He counted at least a dozen, all armed. They wore skull ski-masks, gloves and bullet-proof vests. They targeted nobody but shot at everyone. After a loud burst of gunfire, the entire area turned into an uncontrollable melee.
Bodie dragged Lucie down and, thinking fast, urged her back toward the plane. People were running everywhere, legs flashing by. The police were shouting into their radios for help, drawing weapons and returning fire or taking cover behind their vehicles. Many protected startled passengers, trying to cover them.
Bodie dragged Lucie toward the plane. “Up,” he said on reaching the chute.
“How?”
He boosted her. Lucie grabbed a handful of the loose material and pulled. Three heaves later, she climbed over the frame and into the darker innards of the aircraft. Bodie crouched at the side of the chute and assessed the madness.
There were nine gunmen and they’d shot three policemen, one of whom was trying to crawl to safety. The gunmen had temporarily been pinned down by a combination of police and agents. As Bodie watched, one gunman died, shot through the head as he peered out from cover.
At least a dozen vehicles were strewn all over the scene; cars in which the authorities had arrived now provided protective barriers for them and the crash survivors. The gunmen had ducked behind a row of barrels and crates and a low, squat aircraft tug.
Cassidy, Jemma and Yasmine were at the back of the plane, where its tail end jutted higher into the air than normal due to its front being crumpled. Cassidy gave him a thumbs up, signaling that they’d devised a plan.
Bodie waited.
The gunmen stayed lumped together, pinned down by the police. Approaching sirens split the air, but they felt eons away from making any difference.
Bodie saw some airport security staff moving toward the gunmen from behind, and wished there was a way he could ward them off.
Lucie appeared at the top of the inflatable ramp and jumped, bouncing down at speed, holding her backpack. Bodie realized she’d lost her laptop when the shooters attacked. Now, she shrugged into the backpack and ran toward the rear of the plane.
Bodie followed. Just then, the gunmen burst from cover, firing on full auto and forcing the cops to take cover.
Bullets rattled into the clutter of cars, bursting windows and tires, and driving hard into the metal shells. Even so, fire was returned, and kept the gunmen occupied as they raced across open ground toward the plane.
They know exactly where we are, Bodie thought. He’d been hoping they’d be able to slip away unnoticed.
He joined Cassidy and the others crouching behind the rear wheel. “I hope you’ve got a good plan.”
Jemma pointed to Bodie’s right, past a series of flat runways to a small cluster of buildings. Bodie squinted into a glaring sun and shielded his eyes, not really understanding. But then Cassidy pointed to their rear.
“That’s the bus they were gonna use to ferry us to the terminal,” he said, seeing the light. “Oh, yeah, we can do that.”
The gunfire intensified, and Bodie ducked out of instinct. A quick look back revealed three gunmen were now dead, the rest taking cover behind a couple of police cars and looking their way.
“We need to go,” Bodie said.
A gunman turned his weapon toward them and fired. Bullets strafed the plane and struck the already damaged wheels. Bodie winced as metal pinged all around him. They were facing the opposite direction to the battle now with the bright sunshine in their eyes. Bodie waited for the volley to let up.
To his left came a sudden movement. He spotted legs coming around the plane.
The gunfire stopped as a man came into view, wearing the same skull ski mask as the others and carrying an assault rifle.
Bodie gambled, leaping out from cover and charging the man. Yasmine went with him. Bodie hit the gunman at the waist; Yasmine took his legs. The man folded and face-planted the concrete, but kept hold of his gun.
Bodie fell on his back. Yasmine used elbows on his face. Underneath the plane, they could now see the remaining gunmen lining up their weapons, the barrels pointed right at Bodie and Yasmine.
There was nowhere to go.
Bodie wrenched the assault rifle from the man’s fingers. Yasmine went for the handgun at his waist. They brought the guns up but not nearly fast enough.
Gunfire erupted. Bodie fully expected to die in that moment, riddled with bullets, but when his eyes focused he saw that the volley of lead hadn’t come from the gunmen—it had come from the cops. They’d joined together, formed a team, and were attacking. The gunmen were forced to take cover and turn their attention away from Bodie.
“Keep hold of the gun, Yas,” he said, running for the bus. “Go!”
The relic hunters sprang out of cover, dashing the short distance to the blue-and-white-patterned bus that sat baking on the runway. The doors were open, the driver’s seat empty.
Lucie ran down the aisle and took cover, followed by Jemma.
Cassidy slid into the driver’s seat, feeling for a key. “No luck,” she said. “Give me a sec.” Nobody could hot-wire a vehicle faster than Cassidy Coleman, except maybe Guy Bodie.
He closed the doors, sweat running down his face. It was burning hot inside the bus. The others positioned themselves flat across two seats. Bodie scanned the area around the battle.
He counted only three remaining gunmen. The cops were pinned down though, two of their number lying dead. One of the masked gunmen was staring toward Bodie as if trying to read his mind.
The bus fired up with the dull roar of a diesel engine. Cassidy wasted no time, engaging drive and ramming her foot down on the gas pedal. The bus lurched, roared again, and moved as Bodie held on to one of the metal poles. Cassidy swept the bus away from the plane.
The gunmen had seconds to make a decision. They’d been sent to kill Bodie and his team, to finish the job. Crouched as they were, Bodie would escape, and they’d be arrested and thrown into some supermax having let the Illuminati down.
In the end, loyalty won out. The gunmen broke cover and charged the bus.
Bodie ducked. The bus offered some protection, but it wouldn’t stop bullets. The three running gunmen opened fire. Windows shattered. Holes appeared in the bus’s long side.
Cassidy flung the wheel to the right and kept her foot hard down on the gas pedal.
Bodie’s first thought was to give the enemy something to think about. Still clutching the assault rifle, he popped up like a meerkat and let loose a slew of lead. As he did so, one of the gunmen fell, shot in the back by one of the cops. The remaining two veered aside so Bodie fired at them again.
The bus roared along the hot concrete and then straight across a large wedge of grass, aiming for the cluster of outbuildings. This was Jemma’s plan, and a good one now that Bodie had time to consider it. Jemma was a fast thinker—too fast for him—so these days he went along and figured the finer details out later. This time, he saw that they couldn’t have stayed where they were, and they couldn’t run to the terminal and potentially have their fake IDs examined under a microscope. The only alternative was to seek an escape route, and this was it.
The bus was outrunning the gunmen, but they kept coming, probably reasoning that their quarry couldn’t stay on it forever. Bodie saw three cops giving chase, aiming their guns and yelling at the shooters but not firing.
Cassidy pointed the bus straight at the buildings. “Where?” she yelled.
Jemma ran to the front. “Gate,” she said. “And then the parking area.”
Bodie saw the rows of parked cars beyond a high metal gate that looked incredibly sturdy. “Are you sure?”
Jemma nodded. “No,” she said. “Not at all.”
Cassidy didn’t let up, but shoved her foot down as hard as she could. The bus thundered past the buildings, the high fence looming.
Bodie threw himself into the nearest seat and grabbed hold.
“Here we go!” Cassidy yelled.
She let go of the wheel and co
vered up. The bus veered slightly but still hit the gate at top speed. There was a snarling lurch, a shock wave of resistance sweeping through the steel structure, a deafening crunch, and then the gate crashed down on top of the bus.
Metal poles left imprints in the roof as they bent and snapped. The windshield shattered. Cassidy threw her hands back on the steering wheel, keeping the bus moving. The fence tore and skewed in their wake.
Bodie sat up and looked back. The gunmen were still coming, but were now far less of a threat. Bodie figured they’d pulled out a lead of maybe two minutes.
Cassidy threw the bus around a bend to enter the parking lot. Bodie slipped and landed in broken glass. He stood up, speckled like a porcupine, brushing it away from his exposed flesh.
“Up front,” Cassidy yelled. “Now.”
They were ready. Cassidy slammed her foot on the brake near the far end of the parking area and opened the double doors. Together, they jumped onto the asphalt, feeling a refreshing waft of fresh air caress their faces. Cassidy ran to the oldest car in the row, broke in and fished for the ignition wires.
Bodie climbed into the passenger seat, still clutching the assault rifle. Yasmine had her handgun in the back. Jemma and Lucie were squashed at her side.
“I see them,” Jemma said.
Yasmine lowered her window as Bodie sighted over the back seat. They both fired one shot, the resounding booms loud in the enclosed car.
Cassidy worked her magic with the ignition and fired up the car. A second later, she was pulling it out of the space and headed toward the lot’s exit.
Bodie fired off another shot as their pursuers appeared again and sent them diving behind parked cars.
Cassidy flew through barriers and past an unmanned hut where a security guard might usually sit. Today, he’d clearly been called to assist at the airport. Cassidy raced along a rough, two-lane winding piece of blacktop.
“We’ll need to change cars soon,” she said. “Where’s the nearest town?”
Lucie held up her phone. “Hilo,” she said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Without pause, without hesitation, barely taking a breath after the attack at the airport, the relic hunters headed straight for the volcano.
Battered and bruised, and still checking for injuries, they swapped cars in Hilo and took the Mamalahoa Highway south and then Volcano Road. Before they left Hilo behind them, Cassidy stopped the car to seek out a first-aid kit and painkillers at a local store so they could tend their wounds. Yasmine and Jemma had now both taken blows to the chest and Yasmine had also been knocked unconscious.
Once free of the city, Bodie watched the cars behind, checking for a tail, but since this was the only main road on this side of the island there was little point: they were all forced to follow someone. On the move, still forging onwards, they drove straight towards the heart of the volcano.
Cassidy drove their yellow Chevy Captiva at the speed limit, reasonably sure they’d be safe for a while since they’d appropriated it from the stock packed into a car-hire parking lot. Lucie had bought another laptop and had spent the last ten minutes setting it up.
“Thirty two miles to our destination, forty-five-minutes’ drive,” Cassidy said. “Whatever you’re gonna do, do it now.”
Lucie nodded, already tapping away. “I’m on it.”
Bodie knew she’d be plotting the ley line dissecting this particular vile vortex. He looked out the window, taking in the scenery, and wondered if he might one day be able to return without the fate of the world in his hands. The smooth, two-lane blacktop stretched into the distance, cut between sloping grasslands. A huge cottony cloud hung over a peak ahead, the only cloud in the blue sky and curiously shaped like the mountain beneath it.
“Where we headed exactly?” Cassidy asked.
“Yeah, I’m trying to determine that,” Lucie said. “The area of Hamakulia, where the vile vortex lies, centers on the volcano—Kilauea. Local legends tell of the disappearances of ships and planes off the coast in that area between the volcano and two deep-sea fracture zones. This is the Ring of Fire.” She paused.
“Can’t say I like the sound of that,” Yasmine said.
“It’s a name coined for the string of volcanoes in that area. The earth’s crust is constantly moving, the activity always evident. It covers 25,000 miles and covers an endless succession of oceanic trenches, unreachable abysses, volcanic arcs and plate movements. Fire continuously leaks through the earth’s crust. There are 452 volcanoes and between them, they encompass 75 percent of the world’s active and dormant volcanoes, plus 90 percent of the world’s earthquakes.” Lucie took a breath. “Also, more than 80 percent of the world’s largest earthquakes occur here.”
Bodie listened in a relaxed manner, pleased to hear Lucie lecture them in her usual schoolteacher manner, despite their recent tribulations. If he’d been bothered to turn around and look at her he knew she’d be sitting ramrod straight, gazing at the screen and flicking between snippets of information.
“Above Kilauea,” Lucie said, “during eruptions, there have been recorded sightings of volcanic lightning.”
“Which is?” Cassidy asked.
“A strange and rare phenomenon. But just stay on this road. It passes relatively close to Kilauea’s peak.”
“Really?” Bodie was surprised.
“Yeah. Lava flows have been known to block it off. The locals get pretty close, taking photos of a flow that’s sometimes taller than they are.”
Bodie studied the unfolding landscape. “What causes these vortices?” he asked.
“A good question,” Lucie commended him. “According to scientists, this particular area is prone to piezomagnetic effects which magnetize the rocks. This can lead to a one-time flow of electrical energy around the region, or it can happen numerous times. Something like that would affect the navigation equipment of planes and ships. The rest is built up as legend and superstition.”
“But the Illuminati and their forerunners, the Ishtari, knew something real, something grounded,” Jemma said. “Otherwise, why are we collecting all the ore?”
“It could be that the pure ore, mixed, offers a rich, clean magnetic effect, an unadulterated and strong flow. Taken from the ten greatest vortices, the power it emits could be enormous.”
“To do what?” Bodie questioned.
“That, I can’t tell you. I guess we’ll find out at the crucible.”
Bodie stayed quiet as Cassidy wound the car up the mountain road. They began to see lava flows, hard black crusts solidified over time. Bodie saw great outpourings to left and right as they approached the top of the mountain. Soon, Lucie called for them to stop and Cassidy located a parking area.
Bodie waited, watching the mirrors. Four other cars pulled in behind them, parking up while eight more continued along the road. This was a tourist hot spot. The whole area was rammed with floppy-hat-wearing, camera-carrying sightseers. Tour busses crammed the far lot, parked up close to a small shop. Bodie saw a restaurant far away overlooking the strange black crusts.
Exiting the car, they followed Lucie across the road and onto the higher slopes of Kilauea. The air flowed cool up here, making him zip up his jacket. They tagged on to the back of a vacationing group and kept their heads down.
“It’s the closest I’ve ever seen to an alien planet,” Yasmine said. “This black coating. It’s hard too.”
Bodie focused ahead. Small pockets of steam seeped through the ground at various points, and one large white cloud of vapor rose from what he assumed was the volcano’s center.
“Are we allowed to even be here?” he asked Lucie. “The volcano’s active, right?”
“It’s always active. The scientists have made their predictions of any major eruption pretty accurate by now. If there was any real danger, they’d know.”
“There is actually lava flowing into the sea right now.” Jemma pointed at the horizon where enormous clouds of steam rose toward the skies. “Waterfalls of fire are
quite common on this Hawaiian coast.”
Bodie scanned the way ahead and then looked at Lucie. The cool wind tugged at their jackets. The sound of low conversation drifted from all directions. People stood snapping photos and scribbling in pads or jabbing at cellphones. Several had maps of the region spread out.
“We’re approaching the crater,” Lucie said. “Watch out.”
The summit caldera of Kilauea measured 2.5 x 2 miles with walls as high as four hundred feet. Volcanic gas seeped through various cracks, the whole area composed of smaller craters, fissures and rift zones. Bodie waited as close to the edge of the crater as was possible while Lucie plotted their destination.
“Keep walking,” she said. “This is just an overlook. We need to get down to the actual crater.”
Bodie rolled his eyes. “Of course we do. Nothing’s ever bloody easy, is it?”
They made ready for what would be a taxing hike. They bought water and pre-packed food from the shop, and took one more look around the overlook. Nobody appeared to be watching them. Bodie had wondered if the Illuminati might send soldiers here, but it was possible that all of their local militia had been directed to the airport and was no longer available.
The first part of the hike was fairly level. The striking landscape filled their field of vision. The crater floor below had once been a lake of lava, and they’d overheard a tour guide saying that even now, after more than half a century, some parts were still hot. Steam, caused by rainwater seeping into cracks, rose in several places.
Once they reached the caldera floor, they found themselves walking through a scenic terrain of fumaroles, volcanic rock and vegetation. The air was hot, dry and still.
The team stopped for several swigs of water. Bodie wished he’d thought to bring some kind of protection from the intense glare of the sun. They were walking across a flat area, with volcanic walls to both sides. Plants grew through the cracked lava floor.
“Are we anywhere near?” Cassidy asked.
Lucie turned around. “Where the trails rise toward that vegetation.” She pointed ahead. “That’s where our ley line runs through the caldera.”
The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7) Page 6
