‘Now, Dr Wilde,’ said Mukobo. ‘What do we do next?’
‘There’s a shaft at the top of that tower,’ said Nina, pointing. ‘The first chamber is at the bottom – that’s as far as we got.’
‘For your sake, we had better go farther.’ He turned to Howie. ‘Are you ready to start?’
Howie checked the camera. ‘Yeah, yeah. It’ll need a new battery in a while, but there are spares with the rest of our gear inside.’
‘Good. Then begin.’ The young man gave him a confused look. ‘Film me, idiot! Or do you want to lose your arm too?’
‘Okay, rolling,’ Howie hurriedly responded. Mukobo composed himself, then began a self-congratulatory speech in French.
‘So what are we gonna do?’ Nina muttered to Eddie as the militia listened.
‘What do you mean?’ he replied.
‘I mean, how are we going to get out of this?’
‘Fucked if I know, love.’
‘I’d . . . kinda hoped you had something more than that.’
‘I’d happily chuck that bastard off the roof and take my chances if it was just me, but I’ve got everyone else to think about. Maybe once we’re inside—’
Luaba stabbed his Kalashnikov’s muzzle against the Yorkshireman’s back. ‘Hey! Shut up. No talk.’
Eddie glared at him. ‘I remember you. You were with Mukobo in Rwanda.’
The huge man nodded. ‘I been with Philippe a long time.’
‘Surprised he kept you around after you fucked up and let me capture him.’
Luaba’s face twitched at the reminder of his failure. ‘Shut up!’ he repeated, giving Eddie a harder jab with the rifle.
Mukobo finished his address. ‘Dr Wilde! It is time. Lead the way inside.’
‘You’re not going first? I thought you wanted the world to see your great discovery,’ she said with sarcastic emphasis.
‘Your cameraman was wounded. If anyone else is hurt, it will not be me!’
The denuded expedition, now outnumbered more than two-to-one by the Insekt Posse, headed up the tower and clambered down the stone shaft to the first chamber. The documentary crew’s equipment was where they had left it. Nina switched on a tripod-mounted lamp. Luaba seemingly lacked the imagination to be impressed by what it revealed, but Mukobo’s reaction was more awed. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Most magnificent.’ He spotted the blood on the floor. ‘Where your man was hurt, yes?’
‘In there.’ She indicated the passage beneath the Hebrew inscription. Mukobo looked, but with the lamp being angled away from the opening saw only darkness within.
More of the group entered, Eddie and Howie amongst them. ‘You all right?’ her husband asked.
‘So far,’ she assured him. Fortune and Lydia arrived behind them. ‘How about you two?’
‘Oh, absolutely fine,’ Lydia said shakily. Her eyes were still red-rimmed from crying. ‘Surrounded by drug-crazed psychopaths who want to – to chop our f-fucking arms off! Just fine, yeah.’
Fortune picked up her audio gear and gave it to her. ‘Here.’
‘W-what am I supposed to do with this?’ she demanded.
‘Your job, of course.’
‘He’s right,’ Nina told her. ‘Focus on what you do best. It’ll take your mind off the . . . other stuff. Trust me,’ she went on as Lydia was about to object. ‘It helps. It really does.’ The New Zealander still looked anything except happy, but donned her mixing box and headphones.
Brice was one of the last to arrive. ‘Must admit, I expected something a little more spectacular.’
‘This is only the first room,’ said Nina as she switched on a lantern. With more people now in the chamber, the first light was partially obscured. ‘There are probably more down there—’
She broke off as she saw one of the militia making his way down the dark passage towards the glint of silver at its far end. She was about to warn him to come back – but then held her tongue. ‘If we get more lights working,’ she quickly said instead, ‘we’ll be able to see what we’re dealing with.’
‘I’ll help you,’ said Howie. He lowered the camera – then saw the man in the passage. ‘Whoa, whoa, that won’t end well!’
His cry alerted Mukobo and Brice that something was wrong. Both men whirled, the warlord shouting a warning—
Too late.
The militia man reached the large floor block farther down the passage – and staggered as it dropped under his weight. The rasp of stone against stone echoed down the hallway as the walls began to close in.
Mukobo rushed to the opening. ‘Sortez!’ he yelled. ‘Sortez d’ici!’ Behind him, Howie whipped the Sony back up to capture events.
The man regained his footing and looked around in shock. Unlike Rivero, rather than retreat he ran for the chamber containing the silver idol.
The slab continued to descend until it halted with a thud about a foot below floor level – then started to slide towards the next room. The jolt made him stumble again, but he recovered, racing down the rapidly narrowing passageway—
One arm banged against an approaching wall. He reeled, unbalanced – and hit the other. By the time he straightened, both sides were upon him. He turned sideways, but now couldn’t move fast enough to get clear. A shriek of fear suddenly became a strangled croak as the passageway relentlessly closed in. A hideous crack as his ribcage was crushed – then the two walls met with a harsh and final bang.
Mukobo yelled for a flashlight. One was hurriedly found and shone down the hallway. He stared in horror as the trap completed its cycle and reset, the mashed remains of the young man splattering messily down as the walls pulled apart. The viscera-covered slab rolled back towards the first chamber, then returned to floor level.
The stunned silence was broken by Eddie. ‘I’ve heard of runners hitting the wall, but not the other way around . . .’
Mukobo whirled, jabbing a finger. ‘Another word! Say another word, Chase, and I will kill you!’ He rounded on Nina. ‘You knew that would happen! You knew – and you said nothing!’
‘I told you our cameraman was hurt in here!’ Nina replied. ‘There was blood all over the floor – that should have been a goddamn clue not to go in!’
‘You should still have warned him,’ snapped Brice.
‘I didn’t see him,’ she lied. The former MI6 agent’s icy gaze didn’t flicker, as probing as a polygraph. ‘There were too many people in here!’ She looked back at Mukobo. Her split-second decision to keep silent had been, she was forced to admit to herself, both in the hope of causing a distraction that Eddie or Fortune might use – and a desire to obtain more data on the trap’s workings. She was proud of neither, and was afraid Brice would realise that . . .
Mukobo glared at her – then turned away, shouting in French at his men. All hurriedly retreated from the passage. ‘So what do we do now?’ Brice asked.
‘If there is a trap, it is to protect something valuable,’ said Mukobo. ‘So we will find a way through it.’ He addressed Nina again. ‘You will find a way through it.’
‘The trap worked differently this time,’ she said, ‘but I saw more of how it operates. Hopefully I’ll be able to figure out how to get someone through safely.’
‘I don’t think that’s quite what he meant,’ said Brice, with a serpentine smile.
‘No?’
‘No,’ Mukobo told her firmly. ‘You will go through the trap!’
‘No she fucking won’t,’ Eddie growled. He was about to step towards the warlord when Luaba raised his gun to deter him.
‘Because of your negligence, one of my men is dead,’ Mukobo went on. ‘You are responsible – so you must make things right.’
‘She’s an archaeologist,’ protested the Yorkshireman. ‘If there are any more traps after this one, you’ll need her to work out how to beat ’em. If she gets killed,
then you’re fucked!’
‘But she isn’t the only archaeologist, is she?’ said Brice, indicating Ziff. ‘Sorry, but we haven’t been formally introduced. You are?’
‘Uh – Ziff,’ the older scientist replied. ‘Dr David Solomon Ziff.’
‘And what’s your area of archaeological expertise, Dr David Solomon Ziff?’
Ziff gave Nina a worried glance before answering. ‘The, ah, the life and works of King Solomon.’
Brice’s voice became patronising. ‘And who built the palace in which we’re standing, Dr Ziff?’
‘That would be . . . King Solomon.’ The name emerged with resignation.
‘You see?’ Brice said to Eddie. ‘We have an expert in the subject. Having a generalist as well feels somewhat redundant.’
Fortune stood beside Eddie. ‘No, please. I shall do it. I am their guide – I should lead the way.’
‘She will go!’ barked Mukobo, stabbing a finger at Nina. ‘That is an end to it. I will shoot the next one who argues with me!’
‘Yeah, let her go,’ muttered Lydia bitterly. ‘She got us into all this, let her do it.’
‘You can fucking shut up,’ Eddie growled at her.
Mukobo started to draw his weapon. ‘Okay, I’ll do it,’ Nina hurriedly said. ‘I’ll find a way through.’
‘How?’ asked Ziff. ‘It really is a death trap!’
‘If we get a load of big stones from outside,’ Eddie suggested, ‘we could block the walls so they can’t close.’
‘I am not a patient man, Chase,’ said Mukobo with a malevolent smile. ‘She has five minutes. That is all.’ Brice held up his left wrist and tapped his expensive Omega watch for emphasis.
‘Nothing like a deadline to focus the mind,’ said Nina nervously. ‘Okay. You reach the trigger point, and if you go forward, the walls close and crush you. You go back, the blades pop out and chop you up. Either way, you’re dead. And I’m dead if I don’t figure this out,’ she added, as much to herself as to the others – including Howie, who was filming her again. She regarded the inscription above the passage. ‘“Only the dead shall enter alive . . .”’
‘What does that mean?’ wondered Ziff. ‘“The living who enter shall die” – that part is obvious. But how can the dead be alive?’
‘I don’t know. It has to be a clue, though. One of Solomon’s riddles.’ She went to the opening. ‘I need a light.’
A flashlight was procured for her. She shone it down the corridor, grimacing as the beam passed over the bloody mess on its walls and floor. ‘That section of floor drops downwards when you step on it,’ she mused. ‘And when that guy made a run for the far end . . . it kept dropping. But when Jay turned around and ran back this way . . .’
‘It came back up,’ Eddie recalled.
‘Yeah. Like his stepping off of it stopped the walls from closing in – but at the same time it triggered the other half of the trap, the blades. You can’t back out; once you go in, you’re committed.’
‘And then you end up as the jam in a wall sandwich.’
‘There has to be a way through, though. There has to be.’ She turned the light upon other parts of the passage, but found nothing.
Brice made a performance of looking at his watch. ‘Tick-tock, Dr Wilde. Time is running out.’
‘So’s my patience,’ she snapped. ‘So shut up.’ The ex-spy smirked. ‘It’s the only way through – you have to run the gauntlet and face Solomon’s test, play his game. So if only the dead can get through, then how . . .?’ Her eyes went wide. ‘Of course. Duh! Of course!’
‘What is it?’ asked Ziff.
‘I just cracked Solomon’s riddle!’ she said, unable to hold back a smile despite the dangerous situation. ‘“Only the dead will enter alive”, right?’
‘Yes?’ said Mukobo, covering his lack of understanding with menace. ‘Tell us, woman! Now!’
‘Solomon tells you how to get through, if you’re brave enough,’ she explained. ‘What do the dead do?’
The warlord shook his head, puzzled. ‘They do nothing.’
‘Smell after a while,’ Eddie added, ‘but mostly just lie there.’
‘That’s right!’ said Nina excitedly. ‘They do nothing, they just lie there. Or specifically, lie there!’ She pointed at the large floor block. ‘That drops downwards before the walls close in. When they meet, there’s a gap underneath them!’
Ziff gave her an owlish look of surprise. ‘You’re saying that to get through, you have to lie down?’
‘Exactly – you play dead! You do nothing. I think that if you’re lying flat, you’ll be carried underneath the walls.’
‘You think,’ Lydia said.
‘I’m as sure as I can be, yes,’ Nina fired back.
Brice tapped his watch. ‘That’s good. Because your time’s up.’
‘That was never five bloody minutes,’ rumbled Eddie.
‘Time flies when you’re having fun. Well, I’m enjoying myself, at least.’
Mukobo gestured towards the passage. ‘Go through,’ he ordered Nina. ‘If you are right, all is good. If you are not, then’ – a cruel smile – ‘you will die.’
‘No pressure, then.’ She went to the entrance.
‘Nina,’ said Eddie. She looked back, seeing fear and worry on his face despite his best efforts to show no weakness. ‘You sure about this?’
‘Not one hundred per cent, no, but . . . I don’t really have much choice, do I? If I’m wrong, just . . . take good care of Macy.’
Eddie nodded. ‘I will. But . . . don’t be wrong, okay? Let’s all get out of here.’
‘Who is Macy?’ demanded the warlord.
The Yorkshireman glared at him. ‘Our dog,’ he said, unwilling to provide any more ammunition that could be used against them.
Mukobo regarded him suspiciously, then turned back to Nina. ‘It is time. Go.’
‘Good luck,’ said Ziff fearfully.
‘Thanks,’ Nina replied, exchanging a last look with Eddie – then she stepped into the passage.
Her light picked out the wall slots concealing the hooked blades. They were not an immediate worry, though. If she was right, they would only be triggered if she fled back into the first chamber. She moved on, stopping as she reached the passage’s second half.
Her light passed over the floor slab, finding footprints in the dust of ages, Rivero’s and the militia man’s – then, close to the far end, the latter’s gruesome remains. Even his rifle had been crushed flat.
‘Go through, Dr Wilde,’ said Mukobo impatiently. ‘Now.’
Nina took a deep breath . . . then stepped on to the slab.
It sank under her weight. The ancient mechanism beneath rattled and thumped once more—
And the walls began to close in.
Even knowing what to expect, Nina still felt a jolt of fear. Every instinct told her to run. But she knew her instincts were wrong – or rather, she was sure they were. That was not the same thing.
She quickly stepped forward before lying on her back; if she was going to die, some defiant part of her mind had decided it wouldn’t be on her belly with her face in the ancient dirt. The walls rumbled inwards as the slab kept dropping—
It jolted to a halt. Nina tried to judge if the looming walls would pass above her. From her worm’s-eye viewpoint, it was hard to be sure . . .
Another jolt – and the slab moved again, sliding forward with a nerve-shredding scrape of stone. Nina held her breath as the undersides of the walls drew level with her arms, then brushed her chest – and she closed her eyes, fear finally taking over.
The walls slammed together—
But she was still alive.
Rough stone plucked at her clothing as she was carried onwards. A moment of utter revulsion as she felt the dead man’s blood drip on to her stomach, then the
sound of grinding stone changed, echoing. She had reached the next chamber.
Nina opened her eyes and hurriedly scrambled from the moving slab. The walls behind her were clamped shut so tightly that she doubted a playing card could have been slipped between them. She checked the rest of the room. It was smaller than the first chamber, dominated by the statue at the end of the passage.
Silver sparkled in the torchlight. She examined the palm-sized metal tablet resting inside the figure’s gaping mouth. Old Hebrew text was visible upon it.
A distant, muffled voice reached her. ‘Nina! Are you okay? Nina!’
She scurried back to her point of entry. ‘Eddie, I’m all right!’
His relief was palpable even through the stonework. ‘Thank God! Okay, so now how do the rest of us get through?’
‘That’s a very good question.’ Another passageway led to parts unknown, but apart from the statue the room was empty. She returned to the carved figure for a closer look at the silver tablet.
A rod was attached to the metal plate’s underside, angling downwards into the statue’s throat. Probably part of a mechanism – but what was its purpose?
‘Only one way to find out,’ she announced to an imaginary camera, pulling it upwards.
Metal scraped – then the clunk of something weighty being released reverberated through the room.
The trap rumbled back into motion, this time in reverse. The walls pulled apart, the floor slab trundling back into the passage before rising to floor level.
Lights shone at her from the other end. ‘Is it safe?’ demanded Mukobo.
‘I think so,’ Nina replied. ‘I pulled a lever to reset the trap, and it probably locks everything so that other people can come through.’
‘Probably?’ said Brice scathingly. ‘I think someone should test that. And I know the very man.’
Eddie laughed mirthlessly. ‘Let me guess: he’s British, ruggedly handsome, and isn’t a smarmy clag-nut from MI6.’
‘Go through, Chase,’ the Congolese ordered. ‘And do not try to escape at the other end, or I will kill your friends.’