Awash in pain, Tupac struggled to draw breath and then wished he hadn’t. As the pale Nazi disappeared around the corner, Tupac rolled to a seated position, back against the rough cavern wall, less than a dozen feet from the rock outcropping he wanted so desperately to reach.
The sound of the explosion that echoed into the altar chamber surprised Tupac. He blinked, trying to clear the blood from his eyes, but it was no use. Dimly visible through the red blur, Conrad Altmann stood atop the altar, the small woman at his side, both staring down the tunnel from which the sound had come. Just beyond them, the Sun Staff had been inserted into the mounting hole in the altar’s center.
The fact that they had successfully attached the crown piece to the staff scared the hell out of the shaman. When Altmann and the woman turned back toward the staff to resume their work, their action fanned the flames of his fear.
Tupac looked to his right. Where the tunnel entered this cavern, the outcropping jutted out into the room, leaving a small alcove that could not be seen from the altar. And at the top of a pile of rubble within that alcove, hidden behind a rock, rested the explosive device Tupac had placed here when he’d first made his deal with the NSA.
The trouble with big intelligence organizations was that you could never trust them. You could try to use them to your own advantage, like he’d done, but you had to be realistic and realize that they might beat you. In that case, you had to have a failsafe.
When Conrad Altmann had subverted the shaman’s own people, he’d crushed Tupac’s plan beneath a Nazi boot. Now the failsafe was all Tupac had left to prevent Altmann from achieving his goal.
Sick to his soul with what he was about to do, Tupac gritted his teeth. He had no doubt that the Sun Staff had been brought here by beings whom his ancestors had considered gods. As the shaman looked across the room at the pair working atop the altar and then back at that rubble pile, pain and blood loss dimmed his vision. Hurt as badly as he was, he wasn’t sure he could make that climb up to the hidden bomb. Even if he did, Tupac had no idea how he would activate the timer, with his hands chained at his sides.
Nevertheless, he would have to try.
CHAPTER 94
With the sound of the blast still ringing in his ears, Jack scrambled across the corpse and into the hole. In front of him, a disoriented man tried to raise his gun, but Jack’s first bullet caught him center of mass, impacted the man’s body armor, and slammed him back into the wall. The second shot punched out his right eye. Up ahead, he heard more cell phones continuing their squawking and saw a flash of light from around a bend. Then with a crunch, the light went out.
From much deeper in the tunnel, the loud yells of a running man echoed through the cave, just as Jack heard a familiar chink followed by the bouncing clang of a rolling grenade. Reacting instinctively, Jack ran forward, catching it on the second bounce. With a quick sidearm motion, Jack flung it back where it had come from as he dived against the right wall.
The blast showered Jack with stone chips and then with fist-size rocks as a section of the ceiling gave way ahead of him, filling the tunnel with dust. Pressing himself back against the wall, Jack kicked his legs free of rubble and grabbed for the night-vision goggles. The feel of shattered glass and plastic told him the bad news. He wouldn’t be gaining that advantage tonight.
Suddenly Janet was at his side.
“Are you hurt?”
“Just some scrapes and bruises. But my NVGs have had it.”
“Give me a second while I put the battery in mine, and I’ll have a look around.”
Jack heard her unclip the goggles and then soft rustling, snapping sounds before she spoke again.
“We’ve got a new rubble pile, but it looks like there’s a place we can climb through at the top.”
Jack climbed back to his feet.
“Good.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to toss any more grenades down here.”
In the choking, dust-filled darkness, Jack grinned, feeling a shooting pain in his jaw. When he placed a hand on his chin and mouth, it came away wet.
“That wasn’t my grenade.”
As Janet started scrambling up over the rubble, her reply brought another grin to his bloody lips.
“Just sayin.’ ”
CHAPTER 95
The mind worm felt an incredible rush of excitement, anger, and fear as its host’s timelines converged and then branched wildly. But with each passing moment, Anchanchu grew more and more troubled. Something eluded it, something that hovered at the edge of awareness. Despite all the centuries of experience manipulating the human condition, Anchanchu had just experienced another example of Jack Gregory’s unpredictable nature.
The man had scrambled into the tunnel, pulled by an adrenaline-fueled battle frenzy, and been injured just enough to whet that fury to a knife edge. But Jack’s former lover had thrown him a lifeline, pulling him back off that ledge with her calming words. That restoration of some semblance of emotional balance was the greatest threat that Anchanchu now faced.
Almost five centuries had passed since another of Anchanchu’s hosts had entered this subterranean vault. Back then, although the artifact was the same, humans had not had the technology to solve the full sequence of codes required to fully activate it. But even the entry of the simple combination that had separated the crown piece from the staff had sent a shock through the mind worm’s system that had somehow destroyed Anchanchu’s limbic connection, freeing the host from its influence.
Up in the cavern that lay ahead, two humans worked to activate a beacon that would summon beings capable of altering humans to such an extent that they would no longer be capable of experiencing the emotions of lust, hate, love, and fear upon which Anchanchu fed. It would not allow that to happen. The staff had to be eliminated, and only the entry of a specific code sequence into the golden orb could cause it to self-destruct.
Until now, Anchanchu’s attachment to this fascinating host had prevented it from applying the force that might kill Jack Gregory or render him completely insane. But if that was the price to be paid to protect all of Anchanchu’s future playthings, so be it.
It was time to open the floodgates.
CHAPTER 96
As Dolf rounded the first of the bends in the tunnel, the torchlight from the altar cave faded behind him, forcing him to slow and fumble for his pocket flashlight. The distinctive bang of a stun grenade echoed through the labyrinth, followed by the sound of distant gunfire. A larger explosion, accompanied by the rumble of falling rock, pulled him up short.
What the hell was happening at the entrance? If he didn’t hurry, the idiots guarding the tunnel were going to end up sealing the only exit.
He paused at the next corner, aligning his flashlight below his gun hand to lead him around the bend. Dolf was halfway across the thirty-foot section leading to the next bend when two men backed around the corner, their weapons aimed toward the spot where the last explosion had originated.
“Where the hell are you two going?”
Hearing Dolf’s voice, the two guards turned to face him. Suddenly, as if he had heard a new sound from around the bend, the rightmost guard spun and raised his weapon, just as a bullet took off the side of the man’s head. With a look of horror on his face, the remaining guard ducked behind the cover of the wall.
“With me, now!” Dolf rasped, leading the startled survivor rapidly back toward the entrance to the altar cave. “Let The Ripper come to us.”
CHAPTER 97
Conrad Altmann heard his daughter’s clear voice tell him to slowly turn the center ring clockwise. As she said to stop, the orb quivered in his hand, and for a second time, he felt something within it unwind. Altmann looked down and saw the base of the staff deform ever so slightly. Then the staff slid six centimeters down into the slot and locked firm.
An electric thrill coursed from his fingertips to his scalp, standing the fine hairs of his arms on end. A movement at the periphery of his vision tur
ned Altmann’s head toward the spot where Tupac Inti had been knocked flat. With a look of horror on his face, the big shaman was attempting to slide his injured body along the wall and behind an outcropping that would hide him from the altar. It was as if he thought hiding behind a rock wall would protect him from the Sun Staff’s wrath. It was as pathetic as it was laughable.
Altmann started to say something to Bones, but gunfire and a second explosion echoed out of the tunnel and into the altar cave, interrupting his thoughts and causing him to return his attention to the orb.
“Give me the third sequence! We need to go faster.”
“But if you make a mistake . . .”
“I won’t!”
Altmann’s breathing deepened, his heartbeat slowed, and one by one the sounds of violence fell away. Right now there were only two things worthy of his attention: the orb and his daughter’s methodical voice. Time dilated so that instead of coming faster, her instructions and his motions seemed to slow to a crawl as he precisely manipulated the rings.
When Dolf reentered the room with a guard and they positioned themselves to take advantage of the protected firing positions the cavern’s opening provided, a tiny part of Altmann’s mind made note of it before he walled away this new distraction. The sequence ended, and for a terrifying moment Altmann thought he must have made a mistake. Then, from within the altar, a vibration started, so small that at first he thought he was imagining it, that perhaps it was the muscle tension in his own body producing the feeling.
In an attempt to verify that the sensation was real, Altmann grasped the staff with both hands. Now he was certain. The staff hummed with an energy that felt vaguely electrical. No. That wasn’t quite right. It reminded Altmann of the feeling he got when he tried to touch like poles of two powerful magnets together, an invisible, repulsive force that seemed almost magical.
A wave of dizziness assaulted him, as if Altmann were caught in a vortex that threatened to tear his mind from his body. For a moment his view of the cavern blurred and distorted so that he seemed to be in a very different place. Then, before he managed to get a clear view of what he was seeing, he was back.
Altmann gasped and released his hold on the staff. He would have tumbled from atop the altar had not Bones reached out to steady him. Recovering his senses, Altmann straightened and shook off her helping hand, once again reaching for the golden orb.
“Tell me the final sequence.”
The worry lingered in her voice.
“Shouldn’t you rest a second?”
Altmann raised his right hand to slap her but managed to still his rage, noting the shock in his daughter’s blue eyes as he clenched his hand.
“Tell me the final sequence. Don’t make me say it again!”
When she spoke the next instruction, Altmann heard the faint quiver in her voice. Good. His daughter’s education was just beginning.
CHAPTER 98
Tupac lay on his face, having slid most of the way back to the bottom of the rubble pile that sloped up to the top of this rocky alcove. He moved and felt something like a hot knife slide deep into the right side of his chest. A wet cough bubbled to his lips and he spat, splattering the rock beside his face with blood.
He longed to lie there, to just give up and die. One way or another that last thing was going to happen. Tupac’s thoughts turned to that last glimpse he’d had of Conrad Altmann, standing atop the altar with his hands on the crown piece, twisting the golden rings as the small woman dictated her instructions. He’d watched as they had successfully connected the orb to the staff and then mounted the Sun Staff to the altar. Any lingering hope he’d had that Altmann might not possess all the codes was now gone.
Dolf Gruenberg reappeared, his glance taking in Tupac and the blood he’d just coughed out on the rocks. With a sneer, the albino turned his back on him and knelt behind the outcropping, hidden from anyone that might step through the cave entrance. Tupac heard Dolf tell someone else to cover the passage from the far side of the door, but was unable to see whom he was talking to.
Tupac knew that if he was going to do something, it had to be now. He hadn’t suffered so much for so long only to abandon his calling without one last effort. Resisting the next cough he felt coming, Tupac forced himself to take a deep breath. As he visualized what he was about to attempt, tightening the muscles in his massive arms, shoulders, and chest, one thing became crystal clear.
No matter what he told himself, this was really going to hurt.
CHAPTER 99
Jack followed Janet, scrambling up the pile of rock that had partially blocked the passage, sliding up beside her as she scanned the passage ahead through her night-vision goggles.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Just a guy who took the brunt of the grenade blast. What’s left isn’t pretty.”
“I’m going to make a move to the next corner. Cover me.”
“Ready.”
Jack unclipped his flashlight and cupped it against his gun hand, aligned with the H&K’s gun barrel. But he didn’t switch it on. If things got hot, a press of the button would dazzle his enemy, whether that person was wearing night-vision goggles or not. Besides, Janet would kill anyone that tried to aim a weapon around that corner before Jack got a chance to light him up.
Jack wriggled over the top of the pile, bumping his head against the stone ceiling in the process. Damn. The blast had damn near sealed the tunnel. When he reached the cavern floor on the far side of the pile, Jack slid left until he felt his shoulder bump the wall. He moved forward along the wall in a shooter’s crouch, blinking hard to clear the film of dust that coated his eyes, trying to identify anything that moved in the inky blackness that stretched out before him.
He took one silent step. Then another. The next one took him from the dark tunnel into the sleepwalking dream-memory he’d experienced in Santa Cruz. But this time Jack was himself, not Pizarro. He stood at the same spot in the tunnel where he’d been standing a moment before, although instead of a Heckler and Koch pistol, he now held a flaming torch in his right hand.
Jack’s head swam in a roiling sea of disorientation. He spun, looking back toward Janet. Only she wasn’t there. Neither was the pile of rock from the cave in, just an empty torchlit passage leading back toward the entrance. As a fresh wave of fear released an adrenaline rush that robbed Jack’s limbs of strength, his mind struggled to cope with the new situation.
What the hell was happening to him?
For the third time in the last two weeks Jack had stepped across the boundary into crazy land, each trip worse than the last. This time it had happened when he could least afford to lose control. Jack squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated.
Come on. Breathe deep. Focus.
The sound of the stuttering torch, the feel of its heat against the skin of his face, pulled his eyes open. Back in the direction from which he’d come, the passage stretched away undamaged, the orange light of his torch sending shadows crawling along the uneven walls. Jack spun to face forward, his sudden movement making the torch sputter and hiss as it whipped through the still, musty air.
With his heart hammering his rib cage, Jack resumed his forward motion. Inside his head something whispered to him.
Hurry . . . hurry . . . hurrrrry!
Though he fought the urge that pulled him forward, Jack found himself walking faster and faster, feeling the time in his hourglass drain away with each step. Somewhere up ahead was the terrible thing that must be destroyed. But first, just as Pizarro had done, Jack needed to touch the golden orb and feel its delicate rings twist in his hands.
Only then could he truly be free.
CHAPTER 100
Janet watched Jack squeeze through the tight opening and scramble down the far side of the rock pile, his body glowing white hot in the green glow of her night-vision goggles. She watched as he moved along the passage’s left wall toward the bend in the tunnel thirty feet ahead.
Suddenly Jack froze, as if he’d
heard something. Janet’s shifted her gaze back and forth but saw no sign of movement or any sign of body heat signatures. What Jack did next stunned her.
Where before he had moved along in a trained shooter’s crouch with his pistol and unlit flashlight clutched in a two-hand grip, he now straightened, his left hand falling to his side as he stared at the gun in his right hand, as if he’d never before seen such a thing.
Then Jack spun back toward her, his eyes glowing brighter than the rest of his face in the NVG display. Though she knew he couldn’t see anything in this dark place, Janet had the strong impression that he was looking at something behind her. The feeling became so intense that she lifted her head from the weapon and turned to look back, her motion loosing another shower of dust from the ceiling one foot above her. Absolutely nothing had changed in the passageway behind her since she had crawled up to this spot.
Shifting her gaze back to the front, Janet gasped. Jack was on the move, but not in a tactical way. Instead he strode rapidly down the center of the passage holding his gun at shoulder height, at such an odd angle that he almost seemed to be holding something else. Then, without waiting for her to join him, without even pausing to listen or look ahead, Jack walked around the corner and disappeared.
“Shit!”
Janet crawled through the opening, pushing the rifle ahead of her. Once through, she climbed to the bottom of the rock pile with all the speed she could muster without taking a dangerous fall or starting a fresh slide. At the bottom, she righted herself, readying the weapon to fire as she quickly followed Jack.
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