Empire of Gold

by Andy McDermott

  ‘Yes. Thank you!’ The Interpol officer smiled in relief.

  Eddie hurried up to him. Stikes and Voeker came into view below. The ex-officer was still carrying the case. Eddie raised the M4, but before he could fire, Stikes and his companion leapt down to the plaza, shielded by thick stone walls.

  Eddie had found a new target, though. The Hind was not yet at takeoff revolutions, needing to be at maximum power to haul itself airborne – and he saw a man in a jumpsuit slam closed a panel on the engine cowling. The forward cockpit’s canopy was open: the gunner.

  The man who had brought carnage to Caracas. Without hesitation, Eddie aimed and fired. The jumpsuit’s jungle camouflage blossomed with dark red. Krikorian crumpled, thumping off the Hind’s stub wing and dropping to the ground.

  No way to do the same to the pilot; the rear cockpit was shut, impervious to the M4’s bullets. But he could still deal with the pilot’s boss. ‘Get back up to the temple,’ he told Kit. ‘Osterhagen’s in there – see if you can find Nina or anyone else.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Kit asked.

  ‘After Stikes.’

  ‘Are you going to get the statues back?’

  ‘No, I’m just gonna kill him!’

  As Kit retreated, Eddie moved to the edge of the wall and pointed his gun at the tier below. No sign of Baine. There was a steep alley between the lower buildings, water still draining downhill with some force. He jumped on to a wall and advanced along it, still searching for the ex-SAS trooper – but then any thoughts of Baine vanished as he spotted Stikes running for the helicopter. He raised the rifle, pinning the mercenary’s back in his sights—

  Hands clamped around his ankles.

  Baine had been hiding, now leaping up to grab him and pulling with all his strength. Arms flailing, Eddie fell.

  He landed on top of the mercenary, knocking him backwards. Both men landed in the alley – and were swept away downhill by the rushing water.

  Kit made his way back along the rooftops, then realised he had missed the opportunity to arm himself in case Pachac and his men were still around. He was about to turn back to retrieve one of the fallen rifles when a holster on the dead mercenary slumped over the roof beam caught his eye. He pulled out the pistol, a Steyr M9-A1 automatic, and quickly checked that it was loaded with its full fifteen rounds before continuing.

  Nina entered the temple to find Osterhagen looking out through the broken wall. ‘Leonard! Are you okay?’

  The German nodded. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Where’s Eddie?’

  ‘He shot some of the mercenaries – but he just fell off a wall!’

  Nina ran to the opening, ignoring the gold as she searched for her husband. ‘Where?’ Osterhagen pointed at a lower row of buildings. She saw Kit picking his way along a wall, arms held out for balance like a tightrope walker, but there was no sign of Eddie. ‘Dammit!’ She ran from the temple, hurrying down the steps.

  Macy gingerly lowered herself from her perch. ‘Oh, gross . . . ’ she whispered as cold, muddy water sluiced into her boots. It was now only about ankle deep, the flow like that of a brisk stream, but she was still worried about keeping her footing.

  One hand on a wall for support, she started to make her way downhill.

  ‘Kit! Over here!’

  The Indian looked round to see Mac emerging from a building. The Scot was carrying the RPG-7 – which was now loaded with the last of the olive-green warheads. ‘Mac! I’m glad to see you,’ Kit said, relieved.

  ‘You too.’ Mac noticed the gun. ‘You’re armed, good. Come on, get down here. Nina and Macy are okay – have you seen any of the others?’

  Kit jumped from the wall and splashed to him. ‘Eddie rescued me from Stikes and his men.’

  An approving nod. ‘Good lad. Where is he now?’

  ‘He went after Stikes.’

  Approval turned to a frown. ‘Sod it! If he’s too close . . .’

  ‘Too close for what?’

  Mac held up the rocket launcher. ‘I won’t be able to use this.’

  ‘You’re going to blow up the helicopter? But Stikes has the statues.’

  ‘That’s the least of my worries.’ He indicated the tower the expedition had passed on their way to the plaza. ‘I should be able to get a good shot from there before he takes off. Come on!’ He started a limping jog towards it.

  Kit followed, his face betraying his secret concern.

  Stikes and Voeker reached the Hind and jumped through the open rear hatch. The mercenary leader grabbed a headset. ‘Gurov! Take off, now!’

  ‘I can’t!’ came the reply. ‘There’s a problem with the port engine, oil pressure. I need to bring it up to speed slowly.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘A minute. What about the others?’

  ‘There’s no one left to wait for,’ said Stikes coldly. He put the case down in the empty seat beside him and secured it with the harness straps. ‘Besides, I’ve got what I came for.’

  The steep alley ended where it met a wider, shallower pathway, the rush of water bowling Eddie into one of the small tombs. Tightly wrapped mummies, now sodden and waterlogged, crunched underneath him. Bruised and winded by his uncontrollable trip down the hard-sided waterslide, he stood—

  Baine slithered into the tomb in a burst of spray and slammed a boot into Eddie’s stomach. ‘All right, Yorkie?’ he cried as Eddie doubled over. He jumped to his feet, delivering another kick to his former comrade’s midsection. ‘Yeah, ’ave some of that! You broke one of my fucking teeth in Caracas – you know how shit the dentists are down here?’ More kicks. Eddie collapsed in a corner, scattering bones and ritual items. Baine moved closer. ‘Gonna break your fucking neck—’

  Eddie whipped up a length of cloth like a slingshot – with a skeletal arm folded inside it. It smashed against the side of Baine’s head. Eddie followed up with a punch. From his awkward position it didn’t have much power behind it, but was hard enough to make the bigger man retreat. Eddie held in a groan as he pushed himself upright. ‘You couldn’t break a fucking pencil, you southern ponce.’

  Baine balled his fists. ‘Always ’ad some fucking smart-arse comment, didn’t you? Now me, I stick to—’

  He broke off abruptly, driving a fearsome punch at Eddie’s head. The Yorkshireman barely managed to dodge, Baine’s knuckles clipping his ear. His military training had taught him that the mere act of speaking demanded a surprisingly large part of the brain’s processing power, detracting from its ability to react to sudden events – but Baine had the same training and had played on Eddie’s expectations to launch a surprise attack.

  Another blow, forcing Eddie back a step to avoid it. Baine advanced, fists raised like a boxer. Eddie, realising he was being cornered, brought up his own hands to defend – and took a brutal blow just inches from his groin from the other man’s foot. Not just a boxer – a kickboxer. Baine had expanded his skill set over the past decade.

  The mercenary grinned malevolently. ‘Yeah, weren’t expecting that, were you? Feet an’ fists – I can take you down with either.’ A few feints from both pairs of extremities. Eddie countered, but knew that in the confined space, when the real attack came he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. ‘You’re getting slow, Yorkie! Married life’ll do that, turn you into a useless fat fucker.’ A glance at Eddie’s hairline. ‘Makes you go bald too!’ He laughed—

  Eddie struck, this time landing a solid blow to Baine’s upper jaw. The punch split the skin on his knuckles, but the Essex man came off worse, the inside of his lip tearing against his front teeth and the cartilage of his septum snapping. He staggered back, spitting blood.

  This time, it was Eddie’s turn to deliver a kick – but even through his pain Baine still had the reflexes to twist away from a ball-crunching impact. Snarling, he dived at the Yorkshireman. Eddie punched him again, but couldn’t avoid the collision – or stop himself from being driven against the wall.

  ‘Fucker!’ yelled Baine as they g
rappled. His greater size and weight gave him the advantage, pushing his opponent further down into the tomb’s corner. He jerked up a knee and hit Eddie squarely in the stomach.

  Gasping, Eddie struggled to recover, but Baine shoved his head back against the stone wall with a crack. Dizzied, he tried to rise—

  Baine’s forearm pressed across his throat like a steel beam, choking him.

  Mac ran up the steps into the tower, Kit behind him. As he had hoped, it gave him an excellent view over the plaza.

  The Hind was still on the ground, but the amount of spray being kicked up by its downwash told him that it was almost at takeoff power. He brought up the RPG-7 and looked down the sights. The Russian weapon’s aiming system was crude, but at a fairly short distance against a large stationary target he didn’t need to do anything beyond point it in the right direction and fire.

  ‘Mac, what if Eddie’s down there?’ Kit protested. ‘You might kill him.’

  ‘He’s not on the plaza, so he’s safe,’ Mac replied. The Hind was fixed in the sights. ‘Clear behind!’

  ‘No, Mac – if they know you’ve got a rocket, we can force them to surrender!’

  ‘Kit, the backblast on this thing will kill you,’ Mac snapped impatiently. The helicopter shifted on its landing gear as the rotors reached full speed. It would lift off in a matter of seconds. ‘This is our only chance – move!’

  He saw in the corner of his eye that Kit had moved out of the rocket’s deadly exhaust cone, then turned his attention back to the sights. He flicked off the safety, steeling himself for the jolt of firing as he tightened his finger on the trigger—

  Two bullets hit him in the back.

  Mac collapsed, searing pain swallowing his senses. Blood gushed from the wounds. The unfired RPG-7 clunked down beside him.

  Kit stood frozen, the smoking Steyr clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide in shock at what he had just done. His mouth opened, an apology, a confession, on his lips . . . then it snapped shut. Dismay disappeared, replaced by determination. He ran down the stairs, leaving the dying man behind.

  36

  Eddie kicked and thrashed at Baine, but couldn’t shift the thick arm crushing his throat. Darkness pulsed in from the edges of his vision with each beat of his heart. His hands scrabbled over the detritus of the tomb for anything he could use as a weapon, but found nothing except cloth and desiccated flesh.

  The darkness swelled again, narrowing his view to a tunnel: Baine leering down at him, the entrance behind.

  Another pulse – and something changed—

  He tried to speak, only a raw croak escaping his mouth. Baine leaned closer, cruel smile widening. ‘Wassat, Yorkie?’

  ‘Marriage . . .’ Eddie managed to rasp.

  Puzzled, Baine eased the pressure on Eddie’s neck very slightly. ‘Marriage? What about it? Makes you fat an’ bald – what else?’

  Eddie choked out more words. ‘Someone – always – got your back.’ To Baine’s surprise, his grimace turned into a crooked smile. ‘Like – now!’

  A mummified skull smashed down on the mercenary’s head.

  Nina stood behind him, wincing at the pain in her hand. ‘Dammit, that really hurt! Oh, crap,’ she added as Baine recovered from the shock and glared over his shoulder at her.

  ‘Yeah, that did fucking hurt, you bitch!’ he snarled, spitting out more blood. He turned to face Nina. Behind him, Eddie slumped to the water-covered floor, more burial artefacts clattering around him.

  Nina brandished the skull, before realising that without the element of surprise it was all but useless as a weapon. She backed towards the exit. ‘Great, I had to pick frickin’ Yorick and not a gun . . .’

  Baine advanced, face full of fury—

  ‘Oi!’ said a gravelly voice from behind him. ‘Twat!’

  Baine spun – and Eddie plunged an ornate golden dagger into his stomach. The mercenary roared as the Yorkshireman twisted the tumi, forcing the blade deeper into his body.

  But despite the agony, Baine wasn’t incapacitated. He caught the still winded Eddie with a savage punch, knocking him down. Another kick hammered into Eddie’s stomach, then Baine pivoted to smash his steel-capped combat boot into his face—

  The skull cracked down on his head again, shattering into fragments. Baine slumped to his knees, falling forward. Eddie rolled out of the way – and the mercenary splashed down face first, driving the knife all the way into his abdomen. He let out a long, bubbling moan, then was silent. A red circle swelled in the water around him.

  Eddie sat up. ‘He’s got a tumi in his tummy,’ he groaned.

  Nina was too worried to complain about the terrible joke. ‘Oh my God, Eddie? Are you all right?’

  ‘Help me up, and we’ll see if any bits fall off.’

  Nina stepped over Baine’s body. ‘Sorry about your friend,’ she said to the remaining mummies as she pulled Eddie to his feet.

  With the water level dropping all the time, Macy had been able to increase her pace through the city. She had spotted first Mac, then Nina, hurrying down the hill and decided to follow them, but so far hadn’t seen any further sign of anyone. And the two gunshots she had just heard prompted her to duck into hiding. Were Pachac and his people still around?

  It was obvious that Stikes and his men were leaving, though. The helicopter rose above the plaza, making a careful half-turn before heading for the cave mouth. One less set of assholes to worry about, then, but she still felt far from safe.

  Macy looked cautiously around, seeing nobody, then moved out and continued down the slope. The Hind was approaching the cavern’s entrance. Once it left, she might actually be able to hear if there was anyone nearby—

  She rounded a corner – and found a gun pointing at her.

  Shock and fear quickly turned to relief as she realised it was Kit, who seemed equally startled. ‘Jeez!’ she gasped, unable to hold back a nervous giggle. ‘You scared me!’

  For a moment, the gun remained still . . . then Kit relaxed and lowered it, ‘Sorry. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Have you seen Nina or Eddie? Or Mr McCrimmon?’

  ‘No . . . no,’ he said, the repetition more firm. ‘Eddie went after Stikes – I’m looking for Mac.’

  A flight of steps nearby led up to the tower. ‘I saw him not long ago – I think he was heading that way.’ She started towards them.

  Kit shook his head firmly, moving to block her. ‘No, I saw some of Pachac’s men go up there.’ He pointed to a nearby building. ‘Wait in there and keep out of sight until it’s safe. I’ll . . . look for Mac.’

  Macy reluctantly did as she was told as Kit ascended the steps. ‘Take care,’ she called to him.

  He didn’t reply, or even look back.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Nina asked Eddie as they left the tomb.

  ‘Lighter.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘’Cause I just had the shit kicked out of me.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  They looked up to see the Hind clearing the cave mouth. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’ Eddie growled. ‘Stikes got away.’

  ‘Well, good!’ said Nina. ‘If he’s gone, we don’t have to worry about him any more.’

  ‘He’s got your statues.’

  ‘What? Oh. Oh! God damn it!’ She scowled after the departing aircraft as it powered away. ‘Son of a bitch!’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Eddie asked as he started to limp back up the slope. ‘He can’t do anything with ’em, and they helped us find El Dorado – what else can they do?’

  ‘That was kinda what I wanted to find out!’

  ‘Well, you can worry about it when we get back to New York. For now, we still need to get out of here. Let’s find the others.’

  ‘Mac had the rocket launcher – he said he was going to try to shoot down the helicopter.’ Eddie stopped. ‘What?’ Nina asked, reading concern on his face.

  ‘He didn’t even try – we would have heard it.’ He looked around for the most li
kely spot from which to launch an attack. ‘Up there,’ he said, indicating the tower. He set off again. ‘Mac! Mac, can you hear me?’

  Kit had halted once he was out of Macy’s sight, mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt – until Eddie’s shout snapped him back to full awareness. It wouldn’t be long before the Scot was found—

  An idea, the Interpol officer acting upon it the instant it formed. He hurried back into the tower. Mac lay unmoving on the floor, blood pooling around him. Kit sat against the wall behind him, fired two shots into the air – then moved the gun to point at his upper arm.