Kingdom of Darkness (12 page)

‘There will be no negotiations,’ Rasche said sharply. He nodded to Walther. Cradling the ceramic horse, the big man headed into the tunnel. The leader regarded the mummy once more, then made a silent decision. ‘Take them into the treasure room,’ he ordered.

The other men shoved the prisoners back down the painted passage. ‘What are you doing?’ Nina demanded.

‘Our Führer would be . . . 
unhappy
if anything happened to his hero,’ Rasche replied, a veneer of disdain telling her that he did not share his commander’s concerns. ‘So I will make sure that the burial chamber is preserved.’

‘By killing us outside it, right?’

The German smiled, but there was nothing except cruelty behind it. ‘You are a clever woman, Dr Wilde.’

They descended into the treasury and headed down the central aisle. Nina glanced around in growing fear, searching the shadows for her husband, but there was no sign of him. ‘Eddie, where
are
you?’ she whispered.

Inside the metal chest, Eddie watched Nina and the others with growing desperation. The archaeologists’ expressions – Banna was close to tears – warned him that they didn’t expect to leave the room alive.

He
had
to do something. But even if he got out of his hiding place without alerting the guards, he was still unarmed . . .

The silhouette of a nearby treasure caught his eye as the procession passed behind it. That gave him a weapon, however impractical – if he could reach it.

Rasche held up his hand. The group stopped, Walther putting down the statue. Macy felt Eddie’s muscles tighten. ‘What is it?’

He watched helplessly as the three prisoners were pushed into a line. ‘They’re going to kill them . . .’

‘Wait!’ Nina pleaded as she was shoved between Assad and Banna. ‘You don’t have to do this. You’ve got what you came for – just take it and go!’

None of the faces looking back at her showed any inclination towards mercy. Rasche could barely contain a rat-like smile of anticipation as he raised his gun.

‘Goodbye, Dr Wilde,’ he said – aiming at Nina’s heart.

9

‘No!’ cried Assad, lunging forward – in front of Nina.

The bullet ripped into his chest, the burst of blood almost aglow in the glare of the tactical light. The Egyptian fell to the floor. His eyes met Nina’s, trying to send her a last silent message . . . then they rolled back as life left his body.

Banna stared in disbelief at his mentor, then wailed in shock and despair. Nina looked up – to see Rasche’s smoking gun still pointing at her.

His finger tightened again—

A crash from the darkness made him whirl.

The gunshot’s echoes had not even faded before Eddie fought past his horror and threw open the chest to leap out and run for his weapon.

It was a sword, over-ornate and gaudy, but beneath the hilt’s gold and jewels the two-foot curved blade was still honed. He snatched it up without breaking step as he rushed at the nearest Nazi.

The man’s attention had been on his commander, his hearing momentarily overpowered by the gun’s blast – but now he caught a new sound from behind.

He turned—

Eddie slashed the sword at his throat with a two-handed swing. There was a flat
chut
of tearing flesh and a crack of bone – and the Nazi’s head tumbled off his shoulders with a gush of arterial spray. The nerveless body crashed on to a pile of treasure.

The Englishman dropped his blade and grabbed the dead man’s gun. It was a SIG Sauer MPX-K, an ultra-compact sub-machine gun so new that it was the first time Eddie had seen one in person. Its sales were supposed to be restricted to military and law enforcement agencies, but he had no time to wonder how the raiders had obtained their sidearms.

Instead, he used it.

Another guard spun at the noise, only to take a three-round burst to his face. But the men in black were well trained, and fast. Even as the second Nazi fell, the others near the door were already diving behind pillars and larger relics.

Eddie glanced at the group holding Nina and Banna as he too pulled back into shelter, switching off his weapon’s tac-light. Rasche shrieked orders, his men moving to face the new threat, then whipped around, gun raised to kill his two remaining prisoners—

Another burst from the stolen MPX forced him to scurry back. ‘Nina,
run
!’ Eddie roared.

Nina pulled Banna after her as Rasche ducked behind a column to avoid her husband’s bullets. ‘Come
on
!’ she yelled. The young Egyptian was in a helpless daze. She practically had to drag him around a pillar.

The German fired again – but hit only stone. He cursed, then shouted more commands to his men.

Eddie peeked around the column. He now had an advantage, however small: the intruders’ positions were being given away by their tactical lights, while he was concealed in the shadows. There were three men near the door, the rest spread out in the centre of the chamber.

He spotted something else in the sweep of a tac-light: the statue of Bucephalus where the giant had left it in the aisle. That was what the attackers had come for – so if it were taken away from them, they might leave . . .

He switched the MPX’s selector to single-shot – and fired.

A thumb-sized chunk of the horse’s mane shattered into splinters. He adjusted his aim to compensate for the stubby weapon’s recoil and locked on to the statue’s head. Take out the ancient text inscribed on its reins, and the bad guys had nothing—

Rasche had reached the same conclusion. Another bellowed order – and the chamber lit up with multiple muzzle flashes as the intruders opened fire on the Englishman.

‘Shit!’ Eddie gasped, jerking back as shrapnel spat past. Bullets clanged off gold and bronze, pottery exploding in the darkness. He heard Macy shriek as a ricochet whined off the bronze chest.

The light beams shifted. His attackers were heading for the door. He risked a glance down the length of the chamber, seeing before another onslaught drove him back that Nina and Banna had found cover – but also that Walther had grabbed the statue once more and was hurrying towards the exit.

‘Are you okay?’ Nina asked the hyperventilating Banna. ‘Dr Banna!’

He struggled to focus on her, jabbering in panicked Arabic before slowing and switching to English. ‘I, I am okay, yes. But Ismail and the others, they – they killed them!’

‘We’re still not safe,’ she warned. ‘When I tell you, run for that pillar – the farther we are from them, the better our chances.’ She indicated the next closest column to the burial chamber, then peered back towards Rasche.

He and the rest of the main group were moving away from her. A moment of relief – which was short-lived as she realised they were keeping Eddie pinned down while Walther escaped with the sculpture of Bucephalus. ‘Run, now!’ she shouted over the echoing gunfire. Banna didn’t move. ‘Dammit, go!’

‘I – I can’t!’ he gasped. ‘I don’t want to die!’

She felt a flash of contempt for him – which was immediately replaced by guilt at her own arrogance. Her own reaction only a few years earlier would have been a similar terror. ‘Okay, then get down and stay out of sight,’ she said instead.

Another look at the retreating Nazis. The younger men had formed a protective cordon around Walther and his precious cargo, backing towards the exit as they kept up their assault on Eddie’s position. Rasche shouted more orders, one of the group near the door taking something from his webbing.

A yell of ‘
Granaten!
’ warned her what it was. The word was easy to translate.

‘
Eddie!
’ she cried. ‘They’ve got—’

‘Grenades?
Fuck!
’ Eddie yelped. NATO training exercises during his military career had taught him danger warnings in multiple languages. He looked for shelter, but the dancing shadows cast by the strobing muzzle flashes made it impossible to pick anything out amongst the visual confusion. ‘Macy, shut the lid and stay down!’

He had no idea if she had heard him – and no time to warn her again. All he could do was
run
—

Eddie burst out from his cover. Blazing guns swung after him, chunks of statues and spalls of gold exploding in his wake. But he also heard hard metallic clacks as two grenades hit the floor behind him.

Something large and low to his right. He dived over it, rolling and pressing himself against its base—

Both grenades detonated, a lethal blizzard of steel shards shredding the treasures around them. Sculptures toppled and smashed on the floor.

Rasche looked out from behind a column as the echoes faded, seeing no movement except drifting smoke and dust. ‘Pull out!’ he ordered. ‘Protect the statue!’

Walther was first to the door. The big man had to turn sideways to fit into the gap, making manoeuvring the statue through it tricky, but after a few seconds he managed it. The others slipped out of the treasury behind him. Rasche cast another glance back, gun raised, but nobody challenged him. A small, nasty smile, and he followed his men.

Nina lowered her hands from her ears. Even halfway across the large room and with solid stone at her back, the explosions had still knocked her down.

The chamber was now completely dark. ‘Eddie?’ she called, before hearing someone close by. ‘Banna, are you okay?’

‘My ears . . .’ said the Egyptian, voice quavering.

‘Did you get hit?’

‘No, I – I do not think so, but my ears, they hurt so much . . .’

‘Stay still for now.’ She got shakily to her feet. ‘Eddie!’

No reply. A new fear rose within her. ‘Eddie, can you hear me?’

A metallic clang from the blackness. ‘Nina, is that you?’ came a female voice.

‘Macy! Are you okay? Where’s Eddie?’

‘I dunno, I’m not even sure where
I
am. Hold on, I’ve got a light . . .’ A corner of the room lit up as Macy surveyed her surroundings. ‘Holy crap! They’ve blown the hell out of the place!’

‘Just find Eddie!’ Nina said, picking her way towards her friend. Shrapnel crunched underfoot. She found one of the abandoned lanterns in the wash from Macy’s own light and switched it on. ‘Come on, Eddie, I know you’re here somewhere, you’ve
got
to be . . .’

A moan came from the shadows. ‘Over here!’ Macy shouted. ‘I see him, he’s here!’

Nina went towards her, rounding a heavy marble bench to find Eddie sprawled against it. Blood stood out on the dusty floor around his head. Frightened, she touched his neck, searching for a pulse. ‘Eddie, wake up. Please . . .’

‘Oh God,’ Macy whispered. ‘Is he . . .’

‘Am I what?’ came a Yorkshire-accented grumble.

The younger woman let out a sigh of relief. ‘Okay, not dead, then!’

‘No, I’m not dead, but it fucking feels like it. Jesus
Christ
, my head hurts!’

‘You’ve been cut,’ Nina warned him. A crooked gash had been sliced into his scalp.

‘Yeah, grenade frag, probably,’ he said, face scrunching as he sat up. ‘Ow! Shit, it’s got my arm too.’

Macy brought her own light closer. ‘There’s a big rip in your sleeve – I can see blood underneath.’

His frown deepened. ‘Buggeration. This was a new jacket!’

‘This is
new
?’ She regarded the battered black leather dubiously. ‘But it looks like it’s been dragged under a bus.’

Nina gave her a sardonic smile. ‘Yeah, don’t get me started. We’ve had discussions about his taste in distressed clothing before. Can you stand?’

‘Yeah.’ He picked up his gun and rose. ‘Got some new bruises, but I’ll survive. Where’s Banna?’

Nina pointed. ‘Over there. I think he’s okay, just shaken up.’

‘I’m guessing from the way we’re not being shot at any more that the bad guys have gone.’

‘Yeah, and they took the statue.’

He eyed her. ‘You sound like you’re pissed off about that.’

‘Well . . . kind of, yes. It could have led to an amazing find.’

‘And it could’ve led to us all getting killed!’ He saw Banna crawl out from his hiding place. ‘Go and help him,’ he told the two women, before hurrying to the entrance.

‘What are you doing?’ Nina called after him.

‘What do you think? I’m not letting a bunch of fucking
Nazis
get away with all this!’

‘Eddie, wait!’ she cried, but he had already gone.

10

Eddie ran back through the tomb, finding the antechamber littered with the bullet-torn corpses of the defending ASPS. No sign of the Nazis. The passageway through which he had originally entered the tomb was now strewn with debris, the long tunnel blocked after about thirty feet by tons of earth and rubble. Nice work, he thought grimly; the explosives that had blasted a six-foot hole through the ceiling had also collapsed the passage behind it, letting the intruders get in and out while preventing the ASPS still on the surface from providing backup.

Several ropes dangled from the new opening’s ragged top – the Nazis had initially rappelled into the tomb – but two aluminium ladders had been their means of escape. Eddie moved underneath the hole, gun raised in case they had left a guard. Nothing moved above. He scaled one of the ladders.

The entrance had been blown through the floor of an apartment, all its windows shattered by the blast. He swept the room with his gun at the ladder’s top, but there was nobody there.

Nobody alive, at least. He didn’t need to see the bodies of the apartment’s former residents in an adjoining room to know they were there; the buzz of flies told him the Nazis had taken their dig site by force.

He clambered out. Most of the floorboards had been ripped up to give access to the ground below. The air was still hazy with dust from the explosion. He held in a cough, then looked for an exit.

An open door led into a lobby, where he found a middle-aged Egyptian man slumped dead against the wall. The sound of weeping reached him. A woman was curled up tightly outside another apartment, shuddering with grief. The man must have come to see if anyone had been hurt – gas explosions were not unheard of in Alexandria – and been shot for his trouble.

‘Bastards,’ Eddie growled, but there was no time to offer any comfort. The door to the street was open. He checked outside.

The rumble of slow-moving traffic greeted him. The road was busy, vehicles crawling in both directions. The sun’s angle told him it ran roughly north–south, but he didn’t know where he was in relation to the archaeological dig’s entrance; probably a couple of streets away.

No sign of the tomb raiders – but a conspicuous gap between the parked cars suggested they had left in a van or small truck. They couldn’t have gone far through the congestion – but which way?

He darted on to the narrow sidewalk, gun raised. That turned out to be a mistake. The MPX immediately prompted panic from bystanders, mobile phones hurriedly summoning the police.

Muttering a curse, he looked for the robbers, but there was too much traffic in the way. He needed a better view.

The apartments above all had balconies . . .

Eddie ran back inside. There was a narrow flight of stairs past the crying woman. He clattered up them to the first landing, then went along the hall.

The door to one apartment was open; the occupants had fled after the explosion. Eddie entered. The balcony door was ajar, a shutter half lowered to let in a breeze while keeping out the heat of the Egyptian sun. He ducked under it.

The street spread out below him, four lanes of traffic crammed into a thoroughfare meant for two. There was barely enough room for pedestrians to squeeze between the jostling vehicles, so intense was the competition for space. Horns parped and bleated.

The most insistent blasts came from a knot of cars to the north. A long-wheelbase white van was shoving through them, using its size to intimidate some of the drivers, and bullbars to barge others aside in a more physical manner.

It had to be the Nazis – they were using brute force to get away with their prize. How could he stop them?

A rapid check of the vehicles below, then he hopped up on to the balcony’s railing – and leapt from it.

He landed with a bang on top of a van. A shocked yell came from inside. Eddie ignored it, sliding down the windscreen and jumping on to the car in front.

Shouts rose in his wake as he vaulted from roof to roof, using the crawling cars as stepping stones. He saw the white van ahead. It was not far from an intersection with a wider road, where traffic was moving more freely.

He had to keep them from escaping. But how?

A dirty green garbage truck was just what he needed.

He scrambled over an elderly Renault that was trying to slip past the larger vehicle, then grabbed the truck’s door handle and yanked it open. ‘Morning!’ he said, pointing the gun at the startled occupants. ‘I need to take out some trash.’

The binmen practically fought each other in their haste to exit through the other door. Eddie swung himself into the driver’s seat, then experimentally shoved down the heavy clutch and revved the engine. It roared in response. ‘Okay, make way for the Perfume Wagon!’ he called, slamming the truck into gear.

It lurched forward – faster than he had expected. He swung the wheel hard, but still swiped the car in front. ‘Whoops, sorry,’ he said with a grimace.

Horns shrilled as he cut in front of other traffic. He kept up a harsh tattoo on his own horn, which did the trick; those in his path somehow achieved the impossible and cleared a lane. Even so, he drew more howls of rage as the truck’s hefty bumpers screeched along the sides of cars and clipped off wing mirrors.

But he was closing on the van, a blank-sided Mercedes Sprinter. With no windows in the rear, they might not realise he was chasing them until it was too late.

The van was at the junction, about to make a turn. He accelerated, swinging to catch it at an angle as it pulled out—

The collision threw him against the steering wheel. But the truck far outweighed the van, ramming it on to the sidewalk. Pedestrians scattered as the Sprinter was mashed sidelong into a street lamp. One of the rear doors burst open, a crate tumbling out and breaking apart on the pavement.

Eddie jumped down from the cab. Gun in hand, he circled around the wrecked Mercedes.

The first thing he saw was the statue of Bucephalus. It had been in the crate, protected by rolls of foam padding, and now lay on its side amongst the remains of its container. He considered shattering it with a gunshot, but noises inside the van warned him that he might need all the bullets for live targets.

He raised the MPX and looked through the open door – to see angry faces glaring back at him.

The van had no seats in the rear, the raiders having piled in with the crate. The crash had thrown them all against each other, but they were already recovering. Their own MPX-Ks came up—

Eddie fired – remembering too late that he had switched his gun to single-shot. It was still enough to catch the Nazi nearest the door squarely in the chest, sending him flying backwards into his comrades.

The confusion gave the Englishman a few seconds of grace. He ducked back, about to switch his weapon to full auto and perforate the entire van—

He nearly stumbled over the broken crate, his left palm landing on the statue as he caught himself.

His plan changed. He didn’t know why – some connection with Alexander’s history, Nina’s archaeological obsession rubbing off on him, or simply the urge to deny the Nazis their prize – but he clapped his free hand around one of the horse’s legs and hauled it from the smashed container. It was heavier than it looked, but its compactness at least made it merely awkward rather than actively difficult to carry.

And as long as he had it, his enemies might think twice about shooting at him . . .

Eddie fired again as he backed around the garbage truck. The bullet clanked against metal, but there were no screams, just shouted commands in German.

The collision had brought traffic on the wider road to a standstill. He ran between the stationary vehicles towards an alleyway opposite. Alexandria’s back streets, he knew from the previous night, were tight and twisty mazes. With enough of a start, he might be able to escape into the labyrinth—

The crack of a gunshot served as warning that the odds of that were not good. He dropped lower behind the cars. Men spilled from the van, guns raised.

One of them saw him, took aim—

‘
Nein, nein!
’ Rasche yelled furiously at his surviving team members. ‘
Sie werden die Statue zu schießen! Nehmen ihn am Leben!
’

Statue
was German for ‘statue’, then – and Eddie guessed that the rest was an order not to shoot him in case it was damaged. His gamble had paid off and given him a bargaining chip, however small.

Whether he got a chance to play it was another thing. Still bent low, he ran into the alley.

The Nazis raced after him.

After making sure that Banna was okay, Nina left him with Macy and sprinted after her husband. Once she scaled the ladder and left the apartment building – with a moment of shock as she saw the dead man in the hallway – the shriek of horns and the crunches of colliding vehicles made it easy to follow his trail.

She ran along the sidewalk, shoving past bewildered pedestrians. A much louder crash told her that something serious had happened ahead. Apprehension turned to fear as she heard gunshots.

The Egyptians on the street were fleeing, forcing her to clamber on to a stalled car to avoid being knocked down. From her elevated position, she glimpsed Eddie vanishing down an alley with the statue.

Black-clad men charged in pursuit, Walther and Rasche amongst them. The latter yelled orders, gesturing at another alley nearby. Walther and about half of the raiders veered away to take the parallel route, while Rasche and the rest continued after Eddie.

They were going to try to trap him between two forces.

She jumped down and ran to the intersection. A third narrow passage ran between the buildings, closer to her. There was a chance she might be able to catch up with her husband.

If he didn’t turn away from her – and if he wasn’t killed first.

Eddie was already regretting taking the statue. It had seemed manageable at first, but now it felt heavier with each step. He should have just smashed the thing and been done with it . . .

He glanced back as he rounded a corner. One of the Nazis had pulled ahead of the rest, running with mechanical determination after his prey – and gaining fast.

‘Where’s Jesse Owens when I need him?’ Eddie said as he searched for escape routes. There were none; he was between two large apartment blocks, the next intersecting alley a good forty yards away on the right.

Pounding footsteps closed rapidly from behind. His pursuer was about to tackle him—

Eddie leapt, twisting to make a half-turn in mid air. He landed facing the Nazi – and threw the statue upwards.

The young blond man skidded to a halt, unsure whether to kill or catch. His orders won out, and rather than attack the Englishman, he lunged for the falling figure.

It landed in his arms with a solid thump. Relief crossed his face—

Which turned to pain as Eddie kicked him hard in the groin. The man convulsed and crumpled to the floor.

Eddie snatched back the horse and ran once more. He heard shouts as the rest of the Nazis rounded the corner. No gunfire; they were determined to take the statue in one piece.

But it was both his protection and his ball and chain. If he smashed it to keep it out of their hands, or even abandoned it to gain speed, they would kill him the instant they had a clear shot.

He reached the alley and turned down it, finding to his dismay that he was about to put civilians in danger. A little street market had been set up between the buildings, stalls selling vegetables and clothing and bootleg DVDs. Smoke wafted from a cart cooking potatoes.

‘Move, move!’ he shouted as he weaved between the startled shoppers. The sight of the gun caused most to jump away in alarm, but he still had to barge a couple of laggards aside.

German yells joined the Arabic. The Nazis had reached the alley. Even without their star sprinter, they were still catching up.

Eddie reached the food cart, seeing charcoal flames licking up from a grill. With a shout of ‘Fire!’ he swung the statue at it. Potatoes scattered – as did burning wood, which landed on a neighbouring stall. Cheap clothes instantly caught light. Eddie kicked the stall as he ran past. It collapsed, spilling its burning wares across the alley. People shrieked and ran in panic as the fire spread to other stands and awnings on the sides of buildings.

Eddie swerved through the throng, looking back to see that the blaze had forced the Nazis to stop. Rasche glared impotently after him over the burning cart. The Yorkshireman hurried on down the alley.

There was a small square at a crossroads ahead, more stalls clustered in it. If he took the right-hand alley and headed back in the general direction of the dig, he might be able to find the ASPS and get backup—

Walther and his men rounded the corner.

‘Buggeration!’ Eddie gasped as the huge Nazi pointed at him and bellowed an order. Guns came up – but didn’t shoot. Walther knew that the Englishman was caught in a pincer, and as soon as Rasche and the others got past the fire, they would close it . . .

A doorway led into one of the apartment blocks. Eddie ran at it, hoping it wasn’t locked—

The door burst open at his kick. He stumbled inside, finding himself in a stairwell. A door led deeper into the building, but a warning sign in Arabic with the stylised symbol of a key suggested that it was locked. Not wanting to waste precious seconds trying it, he charged up the steps instead.

He had reached the second floor when the outer door banged. A glance over the banister; Walther was glaring up at him. The German barked another command, and his men streamed past him in pursuit.

Eddie kept climbing, legs burning from the effort of carrying the statue. The doors to the internal hallways had the same warning sign as on the ground floor – but the fourth floor was different, a line of sunlight coming through a second, half-open door to one side. Keep going up, or out?

He chose the latter, barrelling through to find himself on a small terrace. Any hope of jumping to a neighbouring block faded as he saw that the nearest building presented only a blank wall, and a rooftop opposite was too far to reach. He peered over the edge. The floors fell away below, the sheer drop broken only by awnings over the windows.