‘The only thing we want to hear from you is what Cross intends to do with the angels,’ said Nina as Eddie finished gathering the gear. They started down the tunnel. ‘Where’s he planning to release them?’
‘I’ve got nothing to say,’ Dalton replied stiffly.
Nina blew out an incredulous breath. ‘Seriously? You don’t get it, do you? Cross betrayed you! He got everything he needed from you and then left you here to die. You’ve got nothing to gain by protecting him.’ The ex-president stayed silent. ‘Maybe you think you’re maintaining plausible deniability, and that somehow you’ll be able to worm your way out of responsibility for what happened at the Mission. But trust me: you won’t be celebrating your political comeback when you return to the States. You’ll be in a federal prison on charges of conspiracy to kidnap and murder, if not outright terrorism.’
‘I told you: people like me don’t go to jail,’ he retorted.
‘Then maybe it’s time for a bit of vigilante justice,’ said Eddie, making a show of checking the Desert Eagle. Dalton fell silent.
They emerged in the cavern. Eddie helped Nina out of the sinkhole, then Jared, before climbing out himself. The two men then pulled Dalton up. ‘Are you okay?’ Nina asked Jared, seeing him grimace.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he replied, not with full conviction. ‘But you’re right, I won’t be doing much on this leg for a while.’
‘Hopefully you won’t have to.’
‘Still got to climb down,’ Eddie reminded them. He started towards the passage through the cliffs, the others following. ‘How long’ll it take before we can tell anyone what’s happened?’
‘I think going west rather than back the way we came will be the quickest route to a highway,’ Jared replied. ‘There’s one running parallel to the Egyptian border. We should get cell reception there.’ They clambered over the fallen rocks and continued along the narrow, winding ravine.
‘So what about it?’ Nina asked Dalton. ‘Your only chance of staying out of prison is to tell us where Cross plans to release the angels. If you help stop the attacks, you might just save your sorry ass.’
‘If I’m going to say anything,’ he replied with disdain, ‘it’ll be through my lawyer to the Attorney General. It sure as hell won’t be to the likes of you.’
She shook her head. ‘You really do think you’ll still be able to get back into the White House, don’t you? Jeez. I know politicians have an inflated sense of self-belief, but you’re outright delusional!’
‘We’ll see,’ was his reply.
‘Twat,’ said Eddie, turning sideways to pass through the tight clench. ‘All right, we’re almost at the cliff.’ The light ahead grew brighter as they neared the last twist in the chasm. ‘I’ll rig the rope, and . . .’
He trailed off as he rounded the last corner – and heard a rising noise. The others stopped behind him. ‘What’s that?’ Nina asked.
The answer came a moment later as an Apache helicopter gunship rose into view, its cannon swinging towards them.
30
Dalton pushed forward, waving at the helicopter’s pilot – Colonel Brik. ‘Hey! It’s me! Help me! I’m—’
Eddie seized him. ‘Back!’ he yelled, driving the others into cover around the corner—
The gunship opened fire, its thirty-millimetre chain gun blazing. Shells tore into the chasm’s walls, ripping out chunks of rock.
Eddie shoved Dalton away and grabbed Nina, shielding her with his body. Jared stumbled against a wall as he tried to run, while the politician fled before tripping in his panic.
Brik jinked the aircraft sideways to give his gunner a better angle down the narrow cleft. The curve of the walls still blocked their targets from view, but that didn’t ease the trigger finger of the man in the forward seat. More shells screamed against the cliffs, fractured stone spalling in all directions.
‘Move, move!’ Eddie screamed, barely audible over the gun’s thunder. A lump of rock smacked against his head as he pushed Nina onwards. Just ahead of them, Jared managed to hobble around the next bend before his leg gave way.
The cannon fire stopped, a few last pieces of debris ricocheting past. Then the only movement was the dust blown through the ravine by the rotor downwash. ‘What the hell was that?’ Nina demanded.
‘That was one of our Petens!’ Jared replied, shocked. The Apache – Peten, meaning ‘adder’, was the Hebrew name for the American aircraft – was painted in the brown and grey camouflage pattern of the Israeli Air Force. ‘Why’s it attacking us?’
‘I bet he knows,’ Eddie growled, going to Dalton. He dragged him upright. ‘Hey! Where did that fucking chopper come from?’
The politician was wide-eyed with fear. ‘It’s some old contact of Cross,’ he panted. ‘Colonel Brik, base commander at Ovda. Cross must have called him.’
‘Still think he’s on your side?’ said Nina angrily. ‘He just tried to kill us!’
‘He hasn’t stopped,’ Eddie warned. The Apache’s engine note changed, the gunship pulling back from the cliff and descending. ‘Get in further – go, go!’
They squeezed through the narrow clench, but Eddie knew they were still not safe. ‘Cover your ears!’ he cried.
‘Why, what’s happ—’ Dalton began, but the sight of the others pressing their palms firmly to their heads rapidly prompted him to do the same. Eddie hunched down, bracing himself against the wall as he again shielded Nina—
A sharp hiss – then the entire cliff shook with the impact of a rocket. Another whoosh, and a second missile struck just inside the cleft. A gritty shock wave blasted pulverised fragments of stone down the passage, the blast knocking those within to the ground.
The echoes faded. Eddie coughed, spitting out dust. ‘Is everyone okay?’
‘I . . . I think so,’ said Nina, wincing. Despite Eddie’s efforts to protect her, pain coursed through her hip where a flying rock had struck her. ‘We were lucky.’
‘They haven’t given up,’ Eddie said ominously. He stood, listening. Even with the ravine’s strange acoustics, it was easy to tell that the gunship was on the move. Seconds later, a hot wind stinking of burnt aviation fuel tore through their shelter as the gunship thundered directly overhead.
Dalton pushed himself back against the wall. ‘Oh God! They’re going to shoot us from above!’
‘They can’t lower the gun that far,’ Eddie told him. ‘And this place is too twisty for them to get a clear shot . . . Shit!’ Realisation hit him. ‘They’re going to the other end to seal us in!’
Nina looked after the aircraft with alarm. ‘How many rockets do they have?’
‘Too fucking many.’ He had seen rocket pods beneath the Apache’s stub wings; each could hold nineteen Hydra or CRV7 seventy-millimetre unguided missiles.
‘Do something, Chase!’ cried Dalton.
‘Like what?’ he snapped, drawing the Desert Eagle. ‘Shoot it down with this?’
‘Why not? It’s huge! I know those helicopters are armoured, but—’
‘The cockpit can take a hit from a fifty-cal round. I might get through the armour somewhere else, but I’ve only got a few bullets left. I fired an entire mag at Cross’s chopper and didn’t cause enough damage to bring it down – shit, incoming!’ He heard the Apache’s engine note change again and hurriedly put down the handgun to cover his ears. The others did the same— More rockets pounded the far end of the cleft. This time Brik ordered his gunner to keep firing, missile after missile exploding against the cliffs. The ground shook with the man-made earthquake, then a deeper, more fearsome vibration flung everyone to the floor again as rock gave way under the onslaught.
An entire section of the massif collapsed into the hollow, hundreds of tons of debris plunging down the sinkhole, and more blocking the narrow passage through the cliffs. Another blinding, choking wave of dust rolled over the fugitives.
Eddie checked that Nina had not suffered any more injuries, then looked through the haze to find Jared and Dalton. ‘Are you oka
y?’
‘Yeah, but we’re trapped in here!’ the Israeli replied.
The dust swirled in the Apache’s downdraught as the gunship passed back overhead. Dalton watched it in dismay. ‘So . . . so what are they going to do? Hover at the end of the ravine and pick us off if we show our faces?’
‘Pretty much,’ Eddie told him, helping Nina up.
‘There must be something you can do!’
‘Oh, so now I’m the answer to all your problems? We can’t get back to the temple, and if we try to climb down the cliff, they’ll shoot us.’ The Englishman tipped his head, looking up between the sheer walls. ‘I could chimney-climb to the top, but there’s no cover, so they’d only have to gain a bit of height to take a shot—’
He broke off. He had still been in the SAS when the Apache entered British military service, and had taken the opportunity to get a close look at the new machine that would be providing his fellow servicemen with air support. Now a memory returned from when he had actually sat inside one. The gunship’s cockpit was indeed designed to resist bullets, but not from every angle. One part had been left unarmoured to save weight, on the grounds that it would never normally be exposed to an enemy . . .
Nina realised that he was forming a plan. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I might be able to take a shot,’ he said, ejecting the Desert Eagle’s magazine to count the remaining rounds. Four, including the one already chambered. ‘If the Israeli Apache is like the British one, then the window right over the pilot’s head is regular Perspex rather than bulletproof. I can shoot the bastard – if I can get to the right angle.’ He slapped the mag back into place, then gave his companions a grim look. ‘Problem is, to get to that angle, someone’ll have to keep ’em busy.’ He quickly explained his idea.
‘That’s suicide!’ Dalton objected.
‘Then you’ll be glad to know I wasn’t expecting you to volunteer.’ He turned to Jared. ‘Sorry, but you’re the best bet.’
The young man straightened, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. ‘I’ll get it done.’
‘Eddie, he can’t,’ Nina protested. ‘He won’t be able to move fast enough!’
‘I can’t get him to do it,’ said Eddie, with a contemptuous jerk of his thumb at Dalton, ‘and I’m not bloody letting you try. Not with our baby on board.’
‘I can do it, Nina,’ Jared assured her.
‘And we need to do it now.’ The helicopter had moved back over the valley to watch the open end of the cleft. ‘Okay, Jared, wait until I’m almost at the top and then show yourself. Hopefully that’ll keep ’em occupied long enough for me to get into position.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’ asked Dalton.
‘Then I’ll chuck you off the cliff into their rotors!’ Ignoring the grey-haired man’s outrage, he went to Nina. ‘Okay, love, I’ll get going now. Whatever you do, stay safe.’ He kissed her, then gently placed one hand against the swell of her lower body. ‘Both of you.’
He hurried back to the narrowest part of the passage and began his ascent, arms and legs spread to give himself support on each side of the fissure. The climb was quick at first, but before long the strain of holding his full weight started to slow him. He twisted to brace one shoulder against a wall, taking some of the pressure off his arms, and looked up. About thirty feet to go; halfway there.
He resumed his climb. Each step crunched against the limestone, dust and grit falling away from his feet. His breathing became heavier as he shuffled upwards. A chimney climb would normally be made in a crack in the face of a cliff, giving him three walls where he could find handholds and support, but here there was nothing but air on two sides.
And the cleft was gradually widening the higher he went. He could no longer use his shoulders for support, instead having to push his palms against the wall behind him. If his arms weakened, or his feet slipped on the crumbling surface, he would plunge straight back down.
To his death, from this height.
Fifty feet. Just ten to go. He glanced down, seeing the others watching. ‘Jared, get ready!’ he called.
Five feet. The rock, now fully exposed to the elements, became rougher. More grip, but it was also more fragile.
He looked towards the valley. A dark shape was visible through the rippling heat haze, the Apache drifting lazily sideways as its crew watched the entrance to the crevice. Shit! It was too high; they would spot him the moment he reached the clifftop. ‘Go now, now!’
Jared heard the call. ‘Okay, wish me luck,’ he said, starting down the passage.
Nina watched his limp grow more pronounced with each step. ‘Jared, you can’t,’ she said, hurrying after him.
‘I can’t let you do it,’ he replied.
‘I can’t let you do it! You can hardly walk, never mind run. You’re about to deliberately put yourself in front of a machine gun – if you can’t move fast enough, it’ll kill you!’
‘Nina, you’re pregnant—’
‘Yeah, I’m pregnant. But as Eddie reminded me, I’m not an invalid, and even with a baby inside me I’m still quicker than you.’ To prove her point, she darted past him. He tried to block her, but the mere effort of pivoting on his wounded leg caused him to gasp and stagger. ‘I’m not going to let you kill yourself just because you want to prove how tough you are.’
‘No, don’t!’ he cried, hobbling after her, only to clutch at the rock for support as he almost fell again. ‘I promised Eddie—’
‘I promised him more, when I married him,’ Nina replied, glancing back up at her husband. ‘But I never promised that I’d always do exactly what he told me. Seriously, what’s that all about?’ She composed herself. ‘Now get back and watch Dalton. I’ve got a feeling I’ll need as much room to run as I can get.’
Before Jared could object, she scurried on, a curve in the confined channel taking him – and Eddie – out of sight. The gunship’s engines became louder as she crept to the final corner and peered around it.
The opening was no longer a vertical crack, a ragged chunk of rock having been blasted from one side as if a giant had taken a bite from the cliff. The helicopter was out of sight, but getting closer. From what Eddie had said, the gunner would have his sights fixed upon the cleft. She would only have a few seconds between making herself visible and the first shells landing – if she was lucky. If the man in the chopper had razor-sharp reactions, she might not even get one second.
The brutal aircraft drifted into view against the empty sky. It was higher than her position, the cannon under its nose pointed down at its target. She needed it to descend for Eddie’s plan to work.
There was only one way to make that happen.
Nina steeled herself . . . then stepped into view.
Eddie was still straining to hold himself just below the top of the crevasse, his eyes locked on the gunship. He couldn’t risk climbing out into the open, but nor could he stay where he was for ever. ‘Come on, Jared,’ he whispered. ‘Give me my shot . . .’
The Apache continued its lazy motion – then suddenly the engine note changed.
Nina stared up at the helicopter for what felt like an eternity, the insectile machine’s silhouette burning itself into her vision. Then movement from its gun turret snapped her back into the moment.
The chain gun’s muzzle flashed with fire as she turned and ran back down the passage. The first shell hit the ground where she had been standing, the anti-armour round ripping deep into the limestone before exploding and showering her with fragments. She shrieked, but could no longer hear her own voice over the pounding of thirty-millimetre fire.
The gunner tracked her. Even though she was out of his direct line of sight, the shrapnel from the shells bursting on the walls was as dangerous as a direct hit. Terrified, she sprinted for the next bend—
Red-hot agony seared into her thigh as a metal shard tore through skin. She screamed, falling.
More shells blasted the walls, the detonations closing in—
The cannon fell silent.
‘Cease fire, cease fire!’ Brik ordered. He had slipped the Apache sideways to maintain a firing angle down the tight ravine, but the person he had briefly glimpsed had made it back into cover.
From gunfire, at least.
‘Switch to rockets,’ he told the gunner. ‘I’ll bring us to firing position.’ The gunship’s missile pods were fixed, requiring the whole aircraft to be brought into line with their target.
‘Two degrees to port,’ the gunner told him. Brik applied pressure to a rudder pedal, turning the aircraft. A vertical line superimposed down the centre of the gunsight bisected the entrance. ‘Okay. Bring us closer, descend ten metres.’
The colonel began the manoeuvre, the cross hairs slipping down towards the base of the cleft.
The moment the Apache fired, Eddie pulled himself on to the clifftop. If his plan had worked, Jared, acting as his decoy to draw the aircrew’s attention, would have already retreated beyond the chain gun’s line of fire, forcing the gunner to switch to rockets – and requiring the helicopter to come lower to line up its fixed weapons. That would put him out of sight for the precious seconds he needed.
If the plan hadn’t worked, his friend would already be dead.
The firing stopped. The gunship hung in the air . . . then descended.
Eddie ran for the cliff’s edge. The Apache came back into sight. It was about a hundred metres away, but drawing closer, still gradually losing height.
He could see the weak spot – the top window of the upper canopy, right in front of the main rotor head. But to his dismay he realised he didn’t have a clear shot. The gunship was now too low, the spinning rotor in the way. A bullet might pass cleanly through and hit its target . . . or strike a carbon-fibre blade and be deflected away.
No matter what, he had to take the shot before the gunship fired its rockets. He lined up the Desert Eagle’s sights – and pulled the trigger.
Sparks and paint flakes spat from behind the cockpit. His aim wasn’t at fault; as he’d feared, the bullet had glanced off the rotor and been thrown off target. Now he only had three bullets left.