The Resurrection Key

by Andy McDermott

  Barney turned on his own torch. ‘Over there.’ The path continued to an opening in the far wall.

  Nina led the way. They were still on the Nephilim’s trail; there had been no side passages large enough to fit even a human, never mind the giants. Beyond the cave, the tunnel resumed its downward course. She paused, listening for activity below. All she heard was the music of the pool. She resumed her descent towards whatever lay at the heart of Uluru.

  A hundred miles to the north, a commercial air freighter powered through the sky at thirty-six thousand feet. Cargo China International flight IV283 was on a regularly scheduled journey from Guangzhou in southern China to Sydney, having stopped at Singapore to unload some of its cargo.

  This time, though, the Boeing 777F had a last-minute change of manifest before starting its voyage. This came as an unwelcome shock to its crew, who knew they would be endangering their careers, their freedom – they would be arrested on landing – and the aircraft itself. But their orders had come from the very highest levels of government, and even the biggest Chinese corporations existed entirely at the whim of the Communist Party. Failure to obey, the airline’s senior executives were told, would result in their arrests on any number of charges of crimes against the state before the day was over.

  So with a heavy heart and a sickening ball of nausea boiling in his stomach, the captain disengaged the autopilot and brought his plane into a long turn southwards.

  The response from air traffic control was immediate. Even over the outback’s vast emptiness, Australia still had radar coverage: the military base at Pine Gap, a hundred and twenty miles from Uluru, was a vital part of the United States’ global communications and intelligence network, and as such was well monitored. ‘IV283, you got a problem up there?’ drawled an Australian voice.

  ‘Don’t answer him,’ ordered the woman standing behind the captain: Major Wu Shun. ‘Take us down to ten thousand feet.’

  The captain did as he was told. The jet straightened, now on a direct heading for Uluru. At its current speed, it would take just over ten minutes to reach its destination.

  Wu listened to the increasingly concerned radio messages, but there was nothing the controllers could do. Australia’s air defences were concentrated around its long coastline; no military jets were stationed close enough to intercept the rogue aircraft before it reached its target. Five minutes to go, the 777 now at ten thousand feet – and Uluru itself became visible, a red bump rising above the horizon.

  ‘Slow to one-twenty knots at ten kilometres out,’ she said, turning to leave. ‘Signal me at one kilometre.’

  ‘Major,’ the pilot said, ‘the cargo door isn’t designed to be opened in flight! It could seriously affect the handling, even damage the plane—’

  ‘You’re a trained pilot,’ she cut in. ‘Adapt.’ She exited the cockpit.

  Crowded into the small crew section behind it were twelve men. All were members of Wu’s special forces unit. Considering the team’s racial make-up, entirely Han Chinese, China would inevitably be the prime suspect in the highly illegal operation – but proving it had been made as difficult as possible. Their dark clothing was devoid of any insignia or identifying marks; even the tags had been removed. The only forms of identification they carried were – exceptionally good – counterfeit US passports, and all spoke fluent English. If they were captured, it would take the most extreme torture to break them, and all would give their life to protect their country long before that happened.

  ‘It’s time,’ said Wu. The group went through a hatch into the main hold. It would normally have been packed tightly with cargo containers, but at considerable expense to the plane’s operator, the first two rows had been left empty to give the soldiers clear access – and provide storage space for their equipment. They all rapidly donned low-profile parachutes, then armed up. Even the team’s weapons were the product of American or European manufacturers, bought through a long and complex chain of intermediaries and shorn of serial numbers.

  There was one weapon whose origins would be impossible to disguise. But that would only matter if it were captured, and Wu had no intention of letting that happen.

  She climbed up on top of the containers, quickly crawling to the hold’s rear along the gap beneath the crown of the curving cabin roof. Her men followed. Another space had been left beside the main hatch. The last weapon waited there, its protective crate attached to a parachute of its own.

  Wu double-checked that the chute was set to open automatically at the correct height, then switched on a tracking device. They would be landing in the desert, and she didn’t want to waste time recovering the weapon. She donned a helmet and lowered its visor, the men doing the same.

  The engine note changed, the shrill of the two huge turbofans dropping as the pilot reduced speed. Ten kilometres from Uluru, just minutes from the drop. ‘Everyone get ready,’ she said, going to the hatch controls. An interlock system was meant to prevent it from being opened in flight, but she had been instructed how to override it. She quickly did so, then pushed a button.

  Warning lights flashed and a siren wailed as the door hinged upwards, but the noise was almost immediately drowned by the scream of wind and the engines’ thunder. If not for her helmet’s protection, Wu was sure she would have been deafened. She held on as the hurricane-force gale blasted into the hold. The plane trembled as its aerodynamics were disrupted.

  The door reached its limit with a thud. Wu cautiously leaned out. The wind hit her head with sledgehammer force, but she saw the great rock of Uluru straight ahead, only a few kilometres away.

  She pulled back. ‘Ready to jump!’ The others lined up beside the hatch. They would leap from the plane’s aft main door for two reasons: the first was because several men could jump through at once, keeping them in close proximity. The second was pure pragmatism – going out of either crew door at the front risked the soldiers smashing into the wing or being sucked into an engine.

  The last two men lifted the crate, ready to fling it out before leaping. Wu took up position behind them. The weapon was the most important part of the entire mission, and she wanted to follow its progress all the way to the ground.

  Everyone waited, tension rising—

  The pilot’s voice came through Wu’s earpiece. ‘One kilometre.’

  Her response was immediate. ‘Jump!’

  The first five men threw themselves from the hatch, a second group following two seconds later. The last pair hurled the crate out into the slipstream, then dived after it. Wu waited for them to get clear before following.

  The Boeing hurtled away as she hit the wall of air. She tumbled, land and sky swapping places, then spread her limbs to bring herself under control. The world righted itself. Uluru swelled ahead, the team arcing towards its northern face.

  From ten thousand feet, a free fall to the ground took under sixty seconds. She glanced at the crate. Its parachute was set to open at three thousand feet. Her team would release their own at two thousand, to keep them well clear of its unguided descent. Any second . . .

  A spring-loaded cap popped from the crate’s parachute pack, a small pilot chute firing out into the airstream and pulling the black main canopy after it. She shot past it as it opened. A glance upwards to make sure the parachute had deployed correctly, then she looked back at her men. They had spread out to ensure nobody collided.

  The ground rushed at them. Two thousand feet—

  Wu pulled her ripcord as more dark shapes blossomed below. She took hold of the control lines to guide herself in for a landing.

  Now that she had slowed, there was time to check the area below. A road wound around the rock, but there was no traffic on it. A single white vehicle sat stationary on what looked like an abandoned airstrip. Park rangers, probably – but were they already helping Wilde and Chase?

  She angled towards the dirt runway. Her men did the same
. The crate continued on its original course; it would touch down west of their landing zone.

  Trees took on three-dimensional form as she neared the ground. Another tug on the cords to avoid them, guiding herself to her target. A hundred feet, fifty—

  She pulled to slow herself, making a perfect landing and quickly collapsing the canopy. Her men touched down just as expertly. She looked back. The crate’s parachute dropped out of sight behind the trees about a kilometre away.

  Wu shrugged off the empty pack. There was no point wasting time gathering and burying the chutes; like all their other gear, they had no markings that could link them directly to China. Instead she unholstered her sidearm, a compact Heckler & Koch MP7 personal defence weapon, and signalled the others to head for the vehicle.

  Macy looked up at the sound of a plane thundering overhead – and saw a jet pass directly over the rock. ‘Wow! That’s coming in low.’

  Sandra, crouching to show her an insect nest, watched the airliner pass with concern. ‘It is low. And it’s completely missed the airport. Maybe it’s in trouble.’ She stood, looking back the way it had come – and gasped. ‘Crikey!’

  Macy saw a line of black parachutes dropping swiftly towards the earth. ‘Oh no,’ she said, horrified. ‘We have to get out of here!’

  ‘What is it? Who are they?’

  ‘They’re from China, they must be! They’ve followed us! Come on!’ She tugged the woman’s sleeve. ‘We’ve got to get to the jeep!’

  ‘Barney’s still inside the rock,’ Sandra protested. ‘And so are your mum and dad.’

  ‘They’d want us to go, trust me. Come on!’ Macy pulled at her arm again, desperate.

  The parachutes disappeared behind trees. Sandra broke through her indecision and took Macy’s hand, hurrying with her through the scrub. The Land Cruiser came into view—

  As did the parachutists.

  The black-clad figures had discarded their chutes and were heading towards them. Sandra froze when she saw they were armed. ‘Oh my God! They’ve got guns – get back!’

  But it was too late. They had been spotted. One of the new arrivals – a woman – shouted as they ducked back into the bushes.

  ‘Go into the cave!’ Macy cried. ‘It’s the only place we can hide from them!’

  ‘We don’t know what’s down there,’ warned Sandra.

  ‘We know what’s not down there – those guys!’

  ‘Not a bad point for a sprog,’ the Australian admitted. ‘Okay, get over there, quick – but keep your head down!’

  They scurried through the undergrowth. ‘We can make it!’ Macy said. ‘We just have to get across here.’ The cave was not far ahead – but open ground lay before it.

  ‘You go first,’ Sandra said, pushing Macy ahead as they came to the end of the scrub. ‘I’ll be right with you. Run!’

  Heart pounding, Macy raced out into the open, Sandra behind her. Thirty feet to safety—

  A man shouted. She glanced sideways, seeing a black-clad figure pointing at her.

  Fear drove her to run faster. Almost there—

  Red dust exploded from the sandstone. She shrieked, jumping back and shielding her face from spitting shrapnel. Sandra stumbled to a stop behind her. Macy recovered – but before she could run again, another bullet blasted a chunk from the cave mouth. ‘Don’t move!’ the black-clad woman shouted.

  Macy felt another surge of terror as she saw a familiar face. Wu Shun marched towards her, gun raised, expression cold and hard.

  A last desperate look at the opening, but Macy knew she wouldn’t reach it in time. ‘No, don’t shoot!’ she cried, holding up her hands.

  ‘She’s just a kid!’ Sandra shouted, moving to protect her. ‘Leave her alone!’

  Wu reached the pair, her men forming up alongside her. ‘Hello, Miss Wilde,’ she said, the greeting devoid of friendliness. ‘If you are here, your parents must be here as well.’ She looked towards the cave. ‘In there?’ Macy said nothing, glowering. ‘I will take that as a yes. What about the Nephilim?’

  ‘They killed one of my rangers,’ Sandra told her. ‘We’re not your enemies. Let Macy go, and I’ll contact the authorities in Canberra. We can work together to deal with these things.’

  Wu shook her head. ‘They declared war on us – so we will end it ourselves.’ She spoke to two of her men, handing one a phone-sized device. They ran to the Land Cruiser.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Macy asked as the 4x4 set off, heading west. It was Wu’s turn not to answer. Telling her team to watch the prisoners, she investigated the opening, shining a flashlight down the tunnel.

  The Land Cruiser returned after a few minutes, stopping outside the cave. The two men opened its rear to lift out the crate, now stripped of its parachute.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Sandra.

  ‘The end of this war,’ was Wu’s cryptic answer as she came back outside. She switched off the tracking device and opened the crate. A check of its contents, then she called to the larger of the two men: ‘Liu!’

  With some effort, Liu pulled out what Macy at first thought from its straps was a large backpack. But as he put it on, she saw that the canvas-shrouded object was shaped like a squat barrel, about two and a half feet tall. A box, also hidden inside a custom-fitted canvas cover, protruded from its rear.

  ‘I don’t like the look of that,’ muttered Sandra.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Macy replied. ‘What is it? A bomb?’

  ‘You are very perceptive,’ the major replied. ‘Yes, it is a bomb. Specifically, a sixty-kiloton tactical nuclear device.’

  Macy gasped.

  ‘A – a nuke?’ said Sandra, appalled. ‘You’ve brought a bloody nuke to Uluru? Are you crazy?’

  ‘The Nephilim are a threat not only to my country, but to the entire world,’ said Wu. ‘They must be destroyed. We do not know exactly what is beneath the rock, or how many more Nephilim are down there. There could be thousands, and they have weapons of immense power.’ Her expression somehow became even harder. ‘But so do we. Whatever is down there will be completely destroyed.’

  ‘But my mom and dad are down there too!’ Macy shouted.

  ‘We are not on a suicide mission. If they cooperate, they will have the chance to leave with us before the bomb goes off. As will you.’

  The ten-year-old stared at her. ‘I don’t trust you,’ she finally said.

  ‘I don’t care,’ was the blunt reply. ‘Now, you will come with us – or I will shoot you both.’

  ‘We don’t have a choice, do we?’ Sandra said bitterly.

  ‘No. You do not.’

  The Australian took Macy’s hand as the group headed for the entrance. Torches and tactical lights on their weapons were switched on. Wu took the lead, the man with the bomb at the rear – and Macy and Sandra sandwiched helplessly in the middle as they descended.

  Nina led the way deeper. It was hard to judge exactly how far down they had gone, but she estimated several hundred feet. The route became more tricky to follow as side passages branched off it, but the job of navigating the labyrinth had been done for them. The dust of ages on the floor had been stirred up by the Nephilim, who had faced the same decisions: which tunnel to take? ‘The one with the most footprints,’ Barney observed acerbically.

  They followed the trail downwards. In places the slope had been carved into steps as it became too steep to traverse, each foothold sized for a giant. Nina came down a flight, then paused at the bottom. ‘Hold on,’ she whispered.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Eddie.

  ‘I can feel a breeze.’

  ‘All the way down here?’ But he sensed it too, a faint warm draught blowing up the passage.

  Cheng looked past the couple. ‘Turn out the torches,’ he said. ‘I think there’s something ahead.’

  Barney and Nina did so. As their eyes adjuste
d, the group saw there was indeed a low light.

  ‘More glow-worms?’ Nina wondered.

  ‘If it is, they’re a different colour,’ said Eddie. ‘And they’re flickering.’

  ‘Disco worms?’ she said with a half-smile. ‘I think we’re almost there.’

  They advanced more cautiously. The light grew brighter as they approached a bend, carved steps dropping sharply as the tunnel turned almost back on itself. The breeze became stronger. ‘It’s coming through there,’ Nina said, seeing a ragged opening in the wall.

  She climbed onto a ledge to reach the gap. Broken stones were scattered over it; the hole had opened up long after the tunnel’s builders finished their work. More oversized footprints told her the Nephilim had done what she was about to do: look through the cleft to see whatever lay beyond.

  The sight took her breath away.

  The light’s source was beyond anything she had imagined. She stared at it, then almost unwillingly retreated. ‘You have to see this.’

  Eddie took her place. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, astonished. ‘Dunno what I expected to find down here, but it definitely wasn’t that.’

  Beyond the hole was a gigantic shaft within the red sandstone, dropping almost vertically into the unseen depths below. A colossal pillar of crystal over fifty feet thick rose at its centre, disappearing into the red rock ceiling a hundred-plus feet above. The whole thing was aglow in an ever-shifting spectrum of colours, the shimmering light of earth energy coursing slowly through it.

  Nina returned to the opening and peered down. The crystal pillar dropped towards infinity below. ‘It must be miles deep.’

  Cheng and Barney took their turns to look, both reacting with amazement. The Australian, though, was more than simply awed by the sight. ‘The Rainbow Serpent . . .’ he whispered.

  ‘What’s that?’ Nina asked.