Empire of Gold nwaec-7
Page 49
The change of direction swung Eddie into reach of the doorframe. He hauled himself inside. The rebel was still screaming, one hand pressed to his face as blood gushed from his eye socket. The truck jolted over the road’s crumbling edge—
Eddie grabbed the wheel. The Ford lurched back across the track, throwing the driver against his door. Flailing for balance, he looked across the cab with his remaining eye – to see Eddie twist in the passenger seat and slam both feet against his chest.
The battered vehicle’s door flew open, the rebel shooting out of it like a cannonball. With an echoing wail, he vanished into the abyss.
Eddie pulled himself across and took the controls, rounding the next bend to see the Land Cruiser and the Hummer ahead. He shut the door, groped for the Steyr, then accelerated after them.
A radio crackled on the parcel shelf, a voice speaking in Spanish. Pachac.
Pachac looked back at the F-150. Only one figure was visible inside it. ‘Mateo, did you get him? Mateo!’
The reply was in English, almost calm despite the struggle that had just taken place. ‘No. He didn’t. He’s dead. And Pachac?’
The terrorist leader exchanged a worried look with his driver before answering. ‘What?’
‘You’re next.’
Pachac stared at the walkie-talkie, then yelled orders to his men in the Land Cruiser. This time, there was no anger in his voice, only fear. ‘Stop him! Kill him! Kill him!’
Eddie dropped the radio, eyes fixed on the two 4×4s ahead. The Land Cruiser was falling back from the H3. He could see two men inside it, the passenger climbing over the seats into the cargo space.
He also glimpsed the unmistakable silhouette of an AK-47 in the rebel’s hands.
The Steyr was wedged under his thigh. He pulled it out and switched it to his left hand. The Toyota was still slowing. The tailgate hatch swung up, the man inside aiming his AK out of it—
Eddie fired his remaining bullets from the side window as he accelerated. The revolutionary ducked for cover behind the lower half of the tailgate. By the time he realised the shooting had stopped and looked up again, the F-150 had caught up—
The Ford slammed into the back of the Land Cruiser. The driver’s head whiplashed backwards as he let go of the controls - and the 4×4 swerved towards the rockface. The man in the back was thrown against the side wall.
Eddie saw an opening and swung to pass the Toyota on the outside. The pickup drew alongside the off-roader. The Ford’s left wheels were less than a foot from the cliff-edge.
The Land Cruiser’s driver shook off his pain and grabbed the wheel, turning hard to sidewipe the F-150—
Eddie did the same thing, trying to ram the Toyota into the hillside. The vehicles clashed together with a crunch of crumpling metal. Eddie’s truck was more powerful, but the Japanese 4×4 was heavier. He turned the wheel harder, but the rebels were bullying him inch by inch towards the precipice.
And the man in the back was raising his rifle again.
Death by fall, or by firepower—
Eddie braked hard – then swerved at full throttle to smash into the Toyota’s back quarter as it pulled ahead. The 4×4 slewed around, almost side-on to the pickup’s blunt nose, before its right rear corner struck the hillside and it abruptly swung back, hitting the rock wall side-on like a door being slammed. The F-150 shot past, ripping off the Land Cruiser’s front bumper.
A glance in the mirror told Eddie that it wasn’t out of the hunt, though. It bounced back across the road, right side caved in, then the driver caught the skid and turned back into pursuit.
The Hummer was not far ahead, its driver being cautious on the dangerous road. Eddie switched his attention back and forth between Pachac’s vehicle and the one in the mirror. Even though he was gaining on the H3, he wouldn’t reach it before the Land Cruiser caught up with him.
An AK poked out of one of the Toyota’s left-side windows. Eddie moved as far over to the right as he could to deny the rebel a clear shot. But the road’s curves meant it would only be a matter of time before he was exposed.
Still closing on the Hummer. Beyond it, he recognised the scenery: they were coming up to where the landslide had deposited tons of mud and stones on the road, the waterfall gushing on to the rubble. The H3 would have to slow to negotiate it – but so would he.
The waterfall—
It had grown enormously since the morning. The stream was now much wider, more powerful.
Realisation of the new threat struck him like the force of the water itself. The flood, caused by the blocking of the river, was building up above, and could overflow at any moment . . .
The Hummer reached the landslide and lurched over the rubble. Eddie speeded up. The Land Cruiser followed suit, still gaining.
Gunfire—
Eddie ducked as bullets clanged off the bodywork behind him. He was almost at the landslip. More shots. The H3 entered the waterfall, spray kicking up from its flat roof. He lined up the F-150 with the ruts carved by other vehicles and pushed the accelerator to the floor. He needed all the momentum he could get—
All four of the Ford’s wheels left the ground as it hit the blockage, then crashed back down with a squeal of poorly maintained suspension. It veered towards the drop, Eddie struggling to bring it back into the ruts. Rocks pounded at the tyres, throwing him about in his seat. Despite his best efforts, he was losing speed. The Land Cruiser grew in the mirror, the gunman firing again.
He had almost reached the waterfall—
No. The waterfall had almost reached him.
It grew wider even as he watched, its edge sweeping along the defoliated swathe of the cliff above. Stones tumbled down the mountainside.
The river was about to burst its banks—
The F-150 plunged into the waterfall. The torrent exploded into the cab through the missing door, the force of the water throwing the truck sideways. Eddie frantically spun the steering wheel, trying to turn back towards the cliff-face. He couldn’t see anything, froth obliterating all vision. All he had left was his sense of balance, which told him the truck was tipping over as it slid closer to the edge of the road . . .
The sickening feeling of being about to fall suddenly faded. He had somehow found traction in the mud. He didn’t know why, but took advantage of his apparent luck, applying more power. The truck levelled out.
The deluge eased, giving him a rippling, distorted view through the windscreen. The Hummer was a yellow shimmer ahead. He looked back – and saw where the extra grip had come from. The pickup bed was full of water, putting well over a ton of extra road-hugging weight on to the rear wheels.
Water sloshed around his feet. He opened the door to let it gush out. The truck was struggling, but continued its lumbering journey.
He emerged from the falls. The Hummer was still negotiating the remains of the landslide. A loud bang from behind, and the F-150 shook violently – he thought a tyre had exploded, until he saw that the tailgate had burst open, the trapped water sluicing out of the back.
A dark shape emerged from the downpour in the mirror. The Land Cruiser was right behind him. The gunman leaned from the window again, AK raised—
A new noise from above, a colossal ground-shaking boom as the weight of millions of gallons of trapped water finally overwhelmed the earth containing it.
The waterfall Eddie had just passed through was barely a trickle compared to the wave that surged over the hilltop. Thousands of tons of soil and boulders were swept down the cliff into the valley below.
Eddie floored the accelerator, aiming the Ford at the Hummer. Shadows swelled around him as the great mass of muddy water descended like a shroud.
It hit the road, blasting away the debris of the landslide as if jet-washing the mountain. A massive rock flattened the Land Cruiser and the two rebels inside it, what little was left of the vehicle whirling away into the maelstrom. More stones hit the pickup like meteorites. The windscreen shattered as the roof buckled under the impacts.
A flash of yellow—
The pickup hit the Hummer. Both vehicles slewed round, wheels scraping sidelong over the road as the water swept them along. For an instant, Eddie found himself looking straight at Pachac, the Maoist leader staring back at him wide-eyed through the H3’s window.
Then the Hummer slipped away – and went over the edge.
Eddie had no time to rejoice, or think about anything but his own survival. The steering wheel jerked in his hands as the pickup was carried down the track. If the tyres could find enough grip for him to steer, just for a second, he could try to wedge the F-150 against the hillside—
He didn’t get the second he needed, or even close. The current whirled the truck round. The front wheels dropped sharply, the pickup hanging briefly on the brink . . . then the sodden soil collapsed beneath it and pitched it over the cliff.
38
Nina skidded the Patrol to a desperate emergency stop as the seething wave crashed down the hillside ahead. ‘Holy shit!’
‘Over there!’ said Macy, pointing down the steep slope on the far side of the deluge. Nina saw the yellow Hummer skittering down the hill – and the pickup truck following it over the edge of the road.
The truck Eddie was driving.
She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
Pachac and his driver screamed as the H3 picked up speed down the steepening slope. The only thing between them and the clouds filling the valley below was a rocky outcrop, a gnarled tree jutting sidelong from it—
The Hummer hit the protruding rock nose-first. The airbags fired, but with neither man wearing a seatbelt they were still slammed brutally forward. Another impact followed as the H3 tipped back and hit the cliff, ending up wedged against the rockface.
Even through his pain and disorientation, Pachac knew he had to get clear as quickly as possible. He swatted away the airbag’s flaccid remains and opened the door. The thin build-up of dirt in which the tree had taken root was already being washed away by the water flowing down the cliff – and with over two tons of automobile on top of it, the rock would probably soon go the same way.
He dragged himself out. ‘Come on,’ he rasped. ‘We’ve got—’
Noise above. Not water, not rock. Metal. He looked up.
Something rushed down the hillside towards him—
Even as the F-150 went over the edge, Eddie was turning the wheel, trying to aim the truck at a tree he had glimpsed below. His chances of reaching it were almost zero, but a minuscule hope of survival was better than no hope at all. He leaned out of the open door as the abused vehicle rushed down the slope—
The Hummer was perched on the rock supporting the tree - off to the side.
He wasn’t going to make it.
Not in the truck—
Eddie dived out, twisting in freefall to land on his back . . .
He hit the Hummer’s roof with such force that all its windows exploded, the expanse of sheet metal crumpling beneath him as the F-150 shot past, missing the rock by inches. The pain was so intense it overwhelmed his senses.
Taste returned first, the metallic sting of blood in his mouth. Other pains reported in throughout his body as he tried to move. His spine was ablaze – broken? No, he realised as his limbs achingly responded, but it could hardly hurt much more.
He forced his eyes open. The tree was a wavering blur, the light from the sky beyond its branches almost painful. All his body wanted to do was lie still and fade away . . .
Pachac.
The thought of the Peruvian pulled him back. Where was Pachac? He had been in the Hummer, and Eddie was now on the Hummer. He had a mission. Make him pay for what he had done to Mac. Catch him. Kill him.
The pain made the cold, ruthless detachment of his pursuit impossible to maintain, animal rage sawing at the clinical parts of his mind. He channelled it, controlled it, used it as fuel as he slowly rolled on his side.
Pachac lay on the rock below.
Their gazes locked on to each other. Disbelief filled the rebel’s eyes, fury Eddie’s. The pain vanished as the Englishman threw himself at the revolutionary leader—
The mangled Hummer tipped into the abyss behind him with a grind of metal and the driver’s petrified scream, but Eddie didn’t even notice, fixated on Pachac. The Peruvian managed to scramble aside as he landed, the desperation of self-preservation overcoming his own pain. He jumped up and backed towards the tree, fumbling in his wet clothing as Eddie advanced. ‘The rock is going to fall!’ Pachac cried as stones clattered down around him, dislodged from their homes by the muddy deluge. The waterfall’s full force was already fading, the bulk of the flood released in a single great burst, but it would be some time before all the escaped water found its way down to the bottom of the valley. ‘If we fight here, we both die!’
‘So long as you go first,’ Eddie growled.
Pachac flinched as he backed against the tree. His search became more panicked as Eddie drew closer – then he found what he wanted.
His knife.
The savage blade snapped out. Eddie stopped, eyes fixed on the weapon, waiting for Pachac to make his move.
The Peruvian misinterpreted his hesitation as fear, a sneering smile creeping on to his face. ‘Yeah, you should be scared,’ he hissed, stepping forward. ‘You know how many I have gutted with this knife?’ The smile widened into a twisted, demonic grin. ‘I don’t know myself. I stopped counting at twenty.’ Another step, the knife sweeping from side to side like a cobra assessing its prey.
Eddie held his ground, still watching the weapon. The blade kept moving, left, to right, to left . . .
Forward—
The knife jerked at his stomach, but Eddie’s hands were already in motion, grabbing Pachac’s wrist and deflecting the attack. Even so, the Peruvian’s brute strength almost caught him, the blade stabbing through the sodden lining of his jacket.
Still clutching the rebel’s arm with his left hand, he lashed out with his right to chop at Pachac’s throat. Pachac jerked back, but still took the edge of Eddie’s palm to his larynx. He gasped, choking.
Eddie smashed Pachac’s knife hand down against his knee, trying to force him to drop the blade. Another hit, but the Peruvian’s fingers were still clenched tightly round the hilt. A third blow, and it slipped—
The knife clattered on to the rock just as Pachac recovered his breath and lashed out with his other arm, the muscular limb thudding against the base of Eddie’s neck like a club. Eddie struck back, trying to crush Pachac’s nose, but only hit his chin. Another blow dropped the Englishman to his knees. Pachac’s own knee crashed against his head. Eddie fell on his back, struggling to get up—
Pachac’s hands locked around Eddie’s throat and squeezed.
The strength of the Peruvian’s fingers was incredible. Eddie clawed at them, but they were as unyielding as steel. ‘Capacocha,’ the revolutionary leader snarled. ‘This is what happens to all enemies of the Inkarrí!’
Eddie tried to bend back and snap one of his little fingers, but even that was too strong for him to move. He shifted his hands to the rock, groping for a weapon – afallen stone, a piece of wood . . .
But his fingers found nothing. He flailed, writhing along the outcrop in a last desperate attempt to break free. Pachac moved with him, mouth widening into a triumphant grin—
Eddie felt a spike of pain in his hand. Something very sharp.
He grabbed it, striking with the last of his strength—
The knife stabbed into Pachac’s arm, tearing between the bones to burst out from the inside of his wrist in a spray of blood. He screamed, releasing his hold and stumbling away.
Still clutching the b
loodied knife, Eddie sat up, straining to draw air through his bruised throat—
The rock jolted.
A split opened up where it jutted from the cliff, flowing water eagerly rushing into the new space and washing out the earth acting as natural mortar. The outcrop dropped a couple of inches, halting with a crunch. The rebel fell on his back.
Eddie jumped up and hurdled Pachac, making a flying leap at the tree—
The rock dropped away from under him, ripping out of the cliff like a tooth from a diseased gum. He hit the tree, grabbed it – and slipped.