‘Well . . . kind of, yes. It could have led to an amazing find.’
‘And it could’ve led to us all getting killed!’ He saw Banna crawl out from his hiding place. ‘Go and help him,’ he told the two women, before hurrying to the entrance.
‘What are you doing?’ Nina called after him.
‘What do you think? I’m not letting a bunch of fucking Nazis get away with all this!’
‘Eddie, wait!’ she cried, but he had already gone.
10
Eddie ran back through the tomb, finding the antechamber littered with the bullet-torn corpses of the defending ASPS. No sign of the Nazis. The passageway through which he had originally entered the tomb was now strewn with debris, the long tunnel blocked after about thirty feet by tons of earth and rubble. Nice work, he thought grimly; the explosives that had blasted a six-foot hole through the ceiling had also collapsed the passage behind it, letting the intruders get in and out while preventing the ASPS still on the surface from providing backup.
Several ropes dangled from the new opening’s ragged top – the Nazis had initially rappelled into the tomb – but two aluminium ladders had been their means of escape. Eddie moved underneath the hole, gun raised in case they had left a guard. Nothing moved above. He scaled one of the ladders.
The entrance had been blown through the floor of an apartment, all its windows shattered by the blast. He swept the room with his gun at the ladder’s top, but there was nobody there.
Nobody alive, at least. He didn’t need to see the bodies of the apartment’s former residents in an adjoining room to know they were there; the buzz of flies told him the Nazis had taken their dig site by force.
He clambered out. Most of the floorboards had been ripped up to give access to the ground below. The air was still hazy with dust from the explosion. He held in a cough, then looked for an exit.
An open door led into a lobby, where he found a middle-aged Egyptian man slumped dead against the wall. The sound of weeping reached him. A woman was curled up tightly outside another apartment, shuddering with grief. The man must have come to see if anyone had been hurt – gas explosions were not unheard of in Alexandria – and been shot for his trouble.
‘Bastards,’ Eddie growled, but there was no time to offer any comfort. The door to the street was open. He checked outside.
The rumble of slow-moving traffic greeted him. The road was busy, vehicles crawling in both directions. The sun’s angle told him it ran roughly north–south, but he didn’t know where he was in relation to the archaeological dig’s entrance; probably a couple of streets away.
No sign of the tomb raiders – but a conspicuous gap between the parked cars suggested they had left in a van or small truck. They couldn’t have gone far through the congestion – but which way?
He darted on to the narrow sidewalk, gun raised. That turned out to be a mistake. The MPX immediately prompted panic from bystanders, mobile phones hurriedly summoning the police.
Muttering a curse, he looked for the robbers, but there was too much traffic in the way. He needed a better view.
The apartments above all had balconies . . .
Eddie ran back inside. There was a narrow flight of stairs past the crying woman. He clattered up them to the first landing, then went along the hall.
The door to one apartment was open; the occupants had fled after the explosion. Eddie entered. The balcony door was ajar, a shutter half lowered to let in a breeze while keeping out the heat of the Egyptian sun. He ducked under it.
The street spread out below him, four lanes of traffic crammed into a thoroughfare meant for two. There was barely enough room for pedestrians to squeeze between the jostling vehicles, so intense was the competition for space. Horns parped and bleated.
The most insistent blasts came from a knot of cars to the north. A long-wheelbase white van was shoving through them, using its size to intimidate some of the drivers, and bullbars to barge others aside in a more physical manner.
It had to be the Nazis – they were using brute force to get away with their prize. How could he stop them?
A rapid check of the vehicles below, then he hopped up on to the balcony’s railing – and leapt from it.
He landed with a bang on top of a van. A shocked yell came from inside. Eddie ignored it, sliding down the windscreen and jumping on to the car in front.
Shouts rose in his wake as he vaulted from roof to roof, using the crawling cars as stepping stones. He saw the white van ahead. It was not far from an intersection with a wider road, where traffic was moving more freely.
He had to keep them from escaping. But how?
A dirty green garbage truck was just what he needed.
He scrambled over an elderly Renault that was trying to slip past the larger vehicle, then grabbed the truck’s door handle and yanked it open. ‘Morning!’ he said, pointing the gun at the startled occupants. ‘I need to take out some trash.’
The binmen practically fought each other in their haste to exit through the other door. Eddie swung himself into the driver’s seat, then experimentally shoved down the heavy clutch and revved the engine. It roared in response. ‘Okay, make way for the Perfume Wagon!’ he called, slamming the truck into gear.
It lurched forward – faster than he had expected. He swung the wheel hard, but still swiped the car in front. ‘Whoops, sorry,’ he said with a grimace.
Horns shrilled as he cut in front of other traffic. He kept up a harsh tattoo on his own horn, which did the trick; those in his path somehow achieved the impossible and cleared a lane. Even so, he drew more howls of rage as the truck’s hefty bumpers screeched along the sides of cars and clipped off wing mirrors.
But he was closing on the van, a blank-sided Mercedes Sprinter. With no windows in the rear, they might not realise he was chasing them until it was too late.
The van was at the junction, about to make a turn. He accelerated, swinging to catch it at an angle as it pulled out—
The collision threw him against the steering wheel. But the truck far outweighed the van, ramming it on to the sidewalk. Pedestrians scattered as the Sprinter was mashed sidelong into a street lamp. One of the rear doors burst open, a crate tumbling out and breaking apart on the pavement.
Eddie jumped down from the cab. Gun in hand, he circled around the wrecked Mercedes.
The first thing he saw was the statue of Bucephalus. It had been in the crate, protected by rolls of foam padding, and now lay on its side amongst the remains of its container. He considered shattering it with a gunshot, but noises inside the van warned him that he might need all the bullets for live targets.
He raised the MPX and looked through the open door – to see angry faces glaring back at him.
The van had no seats in the rear, the raiders having piled in with the crate. The crash had thrown them all against each other, but they were already recovering. Their own MPX-Ks came up—
Eddie fired – remembering too late that he had switched his gun to single-shot. It was still enough to catch the Nazi nearest the door squarely in the chest, sending him flying backwards into his comrades.
The confusion gave the Englishman a few seconds of grace. He ducked back, about to switch his weapon to full auto and perforate the entire van—
He nearly stumbled over the broken crate, his left palm landing on the statue as he caught himself.
His plan changed. He didn’t know why – some connection with Alexander’s history, Nina’s archaeological obsession rubbing off on him, or simply the urge to deny the Nazis their prize – but he clapped his free hand around one of the horse’s legs and hauled it from the smashed container. It was heavier than it looked, but its compactness at least made it merely awkward rather than actively difficult to carry.
And as long as he had it, his enemies might think twice about s
hooting at him . . .
Eddie fired again as he backed around the garbage truck. The bullet clanked against metal, but there were no screams, just shouted commands in German.
The collision had brought traffic on the wider road to a standstill. He ran between the stationary vehicles towards an alleyway opposite. Alexandria’s back streets, he knew from the previous night, were tight and twisty mazes. With enough of a start, he might be able to escape into the labyrinth—
The crack of a gunshot served as warning that the odds of that were not good. He dropped lower behind the cars. Men spilled from the van, guns raised.
One of them saw him, took aim—
‘Nein, nein!’ Rasche yelled furiously at his surviving team members. ‘Sie werden die Statue zu schießen! Nehmen ihn am Leben!’
Statue was German for ‘statue’, then – and Eddie guessed that the rest was an order not to shoot him in case it was damaged. His gamble had paid off and given him a bargaining chip, however small.
Whether he got a chance to play it was another thing. Still bent low, he ran into the alley.
The Nazis raced after him.
After making sure that Banna was okay, Nina left him with Macy and sprinted after her husband. Once she scaled the ladder and left the apartment building – with a moment of shock as she saw the dead man in the hallway – the shriek of horns and the crunches of colliding vehicles made it easy to follow his trail.
She ran along the sidewalk, shoving past bewildered pedestrians. A much louder crash told her that something serious had happened ahead. Apprehension turned to fear as she heard gunshots.
The Egyptians on the street were fleeing, forcing her to clamber on to a stalled car to avoid being knocked down. From her elevated position, she glimpsed Eddie vanishing down an alley with the statue.
Black-clad men charged in pursuit, Walther and Rasche amongst them. The latter yelled orders, gesturing at another alley nearby. Walther and about half of the raiders veered away to take the parallel route, while Rasche and the rest continued after Eddie.
They were going to try to trap him between two forces.
She jumped down and ran to the intersection. A third narrow passage ran between the buildings, closer to her. There was a chance she might be able to catch up with her husband.
If he didn’t turn away from her – and if he wasn’t killed first.
Eddie was already regretting taking the statue. It had seemed manageable at first, but now it felt heavier with each step. He should have just smashed the thing and been done with it . . .
He glanced back as he rounded a corner. One of the Nazis had pulled ahead of the rest, running with mechanical determination after his prey – and gaining fast.
‘Where’s Jesse Owens when I need him?’ Eddie said as he searched for escape routes. There were none; he was between two large apartment blocks, the next intersecting alley a good forty yards away on the right.
Pounding footsteps closed rapidly from behind. His pursuer was about to tackle him—
Eddie leapt, twisting to make a half-turn in mid air. He landed facing the Nazi – and threw the statue upwards.
The young blond man skidded to a halt, unsure whether to kill or catch. His orders won out, and rather than attack the Englishman, he lunged for the falling figure.
It landed in his arms with a solid thump. Relief crossed his face—
Which turned to pain as Eddie kicked him hard in the groin. The man convulsed and crumpled to the floor.
Eddie snatched back the horse and ran once more. He heard shouts as the rest of the Nazis rounded the corner. No gunfire; they were determined to take the statue in one piece.
But it was both his protection and his ball and chain. If he smashed it to keep it out of their hands, or even abandoned it to gain speed, they would kill him the instant they had a clear shot.
He reached the alley and turned down it, finding to his dismay that he was about to put civilians in danger. A little street market had been set up between the buildings, stalls selling vegetables and clothing and bootleg DVDs. Smoke wafted from a cart cooking potatoes.
‘Move, move!’ he shouted as he weaved between the startled shoppers. The sight of the gun caused most to jump away in alarm, but he still had to barge a couple of laggards aside.
German yells joined the Arabic. The Nazis had reached the alley. Even without their star sprinter, they were still catching up.
Eddie reached the food cart, seeing charcoal flames licking up from a grill. With a shout of ‘Fire!’ he swung the statue at it. Potatoes scattered – as did burning wood, which landed on a neighbouring stall. Cheap clothes instantly caught light. Eddie kicked the stall as he ran past. It collapsed, spilling its burning wares across the alley. People shrieked and ran in panic as the fire spread to other stands and awnings on the sides of buildings.
Eddie swerved through the throng, looking back to see that the blaze had forced the Nazis to stop. Rasche glared impotently after him over the burning cart. The Yorkshireman hurried on down the alley.
There was a small square at a crossroads ahead, more stalls clustered in it. If he took the right-hand alley and headed back in the general direction of the dig, he might be able to find the ASPS and get backup—
Walther and his men rounded the corner.
‘Buggeration!’ Eddie gasped as the huge Nazi pointed at him and bellowed an order. Guns came up – but didn’t shoot. Walther knew that the Englishman was caught in a pincer, and as soon as Rasche and the others got past the fire, they would close it . . .
A doorway led into one of the apartment blocks. Eddie ran at it, hoping it wasn’t locked—
The door burst open at his kick. He stumbled inside, finding himself in a stairwell. A door led deeper into the building, but a warning sign in Arabic with the stylised symbol of a key suggested that it was locked. Not wanting to waste precious seconds trying it, he charged up the steps instead.
He had reached the second floor when the outer door banged. A glance over the banister; Walther was glaring up at him. The German barked another command, and his men streamed past him in pursuit.
Eddie kept climbing, legs burning from the effort of carrying the statue. The doors to the internal hallways had the same warning sign as on the ground floor – but the fourth floor was different, a line of sunlight coming through a second, half-open door to one side. Keep going up, or out?
He chose the latter, barrelling through to find himself on a small terrace. Any hope of jumping to a neighbouring block faded as he saw that the nearest building presented only a blank wall, and a rooftop opposite was too far to reach. He peered over the edge. The floors fell away below, the sheer drop broken only by awnings over the windows.
The echoes of stamping feet grew louder. The Nazis were right behind him—
Eddie went to the terrace’s railing – and held the statue out over the edge.
The first of his pursuers burst through the door, then froze. ‘Get back!’ Eddie shouted as a logjam of black-clad men built up behind the new arrival. ‘Get the fuck back, or I’ll let it go.’
Some of the Nazis retreated. But they weren’t obeying Eddie; instead, they were responding to Walther’s orders and clearing a path as the hulking man reached the landing. He filled the doorway, aiming his gun at Eddie’s chest. ‘If you drop it, you will die,’ he said.
‘And you’ll never get your Fountain of Youth.’ Eddie looked down at the intersection again. People were still running from the fire, but it wouldn’t be long before Rasche’s group cleared the obstacle . . .
Red hair amongst the black and headscarves. Nina ran into the square. He yelled her name, seeing her stop to look for him – then caught movement in his peripheral vision. ‘Oi! Back off, Adolf,’ he snarled as the nearest Nazi crept towards him. The young man pulled away, but only by a coup
le of steps.
Walther emerged fully into the open, more of his men slipping on to the terrace behind him. ‘You have nowhere to go. Give us the statue, and we will let you live.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Eddie replied sarcastically. He checked below. Nina had seen him at last and was staring up at the balcony, unsure what to do.
‘You do not believe me?’
‘You’re an escaped Nazi war criminal, mate. You’ve got a bit of a credibility problem.’
‘It is your only hope of staying alive.’ Walther nodded at the two men nearest Eddie. They slowly advanced on the Yorkshireman.
‘You want this statue, then you’ll all fuck off back down the stairs,’ Eddie snapped, but he knew that his bargaining chip was becoming less effective by the moment. They were going to rush him . . .
‘Okay, okay,’ he said with a defeated sigh. One of the Nazis hesitated, but the other stepped closer, reaching out to take the statue from him.
Walther smiled. ‘Good. You are making the only possible—’
With another cry of ‘Nina!’ Eddie whirled and flung the statue off the roof.
It spun through the air, arcing down towards his wife. Walther and the others stared after it, frozen in shock—
Eddie grabbed the nearest man by the front of his dark overalls, yanked the Nazi towards him – and rolled backwards over the railing.
11
The Nazi screamed as he and Eddie plunged towards the ground—
They struck an awning, the black-clad man taking the brunt of the impact. But it barely slowed them, the pair wrenching the frame from the wall as they dropped.
Nina saw the statue whirling towards her and instinctively darted out of its path – before the rational part of her mind countermanded the reaction. If the statue hit the ground, it would be destroyed. She had to save it. But it weighed enough to seriously injure her . . .
A stall beside her sold rugs, heavy rolls of woven cloth stacked upon it. She snatched one up and held it across her chest, moving to intercept the falling treasure—
Kingdom of Darkness Page 15
