Emerald

by Brian January

  “Bunker buster! It’s got to be Jaz!”

  A second later the next explosion boomed, louder in Skarda’s ears than the first. Flinders yelped out a screech of terror.

  “We’ll never make it back to the boat!” April yelled. “We need to find another exit!”

  Coughing, Skarda helped Flinders to her feet. She was caked with dirt and bleeding from superficial cuts, but otherwise unhurt.

  With desperate footsteps they ran back they way they had come.

  ___

  The interlocking path of the cave system led upward at a steep angle. At times they had to squeeze through confined passageways; at others vast caverns opened onto wide expanses. But at last April saw an irregular patch of natural light ahead. It was an opening to the outside world shaped like a zigzagging vertical slit in the rock.

  Following the women, Skarda squeezed through the opening into bright sunshine. They were standing on a wide ledge above a deep scrub-covered valley whose sides jutted up into a series of flat-topped buttes and low mountains marching away into the distance. April led the way eastward, followed by Flinders. The ledge was wide enough for sure footing, but even so Skarda’s boots scattered rocks as he made his way forward, making him uneasy. In front of him, Flinders moved ahead with hesitant steps, trying to deliberately place each foot onto an area free of stones. He kept a wary eye on her, ready to grab her if she teetered toward a fall.

  At the edge of an outcropping of white limestone April stopped short, throwing a hand behind her to signal them to stop. She crouched and peered into the valley below.

  Scuttling back, she said, “There’s a rocky plateau down there and two 6x6 trucks. M939’s. I see one man guarding. The others must have gone inside the mountain.”

  Skarda considered. “I guess we have two options. Wait them out, then go back to the boat, or steal one of the trucks.”

  April thought about it. “If I were Jaz, I’d search the caves just in case. So they’ll probably find our suits. I say we take the truck.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  ___

  The guard had sought shelter from the heat in the cool shadow of the rear of the second 6x6. He was just lighting a cigarette when Skarda stepped out into the open and said, “Hi!”

  Letting the cigarette fall, the man snatched at his rifle, but not before April, stepping up behind him, smashed a rock down on the back of his skull. He fell, sprawling with his arms flung apart on the rocky soil.

  Grabbing his rifle, she sprinted to the cab and climbed in. The keys had been left dangling in the ignition. She fired up the engine while Skarda and Flinders scrambled into the rear.

  Twisting around, she glanced back through the open partition into the truck bed. “Look around for weapons.”

  Then she punched the accelerator and the truck rumbled forward.

  Skarda’s frantic shout reached her ears. “We’re blown!”

  Glancing in the mirror, she saw a second guard running out into the open behind them, lifting his rifle and letting loose a burst of bullets. Slugs spanged off the tailgate and whizzed past her head, punching starred holes in the windshield.

  Immediately she spun the wheel, zigzagging on the makeshift track that was serving as a road. In the mirror she saw Jaz running up to the guard, jerking his arm up and striking him in the face.

  “They want us alive!” she yelled back into the truck’s interior. “They think we have the Tablet!”

  She hit the gas, the wheel shuddering in her hands as the truck lurched forward over the rutted track. Through the starred windshield she could see a broad plateau stretching out in front of her to the near horizon, hemmed in on both sides by a forest of juniper and pine. But after that her sightline was lost.

  Glancing in the mirror, she spotted Jaz and two men climbing into the second 6x6. The truck wheeled around in a tight curve, accelerating toward them, its big 11:00R20 tires spewing out clouds of dust in its wake.

  A machine gun stuttered and mini-explosions of dirt and stone erupted along the flank of the truck on April’s side. They were trying to take out the tires! She veered, careening toward a stand of pines, then back to the other side of the road, jerking the wheel back the other way, fighting the centrifugal force that wanted to drag the truck headlong into the trees.

  In the bed, some of the bullets flew overhead, hitting with dull smacks. Skarda grabbed Flinders’ shoulder and pushed. “Get down!”

  He lifted his head, risking a look. Behind them, the other truck was gaining ground fast, the driver able to barrel ahead in a straight line. More slugs ripped into the road, sending up fountains of dirt. Bullets clanked against the fleeing truck’s flank, a burst piercing the thin steel and slamming into the padded seat next to April with a loud, flat whump. A side window exploded into fragments. Crashing up and down in the ruts, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the scope of the plateau.

  It was a sheer drop-off, and the distance was decreasing at an alarming rate.

  Snatching up the guard’s rifle, she tossed it back through the open partition. Skarda grabbed it in mid-air, swinging around, letting off a burst on full auto at the oncoming truck. His aim was high. He saw a line if bullets stitch the metal casing above the windshield, touching off a shower of sparks.

  “Weapons?” April yelled.

  He looked around, seeing nothing but a wooden case. Curling his fingers under the lid, he pried the box open, seeing what looked like a scaled-down version of a cruise missile.

  Risking a glance, Flinders eyed it with mistrust. “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s how they blew that hole in the mountain,” he told her. He yelled out to April. “We have a bunker buster back here!”

  Yanking the wheel, she glanced back as more slugs tore up the road, tearing branches to kindling. The passenger side windshield shattered, spraying her with a carpet of glass. “Park! I’m going to need you to take the wheel!”

  For a heartbeat Skarda closed his eyes. He hated to drive. But then he sprang forward, levering his body through the open partition. A moment later he’d switched places with April.

  She traded a look with him. “Sorry,” she said, then shot him a wicked grin. Then she clambered into the back.

  The truck took a airborne leap, then crashed, slamming into a crater in the road. April went flying, catching herself by grabbing onto the lip of the crate. Flinders yelped.

  Raising herself up, April threw a glance behind her—

  The other truck was steadily gaining, chewing up the road, almost on their tail.

  Grabbing the rifle, she let loose a burst at its front wheels. The 6x6’s bumper buckled and dangled at a crazy angle, striking off sparks on the rocky road. The left front tire shredded and the truck yawed crazily. She saw the driver’s mouth open in a shout. He jumped on the brake and the truck dropped back.

  She whipped around to Flinders, still pressed against the floor. “Can you shoot?”

  A stray bullet whined through the truck, ricocheting off a steel strut.

  “No!”

  April thrust the gun into her hands. “Just aim in their general direction and pull the trigger.”

  Flinders just stared at her, not moving.

  “I need you to do this. Now!”

  With an uncertain nod Flinders took the weapon and crept forward toward the raised tailgate. Again the truck was gaining on them, the driver fighting the wheel to compensate for the shredded tire.

  Lying flat and raising the rifle with both hands over her head, Flinders pointed and pulled the trigger. The rifle jerked up, spraying bullets at the ceiling of the bed, tearing open a ragged gash. With a sharp cry she let go and the gun clattered to the floor.

  “You can do it!” April yelled, kneeling beside the crate. “Try again!” She inspected the missile. Next to the bunker buster sat a digital control box. With expert fingers she set the warhead for a five-second delay.

  Still prone at the tailgate, Flinders was fumbling to raise up the rifle into fi
ring position, her body pitching with the careening turns of the truck.

  “When I say ‘Now!’,” April shouted at her, “I want you to drop that tailgate. Can you do it?”

  Glancing around frantically, Flinders saw the tailgate latch. She scrambled over and grabbed it. “Okay!”

  April leaned toward the open partition. “Park! Drive straight! When I say so, hit the brakes!”

  In her peripheral vision she saw movement from the 6x6 cab. The man in the passenger seat was leaning out of his window, trying to carefully aim his rifle. His finger jerked on the trigger, unleashing a hail of bullets at their right rear tire—

  It burst apart in an explosion of rubber.

  Feeling the tire shred to pieces, Skarda fought the wheel as it shuddered in his hands. The bare rim bit into the road. Immediately the truck’s center of gravity shifted as it skidded back and forth, threatening to roll over.

  Directly in front of his vision loomed the oncoming lip of the plateau edge—

  “Keep it straight!” April yelled. Using her arms like the blades of a fork-lift truck she power-lifted the bunker buster from its resting place and eased it onto the floor, nose toward the tailgate. She looked back at the 6x6, gauging the distance between them.

  The shooter in the passenger seat was aiming again—

  “Okay, Flinders—now!”

  With every bit of strength she had, Flinders yanked the latch release. The tailgate flopped down, bouncing in the rush of wind.

  Glancing up, she froze, seeing the shooter’s evil grin.

  Now the women were fully exposed to rifle fire.

  Flinders screamed and shut her eyes.

  April spun toward the cab. “Park! Brakes!”

  Skarda mashed the brake pedal to the floor. With a tortured squeal of metal the truck fishtailed to a stop, almost tipping over—

  Propelled by sudden inertia, the bunker buster shot from the open tailgate directly at the onrushing truck.

  “Hit the gas!” April shouted. Then she grabbed Flinders and leapt for the shelter of the crate.

  He pinned the accelerator to the floor. The truck rocketed forward, its one rear wheel kicking up a jet of dust.

  From the side of the truck bed April and Flinders watched the bunker buster zoom toward the engine compartment of the 6x6, its mini-cannons already firing off explosive booms as it rocketed forward. It struck with a sharp metallic clang, the cannons blasting through the engine block as if it were tinfoil, clawing a ragged path directly at the cab where the driver and his passenger sat gaping in horror. Pressurized coolant sprayed out in a geyser. Metal tore and buckled.

  Its power suddenly cut off, the 6x6 bucked and pitched, swerving all over the road.

  Even over the roar of the cannons they heard a muffled scream. Blood spattered the windshield like flung paint before the glass itself exploded outward, spraying glittering fragments as the bunker buster chewed into the interior of the cab. With a terrified yell the driver flung open his door and jumped, his neck snapping on a tree trunk with a sickening crack. From the rear another man bailed out, rolling onto a patch of open grass before he disappeared over the edge of a rocky ravine, screaming.

  With a series of muffled explosions the bunker buster blasted its path of destruction through the truck, ripping out a expanding dark hole through metal and plastic.

  April was counting off the seconds in her head. “Down!” she yelled.

  Just as she ducked she saw a flash of spiked blonde hair appear and disappear from the rear of the 6x6, and then the truck was lifted off the road as the warhead exploded, blown apart in a white-hot ball of flame and belching black smoke. Sizzling shards of metal blitzkrieged over the road and through the tree branches.

  Still fighting the wheel, Skarda watched the explosion light up the mirror, hunching low as the fireball roared toward them. A hail of shrapnel shot through the bed and then the cab, tearing apart the passenger seat and smashing what was left of the windshield into thousands of fragments, each reflecting the orange-yellow flame of the blast.

  He threw his arm in front of his face as the front end of the truck bounced hard, then crashed down into a crater, sending up a blizzard of dust. It was careening all over the road now. With a sharp retort the left rear tire blew, sending the vehicle seesawing left and right as the rims bit into the dirt ruts. In his hands the steering wheel quivered like it was something alive. The front tires wobbled, barely holding onto the road—

  He glanced ahead, feeling fear claw at his stomach. The lip of the plateau loomed—only seconds away!

  Battling the wheel, he stomped on the brake—

  Closer—

  Dirt and stones flew as the rear rims gouged out deep ruts.

  Two seconds—

  His boot ground against the brake—

  Then, with a violent screech of metal, the truck shuddered to a stop, rocking broadside, inches away from the drop-off of the sheer precipice.

  Sweat sluiced down the sides of his face. He blew out a sigh of relief. Twisting around in his seat, he called out, “Everybody okay back there?”

  April looked questioningly at Flinders, who was cowering in the corner behind the crate. She nodded.

  “Okay!” April yelled out.

  Popping the latch, Skarda hopped out and walked around to the back. “It’s all yours,” he said to her, jerking his thumb at the cab. “Let’s get out of here!”

  She grinned at him. “And you said you hated to drive.”

  He helped Flinders down from the open tailgate. She was trembling, her eyes bright with the rush of adrenaline. On the road behind them the blackened hulk of the enemy 6x6 belched out a column of black smoke that spiraled toward the sky.

  Laying a hand on his arm, she turned her face toward his. “How did I get mixed up in all of this?”

  Then from above came the heavy thud of rotor blades. Whirling around, April leapt for the rifle, grabbing it and jerking the barrel toward the sky as an Mi-25 gunship sank low to hover over them, the ugly snout of its Gatling gun leveled at their position. On each flank access doors slid open, revealing Pakosz and Macek, secured by harness straps, aiming AK-47’s.

  “Oh, no,” Flinders whispered.

  April flicked a glance at her rifle. One round in the chamber, one left visible in the clear plastic magazine.

  She set it down on the ground.

  Skarda caught her eye, but she gave a little shake to her head. They were outgunned. Better to play it by ear.

  Banking to a position above a more level stretch of the plateau, the Mi-25 set down in a whirlwind of beating rotors. The gunmen hopped out, their Kalashnikovs rock-steady in their hands.

  Then Zandak appeared at the open door. His booted feet hit the ground.

  Without a word he strode to the truck, searching it thoroughly, inch by inch, ending with April’s pack.

  Then, empty-handed, he walked back to the gunship and climbed in. The gunmen followed.

  In a storm of beating blades, the Mi-25 lifted off and clattered away to the east.

  Flinders looked like she was about to crumble. “What was that all about?”

  “They thought we found the Tablet,” April said.

  “What if we had?”

  “I doubt we’d be having this conversation.”

  Flinders shuddered.

  THIRTY

  Munich, Germany

  CARRYING a brushed steel briefcase, Belisarius crossed the busy Marienplatz, skirting around a knot of laughing teenagers as he stepped onto the Dienerstrasse. At the curb a limo with jet black windows waited for him, its engine running. As he approached, the uniformed driver climbed out, trotting around to open the rear door for him. He climbed inside.

  The door closed without a sound as he slid onto the butter-soft leather seats. Dark privacy shields insulated him from the driver’s seat and the left section of the passenger area. Pressing his thumb against a fingerprint recognition lock on the briefcase, he snapped open the latches and opened th
e case. Inside was a built-in laptop and a separate compartment containing a silver-gray bar with reddish highlights about ten inches long by four inches wide. It looked like it had been welded together from thousands of tiny plates of metal. In the center of the bar a Nazi swastika had been embossed.

  Angling the case, he showed the contents to a mounted camera.

  “Very good, Mr. Belisarius,” an electronically-altered male voice said from somewhere above his head. “I will make the transfer now.”

  Belisarius powered on the laptop screen, accessing his Costa Rica bank. He watched while the sum of two million dollars was transferred to his account.