Eddie looked down. The drop to the slope directly below was over thirty feet with nothing but thin underbrush to cushion their touchdown, a bone-breaking or even fatal fall. ‘Too high – we’ll have to jump into those trees!’
More debris tumbled down the rock face. The couple hauled Ziff along the ledge as stones pelted them. Rivero and Paris made their drops, the others already scrambling up the slope. Nearly at the trees—
Someone shouted. Eddie looked back. The Insekt Posse were catching up, the leader readying his gun.
Still short of the trees – but they were out of time. Eddie was about to order Nina and Ziff to jump—
The cliff behind them gave way.
It was as if a giant scythe had swept through the promontory’s end. A great chunk of the towering wall plunged away – obliterating the militia amidst thousands of tons of disintegrating rock.
But Nina and Eddie were still not safe. The ledge crumbled yard by yard as if chasing them—
The Insekt Posse’s demise had given them the few extra seconds they needed to reach the trees. ‘Jump!’ roared Eddie.
They leapt with Ziff into the scrubby trees below – as the path cascaded after them.
Branches snapped, broken stubs slashing through their clothing – then thicker boughs caught them. The trees lurched violently as falling rocks hit their trunks, roots almost tearing out of the thin soil. Nina screamed as she was snatched away from Eddie and Ziff, dropping towards the churning rubble below—
The air was punched from her chest as she folded painfully over one of the trunk’s forks. Gasping, she hung helplessly as broken scree flew around her . . .
The destruction stopped.
Nina strained to raise her head. The trees were partially buried beneath smashed stone, the channel between the cliff and the massive boulder now clogged with debris. Eddie and Ziff were both entangled in branches. ‘Nina,’ her husband gasped, also winded. ‘You okay?’
‘Super fine,’ she croaked, managing a weak thumbs-up. ‘What about David?’
‘Oh, shit.’ Eddie kicked loose, then clambered to Ziff. The Israeli was bent unmoving over a bough – the sharp stub of a severed branch buried bloodily in his side. ‘Doc! Can you hear me?’ He checked for a pulse. ‘He’s still alive,’ he reported. ‘He’s losing blood, though – a lot of blood.’
Nina slithered painfully off the tree. The fallen rubble was not secure, stones shifting under her weight – and beneath it all, she could still feel the rumble from the underground chasm. The cliff’s collapse was a mere preview of the Mother of the Shamir’s full fury.
Eddie lowered Ziff to the slope. The older man had been unconscious, but the movement woke him. He let out a gurgling cry, blood bubbling on his lips.
Nina gave her husband a fearful look. ‘I know,’ he said grimly, not wanting to voice the awful truth.
Ziff did it for them, however. ‘I’m . . . not going to . . . make it, am I?’ he whispered.
‘We’re not giving up on you,’ said Eddie firmly. With Nina’s help, he picked up the Israeli and carried him up the hill. The other expedition members waited above, watching anxiously.
‘It’s not . . . your decision,’ Ziff wheezed. ‘And . . . Nina?’
He feebly raised a hand; she clutched it. It was as cold as the stones around them. ‘Yes?’
‘I can die . . . happy.’
‘What?’ she asked in disbelief. ‘Why?’
‘Look . . . what we discovered. The lost . . . city. Solomon’s palace. His greatest . . . treasure, hidden all this time. But we . . . we found it, Nina. We found it!’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I spent my whole life . . . searching for the wonders of King Solomon. And . . . we found them.’
‘You found them,’ she told him gently. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Nor I without . . . you.’ A very faint laugh. ‘I would never have . . . imagined . . . that we would make . . . such a good team. Thank . . .’
She waited for another word, but none came.
Ziff’s head rolled lifelessly against Eddie’s chest. ‘Oh, God,’ she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘David . . .’
Eddie reluctantly halted and gently lowered the old man to the ground. Above, Lydia made a sound of despair. The Yorkshireman closed Ziff’s eyes, then glared at Rivero, who had reclaimed the Sony and, despite his stricken expression, was filming the scene. ‘Turn that fucking camera off.’
‘Eddie, it’s okay. He’s just . . . doing his job.’ Nina had to force the words past the lump in her throat. ‘We still need to get out of here.’
‘You can’t just leave him!’ Lydia wailed as the couple stood.
Eddie gestured at the cliff. ‘That’ll come down any minute. If we don’t get to the boats, we’ll be buried with him.’
‘He’s right,’ said Paris. ‘Come on.’ He led the way uphill.
The others followed with varying degrees of reluctance. Nina’s was the greatest of all, standing over Ziff until Eddie drew her away. ‘Come on, love,’ he whispered.
‘Those bastards,’ she snarled. ‘Psycho bastards . . .’
They ascended the steep slope. ‘Hopefully they’re all dead now, so we won’t have to worry—’
Everyone reacted with alarm at a shout from ahead. It was not the frenzied howling of the Insekt Posse, though, but a familiar voice. ‘Paris! Eddie! Are you there?’
‘Fortune?’ Eddie exclaimed, surprised. He quickened his pace up the slope, pushing through the thickening undergrowth. ‘Where are you?’
‘Up here!’ The group broke through the bushes to find themselves part-way up the path to Zhakana. Fortune, brushing dust off his clothes, hurried down it. ‘You are okay?’
The delighted Paris was first to greet him. ‘Mon ami! I thought you were dead!’ said the scruffy mercenary.
‘How the fuck did you get here?’ Eddie added, shaking his friend’s hand.
Fortune shrugged as if the answer was self-evident. ‘I followed the tunnel. It came out on the cliff on the far side of the palace.’
The Yorkshireman sighed. ‘You really are the luckiest bugger on earth.’
Lydia shot Nina a venomous glare. ‘You mean – we went the wrong way? You took us the wrong bloody way? Steven died back there! He died because of you!’
‘All right, that’s fucking enough!’ Eddie shouted. She flinched back. ‘We don’t have time for this. We’ve got to get to the boats.’
Howie nodded. ‘Yeah, come on. The river’s not far.’ He jogged down the path, the laptop under one arm.
‘Lydia, I’m sorry,’ said Nina as the rest of the group followed him. ‘But I made the choice based on the information I had.’
‘I would also have gone the way you did,’ Fortune added. ‘Nina did nothing wrong.’
‘Yeah, well, tell that to his family,’ the other woman snapped, wiping away an angry tear.
The words stung Nina, but she had no time to reply. More shouts came from behind – though these were anything but friendly. ‘Oh, shit,’ said Rivero, nervously looking back. ‘Some of them got out!’
Eddie drew alongside Nina. ‘You’ve still got Mukobo’s gun?’
‘Yeah.’ She handed him the gold-plated revolver. ‘I don’t know how many bullets it’s got, though.’
‘Not enough even if it’s fully loaded, by the sound of it.’ There were definitely more than six surviving militia.
Howie paused beside a tree, the laptop clutched to his chest. ‘I can see the boats!’ he shouted excitedly, turning to face his companions. ‘We can—’
A gunshot cracked through the jungle – and a hole burst open in the computer’s casing.
The young man twitched, eyes wide in shock. A thin line of blood dribbled out through the cracked aluminium . . . and he slumped to his knees before toppling dead into the undergrowth
.
26
‘Get down!’ Eddie shouted, pushing Nina back as he used the trees for cover to scurry to Howie’s position. He peered around one to see the young American sprawled on the ground, blood oozing from an exit wound over his heart. Shot in the back – but by whom?
A second shot thudded into the tree just above him. Eddie jerked back, but the sound had revealed the shooter’s position—
Brice!
The MI6 officer had beaten them to the river. He was untying one of the militia’s clustered craft. Two more shots at Eddie to pin him down, then the mooring line came free. He jumped aboard.
Eddie sent a round back at him. Brice rolled behind the boat’s cargo, the bullet striking it with a flat smack of lead on lead.
The Yorkshireman instantly recognised it: the Shamir’s container. The ancient weapon was now in the hands of the British spy.
The outboard roared. The boat surged away, Brice staying low as he swung it into the river. Eddie fired again, aiming for the engine, but only blew a piece of fibreglass from its casing. ‘Shit!’ he barked, racing down the slope after him.
But by the time he reached the bottom, Brice was out of range, the boat kicking up a frothing white wake as he threw it into the bend around the promontory. Eddie opened the revolver’s cylinder. Only one unused round remained. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’
‘Eddie!’ Nina cried as the others hurried down the slope. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. But Howie’s dead. And Brice shot the fucking laptop!’
‘For God’s sake!’ said Lydia. ‘Who cares about the laptop?’
‘It had Howie’s drone footage on it,’ Nina told her. ‘We filmed Brice confessing to supplying Mukobo with weapons, that he was behind the civil war!’
‘But Mukobo’s dead,’ said Rivero. ‘Without him, the civil war’s pretty much over, right?’
‘Tell that to those arseholes up there,’ Eddie countered, gesturing back towards Zhakana. The Insekt Posse would certainly have heard the exchange of gunfire.
‘Fortune!’ Nina shouted. ‘Get the laptop!’ The tall Congolese gave her a questioning look, but collected the computer from beside Howie all the same.
One of the expedition’s boats was penned in by the Insekt Posse’s moored craft, but the other seemed to have been left alone. ‘What good’ll that do?’ Eddie said as he untied their free vessel. ‘The bullet went right through it. It’ll be fucked!’
‘The laptop might be – but the hard drive could be okay.’ Nina came to help him. ‘If it’s not damaged, we’ll be able to get the recording off of it. We’ll still have the proof!’
Rivero and Paris went to one of the militia’s vessels and quickly unmoored it as Lydia climbed aboard. ‘That’s if we live to show it to anyone,’ said the American.
Fortune headed for Nina and Eddie’s boat, but the Yorkshireman waved him away. ‘Drive the other one! After what happened in Burundi, I know you can handle a boat.’
‘Better than you, my friend,’ the Congolese replied with a small smile.
‘What does that mean?’ Nina asked as Fortune hopped into the second craft and started the engine.
Eddie grimaced at the reminder as he freed the rope. ‘Nothing. Just a small . . . explosion.’
‘What?’
They both boarded, Eddie going to the motor. ‘Dunno why you’re worried. You’ve been with me in boats loads of times.’
‘Yeah, and how many of them blew up?’
‘Not even half! Probably . . .’ He yanked the starter cord. The engine rasped to life.
The other boat was already moving, but rather than swing away from the bank, Fortune drew alongside. ‘Eddie! You may need this.’
Paris held up an empty Kalashnikov; the militia had brought spare weaponry. ‘Thanks!’ said the Yorkshireman, shoving the revolver back into his jacket as the mercenary threw the rifle to him. ‘Any ammo?’
‘Here.’ Paris tossed a couple of magazines after it.
‘Nina, load up,’ Eddie told his wife. ‘We’re gonna need it.’ She took the AK from him, slotting a mag into the receiver and tugging the charging handle to load the first round. ‘You’re getting pretty good at that.’
‘Not a skill I ever wanted on my résumé,’ she said unhappily.
Both boats swept out into the middle of the river. The Insekt Posse charged down the hill after them. ‘Take over from me, give me the rifle.’
She switched places, puzzled. ‘You know I don’t really worry about your driving, right?’
‘Good to know!’ He took careful aim, then sent several shots back at the remaining boats. Shattered wood and fibreglass spat up – and one of the craft blew apart, an oily fireball rising from the thunderous explosion. ‘Bollocks!’
‘Why? You hit one.’
‘I was hoping to blow up all of ’em so they couldn’t follow us!’
Another detonation – this of shearing rock – rang across the jungle. A house-sized chunk of the clifftop tumbled into the river. The trees at the promontory’s edge came with it, for the first time exposing the Palace Without Entrance to view from below. ‘Look!’ Nina cried. One of the towers crumbled, its ancient stones crashing through the roof. A second followed, demolishing most of the lead-lined ceiling . . . and the Mother of the Shamir’s furious roar grew even louder.
The boat rolled as the wave kicked up by the falling debris hit it side-on. Nina grabbed the gunwale for support, Eddie bracing himself as he turned the craft into the crest to keep it from being swamped. Fortune did the same, the speedboat’s prow leaping from the water before smacking back down. Rivero, still filming, yelped as he was pitched from his place.
Both vessels straightened out as the wave passed – but bigger ones would soon follow. Nina saw the entire promontory shudder as they rounded it, shedding loose rocks like a wet dog shaking itself off. At its base, the Insekt Posse’s boats raced out in pursuit.
Boulders cascaded down the cliff into the water. Eddie swung towards the far bank, gambling that the risk of hitting something in the shallows was less than that of being capsized by a rogue wave. Fortune did the same, cutting across Brice’s wake. The Yorkshireman glared after his countryman. There was not much difference in speed between the boats, but the MI6 man still had an advantage, and was edging away from his pursuers.
Gunshots from behind as the militia opened fire, bullets smacking into the water around them—
The rolling thunder reached a crescendo – and the promontory burst apart.
It was as if solid rock instantaneously turned to sand, the whole cliff – the whole escarpment – collapsing. What remained of the Palace Without Entrance vanished into the maelstrom, the surrounding jungle falling with it in a storm of shredded foliage. Zhakana was consumed too, the ancient ruins disintegrating before also being swallowed.
Countless kilotons of falling stone hit the water – and hurled up a huge wavefront, an enormous wall of white froth surging outwards at terrifying speed. Nina looked back, and wished she hadn’t. ‘Oh my God!’
Eddie glanced astern. The wave raced after them, bursting the opposite bank and sweeping away towering trees as if they were dry twigs. The last of the Insekt Posse’s boats was snatched up. The driver tried to turn to escape, but there was nowhere to go. The craft flipped over, its two occupants flung screaming into the seething waters.
The Englishman knew they would soon follow them – unless—
‘Fortune!’ he bellowed over the rising noise from behind. ‘Turn into it! Turn into it!’
He yanked at the tiller, bringing the boat around in a sharp turn to point back upriver. Some of the Insekt Posse saw his move and did the same. But others were panicking, trying to swing out of the wave’s path or simply outrun it—
They failed, their boats smashed by the furious flume.
The
other craft met it head-on. One had not turned far enough and was bowled over, but three of the enemy speedboats managed to ride up the charging wall of water, tipping almost vertically before disappearing over its crest.
Eddie looked at Fortune – then both men shoved their outboards to full power and drove directly at the wave. Nina held on as hard as she could as the bow pitched upwards—
The hull jolted as it was pounded by debris. Spray soaked them, a broken log lancing past like a spear . . . then there was a sickening moment of freefall as they crested the tsunami.
The landing threw Eddie from his seat. He tumbled down the boat’s length—
Though half-blinded by spray, Nina saw her husband bowl past – and desperately grabbed his leather jacket. He thumped to a stop with his legs over the prow.
The boat spun around, smaller waves throwing it about like driftwood. Nina shook wet hair off her face and pulled Eddie back. ‘Thanks,’ he panted. ‘Where’s Fortune?’
She saw the second boat off to port. ‘They’re all okay – and crap, so are those guys,’ she added. The jungle around them had been swamped, the river itself littered with flotsam, but those Insekt Posse who had cleared the wave were still afloat.
Eddie scrambled to the stern. To his relief, the outboard was still running. He pulled the boat back downstream, Fortune following.
Nina looked back. The landscape had completely changed. The entire promontory was gone, swirling dust all that remained where high cliffs had stood. The plateau on which Zhakana had been hidden for three thousand years was now a shattered crater, only the chewed remnants of trees poking through the rubble. The entire City of the Damned had been swallowed by the earth.
Something else had been buried too. The Mother of the Shamir had fallen silent. The chasm had collapsed on top of it, hundreds of feet of debris blocking whatever caused the destructive effect far better than a few inches of lead. The power it represented, the temptation and the danger it posed, had now been removed – permanently.