"I wish I'd never come," sulked Squid. "It's cold, I'm gonna have a bruise the size of Hertfordshire, and I am sitting inside the largest gold bar in the history of the universe."
"Shut up," said Johnny quietly. There had to be a way, a quick way that didn't involve the long climb back down to the landing site, going cap in hand to the real criminals for help.
"Let's ask Malcolm for a cutter," said Squid.
"No snecking way."
"Winch me back up and I'll snecking ask him," offered Squid, reaching out a hand to the life wire launcher. Johnny slapped him away, suddenly a lot happier.
"Wulf," he called back up the shaft. "Chuck us the Gronk."
Blissful ignorance, it had long been decided, was the best policy with all Gronk-handling issues. Wulf didn't give the Gronk any time to debate its fate. He simply told it that it was needed inside the pyramid, and that Mister Johnny would catch it. The Gronk's chief concern was the invisible monofilament that already cut across the shaft like high-tech cheese wire, but Johnny assured him that it was in place.
"Well..." began the Gronk, as Wulf lifted it up in the air. Then suddenly the nature of the kaleidoscope in the sky changed. The lights became mere reflections of themselves, spattered across the walls of the shaft as the Gronk fell down it. Falling, yes, thought the Gronk. It was quite clearly falling. It then bounced onto a hard metal surface, its momentum causing it to slide on an extremely cold metal surface. The Gronk's brain juggled with the mystery of whether it should be enjoying itself or if it should be scared sneckless. But even as its glands poised to lob an avalanche of juddermine into its system, it landed squarely in the waiting arms of Mister Johnny, and everything was all right again.
"Hello Gronk," said Johnny cheerily, ruffling its fur. Instead of the normal soft hairs, Johnny's hand found matted, frozen clumps.
"Mister Johnny," said the Gronk, still not quite sure of how it found itself in this new and unexpected location. Johnny swiftly placed the Gronk against the door, talking all the time to distract it from any sense of danger.
"We've got something for you, Gronk," he said, his "we" somehow conveying the sense of him and Wulf, and not him and Sick Squid who waved coyly in the cramped dark space. Johnny pointed at the large chain links that barricaded the door below his feet.
"Are you feeling hungry?" he added, hopefully.
"You wants me to eat through that?" said the Gronk.
"Yes, please," said Johnny.
The Gronk cleared both its throats. There was quite a lot of metal about it. It debated whether to spit or swallow.
"Of course, Mister Johnny," it said, and took a bite-sized chunk out of the nearest link. The Gronk chewed thoughtfully on the morsel and found it not unpleasant. It was a little al dente, as one might expect at sub-zero temperatures, but it was familiar, though possibly a little overspiced. The Gronk chomped another fragment out of the giant link and realised that it was going to take a while if it savoured every crumb. Realising that there was plenty of this kind of metal to hand, it dispensed with manners and spat the chunk out. Then it took another bite, and spat that out, too.
"Excellent," said Squid, appreciatively. Squid grabbed one of the discarded chunks of chain in his gloved hands. "Don't you see Johnny?" he said. "These are transportable." He eagerly pocketed the chunk and scrabbled on the floor for the next while the Gronk continued to chew its way through the chain. Except the Gronk had stopped.
"Why are you doing that?" it piped, quizzically.
"Hello?" said Squid. "If you don't want this gold, I'll have it." Squid's voice developed an edge as his internal bully fretted that a fight may be in order.
"Okay," said the Gronk, chewing on another chunk. "Whatever." It bent down and snagged another chunk of the chain, the little Gronk-bites forming a semicircle into the solid metal. It spat the mouthful out and chomped on another.
"What's it like?" asked Johnny, suspiciously.
The Gronk made a non-committal mumbling noise.
"Tell us, Gronk," he said. "I'm curious."
The Gronk stopped and looked up at him.
"A bit tangy," it said. "I prefer it plain."
"Gold?" asked Squid, expectantly.
The Gronk looked at him nervously.
"Iron," it said.
WORTHLESS
"What do you mean, iron?" bellowed Squid, his voice echoing and curling back on them in the enclosed shaft. The Gronk looked back at its handiwork then at Johnny, wondering if it did something wrong.
"This is iron," the Gronk said, quivering noticeably. "Pie Rights," it added, nodding seriously.
"What?" sputtered Squid.
"Pyrites," explained Johnny. "This is made of iron pyrites."
The Gronk licked experimentally at the door itself, and at the wall of the shaft. "This too," it added. "And this."
"Iron?" said Squid, having trouble breathing. "This whole thing is made of iron?"
"I'm not surprised," said Johnny.
It would certainly explain a lot. Theirs couldn't have been the first expedition to find the pyramid on Kajaani, although considering the icefall, they were probably the first to find the entrance. It wouldn't have surprised Johnny if a dozen former parties had arrived over the years, found a chunk of the fabled golden pyramid sticking out of the ice, and run a metallurgy test. Finding that it wasn't gold at all, they would have all packed up and gone home.
Wulf called down, concerned about the noise. "What is der Squid's problem?" he yelled.
Squid stared in mute rage at the shining lump of partly chewed metal in his gloved hand.
"It's fool's gold," shouted Johnny, by way of explanation.
"Pie Rights?" asked Wulf.
"Pirates?" asked Blarg in the distance, not hearing correctly.
"Pyrites," said Johnny. "Iron pyrites. The whole pyramid is worthless."
Blarg tried to think of people who might actually want a giant lump of fake gold: impoverished gangster rappers, perhaps, or a mail order jewellery company he had once patronised near Procyon.
The Gronk finally made a large enough hole in the chain so that the neighbouring link could be slipped out of it. It took all the strength Johnny and Squid had to lift the giant loops of metal.
"Now what?" asked Squid.
"Well," said Johnny, "the chains were on this side of the door, so they must prevent it opening outwards."
"Which is now upwards," Squid added.
Johnny attached his life wire winch to the giant band of metal on the door proper. "I figure we can winch this open," he said, ushering Squid and the Gronk over to stand on the other door. He joined them and then reached over to activate the wire.
The winch tightened, causing the launcher to rise up into mid-air above the loop of metal. But the door didn't budge. The life wire began to make a grating noise as the winch slipped. Pulling off his glove, Johnny reached out to the launcher and found it hot to the touch. He quickly switched off the winch before it could burn itself out.
Assured that Johnny's life wire was not going to slice him in half as he rappelled down the side of the shaft, Wulf eased himself down through the darkness. Up on the ledge, it was impossible to believe that it was night. The lights in the sky expanded and refracted in a rainbow of silent explosions, each shape and pattern melding fractally into the next. The Boy thought it was the most amazing thing he had ever seen in his life, like God's own screen saver. He sat on a rock and stared at it with a smug smile on his face, wondering how he would ever explain it all to the gang back home.
Nigel and Blarg were less awestruck.
"I'm telling you," Nigel was saying soothingly, "that there is only one of us left up here who can shoot straight, and that's you. So you are the one on guard." He held out his hand for the last remaining life wire.
Blarg looked back sourly at the Boy who was lost to the world. He wasn't even looking for other snow tigers, let alone aiming a gun at them. Blarg then looked back down towards the irregular circle of the landin
g site, which appeared to be deserted. Most of Malcolm's men were back in their lander where it was warm. Blarg didn't like the situation one little bit. It made him feel like an interloper, or an unwanted member of the group.
But it was snecking cold and Nigel wasn't much use either. Blarg might resent the stockbroker for getting inside the tomb, but he would resent him even more if he botched his duties and left them all to be mauled by a predator. Given a choice between giving up his gun or the monofilament winch, Blarg let Nigel have his fun. He plonked the winch forcefully into Nigel's waiting hand before marching off to scan the area for any remaining snow tigers.
Nigel smiled to himself. He wasn't as dumb as people thought. He shot the grapnel at the rock where Johnny's and Wulf's were already stuck. Then he walked backwards to the tip of the shaft, waiting until he felt the invisible pull of the tightening cable.
"See you," he said cheerily at Blarg, who looked back in stony disapproval. Nigel took one last look at the soundless explosions in the night sky and dipped below the golden ledge into the pyramid.
He descended just a little too fast.
"Slow down," suggested Johnny with a note of rising urgency as Nigel all but fell down the shaft. His winch, barely activated, whined with the sound of several metres of cable playing out, and only the scuffling sound of Nigel bouncing on the shaft walls indicated that anything was slowing his descent at all.
Nigel finally added more bite to the winch, thumbing up the gain on the launcher so that he halted mid-air with a sudden twang. His feet dangled comically just a few inches above Wulf's head.
"Nice going," said Wulf appreciatively, in the mistaken belief that Nigel had planned it that way. Wordlessly, Nigel edged himself down the last few feet, finally unclipping himself to drop the last few inches. His life wire launcher dangled amid the group of men standing on the door. They were getting to be a close-knit group now: Squid, Johnny, Wulf, the Gronk, and now Nigel. Despite their combined weight, the door beneath their feet showed no signs of stress or buckling.
Johnny gingerly eased Nigel's free-floating launcher down to the door and attached it to the handle alongside his and Wulf's. The three winches should be good enough.
"This ought to do it," he said, more out of hope than assurance. He turned on the first winch and its gears complained loudly. The second followed and made a similar whining noise. But as he activated the third, the tone from the three motors changed. It deepened and evened out, the whines of distress fading into a happy hum.
"Is it working?" whispered Squid.
Four men and a Gronk watched the winches expectantly. A single LED flashed to show Nigel's was working - Wulf and Johnny always smashed giveaway lights on their equipment to prevent detection.
"Well?" asked Nigel. "Is it?"
From somewhere below their feet, there came the sound of something cracking.
"Ice," said Wulf. "It is breaking der ice, jah?"
Somewhere on the other side of the door, years of ice were falling away as ancient hinges swung back into life. Slowly but surely, the left-hand door began to rise. Its hinges creaked with deafening screeches, causing Squid and Nigel to plug their fingers into their ears.
Inch by inch, the life wires pulled at the giant slab of iron until there was an opening big enough for a Gronk. Then the winches continued their work until the opening was almost big enough for a man to slip through.
"I'm not waiting all day," Squid said, hefting his bulk between the widening gap. With a yelp, he fell from sight.
"Some people never learn," said Wulf.
"Sneck off," said Squid, only a few feet below. "There's only a little drop."
"Shame," said Nigel. "A larger one might have shut him up for good."
When the gap was big enough to admit Wulf, Johnny shut down the winches. There was no point in wasting their power making an opening big enough for a truck.
"Now remember," he said to the remaining treasure hunters. "There could be traps and pitfalls. We don't know what to expect in there."
Nigel was already shining his torch through the gap. He eased himself through and dropped, barely missing Squid.
"Do you mind?" said the bounty hunter.
"Oh just sneck off," said Nigel. There was a light in his eyes. He had forgotten about Ruth, about the pirates, and the recent carnage onboard the China. Now all he could smell was adventure and success.
Johnny and Wulf smelled something different.
"Pooey," said the Gronk.
Despite the cold, Johnny smelt dust and decay.
"This is like der grave-pits of the Romans," said Wulf who had raided a few in his time.
Johnny nodded in agreement. "We're getting close," he told the others.
Johnny dropped through the door too. The passage had once turned upwards at an angle. Now, thanks to the pyramid's new position, it was almost horizontal and they were able to easily walk on it. The Gronk, however, refused to go any further. It didn't like the dark and it didn't like the thought of the big metal door slamming shut behind them.
Johnny had to agree and told the Gronk to stand guard. The prospect hardly filled either of them with confidence.
Without a torch of his own, Squid's eagerness was fading. He had instead tried to commission the use of Nigel's and the two men were engaged in a tug-of-war in the passage. Wulf was about to push past them when Johnny held him back.
"I'll go first," said Johnny. No torch was necessary for him. He walked ahead, confident in his ability to see what they couldn't. His alpha vision showed him the featureless continuation of the passage. There were no Roman decorations here; the tomb was stark and functional, as if designed by reluctant atheists who knew nobody would see it.
Squid and Nigel were still fighting over the torch while trying to advance at the same time. Johnny pushed past them and forged on ahead, his alpha eyes scanning the passage for any sign of danger. But he saw no covered pits on the wall that had once been the floor, and there weren't any holes for darts or guns on the floor that had once been a wall. The pyramid seemed completely solid but for the passageway that cut through it.
A streak of light along the corridor told Johnny that Wulf was catching up, shining his own torch ahead to assist his inferior human eyes.
"Have you ever seen anything like this?" said Johnny.
"Jah," said Wulf, much to Johnny's surprise. "Odd der Odd, in the Finnmark. He was buried in a big cave."
"Er... right," said Johnny. "I was being a little more specific than that."
"Jah," said Wulf, his feet clomping along next to Johnny's now. "But Odd der Odd had no guards or traps; just a cairn of stones over der body. You know why?"
Johnny shook his head, then realised that in the dark passageway he would need to be a little more forthcoming. "Why?"
"Because there was der wall of ice not far from der grave. Odd knew that der glacier thing would roll over him and shut der cave for good."
The passageway turned to the right again at a thirty-degree angle. The left-hand wall was serrated once more. They had reached a place where there had once been another staircase.
"You think that Kulta knew the glacier would move the pyramid?"
Wulf shrugged, knowing that Johnny would see it. "Maybe he didn't even know he was going to die and this thing was knocked up by der unhappy relatives."
Johnny thought of a family dressed in mourning, staring at a selection of Pythagorean solids and arguing about which one was best.
"It's just that, flickery sun aside, this place must have been bad enough. Even a hundred years ago," Wulf said.
"They knew nobody would come?"
"It is far out of the way. The Nozomis have always been unstable. Kulta's empire was already falling apart. Why waste time with extra traps and stuff?"
"And the golden pyramid thing."
"It is gold of der colour," said Wulf. "Not gold of der substance. This is a difference in meaning that is very obvious in Old Norse." Wulf thought for a moment and th
en added a dismayed coda. "Even der Saxons could tell der difference. Your language has fallen into der bits in der last few centuries."
"Kulta was a fraud?" said Johnny. The echoes of his footfalls sounded duller, as if there was less space to travel in. Although he couldn't see it yet, he could tell they were reaching a chamber.
"So he wanted a pretty pyramid. Did Kulta ever tell us it was made of the real gold?" asked Wulf.
Johnny thought for a moment. Actually, now Wulf came to mention it, it was only Isaiah and his collection of old stories that insinuated about the gold. And of course, there were the excitable reports of Malcolm's scouts, none of whom had been smart enough to run a metallurgy test before calling in the cavalry.
"Think of der crazy stories people tell about us!" said Wulf. "And we are still alive!"
That much was true. Johnny and Wulf had heard some incredible tales in bars across the galaxy, with themselves as the unwitting stars. Johnny in particular had been with the Search/Destroy Agency since its inception. It gave him a longer arrest record, and something of a legendary status among the newer recruits. Something about their arrest record at the Doghouse, and embellishments of their stranger cases had led to a number of apocryphal tales, more suitable for a comic than a news report. Interestingly, the weirder stories tended to be the truer.
The crazy darting of the light from Squid's torch had finally stopped as Nigel caught up with them, the torch in his hands.
"I think we're getting close," he whispered. From somewhere further back in the passage, Squid was complaining about his itchy back and was trying to get a torch from the Boy. Much, much further away, came the distant sound of a Gronk singing to itself and the even more distant sound of a Betelgeusian yelling at it to shut up.
"Why are you whispering?" said Johnny. It's not like anyone is alive in here.
"Er... yeah," said Nigel. "Right. I forgot."
"It is just good manners," said Wulf, a trifle muted from before. "We are in der dead man's final resting place."
"Okay, okay," said Johnny.
"He is in here all alone, with perhaps just a few slave girls for company."
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