Very soon, they found they were far from it.
Dahl, ranging to the left, came across a man seated next to a battered-looking rifle. The man didn’t see Dahl at all, but his eyes grew wide when the enormous shape loomed over him. He opened his mouth to scream.
Dahl jabbed a knife into his throat to stop any sound, and caught the fighter as he fell. Then, steadily, he laid the man down next to his unused rifle.
“Guard?” Drake asked through the comms.
“Think so. We’d better range further to the right if they have sentries this far out.”
They followed the Swede’s advice and moved ahead with extra care. To be sighted at this point would be ruinous, terminating the mission. An hour passed as they moved light-footedly through the oppressive gloom, danger to every side. No unnecessary words were spoken; no observations raised beyond terrain and destination. Finally, they reached a ravine and allowed themselves ten minutes respite after sliding carefully down to the very bottom.
Drake shifted close to Alicia. “Not long now.”
“Yeah. You want chocolate?”
“Hell yeah.” Through the years it had become a tradition whenever they could possibly manage it.
“I’ll take some of that.” Dahl was beside Alicia.
“You ready with that tracker, mate?” Drake asked as he chewed.
“Ready and willing,” Dahl said.
Drake checked his watch, then clicked the comms. “Move out, folks.”
Another thirty minutes and they were approaching the foothills. Here, Drake saw several campfires dotted around the folds of the lower mountain and some small structures that looked like tents. The trouble was, they stretched all around the wide, rocky base.
“I’m guessing it’s some kind of overflow,” he presumed, knowing the reason didn’t really matter. Knowing wouldn’t clear the obstacle.
“They’re not so close together,” Luther said. “We can go straight through.”
Drake winced, positive now that Luther was looking for an excuse to start using the hardware. The trouble was—he was right, and dawn wasn’t too far away.
With great care, he crept silently over the nearest rock, then used leg muscles to ease down the other side. Skirting the closest fire, he embraced the shadows, checking every footstep, every rough obstacle. A figure lay wrapped in a blanket next to the fire, snoring loudly as they came closer. Drake held his breath, but slipped past without bothering the man.
And into the second small camp.
Like the first, it consisted of a small fire and a tent, but this time there were two figures sleeping outside—both women. Their faces were blank, pointed up at the stars, their chests lifting and falling gently. Drake stepped across a narrow crevice before negotiating a slight slope on the other side. The tent rustled suddenly, its outside bulging. Drake froze, HK ready, hoping it was just a man turning over in his sleep.
It was. A moment later they continued, stepping into the third camp. Here they could circumvent the main area by hugging a wide ravine that curved up alongside it. The ravine ended in a paddock full of horses, however, and they were forced to double back.
Carefully, they chose another route.
Forty minutes passed. Drake kept an eye on the eastern horizon, which was definitely less dark than it had been twenty minutes ago. Up ahead, the mountain loomed, but not quite as daunting as it first looked. They knew they were climbing the correct side, and that the cave entrances were approximately one hundred meters high.
“Slow down,” Drake said. “We’re here.”
Out of the darkness above, a yawning entrance appeared. To their right another camp had been made, and Drake could see figures starting to stir. Out here, they had no idea what awaited them inside.
“Now or never,” he whispered. “Move it!”
Without hesitation, the entire team dashed inside the mountain.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The darkness was infested with rats.
Only these rats wore desert clothing and carried guns. They had nothing but murder on their mind, rebels until they died.
At first, the blackness inside the cave was overwhelming. Illumination came from the infrequent lanterns that had been hung around the rock walls. It was clear there were others inside from the moment they entered the complex.
Echoing conversation, a low bleat of laughter, and rough words came from several adjoining passages, making it impossible to check who was where. The team moved a step at a time, passing archways and ragged holes in the rock walls that led through the complex. In one corner they found three men fast asleep, in another a pair of manacles attached roughly to the rock with heavy pins. Bits of clothing lay all around but no sign of a body. The team sobered even further. Darkness pressed in at every opportunity.
Dahl aimed the tracker signal in front of them as often as possible. Occasionally they had to branch left or right, but soon found a path that led down. The way wasn’t without its peril either. Three times the group were forced to split up and hide around alcoves or jutting walls as fighters came past. From what Drake could see they were a ragtag bunch, undisciplined and quiet, solitary and lacking enthusiasm. They walked without observation, many looking down at their feet.
Of course, they would never expect an enemy in here; the place they’d frequented for years. Still, their complacency lent increasing hope to the team
If we can get down, we can get back up. Safe. Free.
Drake stifled his building confidence as Dahl came to an abrupt halt. The Swede pressed instantly back against the wall, making those behind follow suit. Slowly, he clicked the comms button, whispering, “Passage opens into a chamber ahead with four exits. There are four men playing cards right at the center, heads down. No way past.”
Luther was first to react. “Knives.”
Again, the big man was right, but the warrior’s lust betrayed him as he walked up to Dahl. Molokai was at his back. Kenzie was right behind him, trying to restrain Smyth.
“Sooner we get this done, the sooner we all go home,” Smyth growled.
Drake let Luther have his head and covered the path they’d already trod. Mai had been ranging back there to check nobody was following and now appeared.
“All clear.”
Luther’s voice filled his ears. “We’re done here. C’mon.”
Past the chamber and down they went, further and further. Luther and Molokai had concealed the bodies in a place they said would not be found until decay set in. The cave complex was vast, but not hard to navigate. All they needed was a downward slope and Dahl’s GPR device.
“Is the signal strengthening?” Kinimaka asked once.
“Steadily,” Dahl replied. “Too bloody steadily.”
It meant the artifact was far underground. Little by little, step by step, they fell deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth.
“How heavy is this thing?” Hayden asked as they walked, seeing fewer and fewer enemies now. “I’m worried about carting it all the way back up.”
“I will do that,” Molokai said.
“No,” Drake stepped in. “Let’s gauge the weight first.”
“I will carry it,” Molokai said again in a stern voice.
“Leave it.” Luther tapped Drake’s shoulder. “He’s a beast.”
The Yorkshireman regarded the mammoth soldier that spoke. “Riiight, okay then.”
The hours passed. What appeared to be a raiding party came running up from below—four men wearing dusty, drab clothes wrapped every which way and carrying AK47s. They were primed, pumped up, chattering to each other about some task they’d been set. Drake wasn’t good with the language, only catching a third of the words. He considered ambushing them purely because they carried radios, but by the time he’d made the decision they were gone.
Further on, they came to a vast arch in the mountain. Drake saw rushing water ahead—a torrent falling from some place above, passing before their eyes and vanishing below. The underground
waterfall filled their ears; its spray touching their faces. Drake found a narrow ledge that ran behind it and stepped on, hugging the wall. Helpful handholds had been cut into the rock, so he clasped them with his fingers, sidestepping along. For once, the comms were absolutely silent as the team used every ounce of concentration for balance. The ledge was no more than a foot wide and, in places, their heels hung over the edge.
The endless flow cascaded so close they could feel its power in their guts. Drake was soaked already. Of course, any confrontation here would end in certain death, but they managed to climb past. The ledge widened and continued along the rock face ahead for a while before descending into another jagged tunnel.
Drake halted for a moment and looked back. A bedraggled group presented itself, equipment dripping, hair plastered down, many wiping their eyes.
The ledge curved steeply and the drop to their left was only too apparent. It wasn’t until they entered the new tunnel that the waterfall roar started to die away.
The noise of boots came from up ahead. Drake stopped in his tracks. Walls rose to either side.
“Nowhere to go.” He tapped the comms and dropped to one knee, sighting his gun.
Luther appeared above him, sighting another. “Got you covered, bud.”
Out of the darkness a man appeared. He seemed to be squinting, unable to believe what stood before him. Drake fired first and then Luther, their weapons fitted with silencers. The barrels barked quietly and the man went down, his own weapon clattering. Drake quickly checked he was alone.
“All clear. Move out.”
Ten minutes later they exited the tunnel and entered a wider chamber. Passages ran left, right and straight on, leading down. Dahl’s signal was finally starting to glow brighter and become more centered. The Forge of Vulcan was close.
Drake pushed on. The ground in front, wreathed in shadow, descended sharply and then seemed to disappear. Drake assumed it was deeper darkness until he got up close to it.
And felt the draught rushing up.
“Whoa!”
He staggered back, suddenly beset by a rush of giddiness. A deep void lay ahead, just a crevice in the floor: murky, deadly and unexpected.
“Big trench,” he said aloud, squinting to make out the far side. “Not good. I can’t see shit in here.”
Luther took out and cracked a handful of glowsticks. “These will help.”
The first he tossed over didn’t make it; it barely made halfway. The second hit the crevice wall. The third landed on rock, spinning, and cast its orange glow over their new predicament.
“How far?” Hayden asked.
“Gotta be ten feet,” Luther said.
“Fifteen,” Molokai decided.
“Well,” Drake was scanning the fissure both ways, “the enemy must jump it. There’s no bridge. Not even a plank of wood.”
Mai and Smyth shone their flashlights around the chamber to make sure. They came up empty-handed, shrugging. Drake looked at the group.
“Anyone nervous?”
Without waiting he turned, sprinted and jumped. His arms wind-milled in mid-flight, the HK smacked him in the cheekbone, and then he landed safely on solid rock, rolling just once for good measure.
Dahl threw him the device, then jumped. The rest of the team came one by one. If there were any nerves none were shown. “Hard as nails,” Drake said, grinning as the last man, Smyth, leapt across.
Once more, they descended.
More time passed them by. It was Dahl that said: “Any deeper and we’ll be in Hell,” but the words sent a shiver trickling up Drake’s spine. The Swede was right. The descent felt endless, the vast complex around them crushingly prodigious. With every moment that passed they fell deeper and deeper toward their goal, so far below the earth they’d all lost the will to speak.
Finally, Dahl stopped. “The signal is as centered as it will ever get,” he said. “The forge should be just around the next corner.”
Drake shook himself, keeping focus, remembering most treasures were usually guarded. “Just don’t forget,” he said in a light voice. “We’re never gonna get it back up there without a plank.”
“Ah, the woes of all treasure hunters,” Alicia said, upbeat.
“Two would be better,” Dahl said.
“Why, one for each foot?”
“We could lash them together.”
“Fine. Two planks. Now, are we ready?”
Luther was already there.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Light filled this chamber, spilling from dozens of flickering flashlights set into the walls. Black smoke spiraled into the loftier shadows and was drawn away. The floor was flat, the walls ragged as if hewn by a drunken giant.
Drake saw six men.
One sat atop a pile of dusty old books, disrespectful and uncaring, since he surely knew he was guarding stolen valuables and possibly significant relics. He sat chewing, staring into space, and spat onto the dusty floor as Drake watched. Two more were seated to the far right, passing the time with an old board game. The final three walked among the treasures, picking some up, turning and squinting at them as if evaluating their worth.
“Did we expect this kinda bootie?” Alicia asked.
“Not really,” Hayden answered. “But we sure can’t take it all with us. Take photos and let others decide. That’s the best we can do.”
“They’re not particularly photogenic,” Mai said, gesturing toward the guards. “Shall we move them out of the way first?”
“Get in line.” Kenzie rushed past Luther and Molokai, entering the chamber. Padding on silent feet, she lined up the seated man and fired, the gun spitting softly. The noise inside this chamber was enough to make the others glance over. Kenzie ran at the seated two, leaping at the last minute as they fumbled for their guns. She caught one full in the face with a flying boot, bringing her gun around like a club to batter the other on the temple. Both grunted and collapsed. The first’s head whipped back against the rock wall. Kenzie concentrated on the second, regaining control of her gun and firing twice at point blank range.
Luther and Molokai kept pace with the Israeli, seeing the other three guards staring over in shock. Two blasts sent two bodies hurtling back, but the third missed as Luther stumbled on a small rock.
The final IS guard dropped behind a heavy chest. Drake could hear him groping around for his gun. The team ducked and Luther bemoaned a twisted ankle. Kenzie crept around from the far side. Molokai chose the other. Drake sighted on the very top of the chest where the head would pop up.
Seconds passed, and then the guard acted. Three shots were fired, all hitting their mark. The results were not healthy for the guard.
Hayden and Kinimaka pushed into the chamber. Everyone fanned out and searched the place, leaving Mai and Smyth to watch out for any unpleasant surprises. Drake opened a safe and a chest, then rooted through a chest of drawers. Alicia upended a shoebox. Hayden found gold bars rolled in sweatshirts and Kinimaka a round carousel stuffed with fake swords.
Kenzie gave them the once over. “Utter trash. You’d die before you drew blood with one of these.”
“But maybe precious to somebody,” Kinimaka said. “Sentimental.”
“I guess.”
By now, of course, they knew the color and general design of the object they were searching for. Alicia spotted it first and called the others over. “I found it first. What’s my prize?”
“An evening with Torsten Dahl,” Drake said, coming across. “Where no doubt you would cook meatballs and listen to the greatest hits of Roxette whilst building flat-pack furniture.”
“Sounds . . . different.”
Dahl didn’t hold back. “Yes, in contrast to the usual fare of battered seafood, Chumbawumba and The Full Monty?”
“Doesn’t sound half bad,” Drake said.
Dahl grunted. Alicia dragged the artifact away from the pile it inhabited. A miniature forge, fashioned in midnight black, with two sides, an open chimney and a rodded g
rate, it stood quite imposing despite its shrunken size. Vulcan was the god of fire, volcanoes and forges in Roman mythology and was often depicted hammering away on a forge whilst forming the blade of a new sword or the shaft of a hammer. Hayden started rooting around for a canvas bag large enough to cover it, but Luther pulled one from his backpack.
“Always come prepared,” he said.
It was barely large enough. Drake could see why this artifact contained more material than the others. It was not only larger, it was denser, the walls and internal design thicker. If Tempest came for this, they would come hard.
“Long journey back,” he said. “We’d best get started.”
*
The return was a long, hard slog, testing the limits of even their endurance, but finally the cave’s exit loomed ahead. Molokai took the opportunity to rest, never complaining, but sinking down to the floor of the cave with the pack still strapped to his back.
Alicia tried to help. “Let me take that,”
“It’s better I do this alone,” Molokai said not ungratefully. “My thanks, but I am used to struggling alone by now. It builds character.”
Daylight shone outside in all its glory. At first they could only see the skies, which were blue and dappled by white clouds. Drake and Luther edged cautiously toward the edge of the cave so that the landscape opened up gradually below with every step they took. First field and then foothills, then mountainside.
Luther grunted. “Shit.”
It was a vision that would haunt Drake for the rest of his days.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
“We’re gonna need more ammo,” Drake said.
“You said that before,” Mai came alongside them. “But here we are.”
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