The Sacred Vault (36 page)

The screaming stopped, replaced by several wet thumps. A crimson splatter encircled the spinning roller. The
udghatima
continued to rumble onwards until it struck the statue, the pounding iron bars tearing away chunks of stone.

One of the bull’s great horns broke off and fell, demolishing part of the frieze. Nina saw the dancing light from one of the oil channels through the mangled hole in the carvings.

Jagged wood clawing at her coat, she squeezed through the gap. Behind her, Mahajan snarled and ran after her, tearing at the broken frieze with his hands to widen the opening.

 

Clutching the sword, Kit heard someone approaching. The light from a nearby brazier cast a glow through the ornate gondola’s entrance: a shadow flicked past. The footsteps moved away . . .

Then slowed. Stopped.

Returned.

The shadow reappeared. Kit held his breath, forcing himself upright on his good leg. The mercenary’s curiosity had been piqued - the little parody of a palace would make a good hiding place.

An MP5K poked through the opening. The compact weapon had a second grip beneath its muzzle, the merc’s black-gloved left hand holding it tightly. The gun swept the interior, the mercenary about to step inside to complete the search—

Kit stabbed the sword into the back of his hand.

The blade’s tip ripped through skin and muscle between the bones. The merc yelled - as Kit twisted it through ninety degrees. The sword forced the bones apart with a crack before popping free in a spurt of blood. The mercenary’s howl became an agonised screech.

But he was far from immobilised, lunging into the gondola with the MP5K still held in his other hand. Kit swung the sword again in a desperate attempt to swat it away before he fired.

Ancient and modern weapons collided as the mercenary pulled the trigger. The first bullet scorched a line across Kit’s chest, the rest of the burst of fire punching holes in the walls before the final flash of muzzle flame ignited the wood and oil-soaked cloth in the central brazier.

Kit lunged at him. The gun flew across the gondola as both men crashed into a corner. The mercenary snatched out his combat knife, drawing back his arm to plunge it into Kit’s chest—

Kit struck first. The sword pierced the merc’s body armour and sank deep into his stomach. With a gurgling wail, he staggered and fell . . .

On top of Kit, knocking him down. The explosion of agony through the nerves of the Indian’s wounded leg was so great that he almost passed out.

The fire in the brazier flared as little packets of gunpowder amongst the kindling ignited, angry flames surging. Hot air swirled into the open mouth of the balloon, the fabric rustling . . .

 

Eddie threw himself between two large metal statues of Hindu gods, bullets clanging behind him. He had taken a wrong turn, finding himself in a dead end amongst the war machines and ancient treasures; it only took a few seconds to double back, but that was all the time his three pursuers needed to catch sight of him. Now they were homing in as relentlessly as foxhounds.

He burst out from the far end of the confined space, hopping over the faint licks of flame in an oil channel. A brazier was aflame to one side, the warm light revealing another
udghatima
- and beyond it a siege machine, a twin of one nearer the entrance, that could be the answer to his prayers.

If he could reach it. And if it still worked.

He sprinted for the wooden grid. Behind, the men charged through the narrow passage.

He passed the brazier, the huge stone roller . . .

A shout of ‘There!’ behind him—

Eddie dived, slithering across the stone floor as an MP5K crackled - and yanking a lever on the machine.

It was a
sara-yantra
- an arrow-firer.

A rapid-fire series of
thwack
s rippled through the framework as the firing mechanisms for a hundred arrows were triggered. The missiles hissed down the aisle, a horizontal storm of spiked death that bounced off metal, cracked against stone - and thunked deep into human flesh. The gunfire stopped, replaced by choked screams.

Eddie got up. Not all the ancient weapon’s arrows had fired, but he was still more than happy with the end result. Three twitching bodies were sprawled on the floor, so many arrows poking up from them that they looked like porcupines. ‘Bunch of pricks,’ he muttered, running to them and scooping up one of their guns.

Now that he was armed, he could find Nina and Kit. But there were still the other mercenaries to worry about, and if he called out to her he would give away his position. Instead, he went back towards the entrance.

Nina rushed through the shadows. She had meant to go back to reach Eddie, but was unable to find a route through the tightly packed treasures. All she could do was follow the side wall, heading for the back of the cavern.

And Mahajan was behind her, closing with every giant step.

 

Two mercenaries ran out in front of Eddie as he approached the entrance - and took bursts of bullets to their heads, the Englishman aiming above their body armour. He saw the ramp ahead, the open doors beyond it . . . and Khoil rising from the ledge as he was winched away.

Eddie dropped behind the incline and shot back as a mercenary outside opened fire. Zec sprinted for cover, but the other merc was caught in the open. With a more distant target, Eddie was forced to aim for the centre of mass rather than trying to score a lethal headshot, but the impact of the bullets was enough even against armour. The mercenary staggered, slipped on the snow - and fell over the edge. His echoing scream ended abruptly a couple of seconds later.

Eddie ran for the doors. He had spotted the chest, ready to be winched into the chopper. Nina would be mad, but shooting it to bits or flinging it over the edge would be one way to spoil Khoil’s plans—

A heel slammed into his back.

Tandon had been lurking behind the ramp, and made a flying leap from its raised end as Eddie ran past. If Eddie hadn’t been moving away from the punishing blow, it might have broken his spine. As it was, the impact was still hard enough to knock him down.

He rolled, bringing up the gun - only for Tandon to kick it out of his hand. Cobra-fast, the Indian struck again, his boot scraping Eddie’s cheek as the Englishman jerked out of the way.

He grabbed Tandon’s ankle, trying to twist it round and trip him, but Tandon threw himself into a somersault, wrenching his foot from Eddie’s grasp. He landed perfectly, spinning as the Englishman clumsily got up.

Zec aimed his MP5K at Eddie - but Tandon blocked his line of fire as he lunged, striking at a pressure point on his opponent’s chest. Only Eddie’s reflexes - and the thick padding of his coat - saved him from the paralysing punch, which hit a couple of inches off target but still felt like someone taking a hammer to his ribcage. He groaned, reeling.

Tandon spun again to deliver a high kick at Eddie’s head. This time, his foot made solid contact. Eddie spat out blood as the other man’s heel crunched against his jaw. Dazed, he staggered through the doors. Zec tracked him, but held his fire: his boss’s bodyguard wanted his fun.

Another kick, this time ploughing into Eddie’s stomach. He whooped for breath, almost collapsing - as Tandon struck once more, knuckles stabbing at his throat. Eddie brought up an arm just in time to block the blow, but it was still searingly painful.

A windstorm whirled around him as he stumbled towards the steps, the Dhruv moving into position above to winch up the chest. Any thoughts of sabotage were now forgotten as Eddie raised his fists. Tandon was fast, but if he caught him at just the right moment he could use the brute force of a punch to crush his nose, blinding him with pain, and toss him over the edge. He would still have Zec to worry about, but one problem at a time . . .

Tandon’s hand flashed at Eddie’s eyes. He swept up his bruised arm again to deflect the blow, then twisted with all his strength to smash his fist into the other man’s face—

The Indian’s palm snapped up, stopping the punch an inch short.

Before Eddie could react, another savage kick caught him in the midsection. Winded, he lurched backwards, wobbling at the top of the broken stairway . . .

With a cruel smile, Tandon darted at him to deliver a final strike. It wasn’t a kick, or a punch - insultingly, it was nothing more than a poke to Eddie’s chest.

But it was enough to push him down the stairs.

With a yell, Eddie bounced down the stone steps - and flew off the end into the void below.

T
he tiers along the valley sides flashed past as Eddie fell, one, two—

A white line rushed at him. He desperately grasped at his only chance of survival - and jolted to an agonising stop as he caught one of the ropes stretched across the valley.

The line shook, batting him like a cat toy as he clung with one aching arm - and saw Tandon looking over the edge of the steps above, the expectant satisfaction on his face replaced in quick succession by disbelief, then anger. The Indian shouted to Zec.

He was a sitting duck. He had to reach the valley’s side before Zec shot him—

A crack - and he fell again.

The rope had broken!

Only at one end. He was swinging like Tarzan - straight at a cliff face.

Eddie braced himself, but knew he had no chance of surviving the impact. The wind whistled in his ears as he followed his inexorable arc towards the wall. He would hit under the fourth tier, smacking against the carved rock.

But it wasn’t rock. An archway loomed, darkness beyond—

The rope caught on the edge of the fourth tier as he whipped beneath it - flicking him upwards through the doorway. He sailed across the room, bouncing off the ceiling before falling again . . . to land with a huge thump amid an explosion of something soft.

He choked, grains filling his nostrils and mouth. For a moment the fear of suffocation overcame any other thoughts and he thrashed wildly, coughing and spitting - to find that he had landed on a pile of rice sacks, the supplies secretly provided to the guardians by the villagers around Mount Kedarnath, the impact bursting them.

‘Saved by Uncle Ben,’ he groaned as he achingly stood, rice cascading from him like dried snow, and staggered to the entrance. He would have to climb all the way back to the Vault to help Nina and Kit—

Only the fact that he was looking up at the ledge as he emerged kept him alive. Several mercenaries were lined up across the top of the stairway - aiming down at him. Muzzle flashes bloomed like deadly sunflowers. He jumped back from the hailstorm of stone fragments that erupted round the archway.

Shit! He was pinned down, no other way out of the room - and now the MD 500 joined the assault. There was no way he could reach the Vault without being cut to pieces . . .

More shots - but from a new kind of gun. The onslaught stopped, and he heard a scream. A sharp clang of lead against thin aluminium, and the MD 500 hurriedly ascended.

Not a new kind of gun, he realised. A very old one.

The Martini-Henry. The weapons the guardians had taken from the unfortunate British explorers in the nineteenth century were not all rusting relics. Some had been well cared for.

The surviving .577/450-calibre ammo was easily powerful enough to penetrate a helicopter’s fuselage. The MD 500 might be acting as a gunship, but it was still a civilian aircraft, lacking any kind of armour. One good shot could kill the pilot, sever a hydraulic line, rupture a fuel tank. Retreating was the smart move.

But that still left the Chinook, an ex-military helicopter with armour where it was needed . . .

Another scream. Eddie risked a glance outside to see a mercenary tumble down the steps and plummet to the valley floor. The others had switched their aim to the new threat - but now they were at a disadvantage. With its short barrel, the MP5K - designed for compactness and easy concealment - had a limited effective range and comparatively low power. The Martini-Henrys, on the other hand, had proved their range, precision and fearsome punch in battles throughout the British Empire. He couldn’t see the guardians, but their gunshots told him they were in positions on both sides of the valley above, a good fifty yards from the Vault’s entrance - almost twice the accurate range of the mercenaries’ weapons.

Zec had apparently come to the same realisation. He shouted an order, and the mercs pulled back. The MD 500 opened up with its M249, trying to force the guardians to retreat into the caves.

Eddie steeled himself, then ran out on to the ledge, searching for a way back up the tiers.

 

Nina reached the back of the Vault. The statue of Kali glared down at her in the firelight, blood-red tongue extended mockingly.

Mahajan was right behind her. After what had happened to the two mercenaries, she knew there was no way she would be able to trick him into range of another siege engine. Instead, she ran down the narrow passage to the room that had contained the Shiva-Vedas. The goddess’s weapons jerked impotently as she tripped the triggers beneath the paving slabs.

She dropped and squirmed under the giant stone foot. Mahajan was already in the passage. There was no light in the chamber - she had to rely entirely on memory to find what she was after . . .

The iron rod jamming the machinery.

She pulled it - and it caught between the cogs as Mahajan’s weight set them in motion. ‘Shit!’ she cried, tugging harder, but still unable to free it. The Indian slithered beneath the foot—

The pressure on the rod was released.

Nina yanked it out - and the mechanism ground into action. The foot descended. Realising the danger, Mahajan reacted in fear and crawled faster . . .

Wrong move. The trap had fooled its victim - and the huge foot dropped like the stone it was, stamping down on Mahajan’s back with a terrible snap of crushed bone. Blood spurted across the floor. The final sound from Mahajan’s ruined mouth was an anguished gurgle . . . then he slumped, dead.

After a few seconds, the dripping foot slowly rumbled back up. Nina waited for it to stop, then shoved the rod back into the cogs. ‘Aw, jeez . . .’ she said, cringing in disgust and nausea at the sight greeting her in the entrance. She pushed Mahajan to one side, then gingerly slipped under the bloody statue to do the same with his other half before hurrying back down the passage.

 

Eddie reached the fourth tier, sheltering in an arch as he plotted his ascent. He was cut off from his original route up the valley sides by broken balconies on at least the next two tiers, meaning he would have to climb the carved walls all the way to the sixth level.

Not an ideal plan. Even though they had been forced back by the rifle fire, Zec’s men would still be likely to spot him as he ascended and pick him off. But short of making Olympic-length jumps over the gaps, he had no other way to get to the top.

The withering fire from the gunship eased off as the guardians moved into cover. None of the mercenaries were visible on the main ledge - though the Khoils’ helicopter was now lowering the harness once more to pick up the chest.

Once they had their prize, they would leave - and destroy everything left behind. He had to act now. He braced himself, ready to rush out and start his climb—

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He whirled to smash a fist into his attacker - and stopped just short when he saw it was Shankarpa. The guardian flinched. ‘Jesus!’ Eddie said. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘I saw you fall,’ Shankarpa replied. He was carrying a Martini-Henry and a pouch of ammunition. ‘I came to find you.’

‘What about Nina, and Kit? Are they okay?’

‘They ran into the Vault - I do not know what happened to them.’

Eddie looked back up. Someone pulled the dangling harness on to the ledge. ‘I’ve got to get up there.’

‘That is why I came for you.’ He pointed into the darkness.

‘There is a tunnel - it will take you to the bridge on the fifth level. It is the fastest way back to the Vault. My men will give you cover as you cross.’

‘So you’re helping us now?’

‘My father trusted you. But these people, the Khoils - they are enemies of Shiva. They must be stopped. Come, this way.’

 

Hunched low behind the chest, Zec secured it to the winch line. The guardians were still directing intermittent shots at the ledge, but the suppressing fire from the MD 500 was holding them off. How long that would restrain them when they realised their treasure was being airlifted away he didn’t know, or care to find out. He fastened the last clasp, then spoke into his headset. ‘Take it up!’

The line tightened and the chest rose from the ledge, suspended in the web of netting and straps. As soon as it was airborne, the Dhruv sideslipped away from the cliff face so the chest could be winched up without fear of its swinging into the rock.

Zec ran back to the doors, another helicopter on his mind. ‘Chinook to recovery position!’ he ordered. ‘We’re evacuating. Ready rocket launchers!’

 

Kit tried to push the dead mercenary away, feeling another blinding burst of pain as the corpse’s limp arm bashed his wound. For all the effort and agony, he only managed to move him a short way; the sword poking from the man’s belly had wedged against the gondola’s wall. Cursing, he tried to wriggle out from under the body—

The floor lurched.

For a moment he thought it was an earthquake. But then he heard a metallic scraping beneath him - and realised the gondola itself was moving.

He looked up, seeing to his shock that the hot air from the furiously blazing fire in the brazier had partly inflated the balloon. No longer a flaccid bundle of fabric, it had swollen enormously, reaching the roof of the cavern.

The gondola jolted again, harder. Kit grimaced at another bolt of pain in his leg. The balloon’s envelope was taller than the Vault, meant to be inflated in the open. Trapped against the rocky ceiling, heat was building up too fast. Sparks and cinders swirled in the updraft as the fabric began to burn.

He kicked with his good leg, finally dislodging the dead man. He pulled himself upright - then fell again as the balloon left the ground, the flying palace swaying beneath it.

 

Nina was making her way back to the entrance, keeping to the shadows, when she heard loud noises to one side. Someone starting up one of the war machines? There was no reason for the mercenaries to do so - maybe Kit was still alive.

She climbed on to the plinth of a statue for a better view - and was startled by the sight of the great bloated grub of the balloon squirming against the ceiling. A fierce fire burned inside the elaborate little palace.

A fire that was spreading to the rest of the balloon. Glowing patches of light flickered inside the silken outer shroud . . . getting larger as she watched.

If the balloon ruptured, the burning fabric would land on top of the gondola - and Kit.

No longer concerned with stealth, she ran through the cavern to help him.

 

Shankarpa brought Eddie to the end of the steep, narrow tunnel, the other side of the valley visible through an archway. Eddie looked out. The rope bridge was off to one side. To his dismay, someone aboard the red and white helicopter was pulling the chest into the cabin. ‘Shit, they’ve got the box!’

Dark anger crossed Shankarpa’s face. ‘They will pay,’ he said, opening the old rifle’s breech and loading a round. He took aim at the Dhruv - then both men flinched back from the hurricane of snow and grit as the Chinook descended. The big helicopter slowly backed towards the giant statue, lines dangling from its open rear ramp.

Shankarpa fired at the Chinook. The boom from the old gun was painful in the confined space, but the only result for all the sound and fury was a clang as the round struck armour. The MD 500 had pulled away to let the larger chopper into the valley, but its gunner was still watching for telltale bursts of smoke from the rifles - a rattle of fire shattered the stonework outside the arch.

‘I need you to keep that gunship busy,’ said Eddie. ‘If it catches me while I’m crossing the bridge, I’m fucked!’

‘There is another tunnel that will take me to the other guardians. I will tell them to cover you as you cross.’

‘How long will it take you to get there?’

‘Two minutes.’

Eddie glanced out. The Chinook was moving into a hover - much lower than the Khoils’ helicopter, the whumping blades of its rear rotor actually beneath the overhanging rock, tips less than ten feet from the statue of Shiva. The pilots were trying to get the rear ramp as close as possible to the ledge so the mercenaries could jump in rather than having to ascend the ropes. ‘I don’t have that long. Go - get there as quick as you can.’

Shankarpa started for the tunnel. ‘What are you going to do?’

Eddie looked back at him. ‘Run like buggery!’

 

The downwash from the Chinook’s rear rotor blasted through the Vault, sweeping up the dust of centuries in a blinding swirl. Nina squinted as the gritty storm stung her eyes.

The wind caught the balloon, setting the palatial gondola swinging like a pendulum. She expected it to be blown further back into the great cave, but the combination of the gondola’s gyrations and air currents gusting round the cavern’s ragged natural roof instead sent it spinning towards the entrance.

Fire burst through the balloon’s skin. Either there was a hotspot above the brazier or the material had torn on the ceiling, but it didn’t matter - a rush of escaping air sent a huge spray of embers across the Vault, falling like glowing snowflakes. Nina hurriedly pulled up her hood as they dropped around her, scorching her parka.

Rapidly losing height, the gondola hit a siege engine near the launch ramp. She glimpsed Kit as he bailed - or was flung - out of the door, then the whole thing crashed to the floor, knocking over the brazier she had originally lit.

The balloon itself was being consumed with frightening speed, large parts already reduced to ash and motes of hellfire. The air filled with smoke. Coughing, Nina weaved through the flames, hoping Kit hadn’t already been swallowed by them.

 

Eddie looked out at the Chinook. It was hovering precariously with its rear ramp just above the lip of the ledge. He spotted Zec crouching low, waving his men into the helicopter.