Kingdom of Darkness

by Andy McDermott

  Even with the thick padding, the impact felt as if she had been kicked in the chest by a real horse. She fell on her back, the landing knocking the breath from her lungs.

  But the statue had survived.

  More awnings ripped away as Eddie and the Nazi kept falling, fabric flapping around them. Three, two, only one more left before they hit the ground—

  The last sunscreen held.

  For a moment – then its frame snapped. But it took the two men’s weight just long enough to slow them before tearing loose.

  They dropped the final ten feet with the younger man underneath Eddie. There was a harsh snap as the Nazi’s ribs broke. The Englishman bounced off him and rolled, winded, against the wall.

  Nina was also gasping for air. She opened her eyes, flinching in fright at an unfamiliar face glaring down at her. But it was an Egyptian man, not one of the Nazi raiders.

  She thought he was going to help her up, but instead he frowned and said: ‘You have ruined my rug! You break it, you bought it. Four hundred pounds.’

  ‘How frickin’ much?’ she wheezed, before remembering firstly that he meant Egyptian pounds, not British, and secondly that she had much bigger problems than an irate street trader. She heard shouts – and down an alley saw Rasche and his men kicking a burning obstruction aside. ‘That guy’ll pay for it,’ she said, straining upright.

  ‘What guy?’

  ‘The one with the gun.’ She took hold of the statue, then got clumsily to her feet.

  The trader grabbed her arm. ‘Hey, hey! Four hundred pou—’

  A bullet smacked against the building behind his stall.

  ‘Consider it a gift!’ the Egyptian decided, diving for cover.

  ‘Shit!’ Nina shrieked, pain and breathlessness instantly vanishing in a surge of panic-fuelled adrenalin. She ran for a side alley, the heavy statue already weighing her down.

  The gunshot jolted Eddie back to full awareness. Wincing, he started to rise – only to see Rasche and his men charge into the square less than twenty feet away. He had dropped his gun during the fall, leaving him defenceless . . .

  But none of them looked in his direction. Instead, they all ran around a corner, heading north. He felt a moment of relief . . .

  Until he realised who they were chasing.

  He stood. His impromptu crash mat was sprawled at his feet. Blood bubbled from the young man’s mouth with every feeble breath; he had punctured a lung.

  Eddie had no sympathy. He collected his MPX-K from the ground and started after Nina and her pursuers.

  Nina hurried through another narrow maze, every step a flat slap as the sculpture’s weight passed down to her feet. The last time she had stood on a set of scales, she had been around a hundred and twenty pounds; the figure of Bucephalus probably added a quarter of her entire bodyweight. And she was already feeling the strain of carrying it, each breath like sandpaper inside her throat.

  But she couldn’t stop. Fear drove her on; the sure knowledge that if the Nazis caught her, they would kill her. She could hear them closing in. Her breathing grew harsher, more desperate . . .

  She rounded a turn and saw a busy street at the alley’s end, a blue-and-white tram clanking past. A major road; there could be cops there, even soldiers.

  ‘Dr Wilde, this is your last chance!’ Rasche shouted as she pounded towards it. ‘Surrender or die!’ He fired a single shot over her head for emphasis.

  Nina kept going, ducking around the corner – just as another bullet cracked against the wall, concrete fragments stinging the back of her neck. People nearby ran. She went with them, searching for help.

  She was on one of Alexandria’s main thoroughfares. Several lanes of traffic ran in each direction, tramlines down the centre of the road. Keeping low, she ducked between parked cars and ran alongside the line of empty vehicles, looking for somewhere to hide—

  A siren wailed behind her.

  Nina looked over her shoulder. A police car was weaving through the lanes in her direction. The cops were responding to the gunshots; Egypt’s recent political turmoil had left the authorities on high alert. If she could attract their attention, she had a chance . . .

  She put the statue down on a car’s trunk and waved her arms. ‘Hey, police! Help me! Over here!’

  Rasche and his men emerged from the alley. The Nazi looked towards Nina, then the source of the siren. He shouted an order and the group split up, two men pursuing the archaeologist as the rest raised their guns—

  More screams filled the street as gunfire echoed across it. Bullets ripped into the police car and the two men inside. It crashed into an oncoming taxi and spun to a standstill across the tramlines.

  Horrified, Nina grabbed the statue and ran once more. People hurriedly abandoned their vehicles and fled. She scurried between the stalled cars.

  The two Nazis came after her. She tried to run faster, but the statue’s weight had exhausted her reserves.

  A loud bang from behind as one of her pursuers jumped up on to a car roof and vaulted on to the next. Bang, bang, and he was upon Nina, about to leap down and tackle her—

  More gunshots – but from ahead, not behind.

  The Nazi hit the road behind her with a nerveless thump. The second man hurriedly dived for cover as more shots cracked past. Rasche and the rest of his team scrambled back into the alley. ‘Dr Wilde!’ a man shouted. ‘Over here, keep down!’

  She followed her saviour’s advice, scuttling onwards until she caught sight of him. It was Falk, the Mossad agent.

  He smiled at her, the expression incongruous amongst the chaos. ‘Here, quick!’ he called, signalling for her to join him behind a white Toyota 4x4.

  Another roar of gunfire. Falk’s younger associate, Zane, was on the SUV’s other side. He sent two more bursts from a sub-machine gun at Rasche’s position, then slapped it down on the hood and took a grenade from his jacket, pulling the pin and hurling the bomb in a single smooth movement. The gun was back in his hand before the grenade reached the end of its arc. Nina flinched, expecting an explosion, but instead there was a flat thud. Thick smoke gushed from where it had landed, swirling around the abandoned cars and blocking her attackers from view.

  Sightlessness did not deter them, however. Glass cracked and metal cratered as more shots ripped into the traffic, the Nazis firing blind through the grey cloud. Nina shrieked as a round clanked off a van behind her. Falk responded by sending a couple of pistol shots back at its source. ‘Good to see you again, Dr Wilde,’ he said, as amiably as if they were chatting over coffee. ‘I told you we’d be ready if you needed us.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks,’ she replied, ‘but any chance you could get me the hell out of here before half of Alexandria gets killed in the crossfire?’

  ‘I will. Although first . . .’ He peered out from behind the Toyota, calling in Hebrew to his partner, then moved past Nina. ‘Stay behind me.’

  ‘You think?’

  Falk shrugged off the sarcasm with another smile – then his expression suddenly became intense. He advanced to the car ahead of the SUV, crouching to peer underneath it – and abruptly snapped up to fire a single shot. The second of the Nazis chasing Nina slumped to the asphalt in front of the car, a gory starburst surrounding a bullet hole in his forehead.

  Another Hebrew command, and Zane resumed his suppressing fire, sending bullets into the smoke cloud. Falk hurried to the dead man and frisked him, taking a wallet and cell phone before returning to Nina. ‘Okay, now it is time to go!’

  ‘No arguments there,’ Nina replied. She hefted the statue and moved to the SUV’s rear door—

  One of the Toyota’s windows exploded, spraying them with glinting fragments.

  ‘Ben!’ yelled Zane, ducking in response to a new threat. ‘More of them – corner, seven o’clock! It’s Walth
er!’

  The hulking Nazi and his men had reached the main street, emerging from an alley half a block behind the Israelis’ SUV. They spread out, using cars and street furniture for cover as they fired on the Mossad agents. ‘Dr Wilde, we’ll have to move,’ Falk snapped. ‘Get to the buildings over there.’ He pointed across the street, then glanced at the statue. ‘You’ll go much faster if you leave that behind.’

  Even under attack, Nina was unwilling to be patronised. ‘No shit, Sherlock. This is what they came here to steal; after all the people they’ve killed, I’m not going to let them waltz away with it.’

  Zane rounded the SUV. ‘Ben, if we don’t leave now, they’ll box us in.’ The smoke was clearing, revealing Rasche’s group resuming their advance.

  Falk regarded the statue, then looked back at Nina. ‘Okay. Bring it. But you will have to carry it – we need to shoot!’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Nina said, though with a weary sigh as she shifted the sculpture’s weight in her arms. ‘Which way?’

  ‘Behind the van, then cross the tramlines and go around that red car. Stay low and head for the building with the yellow awning. Are you ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  ‘Good. We’ll get you out of here, Dr Wilde.’ He smiled again. ‘Okay, now—’

  ‘Grenade!’ cried Zane, diving on top of them.

  A metal egg clunked off the roof of a nearby car – and exploded.

  Every window within fifty feet of the detonation blew out, shrapnel punching thousands of holes through steel. The SUV rocked on its suspension with the force of the blast.

  Ears aching, Nina raised her head. Zane’s face was tight with pain from several cuts on the back of his head and neck, but the wounds did not slow him; he was already back on his feet as he searched for their attackers. ‘They’re coming,’ he warned. ‘From ahead and behind.’

  Falk rose to a crouch. ‘How many?’

  ‘At least three with Walther. Rasche has another two.’

  The older man pulled the magazine from his pistol to check how many bullets remained, grimaced, then slotted it back in place. ‘The odds could be more in our favour,’ he told Nina with an apologetic shrug, before looking back at his partner. ‘Do me proud, areyh tes’eyer.’

  The normally stoical Zane’s face broke into a surprisingly boyish grin. ‘Have I ever done anything else, alter kocker?’

  ‘Far too often.’ Another smile, then Falk peered cautiously down the street. Rasche and his group were scurrying towards them between the empty cars. ‘You take Walther and the ones behind, I will . . .’

  His voice trailed off – not in fear, but surprise. Nina followed his gaze, seeing a tram clanking down the road at speed. That it was not in the hands of a normal driver was made instantly clear as it rammed the bullet-pocked police car aside and thundered towards her.

  A figure leaned out of the open door, right arm raised—

  Eddie let rip with the MPX on full auto, spraying the startled Nazis with bullets as the tram – its controller handle held in place by a bag abandoned by a fleeing passenger – charged past them. One man fell dead under the onslaught, a second reeling as a round clipped his upper arm. Rasche flung himself behind a car as shots plunked into its bodywork.

  The Englishman ducked back inside as the enraged survivors returned fire. The tram’s windows shattered, splintered wood flying through the cabin. But the intervening seats stopped any bullets from reaching him.

  The smoke from the grenade explosion rolled past. He wasn’t far from Nina’s position. He pulled the bag off the controls and shoved the lever back. The whine of the tram’s motors died down, and the little train began to slow. He waited for the shooting to stop, then jumped out and rolled to land behind a pickup truck. The empty tram coasted on past him.

  Where was Nina? A glance over the pickup’s bonnet revealed a damaged white SUV about twenty yards back the way he had come, Zane hunched beside it.

  ‘Bloody Mossad,’ he muttered as he moved around the truck, about to call to the Israeli—

  Someone yanked him off his feet.

  Eddie looked around in shock to find himself staring into Walther’s angry face. The huge German had hauled him off the ground with just one hand – using the other to tear the MPX from his grip.

  ‘Englander, hey?’ Walther growled, slamming Eddie violently against the pickup’s side. ‘I hate Englanders!’ He pulled him back, about to pound him into the truck again—

  Eddie drove his fist into his opponent’s jaw. ‘Yeah, and I fucking hate Nazis!’

  The blow would have taken down any normal man, but Walther was not a normal man. He bellowed like a bull, and Eddie found himself flying through the air as the giant hurled him down the street. He crashed down on top of a car, buckling the roof.

  The Nazi shouted orders. His troops moved in, closing the circle around Nina and the two Mossad agents as Rasche and his remaining man advanced from the other direction . . .

  More sirens screamed.

  Walther whirled to stare down the road. Three police cars tore out from a side street, followed by a pair of military jeeps and an open-backed truck carrying a squad of soldiers. He hesitated; then, realising the Nazis were outnumbered, issued more commands. He and his group ran to rejoin Rasche and the other man, and they all disappeared into the maze to the south.

  Eddie lifted his aching head to watch their retreat, then saw Nina running towards him. ‘Oh my God, Eddie!’ she cried. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Just lying around,’ he groaned.

  ‘What happened? I thought they’d caught you – you were up on a balcony!’ She started to help him off the car.

  ‘I took the quick way down after I chucked you that horse. It worked for Jackie Chan, so I thought I’d give it a shot – before I got shot.’ Wincing at the protest from his bruised muscles, he clambered down. ‘Speaking of the horse . . .’

  ‘It’s over there,’ Nina told him, gesturing towards the SUV. Zane was standing beside the statue, warily keeping watch.

  ‘Great. Let’s secure the fucking thing.’

  Falk met them at the Toyota. ‘Mr Chase, hello again!’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m sure you’re as glad to see me as I am to see you.’

  ‘Wouldn’t put money on it,’ Eddie told him. ‘But . . . you watched out for Nina, so I’ve got to give you that, at least.’ The Mossad agent smiled and extended his hand. Somewhat reluctantly, Eddie raised his own to complete the handshake.

  Falk smiled. ‘You see? We are not as bad as you think. Jared, Mr Chase just saved us – you should show some gratitude.’

  Zane had the expression of a child being forced to thank a relative for a horrible sweater. ‘I wouldn’t say he saved us,’ he objected. ‘He . . . helped.’

  ‘Glad to be of service,’ said Eddie sarcastically. But he held out his hand . . . then stiffened in alarm as Rasche reappeared at the end of the alley, aiming his MPX at Zane.

  The young Israeli saw the Englishman’s reaction and spun to find the threat as Eddie pushed Nina to the ground—

  A gunshot echoed across the street.

  But Rasche’s round didn’t hit its intended target. Falk threw himself in front of the younger agent, taking the bullet in his back. He crumpled to the ground. Blood gushed from the entrance wound.

  ‘Ben!’ Zane screamed, eyes wide in horror. He fired at Rasche, but the war criminal had already run back into the alley. One last futile shot, then he crouched beside his fallen comrade.

  Eddie was already trying to help the downed man, but bitter past experience told him there was nothing he could do. ‘The bullet’s still in there,’ he told Zane all the same. ‘Put pressure on the wound, we might be able to—’

  ‘No!’ said Falk breathlessly. ‘Jared, the phone, the wallet – you must take them an
d follow any leads. And . . .’ He coughed, producing specks of bloody spittle. ‘And take everything else. You have to leave me.’

  Zane shook his head. ‘No, I can’t—’

  ‘You must! You know the rules.’ His eyes flicked beseechingly towards Nina and Eddie. ‘The Egyptians cannot know I am from the Mossad. We may be at peace, but they are not our friends. And they cannot take you, either,’ he went on, a warning note entering his voice even through the pain. One hand fumbled inside his clothing. ‘Here, here.’ He produced the wallet and phone and tried to pass them to the younger man, but they slipped from his grasp.

  Zane caught them. Anguished, he leaned over his partner and spoke pleadingly in Hebrew. Falk shook his head, a tear running from the corner of one eye. ‘You know the rules,’ he repeated. ‘You must . . . accomplish the mission. Tzeth’a leshalom veshuvh’a leshalom, areyh tes’eyer . . .’

  He began to smile, but it froze on his lips. The old man fell still.

  Zane’s fists clenched, his whole body shuddering. He opened his mouth as if to cry out . . . but then forced it closed again. Quickly and coldly, he ran his hands through Falk’s pockets, taking out every form of identification, every personal possession. Grim task completed, he looked up at the couple. ‘Say nothing to the Egyptians.’ It was as much threat as request.

  ‘We won’t,’ Nina promised, feeling his loss. Eddie nodded.

  Zane choked back his emotions, then hurried off through the stranded traffic. Within moments he had vanished, slipping away from the arriving cops and soldiers.

  Eddie looked from Falk’s body to the statue of Bucephalus. ‘That fucking thing had better be worth all of this,’ he rumbled.

  ‘I hope it is,’ whispered Nina.

  12

  The statue rested on a tabletop in a government office, the survivors of the tomb’s opening standing around it.

  Habib was first to speak. ‘This may not be the best time,’ he said, ‘but . . . with the death of Dr Assad, the responsibility for dealing with this situation is mine.’

  Banna gave him a sharp look. ‘I am in charge of the dig.’