumbled to a stop as if unable to believe his eyes, while another two men hurriedly reversed direction and ran back along the terrace.
They didn’t get far.
Not even someone of Maximov’s size and strength could stop a charging cow—though that didn’t prevent him from trying to grab the leader of the herd as it ran blindly at him. He was swept off his feet, clinging to the cow for a couple of seconds before being flung clear and hitting one of the fleeing men. They both cartwheeled downhill to end up in a dazed heap.