The Sacred Vault

by Andy McDermott

  The wind caught the balloon, setting the palatial gondola swinging like a pendulum. She expected it to be blown further back into the great cave, but the combination of the gondola’s gyrations and air currents gusting round the cavern’s ragged natural roof instead sent it spinning towards the entrance.

  Fire burst through the balloon’s skin. Either there was a hotspot above the brazier or the material had torn on the ceiling, but it didn’t matter - a rush of escaping air sent a huge spray of embers across the Vault, falling like glowing snowflakes. Nina hurriedly pulled up her hood as they dropped around her, scorching her parka.

  Rapidly losing height, the gondola hit a siege engine near the launch ramp. She glimpsed Kit as he bailed - or was flung - out of the door, then the whole thing crashed to the floor, knocking over the brazier she had originally lit.

  The balloon itself was being consumed with frightening speed, large parts already reduced to ash and motes of hellfire. The air filled with smoke. Coughing, Nina weaved through the flames, hoping Kit hadn’t already been swallowed by them.

  Eddie looked out at the Chinook. It was hovering precariously with its rear ramp just above the lip of the ledge. He spotted Zec crouching low, waving his men into the helicopter.

  He couldn’t wait for covering fire. He was out of time - the mercs would soon be gone, firing their parting shots to destroy the Vault.

  And Nina.

  He ran to the rope bridge, arms outstretched for balance as he traversed the planks two at a time. Still no booms from the Martini-Henrys. He looked for the MD 500—

  The men aboard saw him, the little helicopter pivoting to bring the M249 to bear.

  Laser-lines of tracer fire seared past him as he ran.

  Zec heard the gunfire, and glanced down the valley to see the MD 500 unleashing a barrage at a figure running across one of the rope bridges.

  Chase! The Englishman was certainly a survivor, he admitted with grudging admiration. But his luck had surely run out - the gunship could use the tracers to ‘walk’ its fire on to its target. One hit, and he would fall to his death - if the onslaught didn’t destroy the entire bridge under him.

  But he couldn’t spare the time to watch. The last five men were jumping on to the ramp, others inside pulling them into the hold. Behind them was Tandon, but he wasn’t moving to board. ‘Get inside!’ Zec ordered.

  ‘We have to wait for Dhiren,’ Tandon insisted.

  ‘There’s no time! We need to—’

  Two sounds hit him simultaneously. The first was a salvo of booms from the guardians’ rifles as they opened fire on the MD 500 - and the second was an explosion inside the Vault.

  A few seconds earlier, Nina had found Kit, curled in agony as he clutched his injured leg. She dragged him away from the burning swathes of fabric draped over the treasures around him—

  The next instant, they were knocked down by an explosion.

  The rockets!

  Stacked behind the vimana’s launch ramp, the burning debris scattered from the brazier had set them alight.

  A second rocket detonated - then a third shot upwards, slamming into the ceiling and bursting apart like a bomb.

  ‘Jesus!’ Nina cried, pulling Kit under a statue as sparks rained down. Another rocket flew past, streaking towards the rear of the cavern like an enormous firework.

  Eddie had no idea what was happening as he heard what sounded like explosives going off in the Vault - all he knew was that the guardians had saved him from being torn apart by the MD 500’s machine gun. At least two shots had hit the gunship, which was now hurriedly ascending.

  He jumped over a bullet-riddled plank and continued across the bridge. Halfway there, but he still had to go up another two levels . . .

  Zec grabbed Tandon. ‘Get aboard, now!’ He pulled the Indian towards the Chinook’s gaping maw—

  Something black shot at them on a trail of flame.

  The explosion of the first rocket had flung the others in all directions. One landed between the two high walls of the launch ramp, blunt nose pointing towards the open doors . . . and its fuse sparking and sizzling.

  The fire reached the rocket’s tail—

  It blasted off with a sizzling whoosh, the stonework on each side channelling it straight ahead. It shot through the entrance, searing past Zec and Tandon as they dived out of its way - and flew into the Chinook’s hold.

  One mercenary was set aflame as it passed, another almost decapitated by the cylinder as it smacked into his head. The blow deflected it upwards to hit the ceiling - and ricochet down again.

  Into the cockpit.

  It slammed into the central instrument console, flicking round madly and blasting fire into the pilots’ faces. They screamed, flailing blindly in unbearable pain - and let go of the controls.

  The Chinook rolled violently, slewing away from the ledge. The burning mercenary fell from the rear hatch, other men dashed against the cabin’s unyielding metal wall. Zec and Tandon hurled themselves flat as the rotor blades scythed above them.

  The backwash of fire burned through the rocket’s silk-wrapped body - and it exploded, blowing out the cockpit windows. Pilots dead, controls smashed, the helicopter barrelled down the valley in a death-roll—

  Straight at the rope bridge.

  Eddie was three-quarters of the way across, coming up fast on the plank that had broken under him on the first crossing, when he heard another explosion, nearer but oddly muffled. He looked round for its cause—

  ‘Oh, fuck,’ he gasped.

  The Chinook, smoke pouring from its shattered cockpit, rushed towards him.

  He ran, not caring any more if the planks could take his weight. All he cared about now was staying ahead of the deadly blur of the front rotor, the blades a giant circular saw carving through the air . . .

  29

  Eddie dived as the rotor slashed through the bridge less than a foot behind him.

  The severed ropes cracked like whips as their tension was released. The Chinook roared past, sucking a blizzard of loose snow into its rotors. The storm almost blinded him as he grabbed a plank with one hand, swinging with the collapsing bridge. The wall rushed at him through the whirling snow—

  His other hand found a rope just as the bridge crashed against the valley side. The plank he was holding snapped, leaving him dangling by only his straining arm, swaying on the line like a human plumb bob. Chunks of smashed wood tumbled past.

  A colossal boom shook the valley as the Chinook slammed into the cliff at its end and exploded. Boulders and burning wreckage tumbled down to block the passage beneath a huge cloud of dust and snow and black smoke.

  Eddie struggled to find a new handhold. He managed to reach an intact plank above, only to wince as a splinter stabbed into his middle finger. He pulled himself up. The remains of the bridge had turned into a fractured ladder. Some of the planks - now rungs - were broken, others missing entirely, but there were enough left intact for him to reach the fifth tier.

  Holding the rope tightly, he pulled the inch-long splinter out from his finger with his teeth, then began his ascent.

  From the Dhruv, Khoil gawped at the Chinook’s blazing wreck. ‘What happened?’ he demanded into his headset. ‘Zec, what happened?’

  It took several seconds before the Bosnian managed a reply. ‘A rocket - I don’t know where it came from. All my men are dead!’

  ‘What about Chapal and Dhiren?’

  ‘Your man Tandon is here with me. The other—’ He broke off at the sound of another explosion in the cavern. ‘The other one, I don’t know. He’s probably dead.’

  ‘Pramesh, we have the Vedas,’ said Vanita. She tapped the chest, now safely stowed in the cabin. ‘Let’s just go.’

  ‘Chapal is still down there - and I want to be sure Chase and Dr Wilde are dead,’ he replied firmly. ‘Pilot, move back to the cliff. Tell the gunship to cover us.’ The Dhruv turned and headed back for the Vault.

  Eddie reached the top of the makeshift ladder, se
eing footprints in the snow where the group had walked along the tier earlier in the day. More snow billowed past as the Khoils’ helicopter moved overhead, lowering the harness.

  Nina poked her head out from beneath the statue. Most of the rockets had fired or exploded, the remainder duds, the gunpowder in them broken down by time as Eddie had predicted.

  They weren’t out of danger, though. The explosions had stopped, but fires were still burning, the Vault filling with smoke. Most of its treasures would be unharmed beyond being blackened by soot, but there was still enough wood and fabric to keep the flames alive for some time. ‘Can you move?’ she asked Kit.

  ‘I think I will have to,’ he said, suppressing a cough as grey wisps coiled round him.

  She helped him up. Together, they picked their way through the fires to the entrance.

  They gave the area behind the ramp a wide berth in case a rocket went off - but then stopped as they saw two figures outside. ‘Damn it,’ Nina muttered, recognising Tandon. ‘We can’t go out there - they’ll kill us.’ She looked for anything that might help, spotting something near the overturned gondola. ‘Wait here,’ she said, propping Kit against a frieze. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  The winch line descended above Zec. ‘You go up first,’ Tandon told him. ‘Dhiren might still come. And if Wilde or Jindal are still alive, I want to be sure that they do not stay that way.’

  Zec nodded, watching the harness’s descent - then movement caught his eye, someone running along a tier below. He almost laughed. ‘Chase! He must have woken up very early this morning.’

  Tandon was not familiar with the Bosnian proverb, but he understood its meaning. ‘His luck has run out. Give me your gun.’

  Zec unslung his MP5K and handed it to the Indian. ‘Here,’ he said as he reached for the harness. ‘Wait until he is closer. Then we’ll see how awake he really is.’

  Eddie reached the next flight of steps and pounded up them to the seventh tier. He saw two men at the top of the broken stairway: Zec and Tandon, preparing to be winched up to the helicopter . . .

  Tandon was aiming an MP5K.

  The nearest archway was behind him. Eddie skidded on the snow, turning to retreat—

  Tandon fired as the Englishman stumbled, trying to back up and reach cover. Even with the MP5K’s short effective range, he could still hose the tier with automatic fire—

  Another MP5K barked . . . inside the Vault. Two shots hissed past him - but a third hit his bicep, tearing out a ragged lump of flesh. Tandon roared, dropping the sub-machine gun, which cartwheeled down the steps to fall to the valley floor.

  Zec had just fastened the harness. He spun to see Nina emerge from the Vault, holding the gun of the mercenary Kit had killed. That she had only scored a glancing hit from relatively close range told him all he needed to know about her shooting skills - and he gambled that unlike her husband, she didn’t possess a true killer instinct.

  ‘Bring me up now!’ he shouted into the headset. ‘Tandon, grab me!’

  Even with a gunshot wound, Tandon was quick to react. As Zec was hauled off the ledge, he leapt up and clamped a hand round the Bosnian’s wrist. They swung out over the valley, the helicopter pilot immediately increasing power and banking away from the cliff.

  Nina ran out on to the ledge, aiming at the two hanging men - but couldn’t bring herself to fire again. Both were unarmed, one was injured, and killing them would have no effect whatsoever on the Khoils’ plan. She knew that Eddie would have fired anyway, but it wasn’t something she could do. All she could do was hiss ‘Son of a bitch!’ as the pair were carried aloft.

  Who had Tandon been shooting at? She looked across at the neighbouring tier, seeing nobody - then a familiar head cautiously peered out from an archway. Joy and relief filled her. ‘Eddie!’

  He waved at her, then ran along the tier to leap over the gap on to the stairway. ‘Ay up, love!’

  She kissed him. ‘Oh, God! I thought you might be dead!’

  ‘It’ll take more than this bunch of tossers. And Shankarpa and his boys helped. What about Kit?’

  ‘He’s okay - he’s inside. But we need to get him out of there - the place is filling with smoke.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that.’ A dark cloud was billowing out from the top of the doorway. ‘Okay, let’s get him, then—’

  A rising noise made them both turn. The gunship was approaching. As they watched, the M249 was drawn inside - to be replaced by another weapon.

  An RPG-7 rocket launcher.

  Aboard the Dhruv, the winch operator pulled Tandon into the cabin. Zec followed, rapidly releasing the harness and slamming the hatch. ‘Wilde and Chase are still alive,’ he reported.

  ‘Not for long,’ Vanita snarled. ‘Gunship! Destroy the Vault! Kill them, now!’

  Kit limped out of the Vault - only to be scooped up by Eddie and Nina as they ran back inside. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothing good, as bloody usual!’ Eddie told him. ‘Nina, give me the gun.’ He took the MP5K as they deposited Kit behind the shelter of one of the great stone doors. The MD 500 had turned to face them, the gunner leaning out to aim the tubular Russian weapon along the aircraft’s length; the backblast from the rocket would be devastating inside the cockpit.

  Eddie fired first, aiming high to compensate for his gun’s lack of range. The bullets arced down to strike the approaching chopper’s canopy. It cracked, some of the shots piercing the Plexiglas, but they didn’t have enough power behind them to cause any major damage.

  The same wasn’t true of the RPG-7. Smoke burst from the launcher, the dark dot of the rocket racing at the ledge—

  Eddie dived back behind the door as it exploded, stone shards slashing past him. The gunship had veered just as the rocket fired, the pilot startled by the bullet hits, and the warhead struck short of the Vault’s entrance.

  But it still caused plenty of damage. With a thunderous crack, the stub of the stairway toppled into the abyss, a swathe of the ledge following it.

  Eddie looked outside. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’

  ‘My favourite words,’ groaned Nina, joining him. ‘What - oh . . .’

  It was as if a giant had taken a great bite out of the ledge. A section covering more than half its width was gone, the remains of the stairway now in fragments far below.

  And with the stairs gone, there was no way to reach the tiers on the valley walls. The gap was now well over thirty feet: impossible to jump even for the greatest Olympian.

  The helicopter withdrew, the gunner pulling the rocket launcher back inside to reload it. Eddie checked his gun. Only three rounds left. He would need a great deal of luck to hit anybody aboard the MD 500 - and with the pilot now knowing he was armed, the next rocket would be fired from a safer distance. The RPG-7 had a range of over half a kilometre. ‘You didn’t find any other way out, did you?’

  Nina shook her head unhappily. ‘What if we found some ropes and climbed down?’

  ‘It’ll take too long. We need a faster way . . .’ He tailed off.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said firmly as she saw his gaze fall upon the vimana at the top of the ramp. ‘No way. We are not flying out of here on a goddamn ancient glider!’

  ‘We know it works,’ said Eddie, lifting Kit and hustling him towards the ramp. ‘That Atlantean bloke of yours said it got those priests back down the mountain.’

  ‘That was eleven thousand years ago!’ she protested.

  ‘Well, maybe this one’s not that old.’

  ‘It’s old enough! And you don’t know how to fly it.’

  ‘I’ve flown a glider,’ Eddie insisted as he started up the ramp. ‘Well, that one time. Kit, you’ll have to hop to it, literally.’

  ‘Just so you know, I am agreeing with Nina,’ said Kit, wincing with each step. ‘I don’t think this thing is safe.’

  ‘Nor’s being hit by a fucking RPG!’

  ‘Bad idea,’ Nina muttered as she hurried up the other side of the ramp. ‘Very, very bad idea.�
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  ‘You were impressed by it before,’ said Eddie, reaching the vimana. He half helped, half pushed the unconvinced Indian on to the slatted platform under the wing, then examined the rocket.

  ‘As an archaeological find, it’s world-shaking. As a plane, it’s more likely to be bone-breaking!’

  ‘Those other machines still worked - maybe they built this to last as well. Give me those matches, then get aboard.’ He tweaked the end of the fuse as Nina produced the matches. ‘Okay, light the blue touchpaper and . . . hang on tight, I suppose.’

  Nina lay down beside Kit. Leather straps hung from the wing’s wooden spars; she guessed they were meant to hold the passengers in place, but there wasn’t time to tie them - all she could do was wrap two round her wrists and grip them as tightly as she could, wedging her feet against the framework. The ramp dropped away before her, the ski-jump at its end seeming laughably inadequate to get them airborne. ‘Oh, crap, what are we doing . . .’

  Eddie struck the match and touched it to the fuse. It flared with a hiss, spitting sparks. ‘Houston, we are go for launch!’ he cried, scrambling between Nina and Kit and yanking the cords to pull out the chocks from the vimana’s runners.

  With a grating screech of corroded metal on stone, the glider lurched a few inches down the ramp - then stopped.

  ‘Okay, that didn’t work like I hoped,’ said Eddie, grimacing. He grabbed what he hoped were the control rods, looking back to see the fizzing fuse almost fully burned away. ‘Shake us loose before it fires!’

  They jerked at the frame. The runners squealed, shifting slightly. ‘Harder, harder!’ said Nina. ‘This is one time I really don’t want to be stuck on the runway!’

  One final combined push—

  The rocket fired - just as the glider jolted free.

  The flecks of corrosion spitting from the metal were replaced by a shower of sparks as the flying machine screeched down the ramp. Before they knew it, they were at the bottom, G-force pressing them down against the slats as the glider hurtled up the ski-jump . . .