The Cult of Osiris nwaec-5

by Andy McDermott

  ‘Then what is she doing?’

  Hamdi leaned through the doorway. ‘Perhaps she’s seen sense and wants to surrender?’ he suggested hopefully.

  Shaban looked at Eddie, who was still curled in pain on the floor, flanked by two soldiers Khaleel had summoned. ‘If she is anything like her husband, I doubt it. Get him up.’ Diamondback hauled Eddie to his feet and shoved him against the aft bulkhead.

  Khaleel looked at the approaching 4×4. ‘We could shoot out the engine, force them to stop.’

  Shaban shook his head. ‘We might damage the jar. If she wants to come to us willingly, let’s see what she has in mind. If it’s a trick, she’ll pay for it with her life.’ A menacing look at Eddie. ‘And his.’

  The hovercraft was a slab of black and grey ahead, its superstructure rising above the flat main deck like a submarine’s conning tower. Getting larger very quickly. ‘Oh, God, what are we doing?’ Macy moaned, seeing its guns.

  Nina donned the webbing, carrying the case like a backpack. ‘Just swerve when I tell you.’ She crouched on the passenger seat. ‘Get ready . . .’

  ‘That thing’s huge!’ Macy protested. ‘What if it runs us over?’

  ‘I’m kinda counting on you to not let that happen.’

  ‘Oh, no pressure!’ The Zubr loomed ever larger, more like a building that had somehow torn itself from its foundations than a vehicle. The roar of its propellers shook the air.

  Nina drew the knife. The hovercraft was rushing straight at them, artificial sandstorms blasting out from beneath its skirt. ‘Ready, ready . . . now!’

  Macy turned the wheel sharply, swinging the Land Rover past the oncoming Zubr’s starboard side. Nina poised, waiting for the right moment.

  Shaban watched the Defender veer from its seeming suicide run. ‘Turn, follow her!’ he shouted as the 4×4 disappeared into the cloud of sand to his right.

  Khaleel opened the hatch to the jutting ledge of the starboard wing bridge, gesturing for a soldier to do the same on the port side in case the Land Rover tried to get round behind them. ‘I can’t see them, they’re in the sand!’

  ‘Find her!’ Shaban yelled. The pilot turned the wheel, the rudders below the three huge propellers at the stern swerving the floating craft hard to the right.

  Sand swept in through the broken windows, grit scouring Nina’s skin. She held her position, squinting through the swirling cloud.

  The hovercraft was a dark mass to the right, swinging to follow them. ‘Keep turning!’ she shouted. ‘Catch up with it!’

  Though part blinded by the spraying sand, Macy spun the wheel, bringing the Land Rover in a tight turn towards the Zubr. The 4×4 had a far smaller turning circle than the giant transporter, cutting inside the larger vehicle’s arcing course - and drawing alongside.

  The noise was appalling, the sandstorm physically painful at such close range. But Nina needed to get even closer. The hovercraft’s side skirt loomed, a rippling black wall of reinforced rubber. She shoved open the door, the blast of air pummelling her.

  She raised the knife—

  Even with his face pressed against the bulkhead, Eddie couldn’t hold back a smile at Shaban’s rising frustration. ‘Where are they?’ the cult leader yelled, running from one wing bridge to the other, hunting for his foes.

  The din was worse than ever, but partial respite came from the sandblasting effect as the Land Rover drew right alongside the hovercraft, most of the escaping air sweeping below it. Nina had a clear view of the black rubber five feet away, four—

  She jumped.

  Springing from the Defender, she slammed against the skirt - and stabbed the knife into it.

  Air gushed out round the blade with a whistling shriek, but it held firm as Nina dangled from the hilt, the tendons in her arm straining. She kicked at the skirt, which gave just enough for her boots to gain a little traction and let her pull herself up to grip the knife with both hands.

  She glanced back. Although she had protested Nina’s plan, Macy had done as instructed and retreated into the dust cloud to get as far from the hovercraft as possible.

  The ground rushed past below. Even turning, the Zubr was still doing over thirty miles an hour. And only Nina’s hold on the knife was keeping her from falling.

  She strained to pull herself up, feeling the layers of rubber and fabric warp under her weight. The bottom of the hull was only a couple of feet above her. She was halfway along the hovercraft’s length, nearly level with the bridge three decks above. About six feet to one side, metal rungs led up to the narrow side deck.

  Gripping the knife tightly with her left hand, Nina stretched up her right arm and tried to reach the lip of the hull. Her fingertips fell six inches short. She dug her feet into the curved rubber for extra grip, clasping both hands round the hilt and forcing herself higher. The knife shifted, its edge cutting through the skirt.

  ‘Shit!’ she gasped as the rushing wail of air grew louder. If the hole got much bigger, she wouldn’t be able to hold the knife in it - and would fall.

  More desperately, she again reached up for the hull - but was still a couple of inches off.

  ‘There!’ cried the pilot, pointing. Shaban saw the Land Rover emerge from the cloud and speed east across the desert.

  ‘Go after them,’ he ordered. The pilot brought the Zubr on to a pursuit course.

  The skirt rippled beneath Nina as the hovercraft turned. The knife jerked again, lengthening the slit. She could feel it slipping.

  Straining, she hauled herself up on the hilt and lashed out with her right hand—

  Her fingertips found the edge of the hard metal. Gripped it. She released the hilt, reaching up. The knife was blown out of the hole. She clambered sideways towards the ladder. A final stretch, and her hand clamped round the bottom rung.

  The co-pilot noticed a flashing warning light. ‘Sir! There’s a leak in the skirt.’

  ‘Where?’ demanded the pilot.

  ‘Starboard side, centre section.’

  Khaleel looked down from the wing bridge - to see Nina climbing the ladder to the side deck. ‘Wilde’s on board!’ he shouted, drawing his pistol.

  Shaban ran to him. ‘Don’t shoot!’ Khaleel gave him a surprised look. ‘She’s got the case - if she falls, it might break the jar. Send your crew to catch her.’

  Nina reached the top of the ladder, disappearing from view beneath the edge of the main deck. Khaleel cursed, then moved to issue orders over the public address system. Shaban turned to Eddie. ‘She actually thinks she can rescue you.’

  ‘She’s a smart lass,’ Eddie replied.

  ‘She ain’t that smart,’ snorted Diamondback. ‘Comin’ aboard this thing with no way to get off again? That don’t exactly make her look like a rocket scientist.’

  ‘It’s not like she’s up against MENSA,’ said Eddie, a comeback that earned him a kidney punch. But even though he was outwardly confident, his thoughts were worried: Nina was unarmed, and outnumbered. What the hell was she planning?

  Nina stood on the side deck, getting her bearings. The narrow walkway ran almost the hovercraft’s full length; several hatches led inside, the closest right beside her. Another ladder went up to the Zubr’s huge main deck, but the open expanse of metal, almost half the size of a football pitch, would offer her almost no cover, and she wanted to avoid being seen for as long as possible—

  A door at the stern swung open and two men emerged from the engine room. They ran towards her.

  So much for not being seen!

  She darted through the nearest hatch, slamming it shut to find herself in a narrow and very noisy hallway. There was a locking mechanism on the inside of the hatch, Cyrillic instructions stencilled on the painted metal - with a sticker bearing both Arabic text and the English words ‘NBC Seal’ below. She knew from Eddie that the acronym was not a TV network but an abbreviation of Nuclear, Biological, Chemical - the vessel’s interior could be sealed to protect the crew against weapons of mass destruction. She pulled a l
ever, a heavy bolt sliding into place, then tugged down a smaller, red-painted handle to lock it.

  The thunder behind the aft bulkhead told her she was right beside one of the hovercraft’s lift fans. She quickly went to the other end of the passage. A door in the forward bulkhead opened into a room full of closely packed bunk beds - crew quarters. Considering the noise it didn’t seem like the best place to sleep, but that was far from her greatest concern as she saw another hatch leading to the side deck.

  Banging from behind as the crewmen reached the door she had just entered and tried to open it. It would only take them a moment to realise it was locked, then they would move on to the next—

  Nina ran across the bunk room and yanked the bolt, slamming down the locking lever just as someone rattled at it from outside.

  The nearest unlocked hatch was back by the engine room. She had the time she needed.

  Unfastening the webbing, she placed the case on a bed and opened it.

  Khaleel listened to a report over the intercom. ‘She’s in one of the starboard cabins,’ he told Shaban. ‘She’s locked the outer hatches, but there aren’t many places she can go.’

  Shaban nodded. ‘Hamdi, as soon as we have the case, I want you to check the jar for damage.’

  Hamdi came into the room. ‘I’ll need some space.’

  There was a small metal plotting table behind the two pilots’ stations. Shaban swept the maps off it. ‘There.’ He turned to Diamondback. ‘Go and get her. Don’t do anything that might damage the case - just bring her here.’ Diamondback didn’t appear pleased at the implicit order not to shoot her, but he nodded, handing Eddie over to a soldier and leaving the bridge.

  The cult leader picked up the PA system’s handset. ‘Dr Wilde!’

  Carrying the case on her back, Nina cautiously opened a hatch and peered into the hold. Right in front of her was another dune buggy, an unarmed civilian model, secured to rings in the deck between a couple of grimy caterpillar-tracked excavators.

  She was about to move out when Shaban’s voice boomed from loudspeakers. ‘Dr Wilde! I know you can hear me. Give yourself up and hand over the jar. If you do not, I’ll kill your husband.’

  There was a muffled noise, then Eddie spoke. ‘Ay up, love.’

  Despite the tense situation, Nina couldn’t hold in a brief smile at the sound of his voice. The hope on which she had based her gamble had paid off; Shaban was indeed using him to force her hand.

  How much longer he - and she - stayed alive depended entirely on Shaban’s anger. If he decided to settle his scores before checking his prize . . .

  ‘Forget about me,’ Eddie quickly went on. ‘Just smash that fucking pot and—’ There was a dull thud, followed by a gruff grunt of pain.

  ‘Bring me the jar, Dr Wilde,’ said Shaban. ‘Now.’ The PA clicked off.

  Nina steeled herself, then entered the hold, stepping out from behind the vehicles and raising her hands as members of the hovercraft’s crew burst through a hatch. They ran over and grabbed her roughly.

  Cowboy boots clanged down the ladder at the cavernous compartment’s centre. Diamondback.

  ‘Well, shit,’ he said as he swaggered towards her, ‘I was kinda hoping you’d put up a struggle. I always like puttin’ bitches in their place.’ He leered, then gestured with his gun at the ladder. ‘Now move it.’

  Flanked by the soldiers, Nina went to the ladder. Diamondback ascended, then waved for her to follow. She scaled the rungs to the next deck. A steep flight of metal stairs rose to another level. At the top, a short windowless passage led to the bridge.

  Shaban was waiting there - as was Eddie, a soldier holding him against the rear wall near the open port wing bridge hatch. ‘Nina! You - oh, for fuck’s sake,’ he said, joy at seeing her turning to dismay as he realised she had brought the case containing the canopic jar. ‘I told you to smash that thing!’

  ‘I’m trying to save your life, Eddie,’ she said. ‘Just like when you rescued me from Jack Mitchell’s ship.’ He looked confused. ‘When you came into the hold?’ she went on, trying to make her meaning subtle in case her captors picked up on it.

  It was too subtle. His expression was still one of befuddlement. Shaban’s look was of greed, however. ‘Put down the case, Dr Wilde,’ he said, indicating the plotting table. ‘Very carefully. Dr Hamdi!’

  Hamdi bustled in, chest swelling with self-importance. He squeezed round the table to stand between the pilots, facing the others as Nina eased the case off her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t look damaged,’ he announced as she put it down.

  ‘Move her back,’ said Shaban. Diamondback pushed her across to the starboard bulkhead. She saw Berkeley in the weapons room and glared at him; he looked away, ashamed. ‘Now, open the case.’

  With great care, Hamdi unfastened one latch, then the other. His audience leaned closer. Nina looked across the bridge at Eddie, hoping to make eye contact and give him a silent hint, but a soldier was in the way.

  Hamdi took hold of the lid with a theatrical flourish, then lifted it.

  There was a metallic clack. A ragged-edged hunk of memory foam sprang from the case, a curved piece of metal popping out from beneath it to spin to a stop on the table.

  Eyes went wide as they recognised the object: the spoon of a hand grenade. The piece of foam had held it in place while Nina carefully removed the pin before fully closing the case - with the pressure gone, the spring had been released.

  Activating the five-second fuse.

  Four seconds.

  The bridge suddenly became a mad whirl of movement. Shaban, closest to the case, spun to find an exit. Diamondback flung him into the weapons room, diving on top of him. Khaleel ducked under the sturdy metal table, clapping his hands over his ears. One soldier ran for the stairwell, the man holding Eddie abandoning his charge and diving to the floor.

  Three.

  Nina and Eddie shared a millisecond look across the room - then both leapt in opposite directions, through the hatchways on to the wing bridges.

  Two.

  Hamdi’s shocked brain finally registered the true nature of the dull green ovoid where he had expected to see the canopic jar. He whimpered, turning to flee, but found his escape routes blocked by the panicked pilots as they tried to get out of their chairs.

  One—

  Eddie hit the wing bridge’s railing, seeing the broad circular vent and spinning blades of a lift fan almost directly below. Not a good direction to jump. Instead, he rolled over the aft-facing section of barrier. Arms still fastened behind his back by the plastic tie, he had no way to cushion his fall as he slammed painfully down.

  On the other side of the bridge, Nina vaulted the railing—

  The grenade exploded.

  28

  The reinforced case channelled the blast upwards and outwards at waist height. The two pilots were killed instantly, torn apart by razor-shards of metal. Hamdi was catapulted backwards, smashing through a window to slam brokenly on the main deck below.

  The soldier trying to reach the stairwell only got as far as the door, hit in the back by a swathe of jagged shrapnel. The others in the room escaped the direct force of the blast, but were still left near-deafened and disoriented by the detonation.

  The port wing bridge hatch was blown off its hinges. It cartwheeled downwards - and was sucked into the gaping maw of the lift fan.

  The jet engine-like vanes shattered as the hatch was chewed up, jagged blades flying in every direction. Eddie rolled to flatten his face against the deck as shards clashed against the superstructure above him. The mangled hatch whirled through the vortex inside the vertical shaft - and then there was a horrific deck-shaking bang as it jammed the fan’s driveshaft, the torsional force of machinery going from forty thousand revolutions per minute to zero in a millisecond ripping the entire thing apart.

  The damage didn’t stop at the fan.

  The smashed driveshaft was directly connected to one of the gas turbine power plants in the port-side engine r
oom. The effects rippled back along the hovercraft, tearing more equipment apart and filling the engineering spaces with lethal fragments. The turbine blew up, a fireball blasting hatches open.

  A quarter of its lift gone, the Zubr wallowed, nose dipping to port. It began to slide off course.

  And with the pilots dead and the controls wrecked, there was nobody to stop it.

  Body aching from the fall, Eddie struggled to sit up. He was no longer a prisoner, but his hands were still tied behind his back. He had to get free . . .

  There was a pointed hunk of metal nearby, a torn piece of insulation burning at one end. He fumbled for it with his left hand.

  He felt his skin burning as he gripped it. The metal was still hot. But he grimaced and fought the pain, pressing the flaming end against the plastic tie.

  In the weapons room, Diamondback pushed himself off his boss. Berkeley clutched his ears in a corner. The weapons officer was slumped over his console, a shard of flying debris embedded in a neck wound.

  Diamondback retrieved his revolver, then helped Shaban up. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I think so,’ Shaban said dizzily - then his face twisted with fury. ‘That bitch tried to kill me! Go after her, kill her!’

  ‘What about the jar? She musta—’

  ‘Kill her!’ Shaban screamed. Diamondback flinched, then hurried back into the bridge.

  The room was filled with smoke, the consoles on fire. Coughing, Khaleel crawled out from under the table. It was buckled, but had been sturdy enough to protect him from the blast. The soldier by the port hatch was barely conscious, bleeding from several shrapnel wounds. Khaleel moved to check his injuries, but Diamondback jabbed a finger at the opening. ‘Go after Chase - I’ll get the woman.’

  ‘But he needs—’

  Shaban appeared in the doorway. ‘Tarik, I will double your money. Just kill them!’